Long Live The King

loversphilosophy: who is the person you pledge your allegiance...

Wed, 16 Aug 2017 22:57:54 +0100

loversphilosophy:

who is the person you pledge your allegiance to? thorin oakenshield?

What a cutie. ❤

Wed, 29 Mar 2017 22:56:02 +0100

What a cutie. ❤

We once told you about our gym teachers who looked like Richard and Lee, so a little update. Both now have kids and are still teaching us amazingly👍😄

Wed, 29 Mar 2017 22:52:35 +0100

That is the most sweetest thing ever! ❤

imaginexhobbit: Imagine getting into an argument with Thorin...

Wed, 29 Mar 2017 22:50:02 +0100

imaginexhobbit:

Imagine getting into an argument with Thorin and him saying, “I am a king!” And you look him in the eye and reply with, “I don’t give a shit!”
Submitted by @scarlet-deer-of-the-dark-one

Photo

Sun, 05 Mar 2017 12:20:25 +0000

thorinds: [inspiration]

Sat, 04 Mar 2017 22:48:39 +0000

thorinds:

[inspiration]

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Thu, 29 Dec 2016 22:04:20 +0000

mirielofgisborne: jassy2101: That smirk! And that hair!

Thu, 29 Dec 2016 22:03:20 +0000

mirielofgisborne:

jassy2101:

That smirk!

And that hair!

Photo

Thu, 29 Dec 2016 22:00:02 +0000

durinqueen:“A dwarvish wind-lance…”

Thu, 29 Dec 2016 21:52:52 +0000

durinqueen:

“A dwarvish wind-lance…”

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Sun, 16 Oct 2016 22:27:22 +0100

#1370 “Everytime I start panicking and my anxiety is...

Sun, 16 Oct 2016 22:25:05 +0100

#1370 “Everytime I start panicking and my anxiety is overpowering me, (with all my rituals, and counts, and numbers and thing that must be done in the same exact order everyday…) I like to imagine Thorin hugging me from behind and holding me until I calm down. Then we lie down together on my bed and he sings to me in Khuzdul until I fall asleep.”

#1369 “I can’t wait! Richard is in a new series,...

Sun, 16 Oct 2016 22:16:44 +0100

#1369 “I can’t wait! Richard is in a new series, “Berlin Station,” shown on the EPIX channel in the fall (not sure if it is just in the US or international). He plays an American CIA operative under deep cover. I have already seen some trailers and he looks just amazing. He uses the timbre of Thorin’s voice to reach our American accent. :-)”

#1368 “Even when the fandom dies, and there’s more who...

Sun, 16 Oct 2016 22:08:28 +0100

#1368 “Even when the fandom dies, and there’s more who hate Thorin than like him, he’ll always be a character I love.”

#1367 “The first Hobbit movie I saw was Battle of the Five...

Sun, 16 Oct 2016 22:02:51 +0100

#1367 “The first Hobbit movie I saw was Battle of the Five Armies. I hadn’t read the book, and was only going for the battle. Then, I found myself getting sucked into the universe, and got very attached to Thorin. But, of course, you know what happens to him in that movie…”

A Silver Bead - Chapter 22 - A BEGINNING

Sun, 16 Oct 2016 21:33:15 +0100

I’m so sorry it has taken this long to publish these amazing chapters. I really hope you guys can catch up and enjoy this last chapter. Please forgive me and accept my apologies for being so slow (especially you the author, thorinstorieswoman). ~ Admin Laura

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO – A BEGINNING

As we wind down to our final days here, I make sure that Thorin continues to get plenty of rest. I keep him well fed; cooking meals for him in my cottage when we wish to be alone and making sure he eats healthfully when we dine with his Company. He continues to take regular exercise with Dwalin to shape the pounds he has regained.

And he teaches me his marvelous language, slowly and thoughtfully, and I think he is surprised at my swift progress. I remind him that Elves have an affinity for language; after all, my people taught the Ents to speak. Thorin has never heard of Ents so I tell him the little I know. I’m not sure he believes me; he thinks rather that they sound like creatures suited for a child’s bedtime story.

We continue to learn about each other; the good and the not so good. For example, I have learned that Thorin cannot cook or bake to save his life. He burns everything, from eggs to meat to biscuits, but at least he is willing to eat what he has ruined. It’s perplexing to me that he seems to have no patience at all in the kitchen, since he has such a surfeit of it in the bedroom. But I do not complain.

Today I receive a message from my Lady. She and her father have invited us to dinner. It is a great honor and it tickles me to no end. She writes that her brothers will also join us.

Thorin and I arrive at the western dining room and for the first time in a year, I am without his silver bead about my neck. Instead I wear his betrothal gift, though it far outshines my simple silk gown. I lowered the dress’ neckline in order to give prominence to the jewels. Arwen makes quite a fuss over my necklace and compliments Thorin on his taste.

My beloved Dwarf wears his kingly circlet, a dark metal band with a small crystal stone on his brow, which he tells me is meant to represent the Arkenstone. It’s more modest than his real crown (which he has described to me, making me very eager to see him in it). I think he is right to want to display his status on this occasion. He wears his black leather mantel, cut in a deep “v” at the throat, under which can be glimpsed a fine silk tunic I made for him. Each shoulder of his mantel is embossed with the raven insignia of Erebor. He looks wonderful.

Elrond greets me with a kiss on each cheek, making me feel very welcome. I am so glad that our past unpleasantness is finally behind us, and can see now that he was only thinking of my welfare. We sip a crisp white wine served in delicate glass goblets, almost too delicate for Thorin’s large hands. But I smile at his natural poise and regal bearing. He does seem so much taller than he actually is.

I show him the painting of Celebrimbor and he immediately recognizes Narvi in the background. He and Lord Elrond are quickly engaged in an animated conversation about the once-prosperous trade of those times.

When her brothers arrive, Arwen makes the introductions. Elladan and Elrohir are genuinely interested in Thorin and ask many questions of the lands near Erebor and of the events of the Battle. They are particularly curious about the tall Orc captains, including the one Thorin defeated after an exhausting duel.

As I listen to their conversation, I hear Thorin acknowledge Thranduil’s son, who saved his life during the Battle by a timely return of Orcrist, which had been taken from him in Mirkwood. It was with that legendary sword that Thorin vanquished his enemy. The brothers name Legolas the most skilled fighter they’ve ever known and consider him a friend. Thorin is full of praise for the Elf, but names Dwalin and Dain as ultimately more valuable on the battlefield. For my part, I hope to meet Legolas one day, to thank him.

When we are seated for dinner Thorin and the brothers begin a lively discussion among fellow warriors, comparing ideas on the finer points of killing Orcs, how best to track them, and how to capitalize on the blunders their commanders often make. Arwen, Elrond and I are amused, but have our own more genteel conversation.

The evening is like a dream for me, seeing Thorin treated with the honor he deserves by members of a race he once considered his enemy. And he proves completely up to the challenge. His manners are as elegant as any Elf’s, save in one way only; when food is placed in front of him, he eats with a warrior’s relish. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The next morning Thorin surprises me with some news. Undetected by me last night, he quietly arranged for Elrond to receive our vows tomorrow on the library terrace. Although our official wedding will still take place in Erebor, Thorin wants there to be no doubt among my people of his honorable intentions towards me. He would not want it said that the King of Erebor had kidnapped his Elven bride.

The next afternoon, with my Lady Arwen and Oin as witnesses, Thorin and I solemnly pledge our love and our lives to each other before Lord Elrond Peredhel of Imladris. It is very likely the first ceremony of its kind in all of Middle Earth. I know my Lord has not changed his opinion of our union, so I am especially touched that he put his personal beliefs aside to do this for me. I have always admired and loved him as my Lord, but I now see what a truly exceptional person he is; one of the finest I have ever known.

Elvish tradition requires some sort of physical token be given by the bride and groom to each other as a symbol of their bond. With little time to make such an important choice, Thorin and I chose gifts we already had; I give him my silver clasp and he gives me his silver bead. These two objects have become so precious to us that nothing else made sense nor contained as much meaning.

It is a quiet ceremony, but afterwards we celebrate with a special bottle of miruvor and listen to musicians that Arwen has arranged to play for us. One of them has a harp and when the song is over, Thorin asks the harpist to allow him to hold the instrument. “Do you play?” I ask, incredulous. His affinity for the harp is evident in the way he handles it. “I used to” he answers. I see him cradle it with reverence, but before he plucks a string, he changes his mind and returns it to the musician. He gives me a sad smile and says “I’ve had too much wine.”

As we walk home afterwards, I call Thorin “husband” for the first time. In response, he lifts me off my feet and carries me the rest of the way.

Now only two days remain before we set off. I have finished my packing; Niri and Gembol have taken the bulk of it to Gloin so that he can add it to the rest of the baggage for transport. Everything must be balanced and weighed ahead of time.

On our very last day I convince Thorin to go riding with me into the hills southwest of Rivendell. We bring a blanket and pack a lunch and spend a glorious summer morning together, just the two of us, near a little stream, a tributary of the Bruinen that we call Lalaith, the laughing brook.

We make love in the open meadow, surrounded by birdsong and water music, and then go swimming in a deep, sunlit pool below a little waterfall. Thorin loves it, and relaxes so much that he tells me several stories of his early life, including one I didn’t expect to hear, about the Dwarf woman, Aubra, who broke his heart so long ago.

She was the daughter of a prosperous goldsmith, promised to him in marriage when they were very young. Before they officially came of age, they met clandestinely in Erebor several times, and his heart was lost to her. It was soon after this that the dragon came. In the confusion of the attack they were separated, and afterwards both their families wandered homeless.

He sought for her for years without success, until he finally found her in a village in Dunland. But his joy turned bitter as Aubra spurned him, claiming he was now unlikely to ever wear a crown. So, he traveled west and eventually settled with his people in the Ered Luin. Some years later she came there to marry a well-to-do wool merchant. She then flaunted her wealth in front of him as he came and went from the blacksmith’s forge where he was forced to take work. When I hear this story, I understand why he has always felt so alone.

“I thought she was beautiful” he says, with some remaining wistfulness in his voice. I tell him she may still be beautiful but he is lucky he did not marry her. I say “It takes a cold heart to be so unkind to another, especially when she knew you loved her.”

I tell him I would love him whether he is a king or not, and if he should lose his kingdom, that I would live in a cave with him, anywhere, as long as we could be together. He chuckles and says he can’t wait for me to see the “cave” where he lives now.

We lie on the blanket together, under the warm sun, my head on his shoulder. I finger his chest hair as I love to do, then my hand begins to drift down his chest, then his belly, until I reach his groin. He’s already swollen by the time I begin to caress him. I stroke him and feel him harden in my hand.

He tugs my head to his, kissing me softly and repeatedly. I have an urge to please him in a special way today. I smile and slip away from his face, kissing my way down his body until I am right where I want to be. I begin kissing his manhood up one side and down the other, and he hardens even more. I watch his bearded chin lift skyward as he lets out sighs of pleasure. He reaches for me but I avoid his grasp because I don’t want him to stop me. I sit on my heels next to him and turn his hips gently towards me and take him in my mouth.

I draw him in and out several times, then hold and stroke his shaft, dragging my tongue repeatedly over his very plump head, tracing his sensitive ridges, sucking the tip. I tease him with more wet kisses up and down his length. I cup his twin orbs, kissing and licking them, too, tasting his pleasant saltiness. I mouth him again and again, making him moan and murmur his Khuzdul words.

I am pleased that my efforts can make him feel such sweet agony, which is exactly how he makes me feel when his mouth is on me. Having him react to me this way makes me wet, too, and once I have him worked up nicely, my body starts to clench, wanting him inside me.

I glance up at him. He looks as though he is about to burst. He caresses my head, and I say “let me finish you”. He looks back at me full of yearning; he is always the generous one and I think he feels it’s somehow too selfish of him to desire this. But I don’t see it that way.

I repeat “let me finish you”, this time as a statement, not a request. I re-position myself between his legs and focus my attention on his swollen head. I pleasure him more urgently than before, teasing just the tip over and over, while adding some friction on his shaft with my hand. I hollow my cheeks around his virile organ and his groans increase. I fondle his orbs again and I hear him call my name.

I am steady and relentless and he knows this time I am not stopping. I know he’s close so I look at him, teasing and tantalizing him, driving him steadily towards his climax. And finally he lets go, bucking into me as he reaches release. I keep my mouth on him, swallowing again and again as he gushes forth.

I feel him clench and release and I swallow again, hearing him moan with enormous relief. It’s a euphoric feeling for me, too, finally having indulged him as he so generously indulges me. I reach around to his cheeks and hold him close, keeping him in my mouth until his spasms gradually slow and finally cease. He sighs again as I continue to massage him tenderly and lovingly with my lips and tongue.

Finally, he seems fully spent, so I slowly draw back, making sure to tidy him up as best I can. I kiss his spent shaft over and over until he sits up and pulls me to him. He looks at me with grateful eyes and I slip contentedly into his outstretched arms. He holds me close, pressing my head to his chest.

“A mahizlif, banmûna” * he murmurs, still breathing heavily, holding me close.

*Ah mah HEEZ leef bahn MOON nah (loosely: “Oh, you wonderful creature”)

I burrow into his neck. He smells so sexy and his beard tickles in a delightful way. “You taste salty and sweet” I murmur. He exhales heavily.

“Now, you’ve spoiled me.”

“Mmm”

“Give me a chance to recover” he pants “…and I will return the favor.”

“No” I whisper back “It’s my treat for you.”

He squeezes me and kisses my hair. We hold each other a while as a soft breeze lifts the leafy branches above us, dappling the sunlight on our naked bodies. I hear Thorin take another deep breath and sigh again in great contentment.

Then, just as I’m drifting off, he slips out from under me, sits back on his heels and rolls me on my back, scooting down at the same time.

“What are y…?” I start to exclaim. He grins a response, pushing my legs apart, lifting and draping them over his shoulders. He lowers his face and drags his tongue firmly against my trigger, back and forth, very slowly.

Oh!

“Thorin! Stop!” I whimper in protest. I hear him chuckle as he kisses the tender skin of my inner thighs. He’s not going to stop. He takes my hands, entwining his fingers in mine, taking control. “Th…o…r…i.…n!” I sigh in weak protest, as he begins to massage my intimate region as only he can do. “S…t…o….p…” Then he does stop, in order to kiss his way up my body until he has reached my neck. But he’s left one hand between my legs, with which he continues to tease me. He purrs seductively in my ear “Do you really want me to stop, my sanalinh?

“Oh, I…”

“Don’t you want me to make you come?” he whispers “Don’t you know I love to make you come?”

Oh, Yavanna! How can he be resisted? He smiles as he feels my body answer “yes”. He kisses his way back down and repositions my legs, diving back into his task with fresh enthusiasm. The fingers of one hand spread my nether lips apart while his other hand keeps my legs open, and he presses his mouth to my trigger, lapping and licking. I raise my arms outward, tugging at the soft grass beyond the blanket. I wrap one leg around him and my heel massages his muscled back.

He pleasures every inch of my tender flesh, returning over and over to my throbbing trigger. I squirm and squeal and arch into him with abandon. He leads me quickly and steadily to the brink of impatient, irrational need. He pauses for a tantalizing moment, catching his breath and wiping his beard, then pushes me over the edge with ever more determined swipes of his tongue. I sail into space, spinning wildly, sighing, whimpering, proclaiming his name.

And still he doesn’t stop. He keeps his mouth on me while I flail and gasp and rip up tufts of grass. Only when he senses I’m finally sliding down the other side does he let me rest, laying his bearded chin sideways across my abdomen, slowly lowering my legs again to either side of him.

He then ascends my body, kissing his way to my breasts, sucking tenderly on each hard nipple in turn, then snuggling into my neck. All the while I continue to pant and whimper.

He collapses against me and I rally my strength to embrace him. We are two limp forms on our blanket, bodies pressed together, fingers entwined, our breathing labored but sated. I murmur my love to him and he responds in kind.

Slowly, sweetly, we drift into sleep.

A little while later, we gradually awaken. I lift my head to kiss him and tell him how much I love being under the open sky with him like this. He says he does, too.

We know we have to get back, so reluctantly we begin to gather our things and dress. I ask him if there are places like this near Erebor and he says he’s sure we can find a pocket or two of outdoor beauty to suit our needs. Perhaps, he says, we’ll find someplace we like even better.

As we retrieve our grazing horses, I marvel to see Thorin Oakenshield so content. Where is the over-burdened leader, roiled with inner turmoil that I met last summer? To be sure, he is the same battle-hardened warrior, proud to a fault of his heritage with whom I fell in love, but he now fully believes in his future, and could truly be a great king.

Personally, I believe his struggle with the gold sickness and his ultimate triumph over it has changed him. I know he thinks I played some part in his return to health, and I’m glad he does, but truthfully, it is he who deserves the credit. I am simply grateful every day that we found each other.

We walk alongside our horses for a while, still a little reluctant to get back, talking of small things. I suddenly see two mail-clad riders at the edge of the forest. I stop and point at them. Thorin nods and says “It’s Damon and Grum.”

I stand still, eyes wide. “They just saw us naked! Thorin! While I was…!” He hugs me, chuckling. “Yes, they probably did” he says. “They wouldn’t be much good as guards if they weren’t watching us, would they?”

My mouth drops open.

He goes on to explain “This is something you will have to get used to. You are to be my Queen, and you will have guards with you all the time. They have sworn their loyalty to me and their job is to protect us. They will not gossip about us – well, not too much anyway” he grins.

“Will they be in our bedchamber?”

“Not inside, but just beyond the door.”

I am still shocked but he just grins, eyes twinkling as he teases me. “They will have to get used to your noises, Miriel. They need to learn that sometimes when you scream and wail, it means you are very happy.”

“You don’t mind them seeing me naked?”

“You look so good naked” he teases

“But…” I just don’t know what more to say.

Thorin slides his arm about my waist, becoming more serious. “I must keep you safe. No harm must ever befall you. Miriel, we are going into wilderness. You will be glad of them. I promise.”

The next day, at dawn, our full company assembles in the main courtyard.

I bid a tearful farewell to my Lady Arwen, my Lord Elrond, my friends Galadwen and Anoriel and my dear brother Mardil.

Thorin stands by my horse and presents his interlaced fingers. I step into his hands and swing my leg over Asfaleth’s saddle, finding my stirrup. He waits until I am balanced, then moves to Sheen which Damon helps him mount. He sits proudly in his saddle, looking every inch the King he is, wearing his beautiful mithril mail and his cloak. On his brow is the dark metal circlet with its single crystal.

He extends his hand to me and I move Asfaleth alongside him. I take his rough fingers in mine and smile back at him.

Gloin sounds a horn and our bannermen clatter across the High Bridge, bearing the gold and black raven insignia of Erebor. Thorin and I follow, and behind us rides the rest of our company, climbing the trail along the cliffs to the south.

I look at the beautiful dwellings and balconies and the endless cascades of Rivendell, the home of my childhood, where I married and raised my children and where I fell in love with Thorin Oakenshield. I wonder when I will look upon it again?

I see my Lady Arwen, one hand dabbing her eyes as she weeps, the other waving goodbye.

My new life with Thorin has begun.

THE END

THIS IS THE END OF A SILVER BEAD

But the story continues in….MY JOURNEY TO EREBOR – coming in fall 2016

A Silver Bead - Chapter 21 - A SECRET

Sun, 16 Oct 2016 21:28:16 +0100

Previous chapters [here]

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE – A SECRET

My eyes flutter open, blinking in the early morning light. I find my lover’s handsome face well below my chin, inching the coverlet down, murmuring Khuzdul words to himself as he exposes my body to his gaze.

I raise my arms over my head and stretch rapturously. My movement draws his face upwards, and he bestows feather-soft kisses on my throat and neck. As nice as this is, and it is very nice, a small part of me regrets having interrupted his downward voyage.

I smile and reach to caress him. He takes possession of my arm, dotting it with many kisses, moving slowly from my shoulder down to my wrist. Once there, he turns my arm over and journeys back up the inside, kiss by kiss by kiss.

Oh, how he spoils me!

When he reaches my shoulder again he moves to my ear, delicately tugging on it with his teeth. He purrs in that voice of his “Shall I make love to you…or do you wish to go about your day?”

I hesitate only to savor the sound of his delectable question. “Make love to me” I whisper and turn to kiss him hungrily. I give him my tongue and seek his. He responds eagerly and we continue kissing over and over, teasing and tantalizing each other, making me very wet and him very hard. When I pause for breath, he lowers his head and begins to devour my breasts. I arch my back to signal my approval and he opens his mouth wider, teeth softly rasping against my skin, tongue swirling.

He rises to one knee, lifting me, draping my torso over his bent leg so that my head falls backwards, throat stretched and exposed. He lowers his head to my breast and sucks the nipple tenderly. Oh, what he does to me!

He moves from one to the other and back again, driving me mad with desire. Then he eases me back against the bed, and sits back on his heels, leaving me panting. He keeps one hand behind my neck, his fingers splayed against the back of my head and bends over to kiss me. His other hand travels down my body below the covers, past my waist and across my belly, swiftly reaching the warmth between my legs. While he kisses me, his fingers gently palpitate and massage my nether lips, exploring my intimate region.

I reach my arms around him, caressing his neck and shoulders. When we break our kiss, I gasp loudly. He flings off the coverlet and crawls to the end of the bed, positioning himself between my legs. I squirm with anticipation, hoping that I’ve guessed where his tongue will go next. He lifts his eyes to mine and I see them gleam, cat-like, beneath his dark brows. The lustful look in those eyes confirms his intent. I whimper pitifully but I absolutely do want him there.

He slips his tongue into my folds and pleasures me with unerring skill, purring and lapping at my swollen trigger as I writhe and moan, wantonly begging him for more.

I assist him as he lifts my legs up and over his broad shoulders, and I point my toes down his back, rubbing his muscles with my heels and calves while he hums and presses his bearded face into me. His hands slide under my cheeks, trapping me against the whims of his insatiable tongue.

“Thorin!” I cry out, gripping the linens.

He growls and comes back up, attacking my breasts again with renewed enthusiasm. I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer, asking him wordlessly to take me. I can feel him lingering just outside my entrance, teasing both of us, as he continues his welcome attentions to my breasts. I pet his head and caress his face. He looks up at me and I tell him with my eyes how very much I love him.

He slides his hand from my breast to my hip, running it along the back of my thigh to the underside of my knee, lifting and bending my leg towards my chest, opening me up. He allows just the tip of himself inside me for a moment, then pulls back, looking up at me to gauge my reaction. My enjoyment is etched on my face so he does this again and again, alternating his gaze between my nether regions and my face, deliberately teasing me and himself with increasing fervor.

My moans grow more intense as he continues this exquisite playfulness. Then he suddenly plunges himself inside me, gasping in his own pleasure as he does so, holding my leg in place. I press my head back in ecstasy as he groans and plunges in again.

He begins a rocking rhythm and I strain with him and against him, squirming and squeezing him as best I can, trying to increase the obvious pleasure he feels. His eyes close and I hear him say the Khuzdul word again, the one with the trilled “r”. What is it about the sound of that word? We drive each other to the very brink, rocking and thrusting while we run our hands over each other’s skin, clinging and grasping.

And we come together, in a sudden rush that catches us both by surprise. Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhhhhhhh! It feels so wonderful and so thoroughly satisfying.

Afterwards, we lie relaxed, still in our carnal embrace, our sweat mingling, our ragged breath finally calming. His massive mane tickles my face and I breathe in his rich, male scent. I kiss his firmly muscled shoulder.

That Khuzdul word, the trilled “r” sound he made, keeps repeating in my head. I’ve heard him murmur it many times yet I’ve never asked him about it. This time I simply must know. I ask softly “What is that word?”

“Hmm?” he responds, still caught in the after-bliss.

“That word you say sometimes. The one with ‘ooo’ and ‘rrrrock’” I say, trying to mimic the sound.

He chuckles softly. “Can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Our language is secret”

“I won’t tell anyone”

He chuckles softly again.

“Who would I tell?” I repeat

“I should be more careful” he says

“No!” I beg. “No, Thorin, don’t be careful. I love it. The sound is…it stirs me”

He flips back some of his tousled hair so he can see me better. “I know” he confirms. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

I smooth his hair behind his ear and smile at him, thinking of the countless things I love about him.

“I don’t even know I’m saying it” he adds “It just slips out”

I run my finger across his eyebrows, first the left one, then the scarred one. “I don’t believe you” I say, grinning. “You know what you said. Say it again.”

He smiles but moves his head in gentle refusal. “Mm mm…can’t.”

I softly bite his bearded chin, which I know he likes. “Please?” I cajole. “Just that one word. I love hearing it.”

He thoroughly enjoys my brazen attempt to seduce him. Encouraged by his look, I deliberately pull his forefinger into my mouth, sucking on it, which I also know he likes. His expression changes and I know I’m making it difficult for him to resist. My anticipation builds. He removes his finger from my mouth but offers me his thumb, which I take, happily. I suck on his thumb a while and I can tell by the way he sighs that he’s going to give in.

He takes a breath and purrs “U’rakhimê”. (ooo RAH kee may - with a trilled ‘r’) *

I shiver from head to toe and slide his thumb out again. “Yes” I sigh, closing my eyes and smiling. He curls his fingers around the nape of my neck and pulls my head to his, kissing my lips, oh, so gently. When my lips are freed again I ask “What does it mean?”

He smiles and hesitates, but I can tell he’s going to reveal it. “Just this one” he says in his most velvety register, looking at me with love. “It means ‘I desire you.’”

Oh, it’s wonderful!

Without thinking, I repeat the word ‘U’rakhimê’ to him. His eyes grow fierce and he pulls me close, kissing me deeply with sudden passion. I feel him grow hard within me. I’ve never felt that happen before, especially so soon after his release, but I know I shouldn’t be surprised at anything Thorin Oakenshield does in bed.

“You see?” he says, well aware of what just happened. “It is a powerful language.”

“Very powerful” I respond. He continues to kiss me softly over and over and over.

I can feel his girth tight against my interior walls, causing profound shivers of pleasure in a whole new way. I can’t help myself; I begin a slight undulation against him and he responds, delicately thrusting back and forth, creating the most exquisite sensations. I close my eyes and savor it.

“Mmm” he murmurs “You feel so good to me”

“Mm hm” I nicker back “You, too”

He keeps up this gentle rhythm for a lovely long while, keeping us both on the edge of this delicate new pleasure. It feels somewhat like the plateau of a prolonged climax, but lighter, more ethereal. Our kisses continue as well, each action prolonging the other. We remain in a warm embrace the whole time, enjoying this extraordinary intimacy.

Eventually, inevitably, we begin to lose the friction, and pause longer between kisses. And we slowly lose our carnal connection, which makes me sadder than usual this time. But when it happens, Thorin turns me gently on my side and draws me close to him, my back to his front, the way he likes to sleep. He snuggles into me quite tenderly, kissing my shoulder and cupping my breast in his hand.

I love it when he holds me this way, but I don’t feel sleepy. I bring his hand to my mouth and kiss his palm. He murmurs softly and pulls me closer, re-cupping my breast.

“What about that other word?” I ask. “The one you said was a version of my name.”

He squeezes me and chuckles “You said just one…”

“I know, but I’ll be more careful this time. I won’t repeat it.”

He chuckles again, but remains silent. I whisper “please?” and he gives in quite quickly. “‘Mizimel’” (MEE zee mel)** he says in my ear, kissing me there. “It means ‘Jewel Eyes’” he adds, before I even ask.

I close my eyes again, smiling to myself. “Mmm, I like that one, too”.

“I called you that every day to myself” he says “all the way over the mountains…I even said it out loud one day in Thranduil’s dungeon.”

I think of him there, shut away from his comrades, being treated so unfairly by my own people. We are silent again for a while, just listening to each other’s breathing.

“You say other Khuzdul words, sometimes, too” I press.

“Yes” he replies “but the rest will remain secret.”

“Couldn’t you teach me?”

“I could” comes the delayed response. “But it’s very difficult to learn if you have not spoken it as a child.”

“But I’m to be a queen of Dwarves. I think I should try.”

Thorin remains silent. I know his Dwarvish pride is still an enormously personal topic with him, and I don’t want to seem flippant. But I sense it pleases him that his language interests me.

“Wouldn’t it be better if I knew just a little?” I ask.

He still does not answer. With my back to him, it’s hard to gauge his reaction. All I know is that he hesitates. Now I begin to worry that I have pushed him too far. Or he might just be sleepy. But then he moves and rolls me over to face him. Now I see he has simply been considering his answer. He props himself up on his elbow and strokes my face, holding my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yes. I will teach you some new words every day.” He smiles as he sees my grin, but retains a serious tone. “But they cannot just be the words I say to you here, in bed.”

“I would learn what a queen should know” I reply

“Good” he says. “But this morning, Lady Persistence, you may choose one more.”

I lean forward and kiss him, flushed with my double victory. I study his face a while, playing with his hair, while I think of which word I want most to hear. When I settle upon the right one, he sees it in my face and grins in amusement.

“Which one?” he asks.

I grin back at him. “You’ve said it several times. It starts with an ‘S’; several syllables, maybe “Sah-lah-nee?”

He smiles in recognition and nods. “‘Sanalinh’” he intones (Sah nah LEEN) ***. I know immediately that it’s the right one because of the thrill that courses through me when he says it.

“Yes” I shiver. “What does that one mean?”

“It is a word made for you” he says, stroking my face and shoulder tenderly. He slowly skims his magic hand down my side following the dip of my waist and up over the curve of my hip. “It means ‘womanly perfection’”.

No wonder I love hearing him say it!

But I protest “Oh, no, you can’t call me that. I’m quite imperfect! I’m forgetful and I cry at nothing and…and…my breasts are small and my hips are heavy.”

Thorin shakes his head in loving disagreement. “Your breasts are not small; they are the most perfectly made breasts I’ve ever touched. And I will touch no others for as long as I live. And your hips! Mahal! Miriel, your hips are…sensuous and powerful and oh, so womanly. You are ‘sanalinh’ to me” he says. He illustrates his point by sitting up so that he can kiss my hips on both sides. He then turns to kiss my breasts, first one, then, the other.

I shake my head at him, still in disbelief at my tremendous good fortune, and oh, so grateful for everything he is. When he settles back against the pillow I ask “How do I say you are ‘male perfection’ to me?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “No, a Dwarf cannot be perfect to an Elf”.

“One can” I insist.

“No, no” he repeats.

“Yes. Yes.” I insist. “There must be a masculine form of that word? ‘Sah nah…khazad?’ or ‘Khazad a leen?’” I propose, trying to guess. He smiles deliciously at my woeful attempts to construct Khuzdul on my own. He kisses me again. Then he whispers the correct word in my ear.

I smile, pleased at its sound, but also because my stubborn Dwarf has given in to me once again. I hold his perfect face in my hands and pronounce him “‘Sanakhûn’”. ****

*U’rakhimê (ooo RAH kee may - with a trilled ‘r’) = I desire you

**Mizimel (MEE zee mel) = jewel eyes

***Sanalinh (sah nah LEEN) = perfect woman

****Sanakhûn (sah nah KHOON) = perfect man

To be continued…

A Silver Bead - Chapter 20 - A CONVERSATION

Sun, 16 Oct 2016 21:25:54 +0100

Previous chapters [here]

CHAPTER TWENTY – A CONVERSATION

This morning awaken feeling whisper-soft kisses against the back of my neck. For a moment I believe it’s another erotic dream, then I have a moment of panic that I have dreamed the whole thing…that Thorin is still in Erebor…but the kisses continue and I sigh in relief. He’s here, after all. Right here! Oh, happy day!

“Thorin” I murmur and he hums softly in response.

With his fingertips he gently sweeps my hair aside, then begins to run his tongue slowly down my spine. I coo and sigh, enjoying this exquisite attention.

He is just nearing the small of my back when I hear footsteps on my porch; someone is approaching the door. In an instant, Thorin is gone. He has rolled over me, all the way off the bed. He stands, naked and belligerent, between me and the threat. He lunges for his belt on the bedside chair, wrapping the leather quickly around his hand, dangling the heavy buckle to the side, ready to swing it as a weapon against whomever dares come inside.

“Thorin! No!” I cry. “It’s probably just my brother!” He hears me but remains poised for attack. I sit up and he thrusts a protective hand behind his body to stop me from going further. Then we hear another sound; a parchment is being slipped under the door. I scramble to my knees and lay a hand on his outstretched arm. Oh, I can feel his body coiled and tense. But once the parchment stops moving, the footsteps retreat and our mystery visitor is gone.

There is a moment of silence, then Thorin sinks down on the bed. I wrap my arms around him and lay my head against him.

“My goodness, you’re quick” I say. He unwraps the belt from his hand and tosses it back on the chair.

“I was startled” he says, sounding a bit annoyed.

“This is Rivendell, you know” I tease him.

“Old habit.”

“And very impressive” I say. I lift his hair aside, kissing his neck and his shoulder. He turns and pulls me into his lap, cradling me. I think he’s going to kiss me but he simply looks at me with loving tenderness. There is something else in his expression that I can’t quite read, but it prompts me to say “Thank you for defending me”.

He hugs me to his chest, rocking me. “I’m rusty” he says.

“We have no enemies here, my love.”

“No. Not here” he clarifies. “I was thinking of the journey.”

“Oh. But we’ll have guards, no?”

I see the tender look again. But whatever worry it masks, he shakes it off and kisses me. Now he stands, lifting me in his arms. He swings me over his shoulder and I squeal. My head is upside down while he strides to the door.

“Thorin!” I giggle “Put me down!”

He laughs and asks “Don’t you want to see the message?”

“Put me down!” I squeal again. He stops by the archway pillars and swings me back around, cradling me as before, rocking me back and forth like a baby.

“Now you’re showing off” I mock-scold him, my face flushed. He nuzzles me and nibbles my neck.

“You like me to carry you around. I know you do” he retorts, nibbling again.

“Yes, I do, but not upside down!”

“Ahh, but you look sweet with your mi’gnȃt* in the air” he says, patting my backside.

*MEEG naht (contraction of “mimig nȃt”, literally “round end”; slang for buttocks)

“You’re very frisky today” I grin at him.

“I was interrupted” he says, huskily. I now recognize that vocal huskiness as the sign of an oncoming smolder. “So let’s read the message” he growls “and get back to more important matters.”

I grin and nod. He sets me on my feet and bends down to lift the parchment from the floor. As he rises, he deliberately nibbles my bare cheek, then smiles in his adorable way. I giggle and take the parchment from him. I recognize the seal right away. “It’s from Lindir” I say. I sit on the chair in the entryway and slip my arm around his leg, holding him close as I read.

I gasp in happy surprise and hold it up to show him. “I have been released from all further duties and assignments” I translate for him. He smiles broadly in response. “Elrond must have done this for me” I exclaim. “I made no such request myself! Oh, Thorin, now I can spend every day with you and help you recover!”

Thorin takes the parchment from my hand and drops it on the floor. I see his smolder flickering again. “Now you can make love to me every morning” he purrs. He scoops me up again and quickly heads back to bed.

“But what about Dwalin and Oin and Gloin?” I tease.

He tosses me over his shoulder again, making me squeal with delight. “I may never see my Company again” he says.

He lays me down and crawls on top of me in the most wonderful, animalistic way. I weave my fingers into his gorgeous hair and pull him close for a kiss. “How will you ever get well if you insist on such strenuous exercise?” I whisper, facetiously. He presses his body against mine, his arousal already apparent, and kisses the side of my neck. “Isn’t there a saying” he asks “if you fall off a horse, get right back upon it?” I smile and nod in agreement. “Well” he says “I’m climbing back on” meaning two things at once.

We continue kissing; sweetly and repeatedly, teasing and toying with each other in the most romantic way. Then he rolls us over, leaving me on top. I nicker at him and carefully kiss the two spots of bare skin below his lower lip, on either side of his goatee, making him smile. Then I scoot down and begin to kiss the scars on his chest, one by one. Oh, I could spend all day just kissing his chest. I stop to examine a scar below his collarbone, struck by its unusual shape.

“This one is so jagged. What’s it from?” I ask

“Some long-dead Orc” he purrs, kissing my shoulder, then dotting my arm with kisses down to the inside of my elbow. “I want to know the stories” I murmur. “That could take years” he replies, pulling me closer, kissing my throat.

“We have the rest of our lives” I reply, dreamily.

He looks at me while tracing a figure eight around my breasts with his finger. “Why would an Elven woman care about the scars of a Dwarf?” I smile and kiss his nose. “Not any Dwarf. The scars of Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain”.

He looks at me with the eyes of love. “He was not always a king.”

“I know. I knew him when he was just a prince, yearning for his birthright”

“I heard he fell in love with a beautiful Jewel”

“Yes” I grin. “The Arkenstone, the heart of the mountain”

“You are my Arkenstone” he declares. He slowly pulls both my wrists over his head, drawing my face to his, trapping me against him. His warm lips engulf mine and his tongue delves sensuously into my mouth.

He has me wailing and moaning in no time.

** ** ** **

It is nearly noon before we rouse ourselves awake again. We wash and dress and walk to the eastern terrace, where I make another attempt to share a meal with his Company. Although there is still some awkwardness, I am happy to say it is far easier than that first morning. Dwalin and Gloin are still cold to me, so it must be my own confidence that has risen.

I meet two more guards, Niri and Gembol. They are young, but they, too, are veterans of the Battle. Niri, like Damon and Grum, grew up in service of Dain in the Iron Hills, but after getting a look at Erebor, he asked to serve the King Under the Mountain. Gembol is a soldier, through and through. He and Niri are good friends. He also decided to stay at Erebor when Dain returned to his own country. Gembol doesn’t really know what to make of having a Elf at the table, much less a female. He stares at me quite a lot and makes some sweet but awkward small talk, but he and Niri are both respectful.

By the end of the week I have made additional strides, and now join the Dwarves regularly for lunch and every other evening for dinner. Oin has established a routine: he tells a new story each day, each one more fascinating than the last. As I ask questions and receive answers I find myself not only learning more about them but gaining confidence with them all.

This morning, as Thorin and I are dressing, he reminds me he has promised to meet Gloin at the stables this afternoon to discuss which horses to buy for our journey. I tell him I’d like to help him choose. I feel his initial resistance so I continue dressing instead of arguing. After a thoughtful pause, he says “It’s Gloin’s decision, but yes, I welcome your help. You know them best.”

After lunch we walk to the lower levels, where there are barns and paddocks and much green grass. My friends Gilithil and Gilanor are here to present the various equine candidates, and Lindir is here as well. Gloin singles out several and we discuss their merits, while Thorin listens. I provide additional guidance that Gloin receives stiffly at first, then gradually accepts. Eventually we agree on four of them; Gloin and Thorin then speak further with Lindir to complete the business.

Once that is finished, we are about to leave but Gilanor comes out of the barn once more, this time walking Asfaleth, my favorite mare. He comes right up to me and places her lead rope in my hand, smiling broadly.

My eyes go wide and I look over at Thorin. He wears a sly grin on his handsome face.

“Thorin! You didn’t!” I gush

“I did” he says.

*** *** *** ***

This evening I have invited my brother and Anoriel to dinner. Thorin has already met them both but those early visits were quite short and I want everyone to get to know each other better. I cook a simple and cozy meal and serve a bit of wine. Thorin is gracious and charming and I think to myself, now, why can’t I be like this when I’m with his friends?

Anoriel mentions that she and Mardil are going riding tomorrow and suggests that we join them. When Thorin sees my enthusiasm he quickly agrees.

The next day we set out across the High Bridge. I ride proudly on Asfaleth, now my very own mare, while he takes his tall sorrel pony, Sheen. He keeps up just fine with our longer-legged horses. We visit our orchards and gardens and grain fields, and we show Thorin some of our favorite views. It’s a lovely outing. Thorin and Mardil talk of weaponry and armor while Anoriel and I coax from him s few stories of his life in the Ered Luin.

It pleases me that everyone gets along so well. And I love that Thorin has a chance to see how well I ride and how well-suited Asfaleth and I are to each other. He whispers teasingly to me that he never thought he’d find himself jealous of a horse!

Thorin rides well, too, although in a very different style. It makes me wonder if there are any physical activities that perplex him.

This evening we dine with his Company again. We are half-way through our meal when Lindir arrives with two other Elves, rolling a barrel of aging ale he discovered in one of the storerooms. He tells everyone it was I who requested it!

I tell Thorin privately that I did no such thing, but the Dwarves enjoy it so, Thorin says I should just let them think I did. He sends for the rest of the soldiers and guards to join us, and soon the beech grove is full of raucous Dwarf singing and dancing once again.

Finally I am able to relax and truly be myself with them. Even Gloin begins to respond to me with more than one syllable. Dwalin, however, simply refuses to warm up. Perhaps he never will. But he is otherwise so loyal and supportive of Thorin, I just grin and bear it.

Dwalin has convinced Thorin to return to a regimen of physical exercise, to strengthen and re-shape his muscles and to re-train his reflexes for fighting. I think it’s too soon, but I suppose I am being selfish. I want Thorin to conserve his energy for me!

As Thorin’s military chief, Dwalin has been conducting daily drills with the guards on the lower terraces. He prevails upon Thorin to watch and judge some sparring matches between the soldiers. Eventually he convinces Thorin to begin sparring with him each afternoon, to build his stamina.

They go at each other far too fiercely for my nerves, but I watch, from a distance, anyway. How can I resist, when both warriors strip down to just kilts! Although I have to cover my eyes at times, I must admit I love to see Thorin fight. Despite his many injuries, he wields both sword and ax with uncommon grace and skill. Of course they use wooden versions for sparring but they do not hold back, clobbering each other with fearsome grunts and roars. Dwalin is equally impressive.

I can tell Thorin’s foot bothers him, but he is so fiercely determined he amazes me with his physical command.

He is always hot and sweaty afterwards, so I have been bathing him more often than usual. On certain days, though, he is so worked up from the fighting that he insists on having me first, which I heartily welcome. I simply can never get enough of him.

The first time he finished a match, he marched straight through my cottage and out the back door to stand under my waterfall to cool off, not even bothering to remove his kilt nor his sparring sandals. When I paused in the doorway offering to remove his clothes for him, he pulled me under the waterfall, holding me fast and kissing me fiercely.

We got each other so worked up that when I tried to lead him inside to the bed he simply lifted me up and we consummated our mutual lust right there under the cascade. My ardent lover was then quite apologetic at his loss of control. I assured him he had no cause, that I was just as eager for him as he was for me. I told him I didn’t know how I’d ever lived without his mad passion before.

It’s cooler today and when we get home after his sparring session, Thorin heads to the hearth to warm some water, while I prepare towels and soap.

After a pleasant mutual scrubbing, we relax together in warm, soapy water, enjoying the aromas of sage and pine. He sits between my bent legs, resting his head on my bosom. He strokes my calves gently under the water and I massage his neck and shoulders.

“Comfy?” I ask him.

“Mm hm” he responds. “Warm enough?”

“Perfect” I say

After several more minutes of blissful soaking, Thorin muses “I may have to rethink our royal chambers in Erebor. Our bedroom has quite a large hearth, but the tub is in a separate room. And I do like having a fire close by.”

“I’m getting very eager to see it” I reply, meaning Erebor.

“The living quarters mostly escaped the damage” he continues. “It was the large public halls and the treasury below that suffered from the Slug. But I expect Balin will have most of it cleared and repaired by the time we get back. Never underestimate Dwarves when there is work to be done.”

I squeeze his shoulders, imagining rows and rows of workers, diligently hammering away. After a pause I ask “Could we talk about our wedding?”

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

“I’m curious about the ceremony. What are your…traditions?”

“Well, a typical Dwarf wedding includes a blood ritual.”

“Really?” I reply “I’m not sure I like the sound of that”.

“Hmm. Unlike you pampered Elves” he teases “a Dwarf’s life is generally hard, so one’s skin must be tough. In a traditional ceremony, the bride and groom press their forearms together and a knife is drawn across the skin and their blood mingles. It symbolizes that whatever pain may come to one will be shared with the other. The wound is then bound tightly in sacred cloth and vows are spoken.”

“Oh”

“But we don’t have to include it” he adds.

“Does it hurt?”

“I suppose it does, but only briefly.” He holds up his forearm to show me the smooth underside, one of the few areas of his skin free of scarring. “I don’t really know” he demonstrates “as I have never been married”.

He lifts my arm to inspect it and, finding the underside scar-free, he says “and neither have you.”

I catch my breath, realizing I never told him about my first husband.

“…actually, I have.”

Thorin turns around, startled, sloshing water and suds.

“…You’re married?”

I correct him, quickly “Was! Not now. Ages and ages ago.” I see a half-dozen emotions play across his face. “He died, Thorin, long ago, probably…before you were born. An Elven wedding does not involve scarring.”

He seems quite unsettled and turns around again, saying “Well, as I said, we need not include it.”

I am immediately regretful for not telling him this sooner. I massage his shoulders again and ask “Do you prefer…a traditional ceremony?” At first he is silent, still digesting my news but then he answers “Yes, I suppose I do…but…”

“Then, I agree” I say, anxious to make peace. I continue my shoulder massage, in an effort to soothe him.

“He was an Elf?”

“Yes. His name was Virian” I reply, now stroking the side of his still-frowning face. “He was also a warrior, but…very different from you”.

“No children?”

I pause, berating myself for not mentioning this, either. Then I answer “Four.”

Thorin turns around again, eyes wide.

“…all grown now, with children of their own.”

He looks not only surprised, but troubled. “Why have I not met them?” he asks, his defensiveness returning.

“They don’t live here. They live far to the west, in the Gray Havens, beyond the Ered Luin”.

Thorin settles back against my bosom, but I can feel he is still tense. I don’t know if it’s the idea of my being married before, or my having grown children. Or, my not having told him. He doesn’t seem angry. It’s more like confusion or worry. He resumes stroking my legs but I can feel how unsettled he is.

“You’ve never spoken of them” he says

“I know…I…we are…somewhat estranged. We weren’t always, but we are now.”

Again we sit in silence a little while.

“Thorin, does it upset you that I was married before? Or that I didn’t tell you?” I ask with some trepidation.

“Neither” he says, definitively. “If your husband were alive…that would upset me! And I should have asked. No, what disturbs me is…why are your children not here with you?”

How do I explain it, when I don’t really understand it myself? But I try.

“At first it was just that their interests lay more in the West. They love the sea, while I…I love the mountains. They came to prefer the Havens, got married there, and now have stronger connections there than here. I miss them, and wish they were more inclined to visit Rivendell but they don’t. I do visit them, regularly. There was never any…acrimony until recently. Just this year, this spring…after I told them of you.”

“Me?” he replies, very surprised.

“They cannot accept that I…that I love one of Durin’s race” I say

I think he is so hurt he can’t say anything further. But he understand that it hurts me, too. He changes position and embraces me, resting his head on my shoulder.

“I feel I don’t know them anymore” I say.

“You have paid a heavy price” Thorin says, solemnly.

“Perhaps. But I regret nothing. I love you, and I still love them. I have decided to trust they will come to their senses someday.”

“I hope so, for your sake.” He rests his cheek on my breast. “I could not be so forgiving”.

“I have shed enough tears over it.”

We are both silent a bit longer, holding each other. He strokes me tenderly. The water has become a bit cool so I ask him “Shall we rinse off?”

“Yes” he says, pulling away. “I’ll get it” he says, meaning the warm pitcher. He leans over and lifts it while I release the plug, letting the water drain. He pours warm water slowly over my back, rinsing me clean of soap. As he does so, he asks quietly “Was your husband good to you?”

I smile and say “Yes, he was good to me. It was a long time ago, but you should know that I loved him. Very much.” I turn so Thorin can see my face. “He was killed in battle, defending Rivendell from the army of the Witch King. Lalaith was only 12 when he died, and I lost the child I was carrying when I heard the news.”

He looks at me, full of sympathy and tenderness, and not a touch of jealousy.

“I know what it is to be in love and to be loved back” I say, “I never thought I would find another whom I could love so deeply, and never one whose love I wanted as much as I want yours.”

“You have my love” he says.

He puts down the pitcher and reaches for a towel. He begins to gently pat my skin. “I’m glad to know your history, including your sorrows” he says. “I’ve never suffered anything like that.”

I stare at him. “How can you say that? You have lost your closest kin! Your brother, your father, your dear nephews, to the Enemy.”

“Yes. But never a spouse.”

He helps me step over the basin edge, while he remains within so I can now rinse him. I lift the warm pitcher and pour it slowly over his beautiful back.

“You surprise me, Thorin. I thought you might be jealous of Virian.” I say in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Have you other husbands?” he asks, wryly, glancing back at me.

I grin as I pour. “No.”

“Other lovers?” he probes

“In the past, a few, but none who remain in my heart.”

He turns to face me and I pour the water over his magnificent, scarred chest, making his ruddy skin glisten in the firelight. I put down the pitcher and begin to dry him off, plainly admiring his naked body as I do so. “You know, when you first came back to me, you were quite thin. But now…you look like the first time I beheld you” I say, barely concealing my arousal.

“Do you think so?” he asks, in a rare instance of Thorin fishing for a compliment.

“I do” I whisper, drying one of his mighty thighs.

“My foot is still troublesome” he concedes “but I finally feel rested.” He steps out of the basin, taking the towel to dry his chest and arms, leaving his loins exposed. “And what of my vigor?” he asks, smoldering up at me. “Is that like the first time?”

“Better” I assure him, matching his mood. He smiles and we move closer. I begin to dry his hair, whispering “I love being loved by you. No one has ever affected me as you do. No one. Only you.” I kiss him gently on his sweet lips.

“Mmm” he purrs. He discards the towel and holds me close. “Say that again”.

“Only you” I repeat.

He lifts me in his marvelous arms and carries me to bed, placing me gently upon it, then leans down to kiss me in his wonderful way, sending me to heaven so swiftly. He lifts the covers and slips in beside me, drawing them over us, holding me close as his smolder increases.

“Now, what shall we talk about?” he says, seducing me again. I rub his nose with mine, nickering. “Mmm, well, I’ve been doing all the confessing. It’s your turn, yes?”

He exclaims in surprise, grinning, then rolls on his back with a chuckle. He’s caught and he knows it. “Very well" he says, taking a deep breath. “I’ll be honest. What do you want to know?” I turn on my side and lean over him, tracing the dark center line of hair from his chest down to his navel and back again, thinking of what I want most to ask.

“Hmm, never married…?”

He shakes his head ‘no’.

“…but I know you’ve had lovers.” He nods and the corners of his mouth curl, but he doesn’t answer.

“Thorin…” I scold, playfully. He just grins, watching my face, teasing me more maddeningly than ever.

“Anyone since me?”

He shakes his head ‘no’ and adds “Impossible”.

“Well, that’s a comfort. Before me, then?” I look at him, awaiting his answer.

“Many” he replies. He says this word in his deepest register, while he caresses my hair and ear.

“How many?” I demand, regretting the question as soon as it’s past my lips.

“I don’t know” he answers.

I suck my teeth at him in dismay. “Dwarf women?” I prompt

“Yes”

I raise my eyebrows, awaiting a name or two.

“And daughters of Men” he adds.

I gasp. It never occurred to me that I am not his first from outside his race!

“No other Elf women” he says quickly, seeing my reaction. “On my honor!” he says, grinning in his utterly irresistible way.

I shake my head at him. I can’t explain why this confession makes him even more attractive to me, but it does. “I knew it. You are a seducer!” I say.

He offers no excuse, just looks up at me from beneath his dark brows, with those eyes of his twinkling away.

“And how do you know there are not dozens of little Thorins running around?” I ask. He hesitates, considering, then admits “I don’t.”

I suck my teeth at him again but he continues “But I have never been made aware of any such child, and for most of my life, I have been fairly well-known and…easy enough to find.” I roll my eyes at him but he grins even more. “Now, before you start thinking too poorly of me, let me ease your mind and confess that Dwarves have a type of prevention medicine, too, at least Dwarf males do; a powder, which I took regularly during my wilder days. I was quite diligent about it, though not for particularly honorable reasons. I stopped carrying it quite a while ago, because I gradually lost interest in such…careless dalliances”.

“Oh you did?” l reply, skeptical.

But Thorin remains in a confessional mood. “I had demeaned myself” he says “and had led myself astray, denying my heritage. I cannot claim that I was fully celibate in my new-found maturity but I did learn to be less…impulsive.”

"Still, you are far naughtier than I first thought” I scold him, mockingly. “I’ve long suspected such a history, but now I almost wish I hadn’t asked.”

“You suspected me of being dishonorable?” he teases

“Well, that’s not my word; I said naughty.”

He grins and nibbles my neck. “You are naughty sometimes”

“Under your influence” I retort.

He begins to draw half circles with his finger around my neck, dipping lower and lower each time.

“I like your naughtiness” he purrs, mischievously.

I know it’s useless to resist him, but for some reason I try. “I warn you, Thorin, I will be very jealous if any of your former lovers suddenly come forth now that you are King.“

The idea of me being jealous seems to excite him.

"Mmm. I’d like to see you jealous” he goads.

“I may surprise you” I say with bravado.

“Will you fight over me?”

“Yes. And I will win”

“I believe you would” he says. “There is a warrior in you. I sensed it from the beginning.” He takes my hand and begins to suck my fingertips, one by one.

I look into his gorgeous eyes, full of the same desire for me that I saw the day we met. I grow nostalgic. “Thorin, do you remember…how my sleeve became snagged on your vambrace?”

He grins and nods, remembering. “Mm hm” he purrs, still teasing my fingertips.

“Did you do that on purpose?” I ask

He chuckles and says “I should have, but no, that was luck. I told you - we were meant to meet.”

I trace my finger down his face, along the edge of his beard. “Do you remember what you said?”

“No. I remember your eyes…and your fragrance…and your heat.”

Oh, how he makes me yearn for him!

“You said ‘caught you’” I remind him.

He smooths my hair behind my ear, looking at me with longing. “I remember how much I wanted you that day” he says. “How I feared you would recoil from me if I simply kissed you. But the opposite happened. You were so utterly different than anyone I’d ever wanted before. I was entranced from the beginning and I still am. And now, being with you daily…you surprise me and excite me every day. You lighten my heart, Jewely, yes, you do, but…I think you’ve strengthened me…and taught me not to be alone.”

I cannot speak. I love him so much I want my soul to sink into his. I want to become him, to make my blood his blood, my skin his skin. I take his face in my hands and kiss him deeply. He responds with fiery passion, nearly making me faint.

I finally break our kiss, gasping for air. “Miriel” he whispers.

Oh, Yavanna, how it destroys me to hear him say my name this way!

“I love you” we both say at once.

He pulls me on top of him, pressing me against his warmth. I feel his hardness, and place myself over him, rubbing him, covering him with my slickness. He looks at me through his tousled hair, intoxicated with desire. He rolls us over, kissing my neck, my throat, my breasts. And suddenly he is inside me, thrusting sensuously. Oh, how I welcome him!

He takes me slowly and repeatedly, letting us both feel every particle of our skin, inside and out, where we are joined. His warm, wide hands take possession of my breasts, kneading them and brushing his thumbs across my nipples, and he murmurs his Khuzdul words which feed my passion.

He watches my face and pulls nearly all the way out, then takes me again, so slowly, pushing in deeper and still deeper, making me moan with such abandon. Seeing me respond to his every move arouses him more and more. I look at his expressive eyes, shining down on me with such emotion. I whimper with each lovely thrust. He builds us both up to an impossible tension, and every fiber of my body is desperate to go there with him.

“Thorin” I moan again, and I fly away sharply as my climax overtakes me. He gasps, tossing his head backwards and comes just seconds after me.

I pull him close, writhing beneath him, moaning in my ongoing pleasure. I lift my pelvis asking him for one more thrust, making him cry out. He gives me several more before we both collapse.

He sinks slowly down on me, letting his hair cascade all about me, holding my shoulders, kissing my cheek, my ear, my hair, my brow, my eyes, my nose, my mouth. He rests his head next to mine, panting loudly. He says breathlessly “You see what you do to me?”

I stroke his muscled back and whisper “Only you”.

To be continued….

A Silver Bead - Chapter 19 - An Improvement

Sun, 16 Oct 2016 21:24:00 +0100

Previous chapters [here]

CHAPTER NINETEEN – AN IMPROVEMENT

As luck would have it, Elrond is not at home but I do find my Lady. She is just sitting down to breakfast with Anoriel and Mardil. They welcome me and I tell them my happy news. A place is set for me and we share our morning meal, chatting and laughing. I tell them Thorin and I spoke at length and that my reservations have now been addressed and resolved to my satisfaction. I admit to them that we are both uncertain how an Elf queen will be received by the Dwarves of Erebor, but that I trust Thorin, and we are determined to make it work, somehow.

Arwen says it is an untrodden path I have chosen, but she feels confident I am up to the task, to which Mardil and Anoriel add their hearty agreement.

It’s heartwarming to feel how happy they are for me; they who know best what I’ve been through. I learn it was all three of them who conspired to fill my cottage with roses, so I thank them many times. As we continue talking I tear up, now and then, feeling keenly how much I will miss these dear friends. But all in all, it’s one of the nicest mornings I’ve had in a very long while.

My brother and Ani have duties that start fairly soon, so they take their leave. Ani teasingly reminds me that I have duties this morning too, but she says she will do mine for me as an early wedding present. I kiss them both goodbye and then turn to Arwen.

“I need your advice, again, my Lady. About your father. I know he won’t be pleased.” I relate to her what Elrond said to me two moons ago about Thorin being mortal. She listens carefully as always and responds that although she thinks her father was right to remind me of this fact, she has long disagreed with him about the “dangers” of interracial romance. “In all of his books” she tells me “I have never found any instruction from the Valar that we Elves must cleave only to our own kind.”

“And now we both find ourselves in such a situation” I say.

She smiles and nods.

“Have you thought about it?” I ask her. “If you and Estel…?”

“I have, and it does concern me. But, if what I feel for him now proves lasting, his mortality would not deter me.” Then she smiles “But we have miles to go, yet.”

“When did you see him last?”

She smiles wistfully, and I recognize a look on her face that is all too familiar; yearning for an absent love.

“He’s off again on another secret task. I now miss him keenly whenever he is away.”

“Oh, Arwen, I wish I could be in two places at once! I wanted to be the one you could confide in…about your lover.”

She blushes and says “We’re not lovers…not yet. But yes, I will miss you terribly. You must write to me, and you and Thorin must visit when I’m in Lorien”.

“Of course!” I reply, holding and squeezing her hand.

“May he be the longest-lived Dwarf in all of history” she says.

“I know I’ll not have him forever. Mithrandir told me to ‘use my time well’ and I intend to.”

“That’s good advice” she agrees. “What else did he say?”

I smile, reflecting on my conversation with the gray Istari just a few days ago, before my life was changed. “He encouraged me” I reply “to embrace my dreams …and my desires. To use my gifts. Oh, Arwen, he gave the same advice you have offered me, year after year! But I wonder now, if he knew Thorin was already on his way?”

Arwen grins and says “It wouldn’t surprise me if he did”.

“I’m just so happy” I gush. “I have never been so happy!”

We embrace warmly. She holds my shoulders, smiling at me. “Let me break your news to my father. Honestly, he’ll be expecting it, given what he witnessed in the courtyard. But still, I will soften the blow.”

“I’m not asking that” I protest.

“Mellonamin*, I insist” she says. “But you should also request a formal audience.”

*Mehl ONN uh meen (dearest friend)

I nod and take her hands. “I can never repay your kindness to me.”

“I have your friendship, as you have mine; I need no repayment.” She kisses my brow. “I believe the Valar have already blessed your choice.”

With that happy thought in mind, I take my leave and head east to rejoin Thorin.

I find him in the beech grove, with Dwalin, Oin and Gloin, deep into a meal of roast mutton and potatoes. Those three fall instantly silent as I appear. Thorin rises and wipes his hands on his napkin. He reaches out for me, saying “Here she is”. Oin rises dutifully but Thorin has to send searing looks towards Dwalin and Gloin until they also stand for me.

Thorin’s warm hand encircles my waist but as much as I love his touch, I am thrown by the Dwarves’ callous behavior. I become tongue-tied, increasing my embarrassment. Oin greets me kindly, but Gloin only mumbles. Dwalin grunts and looks past me. Much to my dismay I continue to flounder until I finally manage to say to Dwalin “Thorin has told me of your skill in battle; I know he owes you his life many times over.” Dwalin sets his jaw and nods, but does not otherwise respond.

I shrink next to Thorin, feeling utterly naked and greatly diminished, as if my only purpose is to share his bed. My usual poise fails me and I am unable to recover. Finally, I excuse myself, remembering with relief that I have duties today.

This seems to prompt a delayed response from Dwalin. “Food’s a bit better'n last time, I’ll give ya that” he growls.

“But still no ale” complains Gloin.

“Ale at breakfast?” I blurt out, incredulous, making everything even worse. Oh, how I wish I could disappear. I turn to Thorin for help and see his mounting discomfort.

“Has my Lady eaten?” Thorin asks, gallantly attempting to help me recover.

“Yes…thank you” I respond, stammering. “B…but…I must go and help Talathiel in the kitchen.”

I know Ani said she would cover for me, but I feel utterly unprepared to share a table with this group. Dwalin is thoroughly intimidating and Gloin seems to be following his lead. Thorin seems about to lose his temper – not at me but at them. He stamps his foot to make the others bow to me.

They do.

“I look forward to seeing you all again very soon” I manage to say.

I give Thorin a chaste peck on the cheek and add an awkward bow to him, saying “my Lord” thinking that such outward gestures of respect to their King will appease Dwalin and Gloin. But it feels so wrong. I know Thorin does not think I am his subject. Oh! What a mess! I turn and walk quickly toward the kitchen.

Oh, Yavanna! How will I ever be comfortable dining with such rude grumps? My friends were right: it is an untrodden path I’ve chosen.

In the kitchen I happily run into Galadwen, on her way out with Gilagorn. I tell them my news and she bursts into tears. She is very happy for me but says she can’t imagine what my life will be like with those ill-mannered Dwarves. Then she catches herself and says of course she doesn’t mean Thorin. She knows he is well-bred. And she says she will miss me very much.

I tell her I’m sure I will get used to them, somehow. She asks how long before I go and I realize I don’t know. I assume several months. She says “good, then we still have time”. She hugs me and dashes off.

Talathiel is not around, so I wander back and forth in the empty kitchen, putting some items away, cleaning up here and there. Hmm, I think to myself, this is not quite how I expected the first day of my new life to go.

I hear footsteps and wheel around.

It’s Thorin.

I rush to him and he takes me in his arms, making me feel instantly better. “I’m sorry” I say.

“Are you here alone?” he asks.

“I felt so awkward” I explain. “I’m not sure what came over me.”

“They’re stubborn as mules, the lot of them. I could pound them into the ground for being so crude.” He shakes his head. “They’re Dwarves, Miriel. Give them time.”

“I know. It’s a lot to ask of them. I wasn’t as prepared as…I’ll do better.”

“You don’t really have duties today do you?” he probes.

“Well, I do, but Ani is covering for me. I just felt I was making things worse for you, so I chose to escape. It wasn’t very brave of me.”

“It’s a lot to ask of you, too. But I know them well. They’ll come around.”

“I think I need time, too.”

He nods and I see the warm light of love in his eyes. “And you shall have it. Let’s go someplace more pleasant, hmm?”

“Of course”

I take his arm and we leave the kitchen, walking into bright sunshine. We follow a path down to a pavilion that overlooks the valley. I sit on a bench while he stands before me, stroking my hair and caressing the point of my ear.

“I’ve managed to make some preliminary arrangements, which await your approval” he says, taking on a brisk, businesslike tone. I find it fascinating to hear his beautiful voice employed in this brand new way.

“I have made it plain to Dwalin and the others that as long as we’re here, I will not be joining them in their quarters, but will continue to house with you in your cottage - if you’ll have me, of course.”

“I’ll have you" I say, grinning at him.

“Good” he grins back at me.

“I have further agreed to meet with them on any day in which you have duties, but I’ve told them they must not expect to see me on the days when you are free.” He looks over at me and I know exactly what he means we’ll be doing on those days.

“If you’ll have me” he adds, eyes twinkling. I nod “yes” and he seems pleased.

“Good. I would also like to introduce you to the guards very soon, so you can get to know them, and they you. It will be better for all, in preparation for our journey.”

“I’d be delighted” I reply.

“Good.”

I think to myself ‘our true partnership has now begun. We are making plans together’. And I notice how comfortable he is, taking the lead. I will have to speak up frequently, and firmly, to maintain the balance in this relationship. But I’m not worried. I prefer a challenge.

“And now to the topic of our departure…it should not surprise you that Dwalin and Gloin want to leave as soon as possible. But I’ve told them I will not rush you. I reminded them you are leaving your long home and have had no time to prepare.” He begins to pace and I presume that his agitation is the result of having had to exert considerable effort against them on my behalf. “But the journey, well, the journey is long. More than a moonspan. We must not wait too long because it’s best to cross the mountains while the summer lasts.”

“How much time do I have?”

“Could you be ready in a week?”

I gasp. “A week?”

“A fortnight, then?” he offers, seeing my panic. “Five and twenty days?”

I close my eyes and think for a moment. “Twenty?” I counter.

He grins. “Done. Thank you.” I smile at his courteous formality and I admire how comfortable he is making decisions, negotiated or not.

“That leaves one more thing: our wedding. I suggest early autumn, before the fading. We should arrive in Erebor…well, before mid-summer’s day, which will give you two moons to get used to things in your new home, and still allow our guests enough time to travel back over the mountains in good weather.”

“Oh!” I exclaim

“Did you have a different idea?”

“I hadn’t thought of it at all!” I blurt out. Thorin winces. I cover my mouth with my hands, feeling instantly regretful. That didn’t come out right! His face becomes stoic and he says evenly “We need not decide today.”

I reach for his large hand and hold it with both my slender ones. “Thorin, I’m sorry. That sounded awful. Of course I want to help plan our wedding!” I bring his hand to my cheek and kiss his palm. “Please just give me a little time and I will have dozens of ideas to add to yours.”

He softens a bit but still seems hurt.

“I do have one objection, though, to the timing.”

Now a frown clouds his handsome features.

“It should be sooner!“ I say.

This pleases him. He comes closer, taking a firm hold of my shoulders, sending rivers of desire coursing through me.

“I’d prefer that, too” he says. “But you will be glad, I think, when it comes to it, to have more time to prepare. We can revisit this later.” He kisses me tenderly and sits beside me. “I am already your husband, whether you call me that or no.”

“And I am already your wife” I agree. I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and pepper his face with kisses. “Oh, Thorin, what kind of a wedding will it be?” This question makes him smile broadly. “As big as you like. Or as small.” He takes my hand to kiss. “But I must admit, I was thinking big.”

I giggle with delight. “When do I officially become a queen?” I ask, finally beginning to imagine it as an exciting thing.

“The moment we’re married” he replies.

I drape my arms around his neck and sigh. “I think a queen should have a very big wedding” I respond “with dozens of guests and dancing till dawn!”

“Hundreds of guests” he corrects

“Hundreds? Oh, yes” I say

“And feasting, red meat off the bone” he adds, lustily.

“And music and wine?”

He nods vigorously. “And fireworks” he says

“Hundreds of fireworks!” I say.

“They will talk of our wedding for ages to come!” he says, pulling me into his lap and kissing me in full view of everyone in Rivendell.

** ** ** **

The next afternoon while we are relaxing in my cottage, two of Thorin’s guards arrive, toting his personal baggage. They are Damon and Grum, two youngish Dwarves who are now veterans of the Battle of Five Armies. I invite them in and heat water for tea. They help me arrange Thorin’s mail shirt and furred cloak over my sewing mannequin and find a safe corner near the hearth for Orcrist. I spend a pleasant hour talking with them, while Thorin looks over various documents.

Damon is dark-haired and Grum is a pale blonde. They both have mid-length beards, ornamented with many braids. They are very hardy of build, Damon especially, and are particularly well-spoken. They grew up in the Iron Hills, serving Dain’s royal household but have now entered service in Erebor. Thorin says Dain was loathe to lose them.

I am happy to say I have no trouble at all holding a conversation with these charming youngsters. They are quite courteous to me, if a bit on the formal side. But at a certain point, Thorin must have given them some sort of signal because they abruptly rise and thank me for the tea, claiming to have other duties. I bid them goodbye and thank them for coming to see me.

As I watch them leave, I see Orophir approaching my stairway. I remember his pointed discomfort when Balin visited earlier this year so I step out on the porch to intercept him, rather than admit him inside and have any unpleasantness between him and Thorin.

He brings a notice from Lord Elrond, confirming that I have been granted an audience tomorrow morning. I thank Orophir and he goes on his way. When I turn around, however, Thorin is watching from the doorway.

I show him the notice and he asks that I read it to him as he does not speak Elvish. Once I‘ve translated into the Westron we both speak, he surprises me by asking to accompany me. At first I balk at his suggestion. I tell him I am quite used to speaking for myself. He argues calmly that he has no doubt of my ability but that he thinks we ought to begin facing such things together. He says it is his duty to me as my betrothed, but he also reminds me that he owes a debt of courtesy to my Lord, in light of our various breaches of protocol the day he arrived.

I am learning that Thorin has many powers of persuasion, and a keen understanding of what courtesy truly entails.

The next day, as we wait in my Lord’s anteroom, I can feel the tension rise when Elrond is told that Thorin is with me. Nevertheless, we are both received into his study; an elegant, open room filled with his many books of lore and healing. But my nervousness melts in relief as Thorin puts aside his usual defensive hauteur and summons what I can best describe as a kingly graciousness, deferring to my Lord not only as his host, but as a great lord of Elves.

Elrond’s surprise is evident, but he clearly welcomes this change. By the end of our visit, his opinion of the King of Erebor has improved considerably. I cannot believe my ears when Elrond asks Thorin to meet with him several more times to discuss what provisions will be made for my safety and comfort on the journey. I do feel Thorin bristle momentarily at the implication that Elrond cares more for my well-being than he does, but he masters himself and makes clear that my Lord’s ideas and concerns for me are welcome. My heart swells as suddenly I have two Lords championing me!

Then Thorin asks if Elrond would consider allowing him to trade for some of the horses in Rivendell’s stable to supplement the ponies he already has. I get nervous again, for I know how fond Elrond is of his steeds, and that he hardly thinks of them as items for barter. But Thorin employs a forthright generosity and clear practicality that wins Elrond over, increasing my admiration even further.

As we walk home, I tell him how proud I am of him, that I believe he has grown from the person I first admired. He seems especially pleased to hear me say so.

“You see what a good influence you are?” he says.

I shake my head and reply “It’s not me, it’s you.”

“Then we have found something about which we disagree.”

And he winks at me.

Oh!

He has never done this before and I cannot control my reaction. I seize his arm and fairly drag him back to my cottage. Once inside I begin immediately to tear off his clothes. He is aroused by my assertiveness and eagerly helps me render him naked.

I push him down on the bed and gather my dress to my waist, climbing on top of him. He caresses my legs as I run my eager fingers over his gorgeous torso. I slide my hands under his mane and grasp the back of his neck, leaning forward to kiss him forcefully. He responds with equal fervor.

He undoes several buttons on my bodice but I sit up and simply pull my dress over my head. He grins in delight, murmuring audibly. I bend over him again, smothering him with passionate kisses, bestowing them on his cheek, his ear, his temple, his brow, his eyes, his nose, before returning to his sweet lips, which willingly part for me. Oh, Yavanna! I want to possess him fully.

I sweep his hair to the side and lavish his neck with more kisses, lingering at his ear lobe, sucking and nipping it and enjoying his reaction. I move to his chest, drawing my tongue over his flat nipples; I move up to nip his shoulder and then his mighty biceps. Oh, I love kissing them! I return again to his lips. He moans and kisses me back but I deliberately keep him off balance, moving rapidly from one place to the next so it’s all he can do to keep up with me. I feel him under me, getting so hard; he makes me mad with desire. He begins to rub himself against me, sighing softly, as I continue my attack.

I don’t want to leave his wonderful lips but now one thought drives me; to kiss the hot center of his passion, so I begin to slip down his chest to his belly, placing wet kisses all the way. And I don’t stop. I hear him murmur encouragement as I take hold of his risen manhood, and I press his warm, velvety skin lovingly against my cheek. I run my hand up and down his length several times, then drag my tongue against him, starting at the root, and when I reach the top I encase him in my mouth. His head falls back on the pillow, surrendering himself to me with an audible gasp. I watch his hands grasp at the linens as I kiss and lick his sensitive tip.

I pleasure him as one possessed, sensually and intensely, purring and humming to him, licking and kissing and lapping at his sensitive ridges over and over, around and around, taking care to glance up at him often, smiling with my eyes.

Again I trail my flattened tongue down his shaft to his orbs. I fondle them, kissing and licking them, drawing plaintive sounds from him in response. I massage his engorged tip with both the top and the underside of my tongue and continually draw just the top part into my mouth, sucking gently, listening to him moan in sweet agony.

He looks at me and reaches out, stroking my hair, watching me, mesmerized, as I love him this way. He warns me several times to stop, but I don’t. He begins to squirm and I know he’s getting close. I feel him gather himself and I think he’s about to come but instead he suddenly pulls himself away from me and swings his legs off the bed. He stands up and seizes me by the thighs. In one motion he lifts my legs around his torso and swiftly penetrates my wet and ready entrance, raising and lowering me on his rock hard instrument as I gasp in pleasure.

My arms wrap around his neck and my legs surround his hips while he carries me this way to the bed post, extending an arm to brace himself against it while his other keeps me rocking up and down on him. I seize his mighty shoulders, my breath coming in gasps. He thrusts into me ferociously, losing himself in his passion while my breast finds its way into his open mouth.

I squeeze him with my inner muscles as he pushes harder and faster inside me. He holds me close to his belly as he thrusts, pressing my trigger unerringly. His hands grip my backside and he lunges from breast to breast. I glance down and see my nipple in his mouth and I come quite suddenly, stiffening and shuddering. This tips his own climax and he cries out, grasping the sturdy bedpost as he pours himself into me, burst after burst, grunting and roaring in satisfaction, his strong fingers claiming me for his own.

We cling to each other, lost in our mutual bliss, riding the waves of euphoria as one. It lasts a very long time but when it finally begins to subside, Thorin staggers and starts to slide toward the bed, ultimately falling against me as we land together on its softness. He presses his hot face against my bosom, panting and heaving. My chin juts upwards as I press my head against the bed, gasping and smiling, loving his weight upon me, amazed at what our passion brought us to.

When our breathing finally begins to ease back to a steady rhythm, he confesses “You’ve killed me. Again”.

I grin and gasp out “That was your fault”.

He exhales loudly and laughs “Tell me what I did, so I’ll be sure to do it again”.

I nicker softly and reply “You winked at me.”

He chuckles and flicks his hair aside, kissing my neck and shoulders. “You’re as wild as a mountain cat” he growls, thrusting into me a few more times, even though he is now quite spent. I grin and twist several locks of his hair around my fingers, then sigh loudly in utter contentment.

“Am I too heavy on you?” he asks

“No” I murmur “You feel wonderful”.

I absolutely love to feel Thorin’s weight on me. I don’t want him to move an inch. He murmurs “I love you” which I repeat back to him. And together we drift off to sleep.

To be continued….

#1366 “I love Thorin, but I’m so sad and tired of people...

Sun, 16 Oct 2016 21:21:15 +0100

#1366 “I love Thorin, but I’m so sad and tired of people assuming bad things about me because I love him. I’m bad at explaining things. I just want to like him without hearing about how he’s so bad or I shouldn’t think he’s a hero or that he deserved death.”