The next morning I was awakened by the delectable smell of warm flapjacks and hot spiced peaches. I vaguely recalled telling Claire about my odd obsession with peach flavored foods the night before. She was knelt on the floor and wore a diaphanous gown of pale blue. The plate was held close and the fork was lifted to my lips as I sat up. Warm peachiness wafted up, and I took the offering into my mouth. The tines slide across my tongue as the fork was removed from my mouth.
“More?” she asked as she pierced another piece of peach.
‘Stop doing this, Claire,’ I kept thinking. ‘Stop this, you wicked temptress.’ I wanted the words to come out, but they were stuck in my throat and my mouth was suddenly dry. I could only nod as she lifted the fork back up.
“Lady Nora worried they had gone bad because they were so soft. How do they taste?” Claire offered me another mouthful.
‘Get up! Turn away!’ I could hear the rational thoughts somewhere in the back of my mind. A million reasons why not echoed in my head as my heart thumped in my chest and in my ears. There was no doubt, no amount of simple, sane reasoning that could counteract the throbbing, the heat, the—
She licked her lips and looked up at me with her innocent doe eyes. I had to swallow my groan and shift my legs. If I held out much longer I may well have burst. Did I even answer her question? Farewell, clairvoyance, and good morning, Claire!
“I have never had these prepared in this way before. I do hope they taste good,” she said.
“Oh, they do.” I could hold back no longer, and nearly knock the plate over as I claimed her lips in a fiery kiss. One of my hands found its way behind her neck while the other relocated breakfast in a haste. I felt the shiver down her spine and deepened my kisses. The rational thoughts were silenced and the primal instincts took full control.
I found I was sliding downward off the bed, but before I ended up in her lap I pulled back. For a few lucid moments I recollected myself. “Claire, I apologize.” Shame colored my cheeks and I backed away, lumping the blanket over my erection.
Claire followed me onto the bed and placed her hand upon mine. “Please, do not think me so wrong for doing this...”
Again, I was unable to move. Her hand drew the blanket down slowly. It brushed against my stomach and thigh as it was drawn down and created friction over the head of my erect length. My teeth were clenched and she pushed against my chest with one hand to force me down while she used the other to squeeze the base of my erect length.
Then I heard myself panting. Part of me wished I had the will to stand up, but most of me waited with mock patience. As her lips caressed, my hands dug into her golden hair. Her mouth engulfed me, and I cried out. In that moment I felt terrible and yet, I felt so sinfully good. How long had it been? Since... too damn long if I could not remember.
“You... you... oh, you have to stop,” I begged half-heartedly, though the way I shallowly thrust my hips contradicted what I said.
Her well-practiced suction had changed to frequent bathing of my erection with her tongue between sentences. “Is that so? You are so close. Please, give this to me. For the first time, someone is not ramming down my throat as I kneel at their feet drowning in my own tears. I need one good memory, one I can hold onto in the future. Every time some stranger takes me in this room, I want to be able to think of you.”
I wanted to grab her, to shake sense into her. Words failed me again as she took me down her throat. Like the waterfall that breaks free of the ice each spring, I burst forth, unable to contain myself any longer.
I lost track of time as Claire drank from me and licked off that which she missed. While she gently pushed and prodded at me I fought to catch my breath. When I heard her giggle I sat up. “You are uncut. I only just noticed. Every other uncut man I have been with smelled.”
“I am not a man, though,” I reminded her.
She nodded.
“I feel like a thief now,” I told her. Claire only gave me a small smile and moved to retrieve the pancakes and peaches. “Get back here,” I demanded, taking hold of her elbow.
“Not hungry?” she asked.
Instead of answering with some cliché, I coaxed her back onto the bed. This time she was spread out on the bed and I was between her legs. I pushed the thin fabric of her dress up to her knees. Then I bowed my head and sniffed her through the gauzy material. She gasped at my animalistic approach, and I responded by burying my face deeper.
How long had it been again? It came back to me without hesitation. My hands slid up her legs, and she sighed. I ran my tongue through the damp slit, then parted her legs even further and dove back in. As I hummed, she groaned. I growled in return. Her hands gripped my hair by the roots and she pulled me closer. With my tongue teasing her near the front of her exposed sex, my fingers played in and out of the folds. Claire came hard, and wrapped her legs around my neck when her orgasm hit. I flicked my tongue rapidly, alternating between this and sucking the juices from her. I ended up beside her in bed soon afterwards. The rest of the day was completely taken over by sleep, eating in bed, and a great deal more sex than I had expected on my vacation.
- - -
I watched the flames dance in the fireplace as I waited for Lady Nora. After requesting a private audience with her I was escorted to her salon. It has a lovely view of the garden, but in the darkness it was nearly impossible to enjoy. The matron made me wait a good long while before she joined me. Business discussion would come later, but first she offered me a drink, which I needed. She insisted upon chatting for a while. It was an odd conversation , between her heavy country accent and my thick Valinorin slurring that I only seem to shake completely in council and on stage.
We finally hit a lull and I said my rehearsed piece. My offer was generous but it would mean a great deal of change would occur. I held back only what I needed to get Claire and I back to Rivendell. Yet I worried, for I feared that the matron would not see the opportunity I was presenting. Her decision came faster than I had expected. Lady Nora stomped a roach, nodded to me, and said, “I’ll take it.”
- - -
I returned to find Claire asleep, so I snuggled in bed beside her. I had to leave a note telling her of my change of plans when she was still asleep the next morning after I woke, ate, bathed, and dressed. It was the third, and I still had an appointment to keep at The Lame Duck.
Over the next eleven hours, I sat at the bar, drank more beer than expected, and watched the door for signs of Darthen. I began to wonder if he had the same difficulty as I had in finding a room. Outside, the lamps were being lit, and weary travelers lucky enough to have found a place in this establishment were turning in for the night. I finally asked the innkeeper if he knew Darthen or had seen him.
“Knew him well, I did,” came the sad reply. He went on to tell me of Darthen’s unfortunate demise and how the horseman had arrived in town a few months earlier with a fever. Darthen took terribly ill despite the doctor’s best efforts. In his final days he coughed up blood and thick, green bile, and it scared so many that once he died his body was burned almost immediately for fear that a plague might otherwise spread.
“No one knew of any family he had, so when no one came enquirin’ we split up his property fair. He owed me a bill from last year, and the doctor, too, and some others.”
I rubbed my chin and tried not to look too upset. What Darthen peddled, from what I had been told by colleagues, were some of the finest race horses in Middle-earth. To think of them pulling wagons and plowing fields made me want to spit. I know how difficult it is to train a horse for competitions, and how hard it can be to find one with just the right skills for such an endeavor.
“Did you know him?” asked the innkeeper of me.
“Only a little,” I admitted. “I was supposed to look at a horse he had, but that matters little now.”
I stood up and tossed a tip onto the counter as the innkeeper eyed me up. In a low voice he asked, “Are you one of them E-V-L-E-S?”
The lack of grammatical and spelling skills there was really baffling to me, but I nodded and tilted my hat slightly to reveal my ears. The innkeeper smiled and waved his wife to watch the bar while he motioned that I should follow him.
I was led to the stables while given an explanation. “Darthen had one horse he kept callin’ his prize. Says there was a fancy elf from a valley comin’ to see it. Before he died, he says, make sure he gets that colt. I honest don’t know why, he’s a feisty bugger.”
“Well, you see, I may have some trouble with the payment,” I began to explain, but the innkeeper shook his head.
“Darthen says he wanted you to take him. He would’ve died happy knowin’ his prize was in the hands of a true horse master, those were his own words.”
In the stall on the far right, a colt the color of the midnight sky was kicking a food sack across the ground. “He does that. Feisty and restless. I think he still needs some trainin’ C’mere Blacky Bo.”
My first thought of ‘what a gorgeous, magnificent specimen of a horse’ was soon replaced with ‘what an awful name for such a noble creature’. Instead of waiting for the horse to approach the gate, I entered the stall. “Greetings, little rascal. Restless, are you? What would you say to a wide, open pasture and more places than you could ever imagine exploring?”
I could tell he was contemplating as I neared him. “What about a different name?” I asked. I spoke in Quenya now, for I find it the most soothing language for equines and for my own tastes after so much Westron. “Something a little more appropriate for one so fine as yourself. I tend to think the name Morir would suit you better, but what do I know? I am only an elf.”
To say I am only an elf was perhaps an understatement, but the horse seemed to get the joke as he wuffled my hair with his nose. These natural powers I have that allow me to communicate with animals are strengthened further by my heritage. His new name received a whinny of approval, and I could not help but contemplate momentarily how the bad fortunes of so many had led to my good fortune that week. Indeed, Eru’s plan is one I shall never understand. All the same, I am grateful for it.
