Many were their moments together, though never did they have the time to become nearer to one another than they were. War and strife plagued them, the shadow of Morgoth a darkening to the spirits of everyone in Menegroth, or nearby.
“I wish you would come back with me to the city,” he said, the same as he always did, though it was little more than wishful thinking as they sat together in the moonlight.
Nellas shifted closer, though any closer and she might have been in his lap. “I wish you could stay here with me,” she replied, though there was no malice in her voice.
They were snuggled together on a bed of moss gathered earlier, looking in the distance at the mountain, bathed in moonshine. The light played off of the natural crags and crevices in the rocky formation. Beneath the mountain, under Melian’s protection, many of their kinsfolk were at rest.
Mablung himself would have liked to have been in his bed. Cozy... warm... just the thing he needed after returning from another failed attempt at finding Morwen and Nienor. The only thing keeping him was the precious elleth snuggled against him.
“Do you need to go back tonight?” queried Nellas.
The Captain of Doriath contemplated the clouds overhead. They looked far too thin to bring early morning rain. Though he had not gone into the city to announce his return, he knew that Melian was aware of his presence. She had undoubtedly told her husband, and there seemed no reason to hurry back into the vast and cavernous passages of Menegroth only to awaken sleepy-eyed guards and disturb the royal family for no good reason.
“Maybe you could stay out here with me,” suggested Nellas, her thick accent lulling Mablung into shutting his eyes so he could simply listen. A moment later she was in his lap, and he opened his eyes again to find her giving him a very hopeful look. “Sometimes, it gets lonely out here, even with the trees for company.”
“I can imagine,” nodded Mablung as he reached a hand up to stroke her hair. She purred and nuzzled him – maybe the rumors that she was raised by a mountain lion were true! He inhaled her earthy scent deeply – dirt and pine and beneath it all, something that made him growl just a bit in the back of his throat. “You would prefer I spend the night with you?”
“Mmmm…” It sounded affirmative; the snuggling of her cheek against his chest seemed even more positive.
“I suppose I could wake early and enter the city before the king rises; he would need not know that I spent the night here.” Mablung pulled her closer, his arms embracing her tight, yet gently. “Where is your den, my dear?”
“I have no den. I have a nest,” she answered. She snaked one hand free and patted the moss they sat upon. “This is where I sleep.”
“Do you really? And what if a cold breeze comes through the trees and catches you unawares?” he asked as he leaned back into the moss, bringing her with him. He rolled to the side so they were both nestled in the nest.
“Normally, I burrow into it a little, but I should think with you here I shall have no fear of breezes, nor anything else for that matter.”
“And what about me?”
“What about you?” wondered Nellas. “Should I expect to fear you?”
“Perhaps you should,” Mablung suggested. “In a place so secluded, so natural as this, I may very well turn into a wild and passionate animal,” he warned, his words slow, his eyes taking in every curve, every bit of her expose skin – her neck, her hands and wrists, and bare feet – all shimmering slightly in the moonlight.
Nellas used one finger to motion him closer, and the very small gap between them closed again. “Some say I am myself but a wild thing, untamed, out here all alone as I wish.”
“Certainly, you cannot truly wish to be here all alone,” he corrected.
“Nay,” she agreed. “Though, I am wild.”
“Oh?”
“About you.”
“Ah.” Mablung smirked. “Where did you pick that up?”
Nellas took a moment to think. “There was a couple having a picnic in the woods a few years ago. He told her many silly things like that. I rather liked that one, though.”
“So did I,” admitted Mablung. “I did not mean to laugh – I hope I did not offend you, darling.” He kissed her gently, savoring the moment. Kissing was about as far as they often got. With so much uncertainty, he was unwilling to bind to her at the moment. There were other things they could do together, he quickly reminded himself as she turned her head and suckled on his earlobe, biting it gently. His future was hazy – neither Melian nor Nerwen (he could not help but call the Noldorin half-breed by the name she had given when they were first introduced) had been able to tell him of his future using their foresight. Or, perhaps, he reflected briefly as he began to untie the lacing at the back of Nellas’ dress, they were reluctant to tell him what they knew.
“No… those have to stay on,” muttered Mablung when he felt Nellas pull at the laces of his breeches. Already all of her clothing and the majority of his was discarded in a heap near their feet. He growled as she fondled him through the cloth, and he strained for better contact. “Alright, but we must take care!” he insisted as she mischievously yanked his trousers to his knees. “You are a wild one,” he said, agreeing with her earlier assessment as she wetted her lips and gave Mablung a long, tentative lick. “A wild little minx...”
Nellas paused to look up, fingers delicately massaging him. “Is that good or bad?” she asked uncertainly.
“Good,” he panted as he guided her head down. “Very good...”
