 FIC: "Nights of the King" "Now come the Days of the King!" Nik's part: I find no peace at night, now that I am the high king of all Middle-earth. Too many unfamiliar duties beg my attention; I sit unhappily at council--or a table cluttered with papers--while longing to be riding across a windy plain. My wife moves calmly through the days, heavy with our child. I leave her to her private chambers, happy to give her time to contemplate and rest while I pace in my own rooms. I love her dearly, but dare not bother her now with my all-too-Manlike needs... Where dare I find some soft comfort, wrapped in warm arms? Where dare I find some rough tumble to release the passion that makes it hard for me to breathe and drives away my sleep? There is one who would offer me his bed, I know. Do I dare to turn to him? Do I dare to ask? Marilyn's part: I certainly felt for my dear friend when I saw how out of sorts he was from all this king business. Although longing for my own land, I found, somehow, I couldn't seem to leave him in this unhappy state. Men's needs are foreign to me, but since that long journey, I find I can almost hear the thoughts of certain of my friends and feel their secret longings. Perhaps this is part of my own longing and the madness that came during that time. I may never be sure. But Aragorn's fate was wrapped up in my own. And it was impossible to ignore his silent call. I finally crept in his room and climbed naked into his bed. Even unskilled as I am, I felt the mere presence of my form might be enough to offer him succor. I was right in thinking so. He took me in his arms without a second thought and pulled me up on his chest. He cradled me softly, at first, like a child. Then he pushed me down and rocked against me until I could feel his arousal battering my flesh. I trapped him between my thighs and squeezed as tightly as I could, sensing this contact was what he needed. Men are so big everywhere. And their skin so quickly grows as hot as the fumes of Mount Doom, burning the lungs and scalding the fingertips. I held on tight to him and kept my place, although his body rocked like the quakes that shook Mordor. My hands gripped him, leaving raised welts on one arm and a bruise on his chest. When he finally quieted a bit, I covered his wet face with kisses. His breath was ragged and shallow, but his lips smiled. "I thank you for this, my dearest friend," he said hoarsely, and I answered him with another kiss. He then lifted me easily so he could kiss me himself, first on the mouth, then gently on the chest where an old wound has never healed. "You are the bravest of us all," he said. I protested. "Oh, no. It wasn't courage that drove me. It was love." He held me for some time without speaking. I could feel his heart beating against me. "I will never forget you," I told him. "Someday I'll write about the journey of our Fellowship, but I'll never tell about this night." "It will be our secret," he said. And it will be. I plan on taking this small parchment and secreting it where it will never be found. But if the day comes when I myself have forgotten the devotion that drove me to the King's bed that night, I will take this paper, unfold it and re-read my thoughts from that heady time and rejoice in my boldness. Even Sam will never know the reason behind my smile when we return to the Shire. ++++++ He's a strange one, to be certain. Sometimes I find him more like an elf than a man, quiet and deep in his thoughts. But underneath his silent scrutiny, I can sense he has the same feelings and needs I do. King or not, he's still a man. And even a man raised with elves needs to forget his station from time to time and roll about in the hay -- or at least in his bed. Yes, elves are certainly fascinating creatures. I'm as drawn to them as he is, though I didn't grow up around them and, in fact, knew little of them until recently. The queen is a breathtaking female, and no doubt she makes a good companion during a long night. But a man occasionally needs a heavy hand and a rough romp between the sheets. And this is something I know a great deal of, though I have to admit I had gone through a long spell of solitude myself, since the death of my closest companion and cousin. I knew I was welcome in the White City, where I'm sometimes treated more like a king than in my own land. But I have a feeling I'll be even more welcome on future visits, now that he knows how comfortable it is to forget his troubles while he enjoys an easy fuck with a friend. It didn't take long at all for him to relax in my arms and openly profess his needs, which I quickly attempted to fulfill. We shared a long night of noisy pleasure and spontaneous laughter, and between us we spilled a bucket of sweat and seed. This is a man I will proudly call friend and brother for as long as I live. And when his eyes get that faraway look and he starts speaking in an Elvish tongue in that soft voice, I'll give him a swift kick under the table or a nudge of my elbow and pull him into the nearest chamber and roughly warm his flesh. I think I know what's good for him! ++++++ He healed me. I'll never forget waking from my sleep of near-death and seeing those eyes. I'll ever carry the memory of the mesmerizing sound of his gentle voice when I first stirred in the House of Healing. (How can this same voice be the one he raised to call the forces of Middle-earth to fight at the Black Gate? If only I could have been there with him!) He rewarded me. He saw to it that I kept the white staff. Even in my failure to hold Osgiliath and to guard my father's city, he saw in me something he deemed worthy of a steward and a prince. He inspired me. Even the shining memory of my beloved brother could not compare with the courage and beauty of his kingly mien. I have never known such a man, nor do I expect to ever know another. My own wife loved him, and I cannot begrudge her that. He is a man worthy of the love and devotion of both men and women. I went to his chamber with humility and awe. My hands trembled as I loosed my clothing and stood naked before him. He handled me gently at first, pulling me into his bed and touching my face tenderly, then stroking my neck and chest with his large hands. He spoke softly of Boromir and of holding my brother as he died. He lingered on my now healed wounds and the rough skin marked from the fire in the Hallows. I shivered when he touched me there and felt near tears, remembering. Then he embraced me so forcefully, I forgot all my sorrows. Our mouths sealed together, and we rolled across the sheets, unable or unwilling to drop anchor. He held my head and coiled his large fingers in my hair, tugging roughly. One hand reached for me and stroked me until I cried out, my arms flailing against the pillows. And then he raised my legs and took me, draining himself inside me until we both were limp with pleasure and exhaustion. We clung together for hours, our skin slick with sweat that never seemed to dry. We would not come apart long enough to find the bed coverings which had fallen to the floor or reach for tunics to cover our nakedness. Even when he slept from time to time, the heat from his body rose against me and kept me from shivering in the chill morning air. My hands ached from gripping his flesh. I would have stayed forever, forgetting my wife, forgetting Ithilien, forgetting the White Company that waits for me there. He honored me. Even if I never go to his bed again, I will carry the memory of that night as a treasure and a tribute that, unworthy as I am, he freely gave. In this, I am the most fortunate of men. ++++++ How long must I endure this? I may be an elf, but I am not Elrond or Celeborn, with thousands of years of life to teach me patience. I watch them come and go from his chamber, all paying homage to his courage and manliness and all serving him in his own special way. My ears are sharp enough to hear every word and every groan and every sigh. Yes, he is a king, and kings have needs that others do not. How well I know this, for am I not the son of a king myself? Yes, he is a man, and men have needs that are urgent and heavy and noisy. I have traveled with him long enough to recognize those needs, and I have been with him long enough to prepare myself to be the one to fulfill them. I have no intention of losing myself forever in dreams of him or of allowing myself to pine away for want of him. If he doesn't come to me tonight, I will go to him. I won't wait any longer. The End
|