"By the starlit mere of Cuiviénen, Water of Awakening, they rose from the sleep of Ilúvatar..."('Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor' - The Silmarillion, by JRR Tolkien.)
The earliest moments in the life of the Elf that started it all - and he didn't wake alone.
A belated birthday gift for Spiced Wine. Élernil belongs to her; he is an OC from her wonderful Dark Prince AU.
Categories: Fiction Characters:
Explicit Sex, Incest, Slash
February 13, 2018 Updated:
February 13, 2018
Happy birthday, Spiced - I'm sorry it's late, it took me a while to get it right. I hope you like it, and thank you very much for letting me borrow your wonderful OC.
Chapter 1 by Narya
Their first memory was the Music. When Menelmacar rose in the sky a bright trumpet rang, then with Helluin's ascent it softened into a chorus of gentle whispers like pipes. Their souls stirred from sleep, and they heard the Music's call and knew they lived. In those first days all were attuned to it, although later some lost the gift through fear or great grief.
At the touch of Helluin's blue light the Flame Imperishable was kindled in their bodies, and they opened their eyes. Most looked first upon the stars when the Secret Fire was burning brightest inside them, and so ever to the stars have they looked and cried out in their need. But two had slept curled together, the unformed essence of each one wrapped around the other, even before they were aware of themselves or of the World. When Helluin kissed their souls and revealed their forms, they looked not on the stars but on each other. Two pairs of grey eyes gazed in wonder as the other came into being before them, silver-blue beams tracing sculpted bodies, fair faces, flowing hair. Each recognised the other - not a separate being, but another self, woken from the same Fire. Souls leapt across the connection, burning, scorching, and they watched as the Flame settled in the other's body and gave it life.
They rose together, fingers trailing across white skin and sliding through black hair. Hand in hand they walked from the mere, pausing every few paces to cry out in delight at some new wonder, dropping to their knees to touch it and listen for its sound in the Song that filled them - the dancing notes of the grass, the steady hum of the rock, the chattering laughter of water flowing down from the hills.
After a while they came to rest under a rocky bluff leaning over a bend in the river. Spiked bushes clung to its face. They tasted the berries, laughing in surprise as they burst sweetly in their mouths, and then lay together once more on the banks. Hands drifted over bodies, committing each curve and muscle to memory. Their touches strayed lower. Warmth and hunger woke in response. Mouth found mouth, and song and fire arced between them, building and burning as they stroked each other to hardness, discovering, pressing, demanding, rushing upwards, and they cried out at the surge of hot ecstasy that shot through their limbs. For a few glorious moments they were caught in it, lost, and they spiralled beyond body and awareness, then it ebbed in soft waves like the tide and left them shaking in the grass.
They wound their arms around one another. The taller of the two hummed a lullaby low in his throat, giving voice to the sounds he heard in the Song around him. He stroked his companion's hair and sifted through the layers of Music until he found the other's song threaded through it, and he listened. The Flame was there with its white-hot burst of life, but beneath lay something quieter - gentle notes that wavered and danced like the starlight on the mere. Underneath that again was a steadiness, a low, constant note like the cliff wall they sheltered beneath. Amazed and delighted, he lay quietly and listened for a long time, the other asleep in his arms.
At last he sat up, and nudged at the fire-bond that had opened between them when they first opened their eyes. His companion stirred, his mind reaching back along the link like a warm embrace.
The taller one opened his memories, showing the other how he had sounded in the Song, and sharing the joy and love he himself had felt. He pressed his hand to the other's breast, humming back the sounds as he remembered them, trying to vocalise what he had heard. He shifted his tongue about in his mouth, trying to fit the reluctant teeth and muscles around the notes and shape them further. "Finwë."
The other knelt, named, astonished, eyes full of love and light. He too slipped into the Music, searching the tendrils of melody until he heard it, and knew - white flame like his own, burning in a jewelled sky, and the sound of wind rushing through long grass. He closed his eyes, listening, catching the notes and tones in his throat as best he could, sounding them in his mind until they rang true. "Élernil."
Élernil drew Finwë close and kissed his cheek. Brother. Twin. Beloved. Even without words to speak the endearments aloud, they both knew their meaning. Gently Élernil brushed Finwë 's mouth with his own, and sighed as the longing ache stirred in him again.
He left the connection between them open so that each could experience what the other felt. They were slower this time, more deliberate, each caress an experiment and a choice. Élernil traced circles in the hollows of Finwë's hips, hardening as his brother's eyes half-closed with longing, thrilling at the soft moan as he teased his fingers closer to the hot length. He cupped it, worked him slowly, then faster; Finwë pulled him close, breath quickening, heart at a gallop, and Élernil felt the fire rising inside his brother - too near, too soon. He withdrew, pressed their brows together, kissed his face, then his neck, tongue tracing slow patterns on the skin. It tasted like the salt in the air at the edge of the mere. Finwë shivered and moaned again, and heat spiked below Élernil's stomach. Giving in, he guided his twin's hand downward, lifting his head to look into the grey eyes already more precious to him than his own life.
Mischief flickered there. Finwë circled his thumb slowly, slowly around the tip of his twin's erection, then stroked down and upwards over the silky skin. Élernil felt the pull of that burning ecstasy, steady and fierce and and deep as a storm. A groan slipped from his throat as Finwë's hand slid lower and moved in a firm rhythm like a drum beat, and the burning rolled in waves from his groin, out into his belly and down through his thighs. Solid flesh and muscle vanished under thrilling surges of heat. He trembled, so close, wanting to fall and tumble downwards into release...
The hand was gone. Cool air kissed the gap where it had been. A single finger teased lightly along his belly, down over his hip, along his thigh. He shuddered, burning, needing; he pressed his mouth urgently to his twin's, pinching at a nipple, shivering again at the gasp of pain and the sharp dart of pleasure it provoked. Together they held each other, swaying on the precipice between agonised joy and the wild rush of abandonment.
Finwë pressed a lingering kiss onto Élernil's lips, then lowered his head and took his brother's length in his mouth. White flame scorched up through them both. Élernil tipped his head back and rode the surge, balancing dizzily as the burning built and thundered through his body again. His breath came in desperate shallow gasps. Finwë's tongue circled in a soft caress, and Élernil cried out, tilting on the edge for one last blinding moment, then his vision blacked and the world swayed and there was no stopping. He was falling, helpless, shattered; wave after wave of ecstasy engulfed him; his body spasmed as he spilled his release into Finwë's mouth, then he moaned as his twin's answering surge swept through him, and each muscle shuddered deeply in slow, intense pleasure.
Boneless, he sank to the ground. The gentle echoes of both orgasms pulsed through his limbs. Senses returned - pinpricks of light, water over stone, the sweet smell of grass.
"Finwë," he murmured, cradling his twin.
The beloved head rested on his chest. "Élernil." His voice was rich and heavy with the glow of what they had shared.
Their souls drifted, the Music surrounding them and pulling them into deep, soothing unconsciousness. They slept, needing only each other, and even in dreams they did not fear the dark.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.