The Circles - Book Four - Chapter 29

The Circles - Book Four - Paths Both East and West
Chapter Twenty-nine
My Beloved Dwimmerlaik
Written by Angmar and Elfhild

A kiss as sweet as honeyed mead woke the Rohirric woman some time later, and, stretching languorously, she felt a sense of marvelous refreshment washing over her body. With a sensation that she was more alive than she had ever been in her life, her skin tingled with radiant vibrancy, as though it had been soothed with a magic balm. Touching her face, she was amazed to find that her skin was no longer rough and careworn, but soft and supple as that of a young girl.

"Come, beauty, you have rested long enough," the phantom's deep, powerful voice gently commanded her. "While you slept, I wove another spell which will strengthen you and make you able to withstand the fullness of my fierce ardor! Rise from your bed now and let me unbraid your hair. I want to see it fall in waves about your shoulders."

Arising from the bed with a soft sigh, she no longer felt any sense of shame at being nude before a man who was not her husband. She wanted him to gaze upon her and find her sensual and alluring, and as lovely as a bride upon her wedding day. Oh, how she wanted to excite him, to drive him into a flaming passion! How she yearned to feel within her depths the full magnitude of that protuberance that had surged against her when she had clung to him! With a fluttering in her heart, she approached him on trembling legs.

Turning her around with his hand, he began unbinding her braided hair. "You are incredibly lovely; your face and body an incomparable delight." Taking a strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger, he brought it to his nostrils and inhaled deeply. "Such delightful hair... so soft... so silky ... And the scent... intoxicating!" As he released her tresses, the strands fell about her hips, a cascade of gold no longer tainted by silver. "Now rid me of my garments, and you will discover for yourself that I am not so much a spirit as you might believe," he murmured hungrily as he turned her around to face him.

"Oh, my lord, I cannot!" she cried, her hand flying up to press against her pounding bosom. Her courage had failed her again, for she was overcome by the realization that he was a mighty sorcerer who possessed powers that defied her comprehension! Ever did his form fade in and out of her vision, sometimes appearing clear and at other times appearing blurry, as though she were looking at him through an ever changing mist. What if after disrobing him she found some ravening monster who would destroy her as he joined his body with hers? What evil beast lay beneath those robes?

"And why can you not?"

"I - I am afraid of what I will find!"

"A very ardent and affectionate man, and one who is in great need," he replied frankly.

"My lord, I am only a simple peasant woman and know nothing of sorcerers and magic." She bowed her head humbly.

"In simplicity, there is great beauty." He lifted her chin in his hand and stroked her lips with his thumb. "A mouth could be termed but a simple part of the body, but what a corridor of delight a simple kiss can open!" She felt his powerful hands on her shoulders, pulling her closer, his lips coming down upon hers, demanding a kiss. Her mouth was soft and yielding under his hungry lips. He crushed her body against his, pressing one powerful kiss after another onto her full lips until she felt dizzy and lightheaded.

"There, sweet one," he murmured as he held her at arm's length, his fingers massaging her shoulders, "are you convinced now of the power of simplicity?"

"Oh, yes, my lord," she purred as she looked up at the misty figure, her eyes filled with yearning. "But I wonder why you chose me when there are so many great ladies who would be far more likely than I to command the attention of such a noble lord as yourself."

"Madame, I have loved queens and princesses... and others whose power is older than this world itself... Perhaps I have grown tired of the great ladies of noble lineage who value the gold and jewels in their coronets more than they do a love that is given honestly. Ever have I found myself drawn to the humble and common, the peasant women who toil and sweat in their labors, working in the fields, planting the gardens, and tending to the flocks and herds. They have their own beauty, honest and unassuming."

"Oh, lord, I am speechless!" Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at such lavish compliments.

"Now, my sweet and gentle lady, let us not trifle away the remaining hours of this night in conversation."

"But, my lord, I beg of you a boon?" she asked him, her voice a soft caress.

"I grant it. What do you ask of me?"

"That you tell me why you picked me out of all the others, noble lady and commoner alike."

"Even from the distant skies, I could feel your distress and loneliness, the aching need deep within you. You cried out to me from your restless slumbers, begging for solace, and what could I do, save answer you?"

"Oh, beloved Dwimmerlaik," she sighed as he took her into his arms and held her tightly to his powerful chest. "You selected me because I was the most lonely of all the others upon this night of magic?"

"Is there any better reason?" he asked softly. "Now if there are no other questions and doubts... love is waiting."

"Only one thing, my lord... With the power I perceive that you possess, you must know that, while I am a passionate woman, I have always been true to my husband. Throughout all these months that he has been away, I have yearned desperately for the touch of his hand. Please believe me when I say that I am an honorable woman and have never taken a lover before. But, though it feels strange to say this, I now want you far more than I do my husband!" She gasped breathlessly as he caressed her body.

"There is no need to feel shame, beauty. You are lonely upon a night that was meant for love. You do not have to be alone any longer."

Perhaps she was only dreaming, or perhaps she was bewitched. But what did it matter? It was, after all, Midsummer Eve, a night of magic... and of love... and he was holding her... and she had been starved for affection for so long... "Then take every gift that I can offer - my body, my passion, and my love!" Her eyelashes fluttered as she gazed up at him.

"You are no longer afraid?"

"Nay, I am no longer afraid... or lonely!"

"Then disrobe me!"

With trembling hands, she began to take off his clothes. How she wished she could see his eyes, but they seemed to be hidden in a well of darkness. Were they blue like hers? Or gray, like the men of Gondor? Or brown, as were the Dunlendings, or perhaps green or hazel? Though she longed to see them, she sensed that she never would, but he was kind to her and small things were not important in light of that. She looked up to him, and he nodded his approval as her hands moved to his right shoulder. There, she unfastened the silver brooch wrought in the shape of the crescent moon. The metal pulsed in her palm, making her hand tingle with a coolness that was not unpleasant. Drawing the cloak away from his tall frame, she reverently folded the garment in half and placed it on the chest that held her husband's clothing.

She was surprised that he was wearing neither mail nor a sword belt, but doubtless he had his own reasons, and she would not ask him for an explanation. Her hands fumbled slightly as she unfastened the leather belt about his middle. He bent his great height forward, his arms outstretched as she pulled his tunic from his body. She could hardly contain her eagerness when she took off his shirt and felt the hard, corded muscles that rippled over his powerful arms and chest. Licking her lips, she buried her fingers in the thick hair that covered his chest. Then, moaning with unsated ardor, she pulled away from him and laid his tunic and shirt atop his cloak. Behind her, the sound of a heavy boot falling to the floor, followed by another, was like the most melodious of all music to her ears.

"Have you forgotten my breeches?" he teased her.

"No, my lord, I saved that for last." She smiled saucily up at him.

Sinking to her knees before him, she used her teeth to clasp the string which held fast his breeches. She looked up at him mischievously as she drew away the string. Letting loose of the cord, she watched as his breeches slowly slipped to the floor. She sobbed out a moan when she ran her fingers over the hard muscles on his stomach. As her breasts brushed against the hair upon his thighs, her nipples hardened into little pebbles which ached for his lips to suckle them.

"Sweet one, you have become emboldened," he laughed wickedly.

"The night gives me boldness," she tittered giddily as her fingers found the dark mantle at the base of his kingly scepter. She gasped in wonder when she found that her hand could not begin to encompass its great girth. Reverently clasping the throbbing staff in her hand, she slid the cloak of velvety skin back and forth over its length. Moaning as she took into her mouth the deep amethyst jewel which crowned that noble wand, she began to suckle it, her tongue caressing the setting of that priceless gem as her hand paid homage to the fleshly rod.

Groaning, he placed his hands upon her shoulders as he pushed deeper into her mouth, blessing the chamber with his salty ambrosia, only a portent of the floodwaters he held at bay. Her hand moved the covering back and forth, polishing his mighty sword with her touch and oiling it with her tongue. Her other hand rolled the two pendants that lay tight beneath the swollen magnificence of his staff.

"Madame, truly you are a worker of magic!" he gasped, his body shuddering as his font gushed forth in silver sprays, quenching the famine that her soul had suffered for so long. Sighing deeply, he bent down and swept her up in his powerful arms. Holding her to his chest, he carried her to her bed and lay her gently down. She felt the mattress sagging beneath his great weight as he moved onto the bed.

Reaching out in the darkness for him, she gasped when she found his potent staff had waxed into fullness once more. "My lord, surely not so soon!"

"Your indulgence, Madame. I told you that I was insatiable!" he laughed softly.

"Then take me, my lord, fill me deeply with your seed, for you have made me as insatiable as you!" she squealed in delight.

"Beauty, my pleasure!" he chuckled as his mouth embraced her parted lips, his cool tongue penetrating deeply inside the velvet vault. He growled impatiently as a press of his knee parted her silken thighs. She could hear drums thudding in her mind as he aligned his crest with her drenched cask.

A roll of his hips and his throbbing ram slid past her furry portcullis and buried hilt-deep into the gladly yielded stronghold. Her ivory legs slid about his middle, pulling him deeper into her satin halls. Tightening and loosening her intimate embrace, she brought the both of them ever closer to the pinnacle of pleasure. As his thunderous strivings undermined the castle, it shook upon its foundations and fell yet again to his skillful attacks. As the ramparts crumbled and her moat emptied about him, he shot forth a torrent of liquid fire which filled that furrow to overflowing.

"Ohh, my lord! You are incredible!"

As he withdrew his still-regal staff from her portals, he sighed, "Rest a while now, Madame, and later we will resume this most pleasant of salacious adventures."

"My lord, I am most willing, for in your arms I have become quite a wanton."

He rolled over onto his back and pulled her atop him. She had almost fallen asleep when the sound of humming - or was it chanting? - awakened her.

"Dwimmerlaik? Are you singing?"

"Nay, Madame. It is but a spell to safeguard you from becoming heavy with child," he murmured as he began to nuzzle her ear.

"Perhaps it is too late, my lord. I hesitate to suggest that you should have done that first," she offered impishly.

"No need, I assure you, for I could not catch the earthy scent of fecundity about you. I do this merely as a safeguard."

"You can tell when a woman is fertile?"

"Usually... but not always," he replied modestly.

"Oh!" she gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. "If such a thing has happened, what shall I tell my husband?"

"Say that it is his, and he will believe you."

"But it has been months..."

"To vouchsafe your honor, I shall leave you with a potion that you will administer to him. This spell is most efficacious in causing the one who drinks it to believe almost anything that he is told. Now sleep, woman. I will have need of you again ere morning comes."

A brief silence descended before the woman spoke again.



"Stay with me! Do not leave me! I cannot bear the thought of being without you!"

"Madame, even though I should wish to tarry, I cannot, for when morning comes, the enchantment will have passed, and daylight holds little magic."

"Then embrace me, my lord, and let me know your fiery passion once more."

"Very soon, woman... but not quite yet," he laughed.

"Aye, my love, when you are ready," she murmured as she licked over one of his nipples.

Sighing, he clasped her hand and drew it down to stroke his sword, which was raising itself up in preparation for another torrid love battle. "Oh, my beloved Dwimmerlaik!" she gasped as she impaled herself upon that mighty weapon of delight. "I will cherish this night forever!"

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