Chapter 19: Flight

[ Setting the scene: the events of this chapter take place as the Rohirrim ride to Gondor. Éowyn has defied King Théoden’s orders twice: first by disguising herself as a man named Dernhelm in order to join the ride, and second by inviting Meriadoc to come with her. Only Marshal Elfhelm is aware of both Dernhelm’s true identity and the order to leave Merry behind. Holbytla is the Rohirric word for Hobbit.]

10 March 3019 (Third Age), Eastfold

Merry stirred, snorted, then settled back into the repetitive breathing of sleep. Grinding her teeth in frustration, Éowyn stilled all movement. Listening. Waiting. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to wake after all, she resumed her quiet dalliance. Ground had been lost, and the night grew ever shorter.

This is, at least in part, his fault, she thought. Though it’s also mine for bringing him in the first place.

As her horse galloped eastward over increasingly rocky ground, Merry’s small body — unaccustomed to riding on a full-sized horse and with legs insufficiently long to grip its flanks — bounced up and down between her legs, inadvertently causing a constant, frustrating stimulation she couldn’t ignore but was forced to endure. By the time they finally stopped for the night’s camp she was crazed by hours of unexpected friction and in desperate need of release.

Unfortunately, the hasty ride to Gondor made even the furtive self-pleasure she was currently attempting difficult at best. But it was also her only option. Even if I wanted to entice a Rider into a diverting liaison, I can’t. Because at the moment, I’m allegedly a man...

No, she was finally forced to admit, this entire situation is my fault. I’m the one who chose to defy the King in the first place. Disguising herself in somewhat ill-fitting male garb had been necessary to hide her identity, but it also moved against her body in ways that only added to her stimulation. For her impulsive decision to bring the Halfling she had no clear explanation. Sympathy for another soul dismissed and left behind? Perhaps.

It would be easier if I put him behind me on the saddle. Though he’d be unable to see, it would be less distracting for me. Ah, but no; it’d be too dangerous for him, because he can’t steady himself without my help. One unexpected swerve and he’d be on the ground, in danger of being trampled by those that follow. What I’m going to do with him when we enter battle, I can’t imagine. Anyway, this ridiculous situation ultimately stems from my lack of control. Still ... right now I just need to get off, and quickly, so we can both get some sleep.

Sighing, she returned to silent masturbation. One hand was anchored inside her riding gear, her thumb gently working her clit while two fingers slipped in and out of her well-lubricated sex. She closed her eyes, letting her fantasies wander through encounters both real and imagined, and her excitement escalated.

A sharp inhalation, the rustling of blankets, and a sleepy yawn brought her to another standstill. Careful to avoid the din of panicked rearrangement, Éowyn quietly brought her hand into the open air, crinkling her nose at the painfully obvious scent of her arousal. From behind her came a whisper. “Dernhelm ... is there something out there?”

Deepening her voice as much as she was able given her arousal, she whispered back. “No, Master Meriadoc. Return to your sleep.”

“But I’m sure I heard something move. It sounded like it was slithering towards us, licking its lips.”

Lips, indeed. I wish someone was licking them. Damn his keen ears! “Very well. Return to your rest and I’ll investigate.” Éowyn stood on somewhat unsteady legs, grabbing her sword for effect. I’ll have to find somewhere secluded. Somewhere I can finish without interruption. It’s apparent I won’t be able to rest until I’ve climaxed, and my need is increasingly urgent.

Satisfied with her answer, Merry tightened his grip on his own small sword and closed his eyes. How so vulnerable a creature can so easily put aside entirely legitimate fears is something at which I marvel. I wish I had more time to learn his thoughts and his ways, but there’s no chance now. No chance at all.

Moving stealthily around the circumference of the camp, offering an indifferent nod to the sentries as she passed, she slipped into the nearby forest. They no doubt think I’m looking for a place to relieve myself. In a way, they’re right.

She moved along, stumbling a bit in the pitched darkness, until she could neither see nor hear the camp. Sufficiently isolated for her needs, she leaned against the trunk of a massive willow — sitting meant having to undo more of her clothing than she deemed wise should sudden flight become necessary — and set about relieving her tension. She was more forceful with her clitoris this time, building on both her lust and her frustration at its delayed fulfillment, and as her passion grew she allowed herself the quietest of sighs.

... rustling...

Her head snapped around, fingers frozen in place, but it was only the gentle stirring of a breeze jostling the willow’s young leaves. Shrugging off the noise she worked herself even more aggressively, using the fear of discovery to accelerate her release.

... more rustling ... a gasp...

Honed by thousands of hours on the training floor, her instinct was to prepare for violence, and her hand fell to her sword. A faint shape formed from the darkness, and despite her disheveled state she tensed for combat. I can’t quite see my adversary, but this is no nightmare about the Dead. If I strike quickly and surely...

The quick, rough abrasion of a match echoed like a bowshot in the otherwise silent forest, and suddenly a flame hovered in the darkness. It fired the palest of lamps, yet in the evil murk it shone like a beacon directed right at her eyes, momentarily blinding her sight. But not her hearing.

“Lady Éowyn?”

Elfhelm!

“Do not call me by that name!” she hissed.

As her eyes slowly adjusted to his presence, he raised his hand in surrender, whispering, “there’s no one to hear. But if you’ll forgive me, when I saw ‘Dernhelm’ slipping into the woods I was concerned.”

“There’s no need for concern. I’m fine. Return to the camp.”

“But La... Dernhelm, are you sure... ?” His attention drifted lower and the rest of his words fell away. In her haste to defend herself she’d left her breast exposed and her breeches unbuttoned. Elfhelm’s gaze fixed on her chest, and for a time they were mutually rendered speechless. The moment lengthened until she broke the silence, exasperated and mocking. “Is it the first time you’ve seen one? Are you waiting for it to break into song?”

His eyes snapped back to her face, then refocused upon an invisible point a few inches above her head. “Dernhelm... Lady, please, I beg you to forgive my intrusion. I was only ... I mean, I...”

Realizing the absurdity of the situation but eager for him to leave so she could finish what she’d started, she softened her tone. “Elfhelm, I appreciate your concern, but I no more require an apology than I require attention. Neither did I flee to these woods desirous of converse or company. Solitude I sought, and solitude I continue to seek. Please leave me be.”

In the heavy darkness, it was difficult to perceive his response to her gentle but pointed dismissal. When his voice returned it remained a cautious whisper, but there was a new edge to it. “I truly am sorry for invading your privacy. But I beg you to consider the risk I’m taking by hiding your identity. For I, too, defy my liege. Twice-over, since for reasons that surpass my understanding you’ve seen fit to bring the Holbytla.”