Chapter 18: Companion

[ Setting the scene: The Éothéod were ancestors of the Rohirrim who dwelt in the far north. Under the leadership of King Eorl and at the behest of Steward Cirion of Gondor they removed themselves to the land of Calenardhon, which became the Kingdom of Rohan.]

17-20 June 3019 (Third Age), West Emnet

Her horse snorted as she dismounted, slightly fatigued yet arrogantly dismissive of her early pause. He was a proud young beast and stamped in protest, but she knew better.

Ride him hard now and he’ll be less useful in the days to come. I have to ease him into this journey. Furthermore, we’re still getting acquainted and I don’t yet know how to read all his signals. Nor is my safety completely assured, even in these less fearful times, and if I’ve need of sudden haste I want him as fresh as possible.

Flinging her bags to the ground, she casually looped a rope around his bridle and a nearby tree — no horse of Rohan would run away save in the face of great fear, but would accept an unfastened rope as a request to remain in place — and started removing her clothing.

A bath in the Snowbourn will be restorative, if frigid. I stink of the long ride from Edoras on this overly warm day. And since I’m alone who will care if I frolic naked?

As if he’d read her thoughts, her horse sneezed and turned away.

Though indeed much needed, her bath didn’t come before she did. While repacking and hanging her bags to protect them from curious beasts she placed a hand on the phallus she’d brought and was suddenly beset by her ever-lingering urges. Several bouts of efficient yet satisfying self-pleasure later she finally entered the chilly waters of the river, an Elfhelm-shaped toy coated with her juices in one hand and a cloth in the other. Scrubbing herself (and the shaft) clean, plunging her head into the icy water, she mused on the rightness of her unexpected choice. Once again I ride to escape my troubles, though with far less uncertainty and desperation than before. However our actual time together ended, and even though he remembers none of it, there’s a measure of symmetry that we’re reunited in sexual companionship.

She was running her fingers through hair made brittle by the chilly water when she heard the sound: her horse snorting over and over, hooves rhythmically beating out a warning. It wasn’t the loud report of immediate danger but one of wariness at an unfamiliar approach. Rohan’s horses were keenly intuitive, and so she guessed she wasn’t about to be ambushed by orcs — if she was, he’d already be waiting for her on the bank — but she was naked...

She tensed with indecision. My weapons are too far away to be of use, and there’s little opportunity for stealth between the river and my gear. My only avenue of escape, should it become necessary, is across the river. She swam closer to the far bank, crouching until all but her head was submerged. She wasn’t overly afraid to be seen unclothed, but neither did she desire to display herself to strangers without reason, and there was nothing to hide behind along this treeless stretch of the Snowbourn’s southern bank.

Gripping the phallus in her right hand she braced herself for action, suppressing a giggle at the absurdity of her situation. Here I wait, naked and wielding a penis as my only weapon. It seems strangely appropriate, as these days I hold such objects far more often than swords or spears.

“I gather by the presence of a horse and baggage that someone else is here,” came a call from the trees on the north bank. “Fear not. I arrive without threat, seeking only to stop for a brief rest.”

The speaker stepped into view.

By the Mearas he’s handsome. Tall, with flowing blond hair loosely tied behind his head, glittering ice-blue eyes, well-muscled arms, and dark leather garments designed for riding at speed, he stood with upraised arms and open hands. He was armed, but his sword remained sheathed and his bow remained strapped to his back.

After a brief assessment of his potential for violence she decided to speak. “It would do well for the visitor to introduce himself.”

Dropping his hands, he looked at the ground as he responded. “As you say, and I apologize for my intrusion on your privacy. I am Éothir of Framsburg, and I’m passing through this realm. For which I have not sought permission, especially now that the threat of Isengard has passed. But perhaps I’ve done ill?”

Framsburg? Our ancestral homeland? I didn’t know that it still existed in anything other than ruins, nor that any of the Éothéod remained behind despite the gift of Calenardhon. And his name ... it’s so archaic. As is mine, I suppose, but my family attempts to preserve old traditions. I wonder how many of his people there are, or if he’s a leader in his own right.

“Éothir, if I’m not mistaken you’re one of our long-sundered brethren from the far North. I admit that I believed you little more than legend.”

He hesitated, obviously reluctant to answer, before acknowledging his ancestry. “I assure you that we are indeed a people, though somewhat less than legendary. If I may be so bold, may I ask to whom I speak? Do I unwittingly intrude on your family’s land? I shall hastily remove myself if so.”

Her own pause was as long as his, for she didn’t wish to be identified. Especially not while naked. “No, this land doesn’t belong to me.” Except, in a way, it does. “As for my name, it’s... Ælflæd.” She felt mildly guilty for the blatant lie at a friend’s expense, though she was sure they’d never meet. “Though most call me...”

“ ... Elfi, I would guess. Your true name is somewhat imposing, as I’m sure was intended.” He studied her face for a moment, then turned around. “I’m certain you would prefer to escape the river without fleeing to the far bank. I shall remount and ride northeast, not returning until you’ve had sufficient time to prepare. But I would speak with you before I depart, if you don’t mind. I know not what dangers or surprises may lurk in these parts, though I perceive that neither of us is in much peril, yet I would value your counsel nonetheless.” He paused for a moment as if reconsidering his words, and then with a rapid gait disappeared back into the trees.

Handsome and smooth of tongue. A dangerous combination.

Cautious but chilled to the bone from her overly long immersion, she emerged from the water, drying herself as quickly as possible, gathering her clothing, and returning to her possessions. Her horse eyed her with what seemed like bemusement as she dressed, donned her weapons, and refastened her gear to his flanks.

Éothir was nowhere to be seen, and though she waited many minutes there wasn’t even the sound of hooves in the distance. Her horse absentmindedly gnawed on some stray grass, unconcerned. Finally giving up on his return, she mounted and nudged her steed eastward. She’d not gone far when he slowed his canter with a whinny and looked to the left.

“I’m sorry if I delayed you,” Éothir called as he approached. “I wished to exercise an excess of caution before my return, and then my rather willful young mare decided to heed certain of her own calls.”

A mare. And I’m astride a young stallion. This will be interesting. Indeed, her horse was already nosing his with obvious interest, though she turned away with haughty indifference.

“There’s no apology necessary, for I most certainly understand. Thank you for respecting my privacy.” She urged her horse forward, intending to finish their talk while they rode. Periodic effort was required to wrest her stallion’s interest away from his new companion.

“I could do no other. Is this path the one you follow as well?”

I have no true path, though I shouldn’t tell him this. I believed I sought isolation, but perhaps this is what I sought in an unexpected form, for he doesn’t know who I am. Our converse could be a most pleasant diversion from my burdens.

“It’s my path for now, and it would be my pleasure to ride with you for a while. You had something you wished to ask?”

He nodded. “Do you know this land well?”

She smiled to herself. “As well as any. To your earlier concern: there’s not much danger here, though as ever a traveler should remain wary. Do you seek direction?”

“Not of route, for I can follow the river and the sun well enough. But I was wondering if there’s accommodation along the way aside from that found beneath the stars. We’ve ridden long, and both of us could use rest and a replenishment of sustenance.”

Éowyn gestured ahead. “None particularly close, at least without a detour. However, if you stick to the course of the river until it meets the Entwash, then turn north for a time, you’ll see several small towns on the higher northwestern banks, away from the flood plain. There are taverns, and most have rooms ... though whether or not there will be a vacancy isn’t a question I can answer. But the Rohirrim are a hospitable people despite our reputation for welding a hard blade, and room will be found for you and your horse no matter what. Still: know that you have several days’ ride ahead of you unless you ride hard. As for food, are you in urgent need? For I’ve more than enough to share.”

“That’s kindly offered, but unnecessary. A few days are of no import. A week might have been a concern, though I can survive well enough on leaf, seed, root, and hunt if there’s no other alternative.”

They rode in silence for a time, and she wondered at her motivations for accompanying him even this far.

Despite being surrounded by so many, I feel isolated at Meduseld. It’s mostly my own fault, for I’m hiding and repressing so much. Who was the last person to whom I could speak freely? Not even my beloved heard all that I thought or felt, and I’ve not talked to him for far too long, save in letters in which I reveal much of my heart but less and less of my mind. She allowed herself to mourn this lack, while at the same time reaffirming her belief that no one could ever learn all her darkest and most lurid secrets. And though I also hide from this man, mayhap with him I can speak of things no one who knows who I am should hear. Perhaps that’s why I don’t ride away.

She glanced at the hard outline of his jaw.

Or perhaps, she admitted with a slight rise in temperature, it’s because he’s devastatingly attractive.

Eventually, the conversational floodgates opened and they talked. At first cautiously, then more openly, and by the time the sky began to darken they were nattering away like old friends. To his other qualities he added a devilish wit and a surprisingly wide-ranging knowledge of people and places, though he remained evasive about how he came to such understanding. She, too, was exceedingly open about much but reserved about that which might correctly identify her or her current situation, and it seemed to her that they’d reached an unspoken mutual agreement not to probe matters that the other considered off-limits.

“I’ll ride on and find my own camp for the night,” he announced as she stopped, dismounted, and began preparations for the evening’s rest.

“Nonsense. Should I fear you? I deem not. Unless you fear me... ?”

He smiled. “One may easily imagine reasons for caution. Nonetheless I will accept your gracious offer, for mine has been a long and mostly lonely journey.”

His interest in her was obvious, though he’d not said it with words, but rather in that which remained unsaid. She wondered if she’d kept her own clear interest in check, and whether (like her) he was wondering how to proceed now that only dinner stood between them and nocturnal possibilities.

Will he attempt a proposition? Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s flattering, and if he knows what I’m thinking I hope he’s flattered in turn. But that’s where it ends. I didn’t ride in search of assignations with mysterious travelers. In fact, I rode — at least in part — to escape becoming one myself.

They discussed dinner, and he gently mocked the simplicity of her rations before proposing something more elaborate with a hare he’d killed a day earlier. She eagerly accepted his offer, and before long they were sitting on either side of a small fire, gnawing on the ends of a surprisingly delicious meal and sipping a few drops of a rich liqueur she’d brought as a balm for cold nights. In truth it was already warm so near their fire, but she felt that his unexpected generosity required reciprocity.

While the fire indeed increased her warmth his proximity was the greater influence, though she attempted to push that discomfiting realization aside. Eventually, they reached the end of their meal and she abruptly announced her intention to sleep, hoping to avoid the postprandial tension that was already thickening the air between them. Mere minutes later she was enrobed in her bedding and he in his, equidistant from the dwindling fire and perhaps thirty feet from each other.

Éowyn stared at the stars wheeling overhead, listened to the leaves rustling in the rising heat of their fire’s embers, and focused on the slow-kindling burn in her sex ... one largely fueled by thoughts of her unexpected companion.

I can do this quietly. I’ll have to use my fingers, but he’ll never know.

Reaching between her legs, she opened her already moistened entrance and slipped several fingers inside, probing and rubbing as stealthily as possible. She allowed her fantasies to embrace Éothir, imagining his fingers replacing hers, and surrendered to the illusion as she pumped herself toward release. Suddenly, her plunging fingers sealed and then unsealed her soaked entrance with a wet pop. She held herself rigid, hoping against hope that he hadn’t heard. It was then that she heard his low grunt and, almost below the threshold of hearing, the rhythmic impact of flesh against flesh.

Is ... is he pleasuring himself too? He is! Her fingers responded by quickening their exploration. Are we not a pair? I’m plundering myself while thinking of him, and I would guess — or at least hope — he’s doing the same to thoughts of me. This wicked knowledge turned her on as powerfully as anything her imagination could conjure, and it wasn’t long before her hips trembled with the tension of an orgasm held back. She listened carefully, hoping for aural evidence of his climax so she could match it with hers. When she heard the wet spatter of thick liquid falling upon the leafy ground, she came, barely able to repress the urge to cry out.

But now I’m going to need more than one climax. She kept prodding and thrusting, and once again her keen ears caught the faint slap of skin against skin.

He’s still going!

She lost herself in silent ecstasy.

Éothir awoke to find Éowyn missing. Her horse was once again nosing his, and this morning she seemed to be patiently tolerating his interest. Shaking his head at their flirtation, he arose and headed for the river. Scanning the banks and the swiftly flowing current but seeing no one, he quickly disrobed and dove into the water. Mere minutes later he was finished and dressing at the water’s edge.

“Are you decently attired?” Her voice was obscured by the sound of the river and he couldn’t locate its source. Finally, a golden-crowned head emerged from the surface, far upstream from where he’d been immersed.

“I am as you see, Elfi.”

“Good. I decided on a brief swim to stretch muscles long hours on horseback cannot, though I fear the cold is undoing the value of this otherwise excellent notion.”

“Your Snowbourn is indeed icy, even in this pleasant summer. I find it somewhat refreshing in that it reminds me of the waters of the North, but only in small doses. I look forward to the more placid waters of the river you name the Entwash.” She’d drifted closer with the current and he began to turn away.

“Nay, Éothir, you need not. I’m unready to emerge just yet. Do you see a cloth near you?” He looked to his left, spotted a heavy rag, and picked it up. “Throw it to me, if you can.”

With perfect aim he tossed it right into her outstretched hand, then shuffled uncomfortably as she reached into the water, obviously rubbing her flesh in places he dared not imagine lest his arousal become obvious. “Elfi, perhaps I should...”

“I bade you stay. And don’t argue with a naked woman immersed in freezing water, for the cold is liable to make her exceedingly cross.” He started, sputtering, before bursting forth in laughter.

“Since you put it that way, how could I?” Finding nothing useful to do with hands or feet yet worried his swelling tumescence would become plain if he continued to stand, he sat on the rocky bank, watching as she turned and twisted, trying without success to stop imagining what she was doing. Finally, she looked up with a grin and tossed the soaked cloth directly at him with similar inerrancy. Taken aback at her skill, he nonetheless caught it before being struck in the face and began wringing out the icy water. It was then that he realized that she was wading towards him. His eyes grew wide and he began to scrabble backward.

“Elfi, I...”

Words failed as she emerged from her aquatic concealment. Her body, naked and glistening, was beyond even his most fervent imaginings; a magnificent perfection of form. Her nipples were as stiff as ice, dripping water as she moved, and her labia seemed unusually swollen despite having been exposed to the same temperatures. She gave him a mysterious look as she passed, seemingly utterly unconcerned at her nudity or the effect it was having, and he was unable to wrest his gaze from the tight curve of her ass until she wrapped herself with a blanket she’d flung over a nearby branch.

“Elfi, I...” he repeated, shaking his head at the uncharacteristic stuttering. “I ... but why?”

She smiled as she ran a second cloth through her long hair. “Because your fumbling yestereve lasted far too long and kept me awake. I thought I’d offer you an image that might hasten your journey to rest. And thus to mine.” With an insouciant flip of her damp locks she sauntered away, and though he couldn’t see the devilish smirk on her face, his own burned.

As stricken by her words as by her body, shame and arousal waged a furious battle in his loins, and despite his embarrassment at having been heard pleasuring himself he was powerfully erect. Were it not unwise I would “hasten” right here. Instead he rose and followed her, willing his rigid staff to soften.

Their silence as they rode had grown uncomfortable an hour earlier, and still it continued. She seemed amused by the tension, and from time to time he caught her wearing a mysterious smile, but he was deeply conflicted. Finally, he broke the quiet with plaintive honesty.

“Elfi, if you’ll forgive my boldness in saying so: you’re not only the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, you are in fact beautiful beyond imagining. I admit, though you must certainly already guess, that I’ve been powerfully attracted to you despite only meeting you yesterday, but I also see that you hold your own judgments close and don’t otherwise appear to invite such attention. If this is so, then why the outrageous display this morning? I might even venture that you were mocking me.”

Éowyn shook her head, still bemused. “Éothir, every word and action was meant as said. Your words are exceedingly kind, if in equal excess untrue, but I’m not ashamed of my body.” She teasingly gestured at his midsection. “As for you, your exertions last night were a compliment much appreciated, if I may be so bold, yet I also told the truth: they kept me from sleeping.” She neglected to admit just what she was doing while being kept from sleep. “So, seizing a moment of my own boldness, I abandoned modesty. I hope you don’t mind.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Mind? I shall never be free of the glorious memory!”

She smiled. “It is well, then. Consider it a private gesture of gratitude for your unexpected yet welcome companionship along the road.” And though I won’t admit it, a brazen attempt to arouse him as much as he’s aroused me. If he’d arrived a few minutes earlier or ventured upstream he would have seen my head thrown back as I fingered myself to climax beneath the waters. Pausing, she cautioned herself against translating amusement into deed. I must remain careful. I don’t fear he’ll act without invitation, but I’m skirting dangerously close to invitation.

They rode on, his occasional glances in her direction questioning, speculative, and ... whenever he was sure she wasn’t looking ... yearning.

By the time the second night’s dinner was over they were again talking as if they’d been companions for years. If she was evasive whenever the subject of attachment drew near, he seemed equally hesitant to speak of the reason for his journey. But as a second round of her liqueur warmed their tongues an unquestionably flirtatious air suffused their banter. It was casual, and held in check, but it was apparent to both.

Suddenly, she stood and stretched. “Today has been... interesting. But the fire is dying and the time for sleep approaches.” She glanced at the remnants of dinner. “I believe I cleaned up last night.”

“I believe I cooked both nights,” he objected, though he was already gathering their plates.

Fixing him with an even stare, there was a twinkle in her eyes beyond just reflected firelight. “Do you really wish to debate whether or not our contributions to each other’s personal wellbeing have been equitable?”

Even in the low light she noted his blush. “You are unquestionably correct. The river and these dishes will soon become acquainted.”

Curling her lower lip just a bit, she teased, “of course, if you really want me to clean, you could redress the imbalance.”

He dropped a plate, unable to look her in the eyes as she smiled in victory. Had he glanced up he’d have seen her hand clenching and unclenching against a leather-clad thigh.

Éowyn’s pussy throbbed around the fingers she’d embedded many minutes ago. She’d already gently thumbed her clit to a quiet climax, but she was waiting for a telltale noise to start touching herself in earnest.

He didn’t make her wait long. Tonight it seemed that he was not only exerting less effort to quiet his exhalations, but that he was in fact driving himself at a furious and accelerating pace. Overcome with dangerously wicked curiosity she rolled to face him. She could see little detail in the dying firelight, but he was uncovered from the waist up, though still facing away from her. The rippling muscles of his back flexed and released as he worked his unseen cock, and her sex spasmed at the thought. Her own fingers moved in response, and with a similar lack of concern she allowed soft sighs to escape her lips as she attacked her channel, imagining him rutting away between her outstretched legs rather than stroking himself on the other side of the glade. Orgasms arrived quickly and often, and she didn’t let up until her mind had run through a range of positions and outcomes.

Eventually, having pleasured herself into exhaustion, she slipped her fingers from her throbbing cunt and wantonly brought them to her lips, noisily tasting her heady essence. If only it was his seed on my fingertips.

A quiet cough broke her sexual reverie. “While I don’t mean to interrupt, I’d like to ask if you intend to keep me awake much longer?” There was a different question hidden inside his salacious inquiry, and though she chuckled even as she reddened with embarrassment, she didn’t answer.

When she awoke he was nowhere to be found. Wrapping herself in a blanket, she walked to the river for her morning ablutions and found he’d preceded her. He was half-immersed and thus remained unavailable to her prurient curiosity, but his upper body was as powerful and muscled as it seemed in last night’s shadows. She stood watching for a while until he noticed her regard.

“Éothir, did you sleep any better last night? It seemed to me you were felled by the very stroke of midnight.”

He grinned at her outrageous innuendo. “Nay, Elfi ... the intrusions upon my rest were even more frequent. But I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to bathe before your presence rendered it harder to do so.”

Her laughter was unrestrained. “Well-returned! In that case I hope you deem yourself sufficiently cleansed.” Without ceremony she divested herself of her blanket and clothing and waded, breathtakingly naked, into the cold Snowbourn.

Once more stunned to silence by the exquisite lines of her body he continued to scour and abrade his skin with a rough cloth, but his eyes didn’t leave her, straying often to her ivory breasts; he’d noted their swollen and stiff peaks even before she entered the river. Eventually, he could no longer restrain his tongue.

“Elfi, though I enjoy this dance I consider myself reasonably aware of the boundaries between us. But I can’t contain my curiosity, and so — begging your indulgence — must return to a subject from yesterday. As I said, I’ve never heard of, nor even imagined, a woman of your surpassing beauty. In addition you’re quick-witted, learned, skilled with horse and — by the look of your limbs and your well-honed weapons, for I admit I stole a glance before announcing my presence — with blade, which is exceedingly unusual for a woman. I suspect there are strengths I’ve not yet even begun to identify. And, if you’ll permit me an additional boldness, you wear your sexuality as proudly as a great Queen might wear her crown. Why are there not stories and songs praising you throughout Middle-earth? Why are you not pursued by a legion of enraptured admirers? And why ... though this is perhaps a question more for myself than for you ... do I exercise such caution in attempting your seduction, as I so transparently wish to do?”

Éowyn’s smile was as complex as the thoughts and emotions roiling in the aftermath of his questions. She stopped washing and faced him, attempting to pierce any subterfuge or manipulative intent with the intensity of her stare, but she was satisfied that he bore neither and that his inquiries were genuine.

“Your questions are indeed bold, but asked with laudable vulnerability ... and while you well know that there are questions I avoid asking you, I’m less willing to make myself similarly vulnerable and so shall not ask them. Nonetheless, yours could not have been asked better, and though I’ll not take all of them on just now, I will answer as I can.”

“Your flattery I can only continue to deny, for I’ve recently gazed upon the greatest visions of loveliness in this world and I assure you that I’m not numbered among them.” Her thoughts drifted to the untouchable perfection of the Lady Evenstar, though there was an inevitable internal twinge at that memory, but also to the unconquerable majesty of the Lady Galadriel. “Yet I thank you anyway, for it’s delicious flattery indeed. In turn, I would point out the obvious: you are quite handsome yourself, as I think you must know and have undoubtedly been told by what I would guess are many willing partners. Your facility with words and your wide range of skills would, were matters otherwise, likely result in a most enjoyable seduction. Though note that I don’t promise it would be successful,” she teased, rewarded by his deep blush and embarrassed glance downward.

“My sexuality is a subject that I hope you’ll understand I’m reluctant to address, despite my admittedly brazen displays. It is what it is, and you do well to recognize its carefully guarded boundaries. While you showed little rectitude last night, and despite my actions the same or more should be expected of me as a woman, in truth it’s likely I bear far less. As you’ve already noted,” she added with a lilt. “Let us not question it further, for detailed examination will damage our converse.”

“As for songs and stories, I’m neither bard nor poet nor acquainted with any, and I acknowledge that my rapier of choice is made of metal rather than words. But as for the alleged hordes of hopelessly besotted suitors, one possible answer should be obvious. Why do you think I ride alone?”

A long moment passed before he answered. “But you don’t ride alone.”

She returned to washing, no longer looking at him. “Don’t I?”

He sighed as he resumed his own bath. “I know I should consider myself chastened and dismissed. But if you’ll forgive my continued audacity, do you not merely seek to delay an answer of which you are not yet entirely sure?”

It was an unquestioned challenge. Though there was no change in expression her answer was quick. “You speak with much confidence and admitted insight, but let me ask you this: what makes you so certain that, were there to be a seduction, it would not instead be me seducing you?”

He paused to consider this, then stopped, straightening a bit. No response came to his lips. She was looking at him again, her expression speculative.

“Turn around.”

Momentarily confused, he shook himself free of surprise and complied, worried that he’d pushed beyond her comfort with his questions and expecting her to exit the river while he looked politely away. Thus it was that he nearly jumped free of his skin when he felt her cloth on his back. Her cloth ... and then her hand. Carefully but confidently she washed him while he stood, stunned and painfully erect. As her hands moved lower, nearing the top of his buttocks, he tensed ... for despite the only marginally intimate contact he was rapidly escalating towards a condition in which he didn’t want to find himself.