Coranar 6. The Perfect Day by The Tired Scribe

Elrond rose from the bath water refreshed. He chose a loose velvet evening robe over the soft sleeping robe Lindefal had selected. He stepped into his low shoes and gathered his hair back into the knot again with an inner grin. He got the loud and heavy sigh he was seeking from Lindefal as he did this. He had to chuckle at the sound. Voices rose in song from the lawns below as evening star gazing began. The early winter nights could be clear and cold, and leaping bonfires lit the night as dancers circled the fire and traced complex patterns in the night air. The Fading Time was the last of the clear weather before winter set in, and was appreciated as one of the turning points of the seasonal year. Soon the singing and telling of tales would move indoors to the Hall of Fire. Fireflies danced above their heads.

Elrond picked up a blanket from the top of the chest by the railing and started down the stairs. Lindefal tidied his robes and smoothed his hair, and followed the silent figure. They passed through the courtyard and down the stairs, to the lawn and the river gardens, where he had begun his day.

Findalor was leaning inside the courtyard arches speaking to Glorfindel as they watched the dancers. Glorfindel greeted Elrond with a grasp of the arm and warm words, and was glad to see the calm face and relaxed stance. He worried about his friend and colleague when he was away. They had been through much together and he had a great respect for the wiry strength of body and spiritual endurance Elrond had revealed over the centuries. Elrond had stayed in Middle Earth through sad and grim times, guarding the ring Vilya, and using it cautiously to enhance life in the valley. It kept the community strong, and the residents ageless.

He knew that Elrond was tired in spirit, and that he foresaw sadder days to come. Glorfindel knew much, and it made their relationship stronger and deeper. He too was a guardian of the Master of the House in love and admiration. He had missed the relaxed atmosphere of Rivendell while away at the more somber and restrained Court in Caras Galadhon. He was glad to be home, and with a parting word to all he moved nimbly down the steps to join the dance.

Findalor fell in with Elrond and Lindefal and they walked in companionable silence along the path. Coming to one of the secret places tucked along the river's edge, Elrond spread the blanket out on the mossy turf and settled into the center of it. Tall rushes rustled all around them. He kicked off his soft shoes and lay back with arms outstretched over his head. It was dark and cool here, and the flickering firelight and the lantern's glow was across the river and down stream now, veiled by the tall grasses that grew along the banks. Elrond began a quiet recitation of the names of the autumn constellations as he picked them out across the inky sky.

Findalor kicked off his boots and waded in the cold water at the edge of the flow. He watched the dancers across the water as the rippling flow cooled his feet and refreshed his spirit. Finally the water became too cold to bear and he returned to the blanket and sat down to watch the dancers through the reeds as their shadows played across the firelight. Lindefal stretched out along side Elrond to follow along in the patterns in the stars. "There was something to be said for the simple pleasures of life," he thought. Fireflies sparked in the night around them.

A soft step along the path and a gentle humming preceded Galenbrethil as she wandered around the turn that led to the sheltered place. "I thought I saw you pass by here," she said softly. She pulled up her long gown and settled in behind Findalor and he leaned back into her embrace. She extended her warm thoughts to them all and enjoyed the embrace of Findalor's aura, with its low throbbing and gentle calm. "Why aren't you dancing tonight?" he asked her as he looked back over his shoulder, "This is your favorite song isn't it?"

She wiggled her bare toes into his hips and said, "I have done my rounds for the night, and I am catching my breath." She pressed her nose against his ear and a soft kiss into his neck, 'It is time for other things now." He placed his hand over hers as it rested on his shoulder. Thrown together in trial and adversity centuries ago, they had remained companions and true friends in the years since.

She moved in and out of the inner circle as she was needed and as she desired. Lindefal and Erestor knew her from their days in the aftermath of the Great War with Sauron, the days of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. They had worked together with Elrond and Findalor to regroup the survivors and finish the work they started in the battle and seven-year siege of Sauron in the tower of Barad-dur. She had moved among the survivors to give them hope and dress their wounds.

They knew that she and Findalor had helped Elrond through the first nights after the fall of Sauron and the desertion of Isildur and his troops. They understood something extraordinary had bonded them together in that time. Findalor and Galenbrethil had shared the tent next to the large one he had set up for Elrond as the new base of command. Their few personal possessions were stored there, but they spent their nights together with Elrond in a tangled pile on the blankets and carpets heaped on the ground.

Those were grim nights when fear and grief and despair were shared and healed between them. The night of the burning of Gil-galad's body in the warrior's honorable release from mortal coils had been the worst. The finality of the fact he was lost to them forever through the death of his body was driven into their hearts as the smoke spiraled upwards and the songs of lament rose in the air. Findalor feared for their survival and sanity that night. He felt that his soul had been scorched by the raw emotions they endured, and Galenbrethil had been taxed to her physical and psychic limits to cope as well. Elrond remembered this night only in tortured dreams.

Findalor knew that Galenbrethil knew about the ring of power, Vilya. Common knowledge to those in the Inner Council of Imladris, the rest of the community was blissfully unaware of the ring, and its healing and preservative powers. Elrond had wielded it, mostly successfully, only occasionally over the centuries, it was a draining and risky task to practice the magic needed to wield the ring. It radiated its preserving magic on its own as it hung, stored, in a cave beneath the city.

She had seen it around Elrond's neck during those days when they lived side-by-side, and in and out of each other's minds. Gil-galad had placed it around Elrond's neck on a golden chain the morning before the last battle, the morning of the day he fell at Sauron's hand. There around his neck it stayed, but he let no one touch it and did not speak of it himself. She had seen it as they lay together in the firelight and as they grappled in his fits of anger and grief. She had felt its power as she accidentally activated it by a near touch and a simple thought.

Her exceptional powers as a healer merged with it on some unknown level, and she had seen it spread its energy field around them one night. The ring's power had terrified her. She knew it had healed Elrond and had given him the strength to continue, she knew it was now hidden in Rivendell somewhere, and she knew it preserved the valley around them. Findalor had never asked her about it and she never spoke of it to anyone.

In the intervening years at Rivendell she had spent more pleasant evenings in their arms. There was nothing like sharing one's innermost secrets and darkest fears to pave the way to trust and intimacy. They were comfortable with each other as ones could be who knew they had seen the worst, and who sought the best now.

Elrond drew his knees up and she leaned over and embraced them with an arm. His usual aura of vibrant energies whipping along extended channels was surprisingly calm tonight. She rubbed his knees gently with a loving hand and asked, "Did you have a pleasant day today?" "Yes, very," was the quiet response. "Did you get that cream for the sunburn I sent up?" "Yes, thank you. It was very comforting." Lindefal held up a fragrant hand and waved it about in the air, "Yes and it smells wonderful as well!" She pushed his hand aside and leaned over Elrond to tickle him. She always sent extra of anything to Elrond's chambers, knowing of Lindefal's delight in scents and textures. He was the perfect guinea pig for new concoctions.

He bunched and laughed as she grabbed a handful of robes and dug in his ribs. He sat up and grabbed her shoulders for a quick kiss on the cheek. "You may be finished dancing, but I have not started yet. The next round is my favorite." He gathered his shoes and rose, heading back along the path to the laughter and voices on the lawn.

She gave Elrond a tickle too for good measure. Sitting back she untangled her legs from around Findalor and lay down beside the still figure. Findalor sat with chin on knees and watched the chains of dancers intertwine around the fire. She looked at Elrond with her head on her hand. She dragged lazy fingers across the complex embroidery of his robe, tracing the swirls and twisting patterns. She mentally felt along his aura looking for trouble and found none. As his healer she had the right to this gentle invasion of privacy, and their relationship was nothing near normal anyway. She saw only the rosy and violet hues that indicated his pleasure in their company. He reached over and ran a thumb along her jaw line and across her cheek, and took a lock of her long dark hair in his fingers. He gently pulled her face down for a sweet kiss in the darkness.

She moved long slender fingers along the robe's silver fastenings. They slipped open one by one and her cool fingers slid inside. His skin was warm and soft under the heavy fabric. She laid her head on his chest and drew lazy circles on his chest. Findalor lay down beside her and watched the stars, his hand lying along her hip. The sounds of song drifted over the evening air as the tempo changed. The words and music created images in their minds.

Their auras were slowly merging in a symphony of colors and sounds. Their personal identities of vibrations and hues were changing in proximity to ones who were accepted into personal spaces and loved. Galenbrethil looked deeply into Elrond's clear gray eyes, and they seemed to reflect the light of the stars above them. She felt the warmth, love and compassion she had come to know as the true nature of his being, and she had come to understand why the others fought so hard to protect him from his ghosts.

She now knew that his gentle touch as a healer, his wise smile and his concern for all who came under his roof were the true expressions of his ancient soul. The tortured nights on the burned and ashy plain of Dagorlad had been the result of stress, grief and fate twisted into terrible contortions of being. His unimaginable love and devotion had been the source of the deepest despair and insane grief at the loss of Gil-galad. He both loved and lost with unbearable passion. Cirgalad had wondered why he had not surrendered his spirit up in the utter darkness of the moments of loss, but had determined he would survive. While the inner circle worried for his fragile nature, they also knew he had the endurance of the stone of the mountains, that he had the strength of the crashing sea waves and the warmth of the summer sun in his true soul.

She leaned forward into another kiss, sweet and soft and teasing, lingering over the bottom lip and ending with a gentle lick across them both. She withdrew her hand from beneath his robe and embraced him, drawing closer and placing her leg across his. This increase in contact with her increased his response and began to affect the air around them. Elrond's aura was powerful and beyond his control sometimes, it could set the pace for others in many situations.

He kissed her again with a new need and projected longing that entrapped her soul. It took her days to recover psychically from a joining with Elrond, but she welcomed his embrace tonight. She moaned as he licked her jaw line and nibbled and kissed her neck. His fingers drew her long hair away from her face and stroked her temples gently. She arched into him in pleasure. Findalor turned to lie against her and embraced them both. He laid his face into her hair and kissed her neck.

He too had had pleasant evenings with these lovers since their fevered days on the field at Dagorlad. He was glad that today had passed smoothly and easily. The little problems with the guests would be soothed over by Erestor, and Elrond would answer their questions tomorrow and provide just the bit of paper or parchment they needed. Findalor had no doubt of it. He left the Great Library to Lindefal and Elrond to manage, and he was never surprised to hear of the wondrous things that were to be found there.

His job was the inner and outer borders of Imladris and the security of the residents. He also watched the Master of the House closely and was alert for signs of dark days descending. He was the one most concerned about the ghosts of the past, and along with Galenbrethil, had relived far too many grim and wretched days himself. He was pleased at the calm and comfortable tumble he found himself in now. He was pleased that Elrond had seen sunny days and serene nights the last few months. It made all their lives so much easier.

She rose over Elrond and teased him with her hair and little bites and licks. His hands moved along the laces at her back and loosened the long ties, he pulled the shoulders down and kissed the white arms and nibbled along her collarbone. Their soft voices formed a cocoon around them. Findalor reached across to the laces and finished the loosening. He slipped a hand under the soft fabric and caressed her side and hip. He slid the dress off her arm and kissed her back and neck, he pressed his growing interest against her as they moved together.

Drifting clouds moved across the stars and seemed to close the space in around them. Within their joining auras filling their minds no sound or evidence of the outside world intruded. As senses heightened the sliding of velvet and silk became a rough drag of fabric across skin, and the feeling became unbearable. Robes were shed in fluid motion and skin sought the touch of skin in the bonding of shared touch. Galenbrethil turned and opened her arms to Findalor. He rose across her and entered slowly, sliding into her welcoming depths. He kissed her, then leaned across and kissed Elrond beside her, taking handfuls of the dark hair as he fell into the sensations of the moment. Just the feel of those dark strands in his fingers caused him joy.

She moved against him moaning and caressing his muscular back. She was quite the vocal lover, and her every feeling was expressed with a sigh, an expressed desire or a cry of pleasure. She hummed and moaned as Findalor moved slowly inside her.

In the complex sharing, caressing and thrusting movements this threesome had become comfortable with, they dissolved into a quivering mass of flesh. Touches and licks built intolerable needs and desires, and trading places smoothly, flowing between legs and under arms, laughing and smiling into bites and licks while offering soft mouths, warm tongues and eager kisses, they built the fires of passion between them. The dragging of firm fingertips across nerves and muscles beneath trembling flesh caused more moans and sighs of pleasure. Firm flesh rubbed against firm flesh as breathing became ragged and the grappling more intense.

Energy and creativity, as well as balance and care, were needed to please all with little harm done accidentally. Kneeling, rising, arching and collapsing together, they touched all the secret places on their bodies and in their souls. With first one in the middle then another, the three intertwined and became one in rising passion.

With the joining of their auras and minds, as well as their bodies, they were one wanting, needing, longing soul together, trembling while awaiting release, each on the edge of each other's delight as a feedback pattern layered multiple sensations within them all. As the friction, caresses and firm touches drove one of them melting into deep moans and cries of pleasure, they all shared the sensation of those rhythmic contractions, and they were all swept into the timeless, space less oblivion of perfect joy and uncontrollable release. Elrond's whipping energies never failed to grab them in its wake and energize their activities with sparks and increased sensations.

Galenbrethil could never finish without laughing at the tangle of arms and legs. Sometimes bruises from a stray knee or elbow were souvenirs for days afterwards. Their "trophies" from these sessions amused them for days afterwards. She thought she'd have some colorful marks on her neck tomorrow as well, she wondered who had indulged her cries for "more" and "harder" just then. Falling off the edge of the black abyss of pleasure, caught between them in gentle thrusts fore and aft, someone had pushed her over the edge with skillful nips and then hard bites at the nerve junctions along her neck. Her cries were buried in a kiss, and then echoed by the others.

Sandwiched between them, joining them all through the narrow channels of her flesh, she was still enwrapped in strong arms and a tangle of legs. As they kissed above her head she remembered leaving a few bite marks of her own on Elrond's shoulder. She was glad to be supported between them in the warmth of their bodies; she had no control over her trembling limbs yet.

She slowly sought to sort out her own energy waves and become herself again. She was accustomed to this merging now and the strength and speed at which she lost herself as a separate entity did not disturb her anymore. Engaged by passion, Elrond's rapidly expanding energies could tear their personalities away from them and blend them together into a joined entity with breathtaking speed and thoroughness. Its unrestrained power could grab the energy from all nearby and channel it as one flow, and the pleasure that resulted from their joinings was radiated outwards in a blast of emotion.

She had learned to sort things out slowly and gather herself back together bit by bit as they lay collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs afterwards. She had learned this on the plains at Dagorlad, when she had felt she would never regain herself from the raw emotions and deeply draining joinings there on the pile of carpets and blankets. Successfully therapeutic sex between this threesome had been forged brutally in the heat of need and despair, and they had refined their art of pleasure over the centuries since then. Their auras danced around them now in scintillations of color and vibration as they caught their breath and remained locked in embrace.
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