Eowyn: The Cage - Ch. 08a

Into Éowyn's mind came a different concern. "Elfi, it's now me who must apologize for the inquisitiveness, but: is your brother...?"

A quick parade of emotions passed across the young woman's face, arresting Éowyn's question before its conclusion. Nor did it escape Éowyn's notice that Elfi's nipples immediately puckered, growing even harder as the procession continued. She looked away before answering. "No, my brother and I have never...." She trailed off, leaving the tantalizingly unfinished thought dangling.

That's not at all the answer I was expecting. She'd been about to ask why Théo was here, rather than counted among the Riders in training. For he was of the right age, both his father and his grandfather were apparently Riders, and he seemed able-bodied enough. Her curiosity was piqued, but a sudden instinct cautioned her against further interrogation.

Elfi's eyes met Éowyn's, and when she spoke her voice was resolute. "But I love him."

"Of course you do. As I love my brother Éomer, more than anyone."

"You do?" There was an unmistakable note of eagerness, even excitement, in her voice. "Have...this is none of my business, of course, but have you ever been with him?"

It took Éowyn a few moments of confusion to realize what Elfi was actually asking, and it took considerably more moments and a decidedly concerted effort to restrain her surprise. She shook her head, wondering at the strange path this conversation was taking. "If I understand your meaning aright, no. That is: no more than the curiosity of childhood play, the kind in which many siblings likely engage. Certainly not since then. Still, I suppose that some part of me holds him as my ideal of manhood, and I hope someday to find a mate his equal." Éowyn wondered if what she'd just said was strictly true, given certain recent arrivals to Rohan.

Elfi nodded, but her voice grew both firmer and sadder. "I've not said this correctly, then. I'm sorry for the confusion. When I say that I love Théo, I mean that I'm in love with him."

Éowyn could no longer hold back her instinctive reaction. It wasn't that she was shocked, exactly — she'd certainly heard whispers of such things, and in fact her initial impression of the pair had been that they were coupled — but she'd never before been confronted with it in person. Understandably, her thoughts immediately fled to Éomer. Have I ever considered him in that way? The answer, though it came quickly, was strangely unsatisfying. I'm not fundamentally repelled at the notion, though I expected I would be, but it makes me uncomfortable. In theory, I suppose I can imagine him as a lover...but in practice, I'd never be able to go through with it. Nor do I find the thought enticing. I'm certain he would feel the same way, and that this is a path we'd never tread together.

She opened her mouth to sate a new curiosity, but Elfi beat her to it. "The answer to your next question is: no, I've never touched him, nor has he touched me. Not in that way. Not even when we were children, during play or otherwise, for from the beginning we somehow knew that what we felt for each other was unlike what our friends felt. We've always been, and remain, little more than brother and sister in deed, if not in thought. But," she sighed, "I love him anyway. And he loves me in the same way."

It was hard for Éowyn to know exactly how to respond, but the immediate kinship she'd felt for this young woman suddenly found an unexpected anchor. She hadn't understood why she so quickly and easily offered friendship while on the road, nor why she felt so little discomfort at having such an intimate conversation with someone she barely knew. But now she did, for here was another who yearned for something that was denied her.

"Elfi, please believe me: I would never judge you in this. One cannot help who they love," she said, as much to herself as to Elfi. "I must admit that when I first saw the two of you, I thought you were lovers. Even when I learned you weren't, I sensed some sort of bond beyond the familial. Still...." She paused, remembering how Théo looked at her earlier, wondering if she'd misunderstood his attention.

"Unlike me," continued Elfi, "Théo remains a virgin, though I believe he's done most everything else. We sometimes feel compelled to share such confidences with each other, though they can be equal parts honesty and torture. And no," she assured Éowyn, "our individual experiences haven't been unsatisfactory. Mine have been so enjoyable that I've repeated them as often as possible," she blushed, "which, I have to admit, isn't even close to as often as I'd like." Éowyn felt a low hum of arousal at Elfi's bold words and the secret smile that accompanied them, though she shunted these feelings aside. "But he's more troubled than I am by the emotions that arise from intimacy, and while I find both diversion and release from burden alongside the pleasure, he forever seems to be seeking different answers to his questions, as if he doesn't like those he's found. Although, more often than not," she said with a oddly proud expression, "those answers seek him. Women throw themselves at him, I mean. He is extremely attractive."

Éowyn allowed herself a slight nod, though the buzz between her legs indicated clear assent. "As are you, of course" she responded, attempting to distract herself from thoughts of the robust young man. It didn't work, for she now found herself openly admiring Elfi's astounding form. She'd never before contemplated physical attraction to a woman, yet it was suddenly clear that she was indeed capable of it, and both the familiarity and the strangeness of the feeling were disconcerting. This day is certainly full of new experiences.

"Thank you. That's extremely kind of you to say. While I know I should respond with modesty, in fact I'm unashamed to admit that I'm well aware of how I look. I've been made conscious of it from a very young age, in the eyes and words of many, for I blossomed early. For better or worse, it's utterly impossible to hide these," she gestured, blushing a bit harder as she did, "though in any case, I freely acknowledge that I don't really wish to. I'm rather fond of them, actually." She paused, reconsidering the key issue. "But even if no one else said so, my brother tells me often enough, and I believe him."

"But, alas, we can't be together. Not because it's wrong in the eyes of some, or even most. Were it only that, we'd run away to some distant land where we're strangers and make a life together. It's because we made a promise." The physical evidence of Elfi's arousal remained, but her voice was suffused with deep melancholy.

Éowyn waited in silence.

"You say you perceived our love from the first. You see well. But if you can see it, so it may be seen by others. Most easily of all by those closest to us."

"Our mother called us to her side one day. She'd been bedridden for months, and her frailty was more heartbreaking than ever. She held our hands and, with what must have been most of her remaining strength, spoke these words." Elfi closed her eyes and her voice changed, as if she was reciting a tale long-memorized.

"'You two are in love with each other. More than is natural between brother and sister. Nay, do not deny it. I have no more time for falsehoods. I see it in your eyes, and I feel it in your hearts. I don't ask you to stop loving each other. Should you try, it would bring one or both of you to ruin. Instead, I must ask you to do something even harder. I beg you: at least for now, keep your love in your hearts, and only in your hearts. Do not lay with one another, no matter the temptation. Seek others for the curiosities of the flesh if you must — I doubt you'll have trouble finding willing partners — but between yourselves you must remain no more than brother and sister. I will soon be gone, and thus I'll never know if you fail me in this, but I don't ask for myself. It's your father who will be ruined. He does not see as I do, nor is he of like mind regarding such matters, and he would never understand. When his own time comes, if you're still in love, and if you've resolutely forsaken pledging your hearts to others — for it is a sin to feign love only to discard it when offered your secret desire — then I give you my blessing. But not until then.'"

Elfi drew a shuddering breath as she came back to the present.

"She died the very next day. And so, what can we do? Disobey our beloved mother's final wish? Fulfill her fear that we'll destroy our father and, thus, all that remains of our family? Or cruelly pray for the hastening of his end so that we may be together? And yet, we don't even know if he lives, and so both hope and despair cling to an invisible thread of grief yet unbroken." She shook her head, fighting the tears. "We honor our mother, we love our father, and we're not monsters. All our choices are laden with sorrow."

The effort expended by Elfi to hold back her despair was breaking under accumulated strain and the revelation of secrets long-held. At the same time, Éowyn's own heart filled with an unfamiliar emotion: the desire to comfort. To offer solace.

There was, she realized, a personal component to this unusual impulse. To love and be loved might be, as bards and lovers themselves endlessly claim, a wonderful thing. But just as common are tales of love unwanted, unrequited, or unattainable...all feelings I recognize quite well. Acquainted with her own version of Elfi's pain, she yearned to soothe it away in both of them.

But I don't know how.

Elfi fell back to the ground, quaking with sobs. The globes of her breasts vibrated with each convulsion, but they were both well beyond caring about her nudity.

Éowyn could bear no more. Leaning over the crying woman, she cradled her face against her shoulder. As Elfi's tears slowly quieted, she released her grip and they stared at each other, drawing empathy from each other's eyes...Elfi's tortured by sadness unrequitable, Éowyn's brimming with the fundamental unfairness of existence. Without conscious thought, without even really understanding why she did so or what she hoped to accomplish by it, acting solely on instinct, Éowyn bent down and kissed her.

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

Whatever I expected, it wasn't this. A comforting brush of the lips? A brief expression of sisterly affection between new friends?

From the moment their mouths met, Elfi clearly had other ideas.

Éowyn's lips were soft in comparison to the rest of her taut frame, but Elfi's were so much fuller that Éowyn's' felt like hard skulls falling into warm pillows. She was just starting to adjust to this sharp contrast when Elfi's hand gripped the back of her neck. The inexorable press of body against body almost seemed inevitable.

Elfi's lips opened.

Éowyn's responded.

Their tongues caressed for a delicious moment, then pulled apart. Éowyn struggled for breath, filled with doubt and confusion that, at least at the moment, overmatched her desire. What am I doing? What are we doing?

Elfi appeared to harbor neither doubt nor hesitation, and joined their hands together, looking at her with such sweetness that much of her tension immediately melted away. "Éowyn...this, too, I've done before. With a woman, I mean. I'm grateful for your friendship and your comfort, and I have nothing to offer in return except me...but of myself, I give freely and eagerly. For you compliment me in kindness, yet you are by far the most beautiful in the realm. All love you, and all desire you. Do you not know?" This time, the passion of their kiss was unchecked by doubt, and though Éowyn's mind swirled with bewilderment, she didn't pull away again.

Eventually, Éowyn found herself on her back, Elfi's bare breasts pressing against her own through the embroidered fabric of her robes. But she was no longer being kissed. Her expression sultry with arousal, Elfi stroked Éowyn's body. Touching her. Everywhere.

"Elfi, I...."

"Doesn't it feel nice?"

I'm not ready to answer that question. "But...you owe me nothing. And I...I...."

"All desire you, Éowyn. That includes me. You're so incredibly beautiful. Let me make love to you."

Their next kiss built upon their escalating passion. With deft fingers, Elfi parted Éowyn's robes and pushed aside her undergarments, planting wet kisses down her neck and across her chest. Éowyn's hands clutched at Elfi's arms, but she couldn't yet bring herself to touch her fulsome globes. Meanwhile, Elfi made tender love to Éowyn's nipples, teasing them with her tongue, then brazenly sucking them between her silken lips. Éowyn gasped, arching her back, wondering just how long she'd let this continue, succumbing to the unexpected and unfamiliar pleasure. Her head fell into the blankets, eyes closed. She was trying not to lose control, yet it was slipping away in her despite.

Elfi's hand smoothed over Éowyn's stomach, slipping under the cinched waist of her skirts and sliding between her legs to cup her sex, gently probing an entrance already drenched with arousal. As quietly as possible under the circumstances, Éowyn moaned, consumed by undeniable lust and the growing certainty that she was going to let this go as far as Elfi wished to take it. She'd been unwillingly, semi-willingly, or roughly taken by another, and often in the same manner by her own fingers in mimicry of that which she believed brought her the greatest pleasure, but here was something entirely different. Something new. Here, there was no taking at all. Only giving.

Elfi caressed her folds with a tenderness matched by the tongue that played at Éowyn's nipples, letting the tension slowly build. When the rest of Éowyn's clothes came off and Elfi shed her blanket, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Despite the chill mountain air flowing over the encampment, they were both covered in a fine mist of perspiration, their naked bodies moving together with smooth friction. Elfi's hand was still exploring between Éowyn's legs, and their tongues dueled with considerably more heat than before.

Éowyn blindly reached for one of Elfi's breasts, not knowing what she wanted to do, feeling that she had to do something, but as unsure as a newborn colt. The voluptuous young woman stopped her, breathing heavily. "Not yet. Later. Right now this is for you. Your body is beyond perfection. I want to explore every inch of it. I want to taste you, inside and out. But most of all, I want to make you come." Her eyes twinkled at Éowyn's gasp of shock, and then she slid down her body, spreading Éowyn's long legs and nestling between them, soft hair tickling her inner thighs. Éowyn held her breath in anticipation, utterly abandoned to the moment.

Elfi's tongue dipped to her sex, slipping sensuously through peak and valley with feather-light touches. It was a soft, gently-building pleasure entirely new to her experience; so very unlike the demanding probing of her only other lover that Éowyn reveled in it. Her hips rolled back and forth as Elfi fed on her free-flowing emissions, reaching around her legs to fondle her turgid nipples. At this, Éowyn rose onto her elbows and opened her eyes, wanting to marvel at the mesmerizing tangle of golden hair between her wantonly splayed legs.

That's when she saw him.

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

Théo wandered long, seeking an isolation impossible in this overcrowded cluster of flight and fear. But the solitude he sought had nothing to do with the proximity of others. It was his heart that searched for quiet, for he was wracked with guilt. Guilt in triplicate.

There was that which was ever-present, of course: the impossible love he carried for his sister, and all that stood in the way of that love. Though they'd promised their mother they wouldn't act on their desires, he regretted that promise every single day. Slaking his lusts with willing partners, no matter how eager or accomplished, brought him no more than temporary tranquility, and many of them desired more than he could bring himself to offer. They begged him to continue, to take them in any number of ways, and the temptation was frequently overwhelming...but all he could see as they wrapped their legs around him and pleaded for fulfillment was that they weren't Elfi. Fingers, mouths, tongues...those brought a distracting pleasure, and the touch of another was almost always better than his own, but despite all reason he harbored a desperate hope that, somehow, Elfi's sex would be the first to envelop his manhood. He knew that she hadn't waited for him, and at times it hurt to consider how many others had already buried themselves inside her, but he also knew that his reasons for waiting remained true no matter what she did. He yearned for a lover that might make him feel at least a fraction of what he felt for Elfi, and so he moved quickly from one to another, seeking but never finding anyone who could fill, or even touch, the emptiness within.

Worse yet was their father's absence, for the outcome of that uncertainty would determine their future. He despised the horrible selfishness that caused him even the slightest bit of of ambivalence regarding his father's fate, yet all the self-recrimination in the world couldn't change his feelings. His persistent erotic dreams about his sister — dreams he'd been having since he was far too young to understand what sex actually was — had, of late, turned into nightmarish visions. Elfi would whisper, "finally, my love, we can be together" and lower her humid sex onto his stiff rod, but as his head tilted back in ecstasy he'd notice that they were consummating their union atop their father's freshly mounded grave. At this, Théo would snap awake, repulsed and full of self-loathing, yet also erect and in need of release before sleep could return. To wish, even in dreams, for one's own father to die! It was horrible, and his misery increased with every passing hour. But not knowing his fate was almost as torturous.

Finally, there was his most recent display of unwanted desire, a fresh humiliation only hours old. He'd been caught— there was no question he'd been caught — staring lustfully at the incomparably beautiful Lady Éowyn. She was second only to Elfi in haunting his private sexual fantasies, as he supposed was true for many of the men of Rohan, but she'd always seemed impossibly remote, and as a result his erotic dreams about her felt safe...especially in contrast to those featuring his sister. Seeing her riding next to him, however, all those lurid memories flooded straight into his head, with the result that he'd been struck mute as she and his sister conversed. To have her only inches away, offering us naught but comfort and sympathy, and to return that kindness by gaping with such obviousness...it's pathetic. To his embarrassment at his inability to mask his desire was added an extra measure of anxiety, for he kept a mighty secret that must be concealed from all. Yet I can't even control myself in this one simple way....

Wroth with his weakness, repeatedly circling the camp in agitation and despair, he finally concluded that he couldn't control his dreams, nor could he apologize to Lady Éowyn without embarrassing both of them. But he could do something about Elfi. He had to.

I will talk to her. Convince her that we can't wait any longer. When our father comes home — I refuse to countenance any alternative — we'll confess our love, begging for his blessing so that we can, at last, be together. He might be hurt, and there may be angry words and much struggle, but we'll make him understand. We have to. He'll eventually be forced to agree that our love is inevitable and give his consent. I can't sleep near, but never with, my sister in an agony of yearning any longer. While my sexual experiences have been pleasurable, they've never been more than physical. I need to feel love and sex joining as one.