(no subject)
[OOC: Warning -- there are sexual themes, but they are not graphic. Be warned, though. Enter at your own risk. ^^]
The afternoon was ideal for this act. Winter solstice. Sun low in the sky.
He entered her room with slow, calculated steps. There was no outward sign that he was terrified of what was about to happen. Nerdanel sat upon the bed, clothed in a simple shift nightdress, her eyes large and frightened.
She was not what those of her kind called beautiful. Nerdanel was taller than most of the Elven females, her skin not as smooth in colour, her face graced with none of the fine, delicate features. The Noldorin noble was the product of being the only child of the greatest smith the Noldor had ever known -- the one whom Fëanor learned from, the one Aulë favoured. A girl-child raised by her father. Her hands were rough from uncounted centuries sculpting and forging; her arms were strong, muscled as only one who has spent years upon years at labour.
Regardless of that, of the way most Elves viewed her appearance, Námo saw what Fëanor had seen: strength, pride, quiet dignity and an unending well of love to give to those around her. Because of those things, the Vala viewed her as lovely, more of a woman than most.
It did not take many steps before he was standing before her, looking down into the fearful eyes.
"Nerdanel," he said, his voice very quiet. "You do not have to do this."
The Elf swallowed visibly, but she did not look away. "I know I do not have to, my Lord. I choose to."
They stared at each other for long, long minutes, neither moving nor speaking. It was finally Nerdanel who moved, tugging her dress over her head and letting it fall to the floor. She did not blush or look away like some demure maid -- her eyes remained on Námo, even as she scooted back on the mattress, lying back so her head was resting comfortably on the pillow. Námo could not stop his eyes from travelling along her body, from her full breasts, down her flat stomach, lingering on the sparse rust-coloured hair between her slightly parted thighs.
"My Lord," she said softly, expectantly.
Námo also refused to flush, to feel any embarrassment as he shed his clothing, allowed her eyes to take in the sight of him.
"As much as I dislike you," Nerdanel murmured, "I have to admit you are beautiful to look upon."
"Thank you, I think," he replied as he knelt on the bed.
Nerdanel's body trembled with a minute shiver. "I do not think I can be intimate with you beyond what is necessary," she confessed quietly.
He nodded. This was not two people in love trying to create a child; there would be no gentle touches, no slow build of arousal and need. It was a dance of purpose, not of pleasure.
As Nerdanel parted her thighs, closing her eyes as she did so, Námo drew from his memory. He focused on the pleasure of spending an evening between Lee and Gorlim -- of their hands, their mouths, their bodies, and all that the two of them had been able to make him feel in those long hours. The memory was vivid, the sense of touch almost real, and he was soon able to do what needed to be done. He leaned over her, gently pressing forward against the long-untried path, and paused when she tensed and gave what sounded like a pained hiss. She refused to open her eyes, merely took a few deep breaths. Námo felt awkward as he began to dance the dance, but there was a goal to be achieved.
Elves are a specific sort, you see. Pregnancy among them does not happen unless both parties choose for it to occur. It is a exertion of will over body, of the spiritual over the physical, and it is during this dance of necessity that both Nerdanel and Námo focused on the creation of a child. Friction and fantasy allowed for an end to come as quickly as could be accomplished, an end in silence and averted eyes, and as seed was spent, Námo used his power and his own will, his own desire for a child, to set a course for conception within Nerdanel's body.
It was upon Nerdanel that the ultimate outcome rested: she could stop that course, avert this act even as Námo pulled away from her... but she did not. She was aware of the Vala's will within her and welcomed the course he had set. Seed took root as she sat up; minds could no longer be changed.
Námo held out her dress to her, which she took with an unsteady hand. In silence, they dressed, and then Nerdanel spoke, her voice low and subdued.
"May I return to my home, my Lord?" she asked quietly. "I wish for the pregnancy to grow strong in our lands... and I wish for Maglor to accompany me."
The Vala paused in his fastening of his cloak, stared at her eyes -- for Nerdanel would not bow her head as if she had reason to feel shame for her choices -- and then nodded. "I will accompany you. Perhaps Lee would like to see our home as well. He has been unhappy as of late."
"Your lover," she said with a small smile.
Námo returned the smile. "My lover. Who our child will call Adar, if you do not mind."
The woman's face softened. She may have not enjoyed her last conversation with the man, but she had a sense that he would make an excellent Adar to their child. "That would be lovely, my Lord. And Gorlim?"
"I will ask if he minds Ada as a title. They mean much to me, Lady. They hold my heart and my soul as no other could, and they are my chosen family. I want them to have that with the child, a bond and connection." Námo smiles at the thought of a family -- mother, sibling, fathers, uncles -- the child would be loved and cared for as few others in their world were.
She paused, as if hearing something far away, and then smiled brightly at Námo. "We will have a son," she announced.
He could not stop himself from bending down to her and pressing a kiss to her brow. "Thank you for this gift, Lady," he said with sincerity.
"It is just as great to me, my Lord, for I realize how much I desire this child as well," she replied quietly. She swallowed and closed her eyes. "Would you mind if I refreshed myself and took my leave? I promised Asar-Suti and Gil I would spend this evening with them, and I wish some time with myself before going to them."
Námo nodded, standing back and starting for the door. "I will see you tomorrow when we can decide when you wish to leave for Aman." A brief glance back at the red-haired woman as he opened the door... now bearing a child. Now bearing his child.
As he closed the door, he felt a bit faint, a bit giddy.
He was to be a father.
The afternoon was ideal for this act. Winter solstice. Sun low in the sky.
He entered her room with slow, calculated steps. There was no outward sign that he was terrified of what was about to happen. Nerdanel sat upon the bed, clothed in a simple shift nightdress, her eyes large and frightened.
She was not what those of her kind called beautiful. Nerdanel was taller than most of the Elven females, her skin not as smooth in colour, her face graced with none of the fine, delicate features. The Noldorin noble was the product of being the only child of the greatest smith the Noldor had ever known -- the one whom Fëanor learned from, the one Aulë favoured. A girl-child raised by her father. Her hands were rough from uncounted centuries sculpting and forging; her arms were strong, muscled as only one who has spent years upon years at labour.
Regardless of that, of the way most Elves viewed her appearance, Námo saw what Fëanor had seen: strength, pride, quiet dignity and an unending well of love to give to those around her. Because of those things, the Vala viewed her as lovely, more of a woman than most.
It did not take many steps before he was standing before her, looking down into the fearful eyes.
"Nerdanel," he said, his voice very quiet. "You do not have to do this."
The Elf swallowed visibly, but she did not look away. "I know I do not have to, my Lord. I choose to."
They stared at each other for long, long minutes, neither moving nor speaking. It was finally Nerdanel who moved, tugging her dress over her head and letting it fall to the floor. She did not blush or look away like some demure maid -- her eyes remained on Námo, even as she scooted back on the mattress, lying back so her head was resting comfortably on the pillow. Námo could not stop his eyes from travelling along her body, from her full breasts, down her flat stomach, lingering on the sparse rust-coloured hair between her slightly parted thighs.
"My Lord," she said softly, expectantly.
Námo also refused to flush, to feel any embarrassment as he shed his clothing, allowed her eyes to take in the sight of him.
"As much as I dislike you," Nerdanel murmured, "I have to admit you are beautiful to look upon."
"Thank you, I think," he replied as he knelt on the bed.
Nerdanel's body trembled with a minute shiver. "I do not think I can be intimate with you beyond what is necessary," she confessed quietly.
He nodded. This was not two people in love trying to create a child; there would be no gentle touches, no slow build of arousal and need. It was a dance of purpose, not of pleasure.
As Nerdanel parted her thighs, closing her eyes as she did so, Námo drew from his memory. He focused on the pleasure of spending an evening between Lee and Gorlim -- of their hands, their mouths, their bodies, and all that the two of them had been able to make him feel in those long hours. The memory was vivid, the sense of touch almost real, and he was soon able to do what needed to be done. He leaned over her, gently pressing forward against the long-untried path, and paused when she tensed and gave what sounded like a pained hiss. She refused to open her eyes, merely took a few deep breaths. Námo felt awkward as he began to dance the dance, but there was a goal to be achieved.
Elves are a specific sort, you see. Pregnancy among them does not happen unless both parties choose for it to occur. It is a exertion of will over body, of the spiritual over the physical, and it is during this dance of necessity that both Nerdanel and Námo focused on the creation of a child. Friction and fantasy allowed for an end to come as quickly as could be accomplished, an end in silence and averted eyes, and as seed was spent, Námo used his power and his own will, his own desire for a child, to set a course for conception within Nerdanel's body.
It was upon Nerdanel that the ultimate outcome rested: she could stop that course, avert this act even as Námo pulled away from her... but she did not. She was aware of the Vala's will within her and welcomed the course he had set. Seed took root as she sat up; minds could no longer be changed.
Námo held out her dress to her, which she took with an unsteady hand. In silence, they dressed, and then Nerdanel spoke, her voice low and subdued.
"May I return to my home, my Lord?" she asked quietly. "I wish for the pregnancy to grow strong in our lands... and I wish for Maglor to accompany me."
The Vala paused in his fastening of his cloak, stared at her eyes -- for Nerdanel would not bow her head as if she had reason to feel shame for her choices -- and then nodded. "I will accompany you. Perhaps Lee would like to see our home as well. He has been unhappy as of late."
"Your lover," she said with a small smile.
Námo returned the smile. "My lover. Who our child will call Adar, if you do not mind."
The woman's face softened. She may have not enjoyed her last conversation with the man, but she had a sense that he would make an excellent Adar to their child. "That would be lovely, my Lord. And Gorlim?"
"I will ask if he minds Ada as a title. They mean much to me, Lady. They hold my heart and my soul as no other could, and they are my chosen family. I want them to have that with the child, a bond and connection." Námo smiles at the thought of a family -- mother, sibling, fathers, uncles -- the child would be loved and cared for as few others in their world were.
She paused, as if hearing something far away, and then smiled brightly at Námo. "We will have a son," she announced.
He could not stop himself from bending down to her and pressing a kiss to her brow. "Thank you for this gift, Lady," he said with sincerity.
"It is just as great to me, my Lord, for I realize how much I desire this child as well," she replied quietly. She swallowed and closed her eyes. "Would you mind if I refreshed myself and took my leave? I promised Asar-Suti and Gil I would spend this evening with them, and I wish some time with myself before going to them."
Námo nodded, standing back and starting for the door. "I will see you tomorrow when we can decide when you wish to leave for Aman." A brief glance back at the red-haired woman as he opened the door... now bearing a child. Now bearing his child.
As he closed the door, he felt a bit faint, a bit giddy.
He was to be a father.