The Line Of The Peredhel for Silmsmutweek 2025 by LadySternchen  

Day Four- Fading

Elwing surfaces with a gasp, shaking seawater out of her eyes. The pole is only a few strides off, and she lunges forward, touching it for the third time. Only two more rounds to go. Pushing against the pole, she propels herself back into the water, diving under again to avoid the waves, only coming back up when she needs air. Or when her curiosity gets the better of her, and she pauses to watch how the others are doing. Círdan insists on this training, so he can make sure that they can flee to the sea in the case of an attack, even if he cannot reach them with his ships in time.

A little to her left, Eärendil swims up to her, and Elwing quickly tries to remember if he is one round ahead of her or not. She hopes he isn’t. Beating Eärendil is not quite like beating anyone else. He grins at her when they are level, and Elwing grins back, prepared to ask him which round he is on, when something grabs her from below and whirls her around. She tries to scream and ends up inhaling a mouthful of saltwater, before she realises that it is her betrothed who is apparently attempting to drown her. Coughing and retching, however, she has little choice but to let herself be swept off course, and towards the rocks that mark the midpoint between the pole and the beach. In the midst of the four rocks, the water is calm and shallow, the ground sandy. It is one of Elwing’s preferred hideouts, that hardly anyone else dares approach because the currents around the rocks are quite tricky, and being caught by one of them off-guard will quickly result in a bruised and scratched shoulder or a throbbing lump on one’s head.

Eärendil, having been taught by Elwing, knows how to evade them, however, and swims easily around the rocks, dragging her along. She is still angry with him, but impressed nonetheless at his strength.

“What is wrong with you?” she asks furiously, once her feet stand on solid ground.

“I saw a pretty fish and thought I’d catch it,” he replies with a smirk, then his features soften. “I wanted to be alone with you. There has been so much going on…”

“Círdan is watching us,” Elwing urges, trying to get back into the deep water.

“No, he is not. Círdan is on board Eärrámë with my father, fixing some issue with the foresail. He asked Pengolodh to oversee training instead, but the last time I saw him, he was fast asleep.”

Elwing can feel a grin starting to split her face.

“Is that so?”

She leans over to Eärendil and kisses him. Down in the water, she can feel his cock strain against her thigh. What would happen, she wonders, if they were to seal their bond now, alone, without any ceremony? But then she thinks of her people, traumatised and homeless, and the hope they see in her. Of Tuor and Idril, who busy themselves even now with the preparation for the wedding. No. She will not forego that. She will abide by Elvish law. Elvish law for their very Menish desire.

Eärendil has by now abandoned her lips and moves his kisses along her jawline until he reaches her ear, nibbling it. With a slight moan, she opens her legs a little so that his thigh fits between hers. The rhythm of the waves becomes their own, rocking them against each other. It would feel so right, to wrap her legs around his hips and let him take her, cradled by the ocean. But they must not. Not yet.

“Promise me that we will return here after our wedding and do this properly,” she pants in his ear.

“With the greatest pleasure, beloved,” he whispers back. “But we’re doing this properly just now. Just… differently.”

It is no empty promise, either, for his fingers are skilled, and Elwing closes her eyes and leans against Eärendil, savouring his ministrations. She has longed for this for days, and all too soon, she feels her orgasm build and then crash over her. She does not want this over, wants him, wants more.

“I want you in me, Eärendil. Now.” she moans.

Her crotch is still throbbing with the aftershocks of her climax, and she wants nothing more than to have his cock inside her, to ride it out on him.

“Soon, my love. Soon,” he promises, his hands now in her hair.

Elwing runs her fingers over his sides, then down to his cock, drawing a deep, rumbling moan from his chest, but she doesn’t stop there. If she is denied what she so wants, then she will not let him have his pleasure the easy way, either. Also, if she is right, this will be worth it.

“What are you doing?” Eärendil pants as Elwing moves her hand over his hip and down between his buttocks.

“Do you trust me?”

There is no hesitation in his blue eyes as he nods.

“I do. But what are you… Valar!”

He shrinks away from her as she pushes a finger inside him, and upon consideration, the water must make the friction very nearly unbearable. But he is a tough man, her Eärendil, he’ll manage.

“You never listen to people around you, do you? Well, I do. Trust me. Just try to relax.”

Having grown up amongst what remained of the marchwardens of Doriath, she has picked things up, whispered words in the dark, sly jokes not fit for her ears. For years, she has wondered how much truth there is to the rumour that men enjoy having stuff shoved up their arses, and now, it is her time to find out.

Does it make her a bad person, she wonders, to enjoy this so much? To see him pull himself halfway up a rock, clawing at everything he can reach. Were it not for his cock that betrays his desire, she would truly think him in pain.

She finds his spot before long, and watches with huge satisfaction as his body relaxes, as he starts rocking his hips.

“Elwing… oh, Elwing” he moans, reaching for her free hand and squeezing it, just as he comes, the strings of his seed drawing white lines in the water.

Elwing draws back her fingers as gently as she can, and catches her soon-to-be husband as he lets himself slide back into the water.

The kiss that follows tells her that not only did Eärendil deem the experience worth the discomfort, but also that they are not yet ready to swim back to shore. She giggles, and wraps her arms around more tightly, ready for a second round.