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dawnfelagund's great story "ANOTHER MAN'S CAGE". It takes place sometime after her tale, and is humour-oriented. There is explicit het sex in this story, as well as some mild slash (nothing too graphic, not to me, anyway).
AUTHOR:digdigil
STORY TITLE: HAPPINESS
SUB-TITLE: A Day In The Life of Finarfin
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: Explicit het sex, mild slash.
PAIRINGS: Finarfin/Eärwen, Maedhros/Fingon
Finarfin loved happiness. He loved to surround himself with family and friends and hold great parties in his large, airy house. On one such evening his two brothers, their wives and all of their children had come to join him and his beloved wife Eärwen for dinner and a small get-together afterwards. As it turned out, it had been a disaster, and he had found himself acting once again as peacemaker between Fëanaro and Fingolfin.
Finarfin relished the serenity of spirit that came from surrounding himself with the simple joys of life: to spend time with those people that he loved; to enjoy good music, art, literature, food and wine and to partake in lively and intelligent discussion. Mostly in life he was appreciative of his wife Eärwen, whom he loved dearly, and the mere sight of whom would send his senses spiraling, cause his heart to beat faster, his fair face to become flushed, and his loins begin to tingle.
The day of the party had started well enough. Eärwen had spent much of the morning supervising the servants’ preparation of the food for the gathering, the placement of the furniture and the general cleaning and tidying of the house. It looked splendid: from the light, airy furniture that adorned the spacious rooms, to the grandness of the decorations and the abundance of food that was being prepared.
At the midday meal after all of the cleaning and food preparation was finished, Finarfin had been feeling rather amorous as he shared lunch with his wife and attempted to seduce Eärwen with words. Their son Finrod had left the table and had gone to play outside with friends, leaving Finarfin and Eärwen pleasantly alone.
“The cut of that dress is very becoming on you, my dear”, he had told her. “Your décolletage is quite – er – stunning – very inviting, in fact”.
“Thank you, my dear”, Eärwen responded, beaming prettily.
“Tycatuo”, Finarfin addressed his butler. “Would you please refill Lady Eärwen’s wine glass for her?” and then to his wife: “Will you stay with the white or would you prefer a glass of red now, darling?”
Eärwen fidgeted with her goblet of white wine as Tycatuo hovered, twirling the stem in her slender fingers. “Well, I don’t know, Finarfin –“ she dithered as Tycatuo shifted his feet.
“I think you should try the red”, suggested Finarfin, knowing that it was more potent than the white. “Tycatuo, red for my Lady, please”, and he motioned for the butler to pour her a new glassful. Tycatuo did so and then began to remove some of the used glasses from the table. Finarfin continued to flatter and tease Eärwen through the rest of the meal, becoming very animated and making her laugh with jokes told in his soft, engaging voice and expressions of great variety on his pleasant, mobile face, until she became quite giggly.
“Darling, let us retire to the north parlor”, said Finarfin as Tycatuo was clearing away the dishes, and he rose to assist her from the room. He gestured to Tycatuo to bring a fresh wine bottle and goblets. Once ensconced in the comfortable parlor where a lively fire burned in the grate, Finarfin eased himself into a soft chair and pulled Eärwen onto his lap. He reached up to her face and caressed her cheek with a teasing finger and then pulled her chin down so that he could kiss her on the lips. Becoming lost in the kiss, his hands then roamed over the bodice of her gown.
“Finarfin!” she cried, extricating her face from his. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think, my darling?” he asked, purring into her ear. “I want to make love to you”. He nibbled on the lobe of her ear and then licked the tip with a playful tongue. “It is rather warm in here, is it not?” he added, with the purpose of doffing his heavily brocaded jacket, and he let go of her in order to loosen the top three clasps on his shirt. Then his fingers flickered from his own shirt fastenings to the tantalizing ribbons that kept Eärwen’s bodice closed. While one of his deft hands held her by the back of the head and he deepened the kiss with his tongue, the other untied her ribbons until the bodice top fell open and her erect nipples were fully exposed on her rounded breasts, squashed together by the still-tight corset top that she wore.
As he tenderly ran his hand over the rosy peaks of her pebbled nipples which made her gasp sharply, Finarfin shifted in his chair to allow himself more comfort as his breeches had become tight with a newly-grown stiffness inside them. He moaned into the kiss as he began to pull Eärwen’s dress down from her shoulders.
“Finarfin!” she gasped, breaking their kiss, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him away slightly. “We cannot do this here and now! We should be upstairs in our bedroom for this! It is too risky here!”
“Riskiness is what makes our lives interesting!” Finarfin murmured as he grazed her neck with his ardent lips. “I never did like to be predictable”.
He then stood, lifted Eärwen up into his arms and carried her over to a large nearby sofa, where he set her down carefully, and then he stood and began to undress himself. He unfastened and slipped off his shirt. Unlike his brother Fëanor, who was tall, dark, slim and hard-bodied, and Fingolfin, who like Fëanor, was tall, dark, but heavier of muscle, Finarfin was flaxen-haired, almost pretty and youthful of face, and smaller than his brothers. He was slim and not overly-muscled, but his body was toned from working hard at sword practice and weapons drills, which all of the Noldor were expected to learn.
His hands moved down to the ties on his breeches and he began to undo them. Eärwen reached out a slender, pale ivory arm and grasped his wrist. “Finarfin – don’t!” she implored. “We are holding a party tonight! And Tycatuo could come in and catch us!”
“We will not take long”, Finarfin panted, his breath coming in short gasps and he moved his wife’s hand down to the hardness between his thighs. He pressed his own hand over top of hers and clasping it, he rubbed it on top of his stiffness. “Eärwen”, he moaned. He became fully aroused then, and moved to pull his breeches down and then completely off, stepping out of them and casting them aside. Then, he lifted the voluminous skirt of Eärwen’s dress up above her waist and reached for the waistband of her undergarments. He pulled them gently down the length of her slim legs and he positioned himself above her and pressed his hips forward, pushing his arousal between her thighs. He bent his fair head down and took one of her nipples into his warm mouth. Eärwen emitted a soft moan and grasped her husband’s buttocks, squeezing them in her suddenly aroused passion. With the ease of experience with his wife, he quickly found her entrance and pushed carefully into her warm tightness, feeling the familiar softness enclosing his member. He sighed deeply and began thrusting more rapidly, as he moved his lips from her breast to her mouth and began kissing her fervently.
“Oh, my love”, he cried between kisses. “I want you so badly I feel my heart will burst”.
“Oh, sweetheart”, she moaned. “I love you so much, Finarfin”.
He came then, in several deep spasms, filling her with his warm fluids. Afterwards, he lay in her arms, with his fair head resting on her shoulder, pressing little fluttery kisses to her neck and making her giggle.
“You are a very naughty man”, she told him while she laughed at the funny faces he made for her. He stopped and tried to fix her gaze with a serious stare, raising his eyebrows and widening his grey eyes until they were large and shining. He pursed his lips so that they took on the appearance of a rosebud about to pop open and he sucked in his rounded cheeks. “Finarfin! You are terrible! But I cannot stay angry with you for any length of time!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As did all of the days in Valinor, the day of the party had begun with the mingling of the lights in a clear sky. Birds sang tunefully and the mild breezes carried the scents of summer through the air. Fresh water, fresh grass, newly opened flowers, and all of the good things that the world provided were there for all Elves to enjoy. Yet Fingolfin had ignored the beauty of the day in order to start sniping at Fëanor about his unruly children. The animosity between his two older brothers distressed Finarfin greatly.
“Why do you let your children run wild?” Fingolfin had asked Fëanor accusingly. “They act like naught but savage beasts, and they are a bad influence on mine”.
“Tumpo tye, rihte!” Fëanor, never one to waste words, responded fiercely.
Finarfin thought that Fingolfin was too rigid, and ran his household with too strict a hand, making everyone in it adhere to his own code of conduct. On the other hand, he felt that Fëanor, with his volatile personality, surrounded himself with constant chaos and Finarfin did not understand how his wife Nerdanel could stand to live in such a way. And yet Finarfin found their children to be delightful. They were exuberant and happy, two traits that he admired and he liked to encourage them in their youthful curiosity.
When the young people had first arrived and had greeted all of their relatives, and had joined them for dinner at the large maple table in the big dining room, which was beautifully decorated in colours of pale green and ivory, they had been eager to rush off so that they could play together. While there was a big discrepancy in their ages from oldest (Maitimo) to youngest (Curufin), Maitimo did not at all mind supervising the others. Maglor, second-oldest to Maitimo, was not present this evening because he was attending an academy of music and was currently undergoing examination sessions that were of great importance to him. Finarfin had excused the children, who tore away like a herd of wild horses from the table and out of the dining room in great haste to be elsewhere. Fingolfin raised a disapproving eyebrow at Finarfin and Fëanaro, who was engaged in conversation with Fingolfin’s wife Anairë. Anairë was paying rapt attention to her brother-in-law and did not notice the youngsters leave.
Fingolfin then excused himself and wandered out of the dining room and down the long hallway towards the washroom, stopping to admire the paintings on the walls. Finarfin had wonderful taste and owned a vast collection of art of all kinds, as well as literature. Fingolfin thought he might meander down to the library and have a look around and perhaps peruse a few books.
Later, back in the north parlor where the adults were gathered, Fingolfin said to his brother, “Arafinwë, have you noticed that the children tend to gather in your library every time we all get together at your house?”
“Yes, and it pleases me”, Finarfin had replied, his fair face beaming with happiness at the thought of the children quietly reading together in his well-stocked library.
“Do you not realize that at this moment they are gathered around Maitimo, who has his nose pressed closely to one of your books? He is reading to them from it”.
“How wonderful!” cried Finarfin. “How wonderful that the children are learning an appreciation for the finest examples that good literature can provide”, Finarfin expressed happily, “and that Maitimo is such a willing instructor for them”.
“Are you quite sure that it is “good” literature that they are appreciating?” asked Fingolfin, a stern expression upon his handsome but stern, angular face. “Are you aware of Maitimo’s reputation in Tirion? All of the children of Fëanaro are far too uninhibited for my liking, and they know too much of bodily functions and certain – ah – sexual practices at their ages. Not to mention their language! The terrible words and curses that they know would cause even Miriel to awa-“
“Speak not of Miriel!” hissed Finarfin, shushing and cutting him off. “Do you forget that Fëanaro is here?”
“If only I could but forget”, Fingolfin said with a sigh. “Our brother continues to rankle me. He does nothing to control his children, he will not let his wife do so either, and I am afraid that they may have discovered your collection of erotic literature and your – er – art collection. I have told you before, Arafinwë, you need to keep those things under lock and key!”
Startled, Finarfin had therefore dashed immediately to the library, and saw that Fingolfin had been right about the children all gathered sitting on the floor at Maitimo’s feet, paying him rapt attention, but when Finarfin flung open the library door, he could hear Maitimo’s words:
“And so the little bunny found his hole again with the help of the little mouse family”.
Smiling, he nodded to Maitimo as the tall redhead looked up and grinned back at his uncle with a friendly expression of innocence, and Finarfin noticed that upon his nephew’s shapely thighs he held a large, exquisitely-bound book of children’s stories. Finarfin excused himself and shut the door softly behind him as he left. He did not see that once he was gone, Maitimo had returned to reading from the smaller book that he had hidden inside of the larger one:
“And the maid cried passionately to her lover, “No! No! Sivára! You cannot touch me there again for I am afraid that I will not be able to control myself!” and held up the next page to show his fascinated brothers and cousins, because it was an illustrated book and they were all eager to see the pictures, even though they did not necessarily understand all of the words he read them from the text.
Finarfin returned to the parlor where Eärwen, Anairë and Nerdanel were trying to preside over his two older brothers who were now involved in a quarrel.
“Your ideas for surrounding Tirion and Formenos with strong armed forces are ridiculous! Arm them against what, for Eru’s sake? And don’t think I didn’t know that you tried to find out what I planned to give Atar for his imaginary begetting day so that you could then try to give him something better!” Fëanaro was shouting as Eärwen cringed and Nerdanel and Anairë tried to contain their mortification at their husbands’ behaviour.
Fingolfin bristled. “You always try to usurp my time with Atar so he has none left for me!” he countered.
“You are the usurper!” cried Fëanaro. “You are nothing but second-best in his regard, and you will NEVER wear the crown of High King despite your heavy-handed attempts to push yourself forward!”
“Hah! Atar actually loves ME more so than you!” yelled Fingolfin.
“You useless piece of-” shrieked Fëanaro, and by now the two angry Elves stood breast-to-breast with each other while Finarfin flew toward them.
Eärwen, Nerdanel and Anairë were frantically trying to move all of the wine bottles, glassware and decorative porcelain out of the way of flying fists and sweeping long braids. In his quiet yet commanding voice, Finarfin cried, “Now brothers, brothers!” He tried to catch their attention by behaving the opposite way to the way they behaved to each other. “Please stop shouting and think about what you are saying to each other”. Gently, he placed a hand on each of their steely-muscled arms and then slid them down each of their arms to grasp their hands in his. He swung their long limbs back and forth playfully and tried to make a joke.
“Did you hear the one about Aulë’s balls?” he asked, chuckling in advance of the punchline. “No? Right, then, it seems that Yavanna was searching through his drawers for a bit of –“
“Finarfin!” cried Eärwen. “Please! Do not tell that story while Nerdanel, Anairë I are in the same room!” She was blushing with embarassment.
“Very well, Arafinwë, we understand”, said Fingolfin, his angry mood now deflated. “I am sorry, Fëanaro. I know that Atar loves us equally. I am sorry, ladies, if I have upset you”.
Fëanaro smoldered. He was not so easily appeased by Finarfin’s charm, and though his youngest brother was making some extremely funny faces while standing and staring at him that would have caused any other Elf in Valinor to at least crack a smile, Fëanaro’s anger would take much longer to cool.
“Well, now, that’s better, isn’t it?” Finarfin asked. He was relieved that the argument had not escalated into a wrestling match “Would anyone like a glass of wine? The one we have been drinking is a Hyarmentir FA12. That is a very good vintage. Try some, Fëanaro. You too, Fingolfin?”
“If you gentlemen and ladies will excuse me for a moment, I will just go down to the library to see if the young people would also like some refreshments”, said Eärwen, and she left the room.
A few minutes later she reappeared, and her face was as white as the swan ships of her father’s realm. Finarfin noticed her pallor and asked with some concern: “What is wrong, my darling?”
“Ah – ahm – ahm –“ Eärwen stuttered, coughing slightly. “Finarfin, may I speak with you privately for a moment?”
“Yes, of course, my dear. Nerdanel, Anairë and my dear brothers, please help yourselves to the wine and excuse me for a moment”, he said, and followed Eärwen into the hallway.
“Finarfin”, she said with a worried look on her face. “The young people are all in the library with the door closed and the drapes drawn”.
“Yes?” asked Finarfin, wondering why he was starting to feel afraid.
“They didn’t see or hear me enter”, she went on.
“Yes? Yes?” Finarfin pressed her.
“Well, my gaze fell immediately upon Maitimo, and he was – he was –“
“Go on, please, Eärwen!” cried Finarfin.
“Well, he was holding up a very large illustrated book on art”, she continued. Finarfin waited, his heart beating quickly. “He was showing the other children a painting of a nude male, and he was pointing out all of the various parts of the anatomy”.
“Oh well, that is not so bad”, said Finarfin, quite relieved and letting out a long sigh. “Youngsters of that age have a natural curiosity about those things”.
“Finarfin, Maitimo was completely naked, and the children were pointing out various parts of HIS ana-“
“What?!!?” Finarfin ran down the hallway to the library as fast as he could. When he arrived, he found that Eärwen had been speaking the truth. When he peeled aside the drapes and entered the room, little Carnistir was asking, “Why is yours so much bigger?” and Fingon appeared to be staring at the tall redhead much too intently.
“Maitimo! Just what are you doing?” cried Finarfin, shocked.
“The children wanted to see if I looked like the Elf in the book”, Maitimo stammered, his face quite red.
“His is much bigger”, volunteered Carnistir, pointing at his brother.
“Please, Maitimo! Put your clothes back on and then come and join me and the other adults in the parlor! By the looks of things you are much too grown up now to be spending all of your time with the younger folk!”
“But we love Maitimo”, Fingon spoke up. “And I am not that much younger!”
Finarfin gave Fingon a hard look. “Yes, I am sure that you do!” he remarked. “And you are growing up much too fast. Too fast for your own benefit”, he said.
As he and Maitimo walked back to the parlor together, Finarfin used the opportunity to speak to his nephew. “Maitimo, do you find that you are often bored?”
“No”, said the vivacious red-haired Elf. “Not at all. Atar keeps me busy at home in many ways, and when I am not actively busy, I find there are many books in the library at home to read”.
“Do you read a lot?” asked Finarfin.
“Yes, Uncle, I do”, Maitimo replied innocently.
“You are often seen in town as well”, said Finarfin. “In the company of various maidens when you grace Tirion with your presence”.
Maitimo’s face became flushed again.
“And seldom the same one twice”, Finarfin continued.
“Uncle, I don’t really think that’s any of your –“
Finarfin stopped abruptly and reached up fairly high in order to place a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I know that your private life is none of my business”, he said, “but I care about you, and I worry about your welfare and your future. I do not think that you should aimlessly wander around Tirion, dipping your pen into so many inkwells, as it were, with no ambition and no regard for finding yourself a suitable occupation”.
Maitimo shifted his feet as Finarfin spoke. “I am intending to study at the Royal Academy of Art in Tirion starting in the new semester”, he offered.
“And what will you be studying?” asked Finarfin.
“Art”, said Maitimo.
Finarfin looked at him suspiciously. “A worthy occupation”, he said. “I hope that you will apply yourself to that vocation and stick to it”.
“Yes, Uncle, I shall try”, Maitimo replied meekly. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I shall rejoin you in the parlor anon”.
“Where are you going?” asked Finarfin.
“I need to relieve myself”, replied Maitimo.
“Ah. I am sorry to be so intrusive. Please carry on”, said Finarfin.
When he was back in the parlor, Finarfin was pleased to find that his brothers had settled down quite nicely and were engaged in pleasant conversation with their wives and his. He sighed and settled down to enjoy finally the pleasant evening that he had anticipated. After another refill of everyone’s wine glasses, Finarfin noticed that the bottle was nearly empty, and he announced that he would run down to the cellar to bring up a new one.
“Why do you not let Tycatuo do that for you, dear?” asked Eärwen.
“He will not know the one that I want. I do not mind running downstairs. I will be back in a moment”.
Finarfin clattered down the hard wooden steps to his wine cellar, anticipating the exhilarating experience of finding just the bottle he desired: a rich, dark red wine called ‘Lorien 86’, made from the finest grapes that Irmo grew in his vineyard. The heady aroma of this wine, coupled with its exquisite fruity essence, should do a great deal to help calm his two brothers and improve their moods. Finarfin envisioned convincing them to become connoisseurs of fine wine as he was, knowing what a calming influence it might possibly have on them.
Dreaming of the possibilities of he and his brothers all becoming friends and living in harmony, Finarfin walked down the long passageway between the wooden racks of wine bottles, inhaling the damp, musty smell of the stone cellar, the rich scent of oak and the musky aroma of freshly uncorked wine. He thought that it was odd to be smelling uncorked wine, but assumed that someone must have left a bottle open during a tasting session. He lifted his candle high and sought amongst the rows for the vintage that he desired.
He heard a slight scuffling sound. It startled him, but he thought it must be rats or mice. He would have Tycatuo let a couple of cats down here and take care of the vermin before they became a problem of infestation. He continued to search among the wooden rows. Eldamar 43? No, he didn’t want that one. It was nowhere near the Lorien in quality. He turned the corner at the end of a row and made his way past several more rows until he arrived at the second last one. He stopped suddenly, as he thought he heard murmuring. Mice didn’t murmur. The sound of soft voices was coming from the corridor between the last row and the wall. Holding the candle aloft, Finarfin walked slowly in the direction of the sounds.
“Findekáno – ai –“ was the unmistakable voice of Maitimo. Finarfin turned the corner of the last row of bottles to see Maitimo perched upon a barrel, with Fingon kneeling in front of it, his hands placed upon Maitimo’s bare knees.
Quickly, Finarfin moved the candle away so that the two cousins were in shadow and he could not see what Fingon was doing. He coughed discreetly. He then heard a rustle and some shuffling, as of clothes being pulled on and of someone rising to their feet from a kneeling position. He heard a cough, as if unsettled dust had been suddenly inhaled and then had become clogged in someone’s throat.
Finarfin spoke in a calm voice though his heart beat rapidly and a sense of dread began to overcome him. “Maitimo, Findekáno, upstairs now, please, and wait for me in the south parlor. How much wine have you consumed?” There was a gasp, and then a giggle but no answer. “I see”, he said. “Go upstairs now, please. I shall join you in a few minutes”. He stood aside to let the two young Elves pass before he followed them, but he stopped to pick up a bottle of the wine he had been seeking, before he continued to follow the two youngsters along the passageways and back up the cellar stairs.
Once he had taken the wine to Eärwen and his guests, Finarfin then dashed back to the south parlor to meet with his two nephews. He had not had much time to think of a speech to make to them, but he wanted to be sure that he impressed upon them the need to control such impulses at their ages. Maitimo would have been about 77, he thought, and Findekáno thirty years younger, and although they were referred to as children sometimes by their elders, they were actually far from that. Finarfin found that he was now appalled by the lack of discipline and proper education that were possibly the causes for their behaviour, and vowed that he would try to convince their respective parents to send them to the strictest school possible for military training. Never mind Maitimo’s art academy. If there were ever a breeding ground for perversion and unruly behaviour, the art academy would be the place.
When he entered the parlor, the two young Elves were sitting beside each other on the sofa. Hands that had previously been roaming and exploring were now tucked piously in their own laps. Both faces were flushed as they looked towards their uncle.
“Maitimo. Findekáno”. Finarfin stated their names as he cast about in his mind for a way to start. “How much wine did you consume?” he asked.
“A bottle each”, said Maitimo. Findekáno giggled.
“I am torn between telling your parents about your disgraceful behaviour this evening”, Finarfin sternly stated, “or letting the matter pass if you will promise me that you will never allow this to happen again in my house”.
Maitimo nodded and Findekáno hiccupped.
“Very well, then, I shall not speak to your parents of this, but I will try to convince them that the best thing for both of you would be a formal education in the strictest military academy that Tirion has to offer”.
Both young Elves smiled brightly at their uncle. Findekáno’s head began to tilt towards his cousin’s shoulder.
“Do you both agree to that idea?” Finarfin asked.
“Oh yes, Uncle”, Maitimo said enthusiastically. Findekáno hiccupped again and one of his arms snaked furtively from his lap to rest behind his cousin’s back.
“Fine”, said Finarfin. “Please remain in this room. I shall have Tycatuo bring you some strong coffee. I do not want your father to see you in this condition, Findekáno”.
As he left the room, Finarfin thought he heard muffled giggles as he shut the door behind him and shook his fair head worriedly.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Later that night in bed with Eärwen, Finarfin ruminated over his worried thoughts as he tossed and turned and tried to go to sleep but could not.
“Very well, Finarfin”, said Eärwen with a sigh. “I will make love to you again, if you feel it will relax you. I am tired, but I cannot go to sleep if you persist in churning the bedcovers so”.
“Yes. Good. Fine”, Finarfin replied in a distracted manner.
“Darling”, said Eärwen. “What is troubling you? Is it your brothers? After that initial debacle, I thought they settled down quite well later on”.
“Isn’t it peculiar?” Finarfin asked her, looking with pale grey eyes into her own of bright blue. “Fingolfin is so strict, and Fëanaro is so permissive with his children, yet Maitimo and Findekáno are equal miscreants”.
“Are they? What have they done? I will say that I was shocked at finding Maitimo naked in the library this evening”. She paused awhile as she thought at length upon what she had seen.
“That is not all”, said Finarfin. “I found them together later in the wine cellar”.
“Together? Really? Doing what? Wait. Don’t tell me yet. Just a moment”. Eärwen then divested herself of her nightgown and kneeled naked over top of her husband, straddling his thighs. Then she pulled up his nightshirt, exposing his bare body beneath it. “That is better”, she said. “Now you can tell me”. She began to stroke him eagerly.
Finarfin looked at her curiously. “I am not going to be able to grow hard if I think upon what those two were doing”, he said matter-of-factly.
“Try”, was her answer and she began to use other skilled techniques to bring him rapidly to a state of arousal.
“Ahhhh - well, I think that they were – er – ohhh!” he moaned as he felt himself rise in her expert hands and mouth.
“Let me help you tell this story properly”, said Eärwen, stroking her husband’s inner thighs seductively until she got the result she wanted and then repositioned herself atop him. “Now – ooohh – what was Maitimo wearing? Ahh”.
“Well, I’m not sure. I only saw him for a second. His thighs were bare”.
“Ooohh! More! Ahh! Tell me more!”
“Well, the worst thing was to see Findekáno on his knees before the barrel- Ahh! Eärwen!”
“Oh! Ahh! The barrel? Well, I know it’s big – ooohh! I saw it myself, but I don’t know if I’d call it a barrel – ahh! It was a much nicer shape – oohh!”
“Eärwen, of what are you speaking? And why are you making me tell you this now? If I think upon them I can’t – I can’t – Aaahh!” His actions belied his own words as he had no problem at all reaching climax. Afterwards, Eärwen rolled off of him and stroked his chest and side soothingly.
“So what were they doing?” she asked.
Finarfin sighed. “They cannot keep their hands off of each other when they are together”, he said. “I am sure that they will be headed for great tragedy if they continue this wanton behaviour. It cannot lead to anything but misfortune”.
“Are you not taking it a bit too seriously, my love?” asked Eärwen. “Many young male Elves seek solace with each other during the difficult years around their majority. I am sure that they will straighten out in the end. Now, please stop thinking and worrying about this and try to go to sleep. You must be exhausted”.
“Yes, I am”, sighed Finarfin. “You are right, my dear. I shall think about it tomorrow”. Finarfin then closed his eyes and let himself relax into the soothing arms of his wife.
dawnfelagund's great story "ANOTHER MAN'S CAGE". It takes place sometime after her tale, and is humour-oriented. There is explicit het sex in this story, as well as some mild slash (nothing too graphic, not to me, anyway).AUTHOR:
digdigilSTORY TITLE: HAPPINESS
SUB-TITLE: A Day In The Life of Finarfin
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: Explicit het sex, mild slash.
PAIRINGS: Finarfin/Eärwen, Maedhros/Fingon
Finarfin loved happiness. He loved to surround himself with family and friends and hold great parties in his large, airy house. On one such evening his two brothers, their wives and all of their children had come to join him and his beloved wife Eärwen for dinner and a small get-together afterwards. As it turned out, it had been a disaster, and he had found himself acting once again as peacemaker between Fëanaro and Fingolfin.
Finarfin relished the serenity of spirit that came from surrounding himself with the simple joys of life: to spend time with those people that he loved; to enjoy good music, art, literature, food and wine and to partake in lively and intelligent discussion. Mostly in life he was appreciative of his wife Eärwen, whom he loved dearly, and the mere sight of whom would send his senses spiraling, cause his heart to beat faster, his fair face to become flushed, and his loins begin to tingle.
The day of the party had started well enough. Eärwen had spent much of the morning supervising the servants’ preparation of the food for the gathering, the placement of the furniture and the general cleaning and tidying of the house. It looked splendid: from the light, airy furniture that adorned the spacious rooms, to the grandness of the decorations and the abundance of food that was being prepared.
At the midday meal after all of the cleaning and food preparation was finished, Finarfin had been feeling rather amorous as he shared lunch with his wife and attempted to seduce Eärwen with words. Their son Finrod had left the table and had gone to play outside with friends, leaving Finarfin and Eärwen pleasantly alone.
“The cut of that dress is very becoming on you, my dear”, he had told her. “Your décolletage is quite – er – stunning – very inviting, in fact”.
“Thank you, my dear”, Eärwen responded, beaming prettily.
“Tycatuo”, Finarfin addressed his butler. “Would you please refill Lady Eärwen’s wine glass for her?” and then to his wife: “Will you stay with the white or would you prefer a glass of red now, darling?”
Eärwen fidgeted with her goblet of white wine as Tycatuo hovered, twirling the stem in her slender fingers. “Well, I don’t know, Finarfin –“ she dithered as Tycatuo shifted his feet.
“I think you should try the red”, suggested Finarfin, knowing that it was more potent than the white. “Tycatuo, red for my Lady, please”, and he motioned for the butler to pour her a new glassful. Tycatuo did so and then began to remove some of the used glasses from the table. Finarfin continued to flatter and tease Eärwen through the rest of the meal, becoming very animated and making her laugh with jokes told in his soft, engaging voice and expressions of great variety on his pleasant, mobile face, until she became quite giggly.
“Darling, let us retire to the north parlor”, said Finarfin as Tycatuo was clearing away the dishes, and he rose to assist her from the room. He gestured to Tycatuo to bring a fresh wine bottle and goblets. Once ensconced in the comfortable parlor where a lively fire burned in the grate, Finarfin eased himself into a soft chair and pulled Eärwen onto his lap. He reached up to her face and caressed her cheek with a teasing finger and then pulled her chin down so that he could kiss her on the lips. Becoming lost in the kiss, his hands then roamed over the bodice of her gown.
“Finarfin!” she cried, extricating her face from his. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think, my darling?” he asked, purring into her ear. “I want to make love to you”. He nibbled on the lobe of her ear and then licked the tip with a playful tongue. “It is rather warm in here, is it not?” he added, with the purpose of doffing his heavily brocaded jacket, and he let go of her in order to loosen the top three clasps on his shirt. Then his fingers flickered from his own shirt fastenings to the tantalizing ribbons that kept Eärwen’s bodice closed. While one of his deft hands held her by the back of the head and he deepened the kiss with his tongue, the other untied her ribbons until the bodice top fell open and her erect nipples were fully exposed on her rounded breasts, squashed together by the still-tight corset top that she wore.
As he tenderly ran his hand over the rosy peaks of her pebbled nipples which made her gasp sharply, Finarfin shifted in his chair to allow himself more comfort as his breeches had become tight with a newly-grown stiffness inside them. He moaned into the kiss as he began to pull Eärwen’s dress down from her shoulders.
“Finarfin!” she gasped, breaking their kiss, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him away slightly. “We cannot do this here and now! We should be upstairs in our bedroom for this! It is too risky here!”
“Riskiness is what makes our lives interesting!” Finarfin murmured as he grazed her neck with his ardent lips. “I never did like to be predictable”.
He then stood, lifted Eärwen up into his arms and carried her over to a large nearby sofa, where he set her down carefully, and then he stood and began to undress himself. He unfastened and slipped off his shirt. Unlike his brother Fëanor, who was tall, dark, slim and hard-bodied, and Fingolfin, who like Fëanor, was tall, dark, but heavier of muscle, Finarfin was flaxen-haired, almost pretty and youthful of face, and smaller than his brothers. He was slim and not overly-muscled, but his body was toned from working hard at sword practice and weapons drills, which all of the Noldor were expected to learn.
His hands moved down to the ties on his breeches and he began to undo them. Eärwen reached out a slender, pale ivory arm and grasped his wrist. “Finarfin – don’t!” she implored. “We are holding a party tonight! And Tycatuo could come in and catch us!”
“We will not take long”, Finarfin panted, his breath coming in short gasps and he moved his wife’s hand down to the hardness between his thighs. He pressed his own hand over top of hers and clasping it, he rubbed it on top of his stiffness. “Eärwen”, he moaned. He became fully aroused then, and moved to pull his breeches down and then completely off, stepping out of them and casting them aside. Then, he lifted the voluminous skirt of Eärwen’s dress up above her waist and reached for the waistband of her undergarments. He pulled them gently down the length of her slim legs and he positioned himself above her and pressed his hips forward, pushing his arousal between her thighs. He bent his fair head down and took one of her nipples into his warm mouth. Eärwen emitted a soft moan and grasped her husband’s buttocks, squeezing them in her suddenly aroused passion. With the ease of experience with his wife, he quickly found her entrance and pushed carefully into her warm tightness, feeling the familiar softness enclosing his member. He sighed deeply and began thrusting more rapidly, as he moved his lips from her breast to her mouth and began kissing her fervently.
“Oh, my love”, he cried between kisses. “I want you so badly I feel my heart will burst”.
“Oh, sweetheart”, she moaned. “I love you so much, Finarfin”.
He came then, in several deep spasms, filling her with his warm fluids. Afterwards, he lay in her arms, with his fair head resting on her shoulder, pressing little fluttery kisses to her neck and making her giggle.
“You are a very naughty man”, she told him while she laughed at the funny faces he made for her. He stopped and tried to fix her gaze with a serious stare, raising his eyebrows and widening his grey eyes until they were large and shining. He pursed his lips so that they took on the appearance of a rosebud about to pop open and he sucked in his rounded cheeks. “Finarfin! You are terrible! But I cannot stay angry with you for any length of time!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As did all of the days in Valinor, the day of the party had begun with the mingling of the lights in a clear sky. Birds sang tunefully and the mild breezes carried the scents of summer through the air. Fresh water, fresh grass, newly opened flowers, and all of the good things that the world provided were there for all Elves to enjoy. Yet Fingolfin had ignored the beauty of the day in order to start sniping at Fëanor about his unruly children. The animosity between his two older brothers distressed Finarfin greatly.
“Why do you let your children run wild?” Fingolfin had asked Fëanor accusingly. “They act like naught but savage beasts, and they are a bad influence on mine”.
“Tumpo tye, rihte!” Fëanor, never one to waste words, responded fiercely.
Finarfin thought that Fingolfin was too rigid, and ran his household with too strict a hand, making everyone in it adhere to his own code of conduct. On the other hand, he felt that Fëanor, with his volatile personality, surrounded himself with constant chaos and Finarfin did not understand how his wife Nerdanel could stand to live in such a way. And yet Finarfin found their children to be delightful. They were exuberant and happy, two traits that he admired and he liked to encourage them in their youthful curiosity.
When the young people had first arrived and had greeted all of their relatives, and had joined them for dinner at the large maple table in the big dining room, which was beautifully decorated in colours of pale green and ivory, they had been eager to rush off so that they could play together. While there was a big discrepancy in their ages from oldest (Maitimo) to youngest (Curufin), Maitimo did not at all mind supervising the others. Maglor, second-oldest to Maitimo, was not present this evening because he was attending an academy of music and was currently undergoing examination sessions that were of great importance to him. Finarfin had excused the children, who tore away like a herd of wild horses from the table and out of the dining room in great haste to be elsewhere. Fingolfin raised a disapproving eyebrow at Finarfin and Fëanaro, who was engaged in conversation with Fingolfin’s wife Anairë. Anairë was paying rapt attention to her brother-in-law and did not notice the youngsters leave.
Fingolfin then excused himself and wandered out of the dining room and down the long hallway towards the washroom, stopping to admire the paintings on the walls. Finarfin had wonderful taste and owned a vast collection of art of all kinds, as well as literature. Fingolfin thought he might meander down to the library and have a look around and perhaps peruse a few books.
Later, back in the north parlor where the adults were gathered, Fingolfin said to his brother, “Arafinwë, have you noticed that the children tend to gather in your library every time we all get together at your house?”
“Yes, and it pleases me”, Finarfin had replied, his fair face beaming with happiness at the thought of the children quietly reading together in his well-stocked library.
“Do you not realize that at this moment they are gathered around Maitimo, who has his nose pressed closely to one of your books? He is reading to them from it”.
“How wonderful!” cried Finarfin. “How wonderful that the children are learning an appreciation for the finest examples that good literature can provide”, Finarfin expressed happily, “and that Maitimo is such a willing instructor for them”.
“Are you quite sure that it is “good” literature that they are appreciating?” asked Fingolfin, a stern expression upon his handsome but stern, angular face. “Are you aware of Maitimo’s reputation in Tirion? All of the children of Fëanaro are far too uninhibited for my liking, and they know too much of bodily functions and certain – ah – sexual practices at their ages. Not to mention their language! The terrible words and curses that they know would cause even Miriel to awa-“
“Speak not of Miriel!” hissed Finarfin, shushing and cutting him off. “Do you forget that Fëanaro is here?”
“If only I could but forget”, Fingolfin said with a sigh. “Our brother continues to rankle me. He does nothing to control his children, he will not let his wife do so either, and I am afraid that they may have discovered your collection of erotic literature and your – er – art collection. I have told you before, Arafinwë, you need to keep those things under lock and key!”
Startled, Finarfin had therefore dashed immediately to the library, and saw that Fingolfin had been right about the children all gathered sitting on the floor at Maitimo’s feet, paying him rapt attention, but when Finarfin flung open the library door, he could hear Maitimo’s words:
“And so the little bunny found his hole again with the help of the little mouse family”.
Smiling, he nodded to Maitimo as the tall redhead looked up and grinned back at his uncle with a friendly expression of innocence, and Finarfin noticed that upon his nephew’s shapely thighs he held a large, exquisitely-bound book of children’s stories. Finarfin excused himself and shut the door softly behind him as he left. He did not see that once he was gone, Maitimo had returned to reading from the smaller book that he had hidden inside of the larger one:
“And the maid cried passionately to her lover, “No! No! Sivára! You cannot touch me there again for I am afraid that I will not be able to control myself!” and held up the next page to show his fascinated brothers and cousins, because it was an illustrated book and they were all eager to see the pictures, even though they did not necessarily understand all of the words he read them from the text.
Finarfin returned to the parlor where Eärwen, Anairë and Nerdanel were trying to preside over his two older brothers who were now involved in a quarrel.
“Your ideas for surrounding Tirion and Formenos with strong armed forces are ridiculous! Arm them against what, for Eru’s sake? And don’t think I didn’t know that you tried to find out what I planned to give Atar for his imaginary begetting day so that you could then try to give him something better!” Fëanaro was shouting as Eärwen cringed and Nerdanel and Anairë tried to contain their mortification at their husbands’ behaviour.
Fingolfin bristled. “You always try to usurp my time with Atar so he has none left for me!” he countered.
“You are the usurper!” cried Fëanaro. “You are nothing but second-best in his regard, and you will NEVER wear the crown of High King despite your heavy-handed attempts to push yourself forward!”
“Hah! Atar actually loves ME more so than you!” yelled Fingolfin.
“You useless piece of-” shrieked Fëanaro, and by now the two angry Elves stood breast-to-breast with each other while Finarfin flew toward them.
Eärwen, Nerdanel and Anairë were frantically trying to move all of the wine bottles, glassware and decorative porcelain out of the way of flying fists and sweeping long braids. In his quiet yet commanding voice, Finarfin cried, “Now brothers, brothers!” He tried to catch their attention by behaving the opposite way to the way they behaved to each other. “Please stop shouting and think about what you are saying to each other”. Gently, he placed a hand on each of their steely-muscled arms and then slid them down each of their arms to grasp their hands in his. He swung their long limbs back and forth playfully and tried to make a joke.
“Did you hear the one about Aulë’s balls?” he asked, chuckling in advance of the punchline. “No? Right, then, it seems that Yavanna was searching through his drawers for a bit of –“
“Finarfin!” cried Eärwen. “Please! Do not tell that story while Nerdanel, Anairë I are in the same room!” She was blushing with embarassment.
“Very well, Arafinwë, we understand”, said Fingolfin, his angry mood now deflated. “I am sorry, Fëanaro. I know that Atar loves us equally. I am sorry, ladies, if I have upset you”.
Fëanaro smoldered. He was not so easily appeased by Finarfin’s charm, and though his youngest brother was making some extremely funny faces while standing and staring at him that would have caused any other Elf in Valinor to at least crack a smile, Fëanaro’s anger would take much longer to cool.
“Well, now, that’s better, isn’t it?” Finarfin asked. He was relieved that the argument had not escalated into a wrestling match “Would anyone like a glass of wine? The one we have been drinking is a Hyarmentir FA12. That is a very good vintage. Try some, Fëanaro. You too, Fingolfin?”
“If you gentlemen and ladies will excuse me for a moment, I will just go down to the library to see if the young people would also like some refreshments”, said Eärwen, and she left the room.
A few minutes later she reappeared, and her face was as white as the swan ships of her father’s realm. Finarfin noticed her pallor and asked with some concern: “What is wrong, my darling?”
“Ah – ahm – ahm –“ Eärwen stuttered, coughing slightly. “Finarfin, may I speak with you privately for a moment?”
“Yes, of course, my dear. Nerdanel, Anairë and my dear brothers, please help yourselves to the wine and excuse me for a moment”, he said, and followed Eärwen into the hallway.
“Finarfin”, she said with a worried look on her face. “The young people are all in the library with the door closed and the drapes drawn”.
“Yes?” asked Finarfin, wondering why he was starting to feel afraid.
“They didn’t see or hear me enter”, she went on.
“Yes? Yes?” Finarfin pressed her.
“Well, my gaze fell immediately upon Maitimo, and he was – he was –“
“Go on, please, Eärwen!” cried Finarfin.
“Well, he was holding up a very large illustrated book on art”, she continued. Finarfin waited, his heart beating quickly. “He was showing the other children a painting of a nude male, and he was pointing out all of the various parts of the anatomy”.
“Oh well, that is not so bad”, said Finarfin, quite relieved and letting out a long sigh. “Youngsters of that age have a natural curiosity about those things”.
“Finarfin, Maitimo was completely naked, and the children were pointing out various parts of HIS ana-“
“What?!!?” Finarfin ran down the hallway to the library as fast as he could. When he arrived, he found that Eärwen had been speaking the truth. When he peeled aside the drapes and entered the room, little Carnistir was asking, “Why is yours so much bigger?” and Fingon appeared to be staring at the tall redhead much too intently.
“Maitimo! Just what are you doing?” cried Finarfin, shocked.
“The children wanted to see if I looked like the Elf in the book”, Maitimo stammered, his face quite red.
“His is much bigger”, volunteered Carnistir, pointing at his brother.
“Please, Maitimo! Put your clothes back on and then come and join me and the other adults in the parlor! By the looks of things you are much too grown up now to be spending all of your time with the younger folk!”
“But we love Maitimo”, Fingon spoke up. “And I am not that much younger!”
Finarfin gave Fingon a hard look. “Yes, I am sure that you do!” he remarked. “And you are growing up much too fast. Too fast for your own benefit”, he said.
As he and Maitimo walked back to the parlor together, Finarfin used the opportunity to speak to his nephew. “Maitimo, do you find that you are often bored?”
“No”, said the vivacious red-haired Elf. “Not at all. Atar keeps me busy at home in many ways, and when I am not actively busy, I find there are many books in the library at home to read”.
“Do you read a lot?” asked Finarfin.
“Yes, Uncle, I do”, Maitimo replied innocently.
“You are often seen in town as well”, said Finarfin. “In the company of various maidens when you grace Tirion with your presence”.
Maitimo’s face became flushed again.
“And seldom the same one twice”, Finarfin continued.
“Uncle, I don’t really think that’s any of your –“
Finarfin stopped abruptly and reached up fairly high in order to place a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I know that your private life is none of my business”, he said, “but I care about you, and I worry about your welfare and your future. I do not think that you should aimlessly wander around Tirion, dipping your pen into so many inkwells, as it were, with no ambition and no regard for finding yourself a suitable occupation”.
Maitimo shifted his feet as Finarfin spoke. “I am intending to study at the Royal Academy of Art in Tirion starting in the new semester”, he offered.
“And what will you be studying?” asked Finarfin.
“Art”, said Maitimo.
Finarfin looked at him suspiciously. “A worthy occupation”, he said. “I hope that you will apply yourself to that vocation and stick to it”.
“Yes, Uncle, I shall try”, Maitimo replied meekly. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I shall rejoin you in the parlor anon”.
“Where are you going?” asked Finarfin.
“I need to relieve myself”, replied Maitimo.
“Ah. I am sorry to be so intrusive. Please carry on”, said Finarfin.
When he was back in the parlor, Finarfin was pleased to find that his brothers had settled down quite nicely and were engaged in pleasant conversation with their wives and his. He sighed and settled down to enjoy finally the pleasant evening that he had anticipated. After another refill of everyone’s wine glasses, Finarfin noticed that the bottle was nearly empty, and he announced that he would run down to the cellar to bring up a new one.
“Why do you not let Tycatuo do that for you, dear?” asked Eärwen.
“He will not know the one that I want. I do not mind running downstairs. I will be back in a moment”.
Finarfin clattered down the hard wooden steps to his wine cellar, anticipating the exhilarating experience of finding just the bottle he desired: a rich, dark red wine called ‘Lorien 86’, made from the finest grapes that Irmo grew in his vineyard. The heady aroma of this wine, coupled with its exquisite fruity essence, should do a great deal to help calm his two brothers and improve their moods. Finarfin envisioned convincing them to become connoisseurs of fine wine as he was, knowing what a calming influence it might possibly have on them.
Dreaming of the possibilities of he and his brothers all becoming friends and living in harmony, Finarfin walked down the long passageway between the wooden racks of wine bottles, inhaling the damp, musty smell of the stone cellar, the rich scent of oak and the musky aroma of freshly uncorked wine. He thought that it was odd to be smelling uncorked wine, but assumed that someone must have left a bottle open during a tasting session. He lifted his candle high and sought amongst the rows for the vintage that he desired.
He heard a slight scuffling sound. It startled him, but he thought it must be rats or mice. He would have Tycatuo let a couple of cats down here and take care of the vermin before they became a problem of infestation. He continued to search among the wooden rows. Eldamar 43? No, he didn’t want that one. It was nowhere near the Lorien in quality. He turned the corner at the end of a row and made his way past several more rows until he arrived at the second last one. He stopped suddenly, as he thought he heard murmuring. Mice didn’t murmur. The sound of soft voices was coming from the corridor between the last row and the wall. Holding the candle aloft, Finarfin walked slowly in the direction of the sounds.
“Findekáno – ai –“ was the unmistakable voice of Maitimo. Finarfin turned the corner of the last row of bottles to see Maitimo perched upon a barrel, with Fingon kneeling in front of it, his hands placed upon Maitimo’s bare knees.
Quickly, Finarfin moved the candle away so that the two cousins were in shadow and he could not see what Fingon was doing. He coughed discreetly. He then heard a rustle and some shuffling, as of clothes being pulled on and of someone rising to their feet from a kneeling position. He heard a cough, as if unsettled dust had been suddenly inhaled and then had become clogged in someone’s throat.
Finarfin spoke in a calm voice though his heart beat rapidly and a sense of dread began to overcome him. “Maitimo, Findekáno, upstairs now, please, and wait for me in the south parlor. How much wine have you consumed?” There was a gasp, and then a giggle but no answer. “I see”, he said. “Go upstairs now, please. I shall join you in a few minutes”. He stood aside to let the two young Elves pass before he followed them, but he stopped to pick up a bottle of the wine he had been seeking, before he continued to follow the two youngsters along the passageways and back up the cellar stairs.
Once he had taken the wine to Eärwen and his guests, Finarfin then dashed back to the south parlor to meet with his two nephews. He had not had much time to think of a speech to make to them, but he wanted to be sure that he impressed upon them the need to control such impulses at their ages. Maitimo would have been about 77, he thought, and Findekáno thirty years younger, and although they were referred to as children sometimes by their elders, they were actually far from that. Finarfin found that he was now appalled by the lack of discipline and proper education that were possibly the causes for their behaviour, and vowed that he would try to convince their respective parents to send them to the strictest school possible for military training. Never mind Maitimo’s art academy. If there were ever a breeding ground for perversion and unruly behaviour, the art academy would be the place.
When he entered the parlor, the two young Elves were sitting beside each other on the sofa. Hands that had previously been roaming and exploring were now tucked piously in their own laps. Both faces were flushed as they looked towards their uncle.
“Maitimo. Findekáno”. Finarfin stated their names as he cast about in his mind for a way to start. “How much wine did you consume?” he asked.
“A bottle each”, said Maitimo. Findekáno giggled.
“I am torn between telling your parents about your disgraceful behaviour this evening”, Finarfin sternly stated, “or letting the matter pass if you will promise me that you will never allow this to happen again in my house”.
Maitimo nodded and Findekáno hiccupped.
“Very well, then, I shall not speak to your parents of this, but I will try to convince them that the best thing for both of you would be a formal education in the strictest military academy that Tirion has to offer”.
Both young Elves smiled brightly at their uncle. Findekáno’s head began to tilt towards his cousin’s shoulder.
“Do you both agree to that idea?” Finarfin asked.
“Oh yes, Uncle”, Maitimo said enthusiastically. Findekáno hiccupped again and one of his arms snaked furtively from his lap to rest behind his cousin’s back.
“Fine”, said Finarfin. “Please remain in this room. I shall have Tycatuo bring you some strong coffee. I do not want your father to see you in this condition, Findekáno”.
As he left the room, Finarfin thought he heard muffled giggles as he shut the door behind him and shook his fair head worriedly.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Later that night in bed with Eärwen, Finarfin ruminated over his worried thoughts as he tossed and turned and tried to go to sleep but could not.
“Very well, Finarfin”, said Eärwen with a sigh. “I will make love to you again, if you feel it will relax you. I am tired, but I cannot go to sleep if you persist in churning the bedcovers so”.
“Yes. Good. Fine”, Finarfin replied in a distracted manner.
“Darling”, said Eärwen. “What is troubling you? Is it your brothers? After that initial debacle, I thought they settled down quite well later on”.
“Isn’t it peculiar?” Finarfin asked her, looking with pale grey eyes into her own of bright blue. “Fingolfin is so strict, and Fëanaro is so permissive with his children, yet Maitimo and Findekáno are equal miscreants”.
“Are they? What have they done? I will say that I was shocked at finding Maitimo naked in the library this evening”. She paused awhile as she thought at length upon what she had seen.
“That is not all”, said Finarfin. “I found them together later in the wine cellar”.
“Together? Really? Doing what? Wait. Don’t tell me yet. Just a moment”. Eärwen then divested herself of her nightgown and kneeled naked over top of her husband, straddling his thighs. Then she pulled up his nightshirt, exposing his bare body beneath it. “That is better”, she said. “Now you can tell me”. She began to stroke him eagerly.
Finarfin looked at her curiously. “I am not going to be able to grow hard if I think upon what those two were doing”, he said matter-of-factly.
“Try”, was her answer and she began to use other skilled techniques to bring him rapidly to a state of arousal.
“Ahhhh - well, I think that they were – er – ohhh!” he moaned as he felt himself rise in her expert hands and mouth.
“Let me help you tell this story properly”, said Eärwen, stroking her husband’s inner thighs seductively until she got the result she wanted and then repositioned herself atop him. “Now – ooohh – what was Maitimo wearing? Ahh”.
“Well, I’m not sure. I only saw him for a second. His thighs were bare”.
“Ooohh! More! Ahh! Tell me more!”
“Well, the worst thing was to see Findekáno on his knees before the barrel- Ahh! Eärwen!”
“Oh! Ahh! The barrel? Well, I know it’s big – ooohh! I saw it myself, but I don’t know if I’d call it a barrel – ahh! It was a much nicer shape – oohh!”
“Eärwen, of what are you speaking? And why are you making me tell you this now? If I think upon them I can’t – I can’t – Aaahh!” His actions belied his own words as he had no problem at all reaching climax. Afterwards, Eärwen rolled off of him and stroked his chest and side soothingly.
“So what were they doing?” she asked.
Finarfin sighed. “They cannot keep their hands off of each other when they are together”, he said. “I am sure that they will be headed for great tragedy if they continue this wanton behaviour. It cannot lead to anything but misfortune”.
“Are you not taking it a bit too seriously, my love?” asked Eärwen. “Many young male Elves seek solace with each other during the difficult years around their majority. I am sure that they will straighten out in the end. Now, please stop thinking and worrying about this and try to go to sleep. You must be exhausted”.
“Yes, I am”, sighed Finarfin. “You are right, my dear. I shall think about it tomorrow”. Finarfin then closed his eyes and let himself relax into the soothing arms of his wife.
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