Mellow Soulmate AU. A first meeting of a fated pair. This is an OFC-centric piece, so thou wert warned. Also, this is basically "Soulful" from the POV of Sáriel. Thus, it is related to all subsequent Fingon/Sáriel stories and especially to "Choose". I don't know that there's much else to say about this except that I once again take liberties with the culture of the dark elves. She is probably a mixture of Nandor and Silvan (not Avari), but nonetheless I imagine her being something wilder than the Sindar. Takes place in the woods to the west of Ered Luin in the First Age.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion, but Sáriel is mine
Pairings: Fingon x Sáriel
Characters: Sáriel, Fingon (makes mention of other random dark elves)
Warning: could be canon compliant, OFC warning, blatant sexual themes, ritualistic dancing and festivities, alcohol and drug abuse, aphrodisiacs, one-night stand (non-graphic), cultural themes
Words: 1,419
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electrify (verb): to charge with electricity; to excite
intensely or suddenly
It was not as though she had never kissed
or touched a man before. Not as though she had never taken a lover
beneath the stars during the spring celebrations when wine flowed and incense
burned from dusk until dawn. No young and inexperienced maiden was Sáriel.
Tonight, she danced among the experienced womenfolk, the
daughters who were not yet bound to a single man, who still were free to wrap
their arms about a suitable man and drag him off into the forest for a night of
ecstasy before Anor's rays cut garishly through their dreamworld. Feet
flying, she felt her blood sing and burn as hotly as did the red-hot gleam of
flame reflected upon her red curls as they soaked with her sweat and stuck to
her bare skin.
Minute by minute, starting from her toes and creeping
upwards, she felt the inhibitions drain away, replaced by the blood of the
earth and the energy of the new-found spring life blooming in every corner and
shadow. It was, she imagined, as if she bloomed as well.
Her blossoming drew many eyes, eyes of men she had before taken
to bed upon the soft forest floor. But even as she wove amongst their
brushing fingertips and hungry gazes, she felt the need to wait.
In the midst of heavy drumbeat and raised voice, she waited
with caught breath.
And then the shadows parted to her widened eyes.
When at first he had come, she had been surprised.
Like a massive cat he stalked, his gold adornment gleaming in the light
of the fires when he prowled forth beneath their ravages and heat, tossing his
head more like a wild creature of the forest than a civilized being from out of
the light and the West. Circling, he came toward her with dark eyes,
narrowed and ringed in thick black lashes at half-mast, so starkly dark against
the pale whiteness of his skin.
Everything about him was exotic, like an incense come from
the far south in Harad that filled her nose with spice and scent she had never
conceived in her imagination. He moved like a skilled warrior, every
muscle flexing beneath his silken coverings embroidered in eye-scattering
designs of great detail and beauty. More, though, did she notice the
strength of his legs as he loped and the waves of his hair as they fell loose
about his shoulders and grasped at his flesh like shadow come to life.
And the gray of his eyes. Like twilight were they,
pale light flecked in stars and darkness. But in their depths they glowed
both with divine flame and with heated desire.
Desire for her.
Never had Sáriel felt so much like a maiden dancing in her
very first spring festival, not since she had been but a century of age in
search of a first gentle lover to bathe with in Elbereth's sacred light.
This, though, was very different. With his eyes upon her, enveloped
in wisdom that she could not fathom and brilliance that outshone the white
diamonds set in the heavens, she could hardly bear to breathe and yet fought in
great gasping heaves for that sweet taste of oxygen upon her tongue.
Suddenly, every draw of air into her lungs seared and
tightened in her throat until she swallowed. Reaching still for the sky's
limit, her hands trembled and her skin broke out in chills where his gaze
touched.
Unlike her kin, he did not grab her immediately and kiss
her senseless upon her parted, gasping lips, not like a nameless lover would
have in a fit of passion. He did not sweep her up upon his shoulder and
carry her away in the dark like a savage or a ravisher, either. Rather, a
broad hand captured one of her own, brought it forth to his mouth so that lips
softer than the lap of still water or the petals of a wild lily could trace
over the angular softness of her knuckles.
And that single touch, sliding up the curve of her hand to
rest upon her bare wrist, shocked through her as did lightning striking the
heights of a tree surging down to the ground in a blaze of blinding light.
That same tingle that set her hair upon end when did the sky open up in
white fire now burned up her spine and down into the depths of her belly.
Electrified, for his touch might as well have been of the cold fire so
blissful was its pain when it sank down to her very bones and centered in the
nerves of her flesh.
"My lady," he breathed upon her skin. And
he was watching her as she shivered.
For a moment, they stood as a single spot of silence in a
writhing tangle of chaos.
All that she could think to do was pull
him forth into the circle of broken harmony, into the honeyed gleam of midnight
burning and the limbs' black outlines swaying. Into a dance with her, he
swept, knowing instinctively how to move and how to touch, how to entangle and
lose himself in her form. How to make her skin tingle and her cheeks
flush full with blood and need.
In those eyes, all sense was lost, but she
did not mind, for her own senses were addled by the cloying sweet scent upon
the air mixed with his musk.
Never had she met a man who inspired this
feeling, this perfection of coming together merely by brushing hands and
seeking lips. Bare touch lit her skin like the stars, and she imagined
herself as one of them--and he as her companion beside her in the sky, a pair
forever together never to be parted--as she pulled him away into the shadows.
As they made love beneath the trees.
Never had she felt this way.
And when she awoke to her right mind, she
looked upon his sleeping face, the odd sharpness of his cheeks and the square-ness
of his jaw and the length of his nose. In the early morning light, he
looked as a ghost with skin too thin to be real, too fragile to be protective
and too pale to have ever felt the kiss of the sun. About him lay
gossamer black strands in a corona about the shining light of his features, and
her hands could not help their last few caresses across his perfection,
tangling in those locks and holding them to her nose to breathe their perfume.
But, in the end, she looked upon the
elegant golden strands that were braided into his locks--that were cold to her
fingers--and upon the widespread wings of gold set unto his crown and upon the
fancy clothing that lay scattered about them in the grass and between the
thick, ancient roots. And she saw that he was different.
That he was not of her people. That
he was not of her.
How then could they be as one?
Every touch felt so right, but had
anything ever been so wrong?
For she was of the dark elves, those who
had stayed behind for love of the darkness and simplicity of sweet life drunk
pure. And he was of the West, its alien light burning through his very
veins, and the pride and prodigality of his people was in his spirit.
They could never be. Such love would
be folly.
But their night she would remember fondly.
Remember his kisses and his touches and the scorch of white-hot bliss
across her flesh. Remember as they lay after curled together, his voice
murmuring nonsense of his graceful tongue upon her temple. Remember how
she had smiled into his shoulder as they drifted, warmed and bare in the grass.
As she dressed herself and braided her
hair, she thought, and was certain that no man could compare to her stranger.
The man who could make lightning flash through her blood.
Only when she was ready to depart, to
disappear, did she lean down to press her lips one last time to his skin.
For all its cold alabaster appearance, it was so warm.
"Good luck to you," she
whispered against his cheek. "May Elbereth bless you and your kin."
There, she left him behind. And she
did not plan on looking back.
But, still, white fire sizzled beneath her
flesh.
And she found that she could not forget.
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