Eowyn: The Cage - Ch. 14

[Setting the scene: the events of this chapter take place as the Rohirrim ride to Gondor. Éowyn has defied King Théoden's orders twice: first by disguising herself as a man named Dernhelm in order to join the ride, and second by inviting Meriadoc to come with her. Only Marshal Elfhelm is aware of both Dernhelm's true identity and the order to leave Merry behind. Holbytla is the Rohirric word for Hobbit.]

10 March 3019 (Third Age), Eastfold

Merry stirred, snorted, then settled back into the repetitive breathing of sleep. Grinding her teeth in frustration, Éowyn stilled all movement. Listening. Waiting. When it was clear that he wasn't going to wake after all, she resumed her quiet dalliance. Ground had been lost, and the night grew ever shorter.

This is, at least in part, his fault, she thought. Though it's also mine for bringing him in the first place.

As her horse galloped eastward over increasingly rocky ground, Merry's small body — unaccustomed to riding on a full-sized horse and with legs insufficiently long to grip its flanks — bounced up and down between her legs, inadvertently causing a constant, frustrating stimulation she couldn't ignore but was forced to endure. By the time they finally stopped for the night's camp she was crazed by hours of unexpected friction and in desperate need of release.

Unfortunately, the hasty ride to Gondor made even the furtive self-pleasure she was currently attempting difficult at best. But it was also her only option. Even if I wanted to entice a Rider into a diverting liaison, I can't. Because at the moment, I'm allegedly a man....

No, she was finally forced to admit, this entire situation is my fault. I'm the one who chose to defy the King in the first place. Disguising herself in somewhat ill-fitting male garb had been necessary to hide her identity, but it also moved against her body in ways that only added to her stimulation. For her impulsive decision to bring the Halfling she had no clear explanation. Sympathy for another soul dismissed and left behind? Perhaps.

It would be easier if I put him behind me on the saddle. Though he'd be unable to see, it would be less distracting for me. Ah, but no; it'd be too dangerous for him, because he can't steady himself without my help. One unexpected swerve and he'd be on the ground, in danger of being trampled by those that follow. What I'm going to do with him when we enter battle, I can't imagine. Anyway, this ridiculous situation ultimately stems from my lack of control. Still...right now I just need to get off, and quickly, so we can both get some sleep.

Sighing, she returned to silent masturbation. One hand was anchored inside her riding gear, her thumb gently working her clit while two fingers slipped in and out of her well-lubricated sex. She closed her eyes, letting her fantasies wander through encounters both real and imagined, and her excitement escalated.

A sharp inhalation, the rustling of blankets, and a sleepy yawn brought her to another standstill. Careful to avoid the din of panicked rearrangement, Éowyn quietly brought her hand into the open air, crinkling her nose at the painfully obvious scent of her arousal. From behind her came a whisper. "Dernhelm...is there something out there?"

Deepening her voice as much as she was able given her arousal, she whispered back. "No, Master Meriadoc. Return to your sleep."

"But I'm sure I heard something move. It sounded like it was slithering towards us, licking its lips."

Lips, indeed. I wish someone was licking them. Damn his keen ears! "Very well. Return to your rest and I'll investigate." Éowyn stood on somewhat unsteady legs, grabbing her sword for effect. I'll have to find somewhere secluded. Somewhere I can finish without interruption. It's apparent I won't be able to rest until I've climaxed, and my need is increasingly urgent.

Satisfied with her answer, Merry tightened his grip on his own small sword and closed his eyes. How so vulnerable a creature can so easily put aside entirely legitimate fears is something at which I marvel. I wish I had more time to learn his thoughts and his ways, but there's no chance now. No chance at all.

Moving stealthily around the circumference of the camp, offering an indifferent nod to the sentries as she passed, she slipped into the nearby forest. They no doubt think I'm looking for a place to relieve myself. In a way, they're right.

She moved along, stumbling a bit in the pitched darkness, until she could neither see nor hear the camp. Sufficiently isolated for her needs, she leaned against the trunk of a massive willow — sitting meant having to undo more of her clothing than she deemed wise should sudden flight become necessary — and set about relieving her tension. She was more forceful with her clitoris this time, building on both her lust and her frustration at its delayed fulfillment, and as her passion grew she allowed herself the quietest of sighs.

...rustling...

Her head snapped around, fingers frozen in place, but it was only the gentle stirring of a breeze jostling the willow's young leaves. Shrugging off the noise she worked herself even more aggressively, using the fear of discovery to accelerate her release.

...more rustling...a gasp...

Honed by thousands of hours on the training floor, her instinct was to prepare for violence, and her hand fell to her sword. A faint shape formed from the darkness, and despite her disheveled state she tensed for combat. I can't quite see my adversary, but this is no nightmare about the Dead. If I strike quickly and surely....

The quick, rough abrasion of a match echoed like a bowshot in the otherwise silent forest, and suddenly a flame hovered in the darkness. It fired the palest of lamps, yet in the evil murk it shone like a beacon directed right at her eyes, momentarily blinding her sight. But not her hearing.

"Lady Éowyn?"

Elfhelm!

"Do not call me by that name!" she hissed.

As her eyes slowly adjusted to his presence, he raised his hand in surrender, whispering, "there's no one to hear. But if you'll forgive me, when I saw 'Dernhelm' slipping into the woods I was concerned."

"There's no need for concern. I'm fine. Return to the camp."

"But La...Dernhelm, are you sure...?" His attention drifted lower and the rest of his words fell away. In her haste to defend herself she'd left her breast exposed and her breeches unbuttoned. Elfhelm's gaze fixed on her chest, and for a time they were mutually rendered speechless. The moment lengthened until she broke the silence, exasperated and mocking. "Is it the first time you've seen one? Are you waiting for it to break into song?"

His eyes snapped back to her face, then refocused upon an invisible point a few inches above her head. "Dernhelm...Lady, please, I beg you to forgive my intrusion. I was only...I mean, I...."

Realizing the absurdity of the situation but eager for him to leave so she could finish what she'd started, she softened her tone. "Elfhelm, I appreciate your concern, but I no more require an apology than I require attention. Neither did I flee to these woods desirous of converse or company. Solitude I sought, and solitude I continue to seek. Please leave me be."

In the heavy darkness, it was difficult to perceive his response to her gentle but pointed dismissal. When his voice returned it remained a cautious whisper, but there was a new edge to it. "I truly am sorry for invading your privacy. But I beg you to consider the risk I'm taking by hiding your identity. For I, too, defy my liege. Twice-over, since for reasons that surpass my understanding you've seen fit to bring the Holbytla."

"Don't my reasons for joining this ride apply in equal measure to him?" It's a half-truth, but it will do for his purposes. "As I wouldn't be left behind at the final test, abandoned by blind adherence to tradition, neither could I countenance another's rejection for no better reason."

"Nevertheless, my Lady, in some ways my danger surpasses yours. Should you be discovered along the way you're still of the King's family, and the worst possible outcome is that you'll be rebuked or sent home. Knowledge of my disobedience and complicity would cause me to lose everything: rank, name, trust, and honor. Surely you see how my interest is justified."

Her first instinct was to angrily dismiss his claim. He has no idea of the intensity of my despair, of my hopelessness, of the events that drove me to this choice! But before she could burst into righteous defensiveness, the calming salve of empathy suppressed the impulse. I have asked much of him. Demanded, in fact, even as I wantonly displayed my body like a slattern to ensure I'd get my way. And he's right about another thing: I did take Merry without any forethought. A choice, in fact, that led me here. When she finally answered, her words were more sympathetic than they might have been.

"Nay, Elfhelm...it's I who must apologize to you. I agree that I've put you in an extremely difficult position, and I'm sorry for that. Nevertheless, I must ask that you preserve my anonymity. Though I don't really expect you to understand, for the reasons are complex beyond even my full comprehension, this is something I'm compelled to do."

His eyes flickered downward for a moment, then snapped shut. The distress on his face momentarily bewildered her until she followed his eyes downward. I forgot that I'm still partially unclothed! Who have I become that my nudity is so easily ignored, or that I find such brazen immodesty a matter beneath notice? I must be torturing the poor Marshal. It was clear that the considerable effort he'd been exerting to avoid her exposure was unsustainable, for his desire was plainly written and easily read. Especially as he's no fool, and certainly knows what I'm actually doing here in the woods.

She knew she should cover herself, send him away, and nurse her shame at being discovered in such a state until accumulated humiliation sent her back to camp and bedroll. Instead, her body betrayed her, and an all too familiar need kindled. Her exposed nipple, already firm with cold, swelled with arousal.

Haven't I always found the Marshal attractive? The old Éowyn (for this was how she referred to her life before Wormtongue) surely did, though doing something about it seemed impossible for any number of reasons. But now....

No, she admonished herself. Sex is out of the question. Not here. Not now. For one thing, there's neither sufficient privacy nor time. But even more than that, I won't have him burdened by my likely fate; a fate to which I remain committed unless I somehow chance upon a reason to live at the end of this road. Whatever might otherwise have been between us...whatever momentary pleasure I might now find with him...it's too late. Still, I owe him something. And I do have unmet needs of my own.

He froze at the smoldering intensity of her return stare. Leaning invitingly against the tree, she whispered, "you're right, you know. I have been unfair. Let me make it up to you."

He opened his mouth to speak, but words would not come. Despite the chill, a dew-sparkle of sweat covered his brow. He leaned forward as if to approach.

"Don't move!"

Elfhelm halted, confused. Didn't she just...?

Éowyn's belt already hung open, but the topmost closure of her breeches was all that she'd undone. She now unfastened the rest, sliding the leather down her hips, her eyes never leaving his. He looked as if he couldn't quite decide whether to drop his light and flee or to rush forward to forcefully slake his lusts in her body, and she suppressed her cold amusement at the thrilling sense of power this gave her.

"Do not move," she repeated.

His focus again moved downward, lingering for a moment on her exposed breast and then falling to the newly revealed mystery between her legs. Detail eluded his tiny flame, yet even the faintest outline of her sex nearly overwhelmed his senses. For so many years he'd harbored a secret yearning for the beautiful, unattainable Éowyn, clinging to a fantastical hope that he might, one day, offer himself as a potential mate. But at the moment she's neither, he reminded himself. She's a crossdressing soldier with a fake name in a troop I command, with an identity I must conceal from all and whose motives I don't even begin to comprehend. Little surprise that I don't understand her current display, either. One thing is clear, though: she's firmly in control of this encounter, and my role will be limited to whatever she decides. Putting down a fresh wave of arousal he remained in place, watching and waiting.

Éowyn touched herself. Gently. Sensuously. As his eyes fell so did hers, and she eagerly looked down her body, anticipating the sweet release to come. Her sheer brazenness had made her incredibly wet, and if Elfhelm couldn't quite see what she was doing, he could certainly hear it. With two fingers she spread her nether lips wide, freeing juices to stream down her inner thighs.

"Is this what you came to witness, Marshal Elfhelm?" she breathed.

She pushed two slender fingers deep inside, pumping slowly. "Does this repay my debt to you? Will this strengthen your vow of secrecy? Shall I sign our pact with something other than blood?"

Helpless lust was written upon his face and the hard outline of his manhood strained against his breeches. She could discern little other than its swell, but the knowledge of what she was doing to him trebled the fire of her passion. Adding a third finger to her rooting, she squeezed and pulled at her exposed nipple with her other hand. Her body was aflame, her flesh an inferno.

His hand moved as if guided by an invisible puppeteer, reaching for his throbbing cock.

"Do not move!"

The stridency of her order froze him in place. Reveling in the sensation of control she tilted her head back in ecstasy, the hand between her legs a blur, droplets of her wetness flying through the air to land on the mossy ground. Clamping her mouth closed to cut off her high-pitched sigh of passion, she came, fingers unceasing and hips bucking.

Elfhelm remained rooted to the ground, teetering on the precipice of his own release. Despite the darkness, despite the limitations she'd imposed, despite the complete lack of contact, this was the most erotic experience of his life, and he knew he'd never forget it. His eyes closed as he strained against ejaculating in his breeches, but his imagination reeled with erotic possibilities.

By the time he managed to restore control Éowyn was fully dressed. She was breathing heavily and regarding him with undisguised desire, though it was entangled with another emotion that he couldn't quite interpret. Their eyes locked. Time stretched. Without warning she turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving him alone with his lust.

The anchors that held him in place fell away. He stepped forward, standing right between her now-absent legs. He again closed his eyes, summoning up the shadowy enticement of her body, imagining taking her in the way every cell of his being demanded. Extracting his iron-hard shaft, he began stroking.