White Magick
by Deanna

He talked to it. He swore at it. He slapped it. He even, albeit briefly, considered kicking it, though he doubted even that would make a difference. The cursed thing refused to move.

Éomer found himself on the edge of a beautiful forest, in dire need of a horse to replace his tired, and perhaps even limp, mare; why else would the always reliable animal suddenly cease to take another step?

To make matters worse, Éomer was lost, without his company or an inkling of where he was. He scowled accusingly at the tall, golden trees not fifty yards away, though he was well aware that his own foolishness had brought him to this point. His foolishness in riding so far from his intended path as to become lost. Lost! A Rohirrim who covered great distances throughout Middle Earth with nothing but his instincts and wits to guide him. Why, it was unheard of!

"So my eyes did not deceive me after all," called a smooth voice full of sarcasm.

Éomer jolted around to see a sneering, rather superior-looking elf standing in the shadow of a vast tree. Said elf made an unhurried approach now, and Éomer squinted to make out his face in the sun.

"A man has found himself lost on our borders. Well well..." The elf smirked. "Not even his horse knows the way."

The animal in question neighed in an inscrutable manner.

Éomer grunted, "I do not see why this should amuse you so, elf."

"Men amuse me whenever I encounter them," the elf stated, coming to a halt in front of Éomer. A pair of deep blue eyes flashed at the man in what he thought was a rather obscene manner. "Most especially when they find themselves helpless without the aid of my kind."

"Ha!" Éomer snorted, turning away to busy himself with his horse's saddle, intent on ignoring the elf. He carefully avoided any glances in the elf's direction. The cursed creatures with their beauteous arrogance fascinated him as much as they repelled him.

"I do not believe that your troubles are with your saddle, Rohan rider."

Éomer frowned at the elf. "How do you know who I..." He stopped, furious, when the elf began to laugh.

"You wear all the garb of the Riddermark riders, including their most unbecoming helmets." The elf's nose wrinkled in distaste. "There is little guessing required here."

A large hand fastened on the elf's collar and twisted to tighten the smooth, pale fabric. Éomer hissed, about to threaten violence, when he felt the tip of a dainty but without doubt deadly dagger at the nape of his neck.

The beautiful elf smiled sweetly at him, and Éomer cursed and released the elf; the dagger was gone within an instant, leaving not the slightest mark.

The elf was still smiling, damn him, and Éomer struggled to keep his considerable temper in check.

"I take it then that you do not need my help?" the insufferable creature purred. Purred!

"I would ask for a dwarf's help before accepting yours!" Gritting his teeth, Éomer started rubbing his hands down his horse's legs, one by one, examing them. He lifted the hoofs, which seemed perfectly in order, and set them down again. His horse neighed almost gleefully, seeming as amused by his misfortune as the elf.

The elf. Éomer found to his great annoyance that the shining scourge was still standing beside him, watching his endeavours with childlike curiosity.

"Is there no other place you need to be?" Éomer hissed. "No other traveler you might delight with your bothersome company?"

The elf chuckled. "I fear that no, there is no place else I need to be at this moment. Why do you ask?"

Éomer grumbled something about superiority and wringing necks.

The elf gave a long-suffering sigh. "Well then, as your misplaced pride will not allow you to ask for my help, I shall offer it to you, but only for the sake of your horse, which will soon begin to parch, standing exposed like this."

The man glared, but he had to admit the elf was right, and so reluctantly, he nodded his ascent.

Taking the horse's reins, the elf led the way toward the trees, where the enticing promise of shade and cool air beckoned.

Éomer grudgingly acknowledged, though only silently to himself, that the elf succeeded in moving the stubborn mare where he had failed. So he followed, pointedly not gazing at the elf's lush honey-blond mane of hair, or the tempting sway of his hips. He coughed drily.

"It seems your horse is not the only creature in need of refreshment."

Refusing to respond to this, Éomer merely grunted his displeasure at being refered to as a creature, and with relief, found they were entering the mercifully cool elven forest.

"Where are we?" the man asked, reluctant to admit his ignorance.

"These are the golden woods of LothLoríen, Rohirrim, where few men venture and none are particularly welcome." The elf, despite his words, smirked at the man, and led onwards to the refreshing sound of a nearby stream.

"Dwimordene!" Éomer exclaimed. How foolish of him—he should have known at once by the sheer magnitude of the trees. To cover his awe, he said cynically, "I do not imagine many would want to venture where the local folk are as...charming...as you."

The elf smiled smugly as though he had been complimented, and Éomer's face fell. Had his eyes given away his irritating attraction to the elf?

Before he had a chance to worry overly, they arrived on the edge of a crystalline stream which trickled merrily along its path between grassy banks, the sun reflecting in little sparks on its surface.

"Rest here," the elf instructed, nodding towards a round, flat stone by the edge of the stream. "I will take care of your horse."

"I am perfectly capable..." Éomer started indignantly.

"Certainly you are." The elf regarded the man with indulgent bemusement. "But you need some water yourself, do you not?"

Éomer scowled, and the elf chuckled. "My name is Haldir, by the way. I guard these woods against..." A smile. "Enemies."

Haldir of Loríen. Éomer's jaw dropped. He had heard of this elf, and he at once swore to himself that he would not let that become known to the other. In Éomer's mind, tales of Haldir had painted a portrait of a clever and courageous warrior, someone he would be proud to have at his side in battle. What the tales had failed to mention was Haldir's warmly masculine appeal.

"I am Éomer, nephew to the Rohan King Théoden," the man said guardedly.

"What a beauty you are," Haldir murmured to Éomer's complete astonishment.

When the man realized the elf had addressed the sleek horse he was tending, his sun-browned countenance blushed a deep red. He could not be sure, but he thought he heard the elf snickering disturbingly. To cover his embarrassment, Éomer muttered, "Her name is..."

"Hassiria, I know."

"What?" Éomer had just removed his unpopular helmet and his heavy cloak to sit on the rock, when he straightened abruptly and stared at the elf. "How can you possibly know the name of my horse?" he asked, his voice distinctly higher than usual.

Haldir smiled warmly. At Éomer's horse. "She told it to me."

Éomer snorted.

"Have some water. It is most refreshing, Lord Éomer, and you look overly hot."

Haldir petted Hassiria's neck, apparently so focused on her that Éomer wondered how the elf could possibly know what he looked like. He retrieved his flask from his saddle bag and crouched by the bubbling stream to fill it with the clear blue water. After taking a few much needed sips, he filled it once more to the brim, and rose to find Haldir looking at him with a distinctly...interested look on his face.

Éomer felt heat rising all the way up his neck and face, though the elf seemed unperturbed at having given away his desire for the man, instead removing the water holder from where it was attached to Hassiria's saddle, and moving to Éomer's side to fill it.

The man stared at the elf like a fool, entirely incapable of speech. He watched his every move, unable to tear his eyes away until Haldir had finished watering his horse.

An elf...this elf, desired him?

Éomer was still standing frozen in place when Haldir gave Hassiria's nose one last gentle rub, and returned to his side. "Do you not find it more pleasant here than out in the heat, Lord Éomer?"

Nodding dumbly, Éomer watched as the elf retrieved a strip of white linen from a hidden pocket, and dipped it in the stream. He watched him wring it out and then turn to face him with a smile.

"You should know, Lord Éomer, that my kind cannot abide dirt." With that, Haldir moved closer and raised his hand to Éomer's brow, where he began to dab away the sweat and the dirt the Rohirrim had acquired on his long ride.

Éomer gasped. Never had he heard of an elf who would be so forward about touching a man! Admittedly, Haldir's skin was not even connecting with his own, though by the heat which curled around his spine like a serpent, it might as well. "What are you doing?" he managed to croak.

Haldir smiled. "I am attempting to find a face underneath this mess. Something to go with your scowl." To soothe the temper he noticed flaring again, he added, "And with your handsome brown eyes."

An unfortunate squeaking sound escaped Éomer's throat, but still, he was unable to move a muscle while Haldir dabbed at his cheekbones, followed the bridge of his nose, and finally, drew a playful circle about the man's bearded chin with the cloth.

"Much better," the elf said approvingly, before taking a step back and looking the man over quizically.

"What now?" Éomer asked, though he was almost afraid to in case his voice refused to function entirely.

In lieu of an explanation, Haldir moved in closer than before, and reached to undo the clasp at the neck of Éomer's tunic.

The man was unable to protest before his body betrayed him. He shivered at the touch of the elf's cool fingertips against his neck, and a small moan escaped him.

Haldir did not waste time. He had unbuttoned the bronze-colored garment halfway down Éomer's chest, and while the man was still dazed by it all, he refreshed the cloth once more in the stream and returned to his companion.

"This might be unpleasant," Haldir warned with a smirk.

All Éomer managed was a raspy, "I doubt that," before he yelped when the cold, wet cloth was drawn down his long neck and into the V of his open tunic. He was still gasping when Haldir moved it back upwards and around the side of Éomer's neck to the left, then the right side. He gasped once more when the cool forest air brushed lightly over his damp, exposed flesh, and then one last time when Haldir leaned in and touched soft, pliant lips to his own.

Éomer snapped into action. He pulled the elf roughly into his arms and took charge of the kiss, his hands roaming on different tasks—one clutching a handful of Haldir's silken hair, the other sliding from the small of the elf's back to the curve of his backside, where a simple flexing of the muscles in Éomer's hand resulted in their groins being crushed together in just the right way.

Haldir moaned into Éomer's mouth, his own hands anything but idle. They found their way beneath the damp cloth of the man's tunic to trace light hair and excited shivers over warm skin.

Éomer groaned in protest when Haldir broke the kiss, but the groan turned into one of approval when after a teasing smirk, the elf bent his head and lapped at the base of Éomer's throat.

Fumbling clumsily with the elf's garments, Éomer tried to reach bare skin, finding only more smooth silk and rough linen in the process. He was huffing impatiently, stirring the fine hairs on the side of Haldir's neck as he searched.

The elf chuckled against his skin, raising goosebumps. "You still refuse to ask for my help?" he whispered before flicking out his tongue and lashing an exposed collarbone.

Éomer grunted, "Help me!"

Haldir reached back and clasped Éomer's wrists, leading his hands between their bodies, where he smoothly slid them through hitherto invisible gaps and partings in his clothing.

Moments later, Éomer's hands came to rest against the curve of a hipbone and Haldir's arousal, respectively. He groaned deep in his throat and began to fist the elf roughly while clasping a firm buttock. To his immense satisfaction, the elf's stance faltered, just enough to let him trip the beautiful creature and sink to the ground with him, cushioning his fall.

Haldir attempted to glare at the man for his trickery, but the dark eyes burning into his own changed his mind. He clutched Éomer's long, wavy hair in both hands and pulled the tempting mouth against his own once more, hooking a long, lean thigh over the man's hip.

Éomer tore open the elf's garments determinedly, somehow managing without inflicting permanent damage; he would not put it past the elf to make him suffer for ruining his apparel. His hand returned to the tempting hardness against his groin, and he fondled it while rubbing himself against the warm skin there with harsh, jerking motions.

Haldir's teeth sunk into the man's bottom lip with enough control to avoid drawing blood but leave a pleasant stinging, which he instantly soothed with the tip of his tongue.

Éomer caught it, and drew it into his mouth, where his own tongue curled around it. The elf's taste was intoxicating. Honeysweet. It drugged him to the point where he nearly did not notice his own trousers coming undone at a clever hand. The hard grip around him, however, received all the attention it was due.

"Heavens!" Éomer gasped, bucking against the elf, certain he would come right then and there, but somehow, Haldir managed to keep him lingering on the edge while denying him release with hard, fast strokes and alternating pauses.

"If you are set on killing me..." the man ground out, pushing hard into the elf's groin. Any threat he might have issued was lost in a deep groan when the friction threatened to overwhelm them both.

Haldir laughed huskily, speeding his strokes once more. "I am not yet done with you, my Lord."

A sudden flick of a fingernail against the tip of Éomer's cock sent the man reeling, his neck and back arching in a perfect curve.

"You are graceful," Haldir said, more mockingly than with admiration. "For a man."

Éomer panted harshly, choking back laughter. Perhaps it was the extraordinary skill of the elf or the way Haldir's near intolerably arousing scent filled his flaring nostrils, but the taunts which had angered him earlier were now a powerful aphrodisiac.

Supporting himself on his arms and gazing down at that supremely sexual being of light, Éomer suddenly found himself overwhelmed by Haldir's eyes, the cool wind against his partially bared flesh and his sheer good fortune of finding himself in his current position, and with a deep groan, he spent himself over Haldir's hand and groin.

Falling limply on top of the elf, Éomer buried his face in the cool neck, soft golden hair tickling his nose with, perhaps, a promise of more delights to come.

Haldir chuckled softly, though not unkindly. "You men exhaust so easily."

Éomer snorted, shifting until he could gaze down at the elf and support himself on one arm only, enabling him to run a hand lightly over the elf's cheek. "Stay exactly as you are, Haldir of Loríen, and give me a moment's respite, and I shall prove you wrong."

Haldir raised an eyebrow, and Éomer was unsure whether it was at the tender gesture or his words. A moment later, it did not matter, for Haldir had somehow switched their positions and was seated, triumphantly, over Éomer's thighs.

The man was about to protest when he found himself spun around and any speech was prevented by a mouthful of grass. He sputtered, and Haldir laughed above him.

"What makes you think I would wish to wait so long?" The elf poured the words into Éomer's ear from his superior position.

"What is it that you plan, elf?" Éomer asked suspiciously, even while his involuntarily submissive pose began to please his already reawakening cock. The feel of his half-hard flesh being cradled in soft grass did nothing to discourage his ardor.

"I plan to take you, my Lord," Haldir informed him calmly. He was leaning forward to align his chest with Éomer's back whilst wriggling against the man's buttocks. "That is why I decided to bring you here when I saw you passing by our woods at a distance."

"You...brought...?" Éomer began disbelievingly. He recalled his horse's sudden refusal to take another step, as well as Haldir's convenient arrival and ability to actually communicate with the beast. Admiration of the elf's deviousness had already made his lips into the perfect shape for a whistle of approval, when the rest of Haldir's statement sunk in fully. "Take me?" he growled.

"Yes, indeed." Haldir pushed his hips forward, giving Éomer an enticing sample of what it might be like to feel the pale, slender cock slide inside him.

Through gritted teeth, Éomer panted, "I will not be taken like a woman." Even to his own ears, his protest sounded weak. But how could he be expected to sound firm, when all but a single part of his body was being reduced to a liquid mass?

"Were you a woman, my Lord, I would not wish to take you. In this way, or any other."

A quick, efficient hand pulled and tugged Éomer's trousers over his hips and off to bare his buttocks for the elf's perusal. "I will enjoy taking you."

Éomer squirmed still, but his half-hearted efforts to shuck off the elf only resulted in teasing brushes between his exposed cheeks and Haldir's groin as the elf shifted against him. "What if I tell you not to?" he asked.

"Then I will not." Haldir's voice was firm and unreadable, but a moment later, Éomer once more felt the soft brush of lips against his ear when the elf leaned close and whispered, "But I would regret it deeply."

Closing his eyes, Éomer admitted, "As would I."

Having received consent, Haldir shifted lower on the backs of the man's thighs, and seemed to fumble for something in his clothing. Shortly after, Éomer gasped, bucking upward when a slippery pair of fingers moved between his buttocks, searching for his—quite virginal—opening.

"I expect that this will hurt," Éomer said apprehensively.

"I am an elf. I heal, I do not inflict pain," Haldir informed him calmly. "Though you must try and relax."

Éomer grunted, "How do you expect me to do that?"

Haldir breached the tightness, and suggested over the man's gasp, "Simply consider how it will feel to have me moving deep inside you." He covered the man, while somehow sliding his fingers ever so gently a little deeper. "How it will feel..." He brushed his sensuous lips against the side of Éomer's neck. "To have me teach you a pleasure unlike anything you have ever felt." He flicked his tongue against the man's earlobe, and added another finger, probing a little deeper yet. "To have me overwhelm you." The tongue curled impossibly to explore the shell of Éomer's ear, causing a whimper not quite silent enough to go unnoticed. A deep stroke touched Éomer in a place that made him go limp with pleasure. "Possess you."

"Yes..." Éomer breathed, and his fingers curled into the soft forest floor.

The elf stretched out to his full length, covering the man's hands with his own, slippery ones, and with his legs between Éomer's parted thighs, he slowly, ever so slowly, penetrated him.

"Perfect," Haldir whispered, pushing a little deeper and feeling, remarkably, the giving-in of any last shred of resistance. "I knew you would be."

Éomer groaned, curving his back, then arching off the ground with his head falling forward, undulating like a serpent beneath the elf.

A few more strokes, each deeper than the last, were all it took, and with a sound almost like a sob, Éomer spilled himself once more, his seed trickling into the floor of the Golden Wood, while Haldir released his own inside the man with a deeply contented groan.

Silence settled over them where there had been the sounds of eager yet gentle coupling moments before, and they separated slowly and reluctantly, to find themselves lying side by side, facing each other.

Éomer's face was flushed and his lips unnaturally red where he had bitten them to keep from cying out. His dark eyes looked almost feverish, and had he been able to gather up the energy, he might have been annoyed at the elf's perfect composure and even skin tone. He at once decided that he would, one day, find a way to ruffle that facade. He smiled at the thought, and was surprised to see an answering smile on Haldir's face. Then he began to laugh, for no sensible reason at all, and the elf joined him.

"You ought to thank me, you know." Haldir finally rose to his feet and reached out to Éomer.

"Oh yes?" Éomer took the offered hand and was pulled to a standing position as though he was weightless. It occurred to him that if a creature as obviously strong as Haldir would wish to hurt a mere man, it would be an easy task indeed. Gazing into the soft, deep blue eyes before him, the very idea seemed ludicrous. "I suppose I should at that," he whispered, gently cupping a smooth cheek and hoping the gesture was not unwelcome.

Haldir leaned into the touch and sighed softly. "I must remember from now on to always carry a special treat for your horse when I patrol these woods." He chuckled when Hassiria whinnied approvingly in the background. "For the next time you find yourself lost here."

"Do you wish me to, Haldir?" Éomer asked unnecessarily, the answer clear in the elf's eyes.

Covering the man's hand against his face, Haldir leaned in and kissed him with surprising tenderness, and their mouths played softly against each other for some time.

When their lips parted, Éomer was breathing rapidly. "How long until you need to attend to duties elsewhere?"

"An hour at least," Haldir said huskily.

"Then let us not waste time." And Éomer sank to the ground once more, pulling Haldir into his lap.

End        

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