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Journey Of A Butterfly by L8Bleumr

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Story notes:
This story begins during the Ring War, the attack upon Helm's Deep, but is mostly written in the Forth Age. Please know this is not a Leglomance. Though he is the only character listed as of now, more may be added as I continue to write. Main characters for this story are original. Any canon characters are secondary. No money is being made and I own no characters or places of the Lord of the Rings. All O.C.'s are my own creation. I hope you will give this story a chance. Enjoy! And please review.
Chapter 1 Memories

Terrwyn lay next to this elf, studying every inch of him. The look of his body was nothing like the browned and muscular bodies of the Rohirrim men. No, Feredir (Fair-eh-dear) was broad and lean. His skin was fair. His long black hair was sleek and soft. Yet she knew of his hidden strength. Where the Rohirrim looked strong and intimidating, elves seemed fragile. Nothing could be further from the truth. She had felt that strength last night as he held her by the waist, suspended above the bed, pounding repeatedly into her willing body. He made her feel weightless, as if she defied gravity. He was gentle with her, considerate of her needs and wants. He paid close attention to her body’s movements and answered its demands for satisfaction. He lived and breathed for her in that moment, to please her to the fullest not caring if he found his own release. This was yet another difference among her human kin. She had received more than enough stares from men. It made her feel dirty, as if they only wanted to use her. They only saw her as a receptacle for their own pleasure and fantasies. They would not have cared if they pleased her. Maybe this was partly why she never cared much for human men.

She studied the fair smooth skin of Feredir’s upper body. Small scars adorned his perfect skin, traveling down his side. They were evidence of past battles left by the weapons of his enemies, scars of his wounds that would never completely disappear. Some were straight. Some were curved here and there. It almost looked like artwork, but she knew this was only the work of his foes. Still, the raised white scars were as a rite of passage to him. He had proven that he was a warrior through and through. He always seemed to need to prove it more than the other’s. Oh, how she longed to see him in action. She felt her excitement as she thought about his muscled arms holding his bow, arrow notched and ready to kill, back straight, hair blowing out behind him, complete concentration on his countenance. He would never allow it, but to watch him fight would have been worth the risk. He was just that handsome.

Lost in thought, Terrwyn traced over his body with her finger. She started at his shoulder, traveled down his side and over his rippled abs to his hip and down his pelvis. Something caught her attention as she lightly caressed the smooth skin of his body, a pulsing movement beneath the white silky sheet. She smiled and watched his still face.

“You are not asleep,” she said softly.

His eyes remained closed but the corner of his mouth upturned into a smile. “I cannot sleep when you touch me like this.”

“I am sorry. I did not mean to disturb you.”

He rolled onto his side so he could look into her green eyes. “You could never disturb me.” He brought his lips to hers, brushing them ever so lightly against her softness.

She touched one of the longer curved scars on his side. “Did it hurt . . . when they did this to you, when the enemy attacked you?”

“It was . . . uncomfortable,” he answered smugly.

Terrwyn smiled and rolled onto her back. “You would never admit to any pain.”

“Only to the pain I feel when I am not deep inside you,” he said wantonly. Feredir threw the sheet from his body and rolled on top of her. He settled between her spread legs and plunged into her depths.

Terrwyn woke from her dream for that was all this was now. Feredir was not here now and she was alone once more. Tears streaked her face. What would she do without him? Where would she go? He was her world now and the only life she ever wanted.

She was sitting beneath a large beech tree as she dreamed. Now that she was wide awake, she thought about how it all started, this love of the elves, but it did not start with Feredir as one might think. No, her infatuation started when she was much younger, only a child. She had heard many tales of the elves of long ago. They seemed like a dream to her and their heritage peaked her curiosity. Terrwyn never thought she would meet an elf for they seemed so aloof, unattainable. Then the day came when she met her first elf. He made such an impression on her that day that it changed her life forever.

This is her story . . .

* * *

Terrwyn was a young woman of Rohan. Her frame was tall and slender. Her hair was like most of her family, reddish blonde with a slight waviness, and it hung half way down her back. Being raised out in the open plains, one might think her skin was a golden tan, but she was quite fair for a Rohirric. She loved the sun, though, and the sound of the wind blowing across the dry grass and the sound of leaves rustling in the trees. It was instilled in her. It was a part of her that would never change.

She was born and raised in the Westfold. It was hard life living in the dry grasslands but her family gave her the best life they could with what they had. The times were changing lately. There was an imposing darkness spreading through the land that put everyone on edge. Being just a child though, she did not think much of it. To her, every day was an adventure and a blessing.

Her father, Hathred, a tall muscular man with the same reddish-blonde hair, was a soldier and was away very often. He helped to protect their land, what little land they had left since the Wildsmen began plundering it. When he was home though, he was with his family who he loved very much. He gave them all the attention he could for it would not be long before he was gone again.

Her mother, Larrwyn, was beautiful and tall, golden sun-bleached hair, tan skin and green eyes. She worked hard to keep food on the table while her husband was away, washing uniforms and such for the soldiers. It paid little, but enough until her husband returned with his reward for serving the Rohirrim.

Terrwyn also had a brother, Hathmund, with golden hair like their mother’s. He was three years her elder and very protective of his little sister. Even at such a young age, he already planned to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a soldier.

Even though life was hard, it was good and they were all very close to one another. Everything went smoothly because they had each other. However, that would soon change and when Terrwyn was six years old, her father perished during an attack by the Wildsmen. She would never see her father again after that and none would have time to grieve. Their village was under siege and they had to flee from their home. War was coming to their lands and they would not be safe. So their mother took what few mementoes she had and her two children and headed for the safety of Helm’s Deep.

Most who remember that time were terrified, but not Terrwyn. Maybe it was because she was so young it did not register with her the way it did with older children and adults. Her mother did a good job of making it seem like a game, while at the same time hiding her grief for her deceased husband. Hathmund took his father’s death very hard and seemed to close himself off to the world swearing revenge one day.

To Terrwyn, their stay at Helm’s Deep was exciting. There were many people from all over the Riddermark. She never knew that so many people resided in these parts. She met many children her own age and made some new friends. All was well until the war came. They were sent along with the other women and children into the caves where they would be safe and out of harm’s way. It was a terrifying night to say the least. The sounds of war outside were like never ending thunder. It was quiet in the caves except for crying children. Terrwyn did not cry. She only huddled close to her mother and Hathmund, sometimes sleeping, sometimes listening.

And then it was over. The war was won and evil swept away. The people emerged from the caves to find the Deep extremely damaged but still standing. They would stay here until word came from the King of Rohan that it was safe to return to their homes. That was when reality set in and their mother fell into despair over the death of Hathred. She did not eat or sleep. She did not talk or smile. Larrwyn completely cut herself off from life around her and the children had to fend for themselves. Hathmund, being the older sibling, started to take care of Terrwyn. He made sure she had food and played games with her.

A few days later, the children were wandering around the Hornburg when they heard someone singing. It was odd and out of place at a time like this, but they followed the voice and found that it belonged to someone they never expected to meet. It was an elf. He was sitting on the steps that led up to a breezeway, looking up to the sky and singing. Hathmund looked at him curiously, but this unusual being mesmerized Terrwyn. She never met an elf, though she had heard tales of them. There was something very striking about this one though. His skin was so fair that he seemed to glow. He had long chestnut hair, straight and braided back at the sides so that his pointed ears were very visible. Terrwyn gasped. He was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen and she found she could not look away. Hathmund tugged on her arm.

“It’s not polite to stare sissy,” he whispered.

“I’m not staring,” Terrwyn protested. “I’m only looking.”

Suddenly the elf turned his head towards the children and smiled. “Aren’t staring and looking considered the same thing?” he said in a sultry voice that could only come from an elf. Hathmund looked on with embarrassment, but Terrwyn’s mouth hung agape.

“Careful or you’ll catch a fly in your throat,” the elf said rather cheerfully.

The children looked at each other and Terrwyn closed her mouth tight, even covering it with her hand. The elf laughed at the children’s reaction for he could tell they had never seen one of his kind before. Then he patted the stone step on each side of where he sat. “Come sit with me and I’ll tell you a story.”

Terrwyn and Hathmund took a seat next to the elf and listened as he told them about his adventures. He had fought with goblins and spiders near his home in Mirkwood, Orcs and Uruk hai in the recent war, even a troll. Hathmund listened but his mind still wandered to his father and how he would never tell them stories again. The elf sensed this from the boy, but instead of questioning him, he focused his attention on the girl. She was very attentive and believed his stories, even the parts he made up. He exaggerated his story to include a battle with a balrog, which was craftiness on his part, but not a word of it was true. Still, it intrigued the children and brought the boy out of his disparaging thoughts of his deceased father. During his storytelling, the elf made them laugh or quake with fright, even made them jump a time or two. When he was done, he smiled and laughed. Terrwyn laughed with him but Hathmund’s thoughts went back to his own recent misfortunes.

“That was a wonderful story Master Elf,” Terrwyn said with amazement.

“Why thank you my lady,” the elf answered and kissed her on the cheek. Terrwyn froze as she felt warmth and love emanate from him.

Hathmund’s dark mood returned. “Yea, you’re a good storyteller, but come now. Everyone has heard the legends and there is only one elf that ever slayed a balrog, and I doubt you are him.”

“Ah, so you know the story of the mighty elf lord Glorfindel. He will be pleased to know his tale has become legend and that even children of men now tell it,” the elf answered.

“You mean he is still alive?” Terrwyn asked excitedly. “It is my most favorite story. If I could ever meet such an important elf, it would be him.”

The elf mocked disappointment and sadly looked at Terrwyn. “And here I thought I had made such an impression on you.”

Terrwyn immediately realized what she said and could not stand to see an elf sad. She stood up, now as tall as the elf that still sat on the step, and threw her arm around his neck. “I am very glad to have met you,” she whispered in his ear. “And I think you are most handsome,” she added for good measure. Still, it was true as she seemed to develop a slight crush for this dark-haired elf. She stood back and thanked him again for sharing his glorious tales.

Hathmund merely rolled his eyes and took her by the hand. “Come on sissy. Mother will be wondering where we are.”

“No she won’t,” Terrwyn said very low so that no one heard her. She did not know of the keen hearing of the elves. He heard her and heard her sadness. It was such a shame he thought. She was a lovely child and it seemed already her life was full of hardships. The elf’s heart went out to Terrwyn. He took her hand and looked at her, capturing her green eyes with his brown ones.

“No matter what happens, know that she loves you. Sometimes grown-ups get so tied up in matters, they forget to say it, but I know they always feel it, and it never leaves their heart.”

It was at that moment that Terrwyn felt the magic of the elves. As he spoke to her and held her hand, she felt his kindness and love seep out of his fingers and into her skin where it traveled until it reached her heart. “I will never forget you,” she said and kissed his cheek.

The elf smiled and reached into his tunic. “Before you go, I have something for you both.” He pulled out a small dagger and handed it to Hathmund. “You are very brave for someone so young. I can see and feel your hurt, but also the love for your family and the burden of becoming their protector. May this blade continue to help you protect them.”

Hathmund took the small knife and examined it. It was not fancy, silver with a wooden handle and worn looking. There were elvish runes on it. “What do these mean?” he asked.

“It is a prayer to the Valar to watch over the one who carries it. Now may they watch over you, young Master Hathmund.”

The young boy had never been addressed as such and seemed to stand a little taller. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Terrwyn stood by patiently, hands behind her back and fingers entwined while she swayed back and forth. The elf looked at her and smiled, letting the moment last until it seemed she would burst. “Do you have something for me too?” she finally asked, not being able to wait any longer.

The elf smiled wide and reached into a pouch that hung at his side. He fumbled around, eyes looking upwards, biting his bottom lip in a childish way as if he could not find the thing he was searching for. Then he gasped and smiled wide, looking Terrwyn in the eyes and making her very excited. “Here it is!” he exclaimed and pulled something small from the pouch. She watched as he juggled it around as if he were about to drop it. Then he held his hands in front of her, clasped into fists. “Which one will you choose?” he asked.

Terrwyn stuck her tongue out running it along her top lip as if in deep concentration. She was afraid she would choose wrong and come up with an empty hand and no prize. She looked up at the elf and studied his face for any sign of a suggestion. He looked back and forth to both hands but seemed to linger on the right one more than the left. Terrwyn took a chance and chose the right hand. “That one,” she said.

The elf turned his fist over and slowly unwrapped his fingers, revealing a small wooden butterfly. She noticed how intricate the detail was and smiled. “Did you make this?” she asked.

“I did,” he answered proudly. “From a fallen branch of a very old beech tree in my woodland home of Mirkwood.”

Terrwyn accepted it, flipping it over several times to further examine it. The bottom was smooth and flat, but the top of the butterfly was carefully carved with swirls on its wings. It would have taken a sturdy hand to make such small details. “Surely this must have been a gift for someone. It is very well made and beautiful.”

“I was going to give it to my heart’s desire, but he needs no trinkets to remind him of my love,” the elf answered and his attention was drawn away briefly as if remembering something.

Terrwyn never took notice that the elf mentioned his love was a ‘he’. To her it just seemed to make sense. “But it was made for someone else. I cannot accept it.”

“I made it and it is my choice who I give it too. Besides, you remind me of a butterfly,” the elf said to gain her attention.

Terrwyn looked at him curiously. “A butterfly?”

“Well right now you are like the caterpillar and you are just going along without a worry. Then I see you locked inside yourself for a while, protecting yourself when no others can.” His voice was low as he spoke, as if he wanted no one else to hear. There was a sadness to it and Terrwyn felt it also, but it only lasted a moment before the elf was smiling again. “One day you will be free to spread your wings and you will be the most beautiful of all butterflies.”

Every word he said stuck in her mind and in her heart. This elf had touched her and she would never forget their first meeting. They truly were magical as far as she could see. From that moment on, Terrwyn would always long to be amongst the elves, as if it were where she truly belonged. She closed her small fingers around the wooden figure and held it to her heart. “Thank you Master Elf. I will never forget you,” she said and kissed his cheek one last time.

“Farewell Lady Terrwyn, and may the Valar keep you within their thoughts,” the elf whispered in her ear. She thought she could even smell the moss and early morning dew of his home and she longed to one day be amongst his kind.

And with that, the children skipped off to find their mother, but Terrwyn carried a newfound love in her heart and a desire to one day visit Mirkwood. Little did she know how much more it would mean one day.
Chapter end notes:
Please, please review. I would love to know what people think of this story.