.o00o.

The Kings and the Body Art

Pt I

A New Fashion

The Mirkwood servant carefully carried a laden tray down the corridor towards the king's apartments. He was new to the job and had been flattered when his fellow servants had asked him to perform this important task.

"Thorin returns to Erebor today," they had said. "He will need a good breakfast before he goes. Our two kings will doubtless be very grateful to you if you take them this breakfast tray. Just walk straight in – no need to knock." And they had filled the tray with all sorts of delicacies. He was pleased to be entrusted with this duty but what he couldn't understand were the snorts of laughter as he had made his way from the kitchens. The tray was very heavy: perhaps they thought he would drop it. Well, he would show them just how efficient he was.

When he got to Thranduil's apartments, he placed the tray on a side table in the corridor, opened the door and then backed into the room with his burden. He turned around, ready to announce himself – and then he froze on the spot. The room was empty but he could hear the sound of rhythmical grunts and moans coming from the adjacent bedroom. The servant placed the tray very, very quietly on a table, then he swung on his heel and swiftly made his exit.

On his walk back to the kitchens, he wondered what his fellow servants had been hoping for. Had they expected him to burst in upon an embarrassing scene? Probably. But he wasn't as daft as he looked. He sauntered back into the kitchens and they all looked up at him expectantly, trying to contain their mirth.

"Were they pleased?" one asked, barely able to keep the gleeful look from his face.

"Yes, very," he replied, tidying up some dirty pots and taking them to the sink.

They looked very disappointed and prodded further. "And, ummm, were they packing – or something?"

"They were having a fuck," he said quite calmly. "I must say, the dwarven king has a great bum and a very large prick. Lucky Thranduil." Then he left the room and went about his other duties leaving a very disappointed group behind him. What they had hoped for but hadn't got was a very disconcerted, embarrassed and upset newbie. Instead, he appeared to have got a ring-side seat to something that they would rather have liked to have seen themselves. Drat. Some people had all the luck!

.o00o.

Thranduil was late for a meeting. He was always late on the day of Thorin's departure because it was usually a case of one fuck too many – or at least one fuck too many if you had a meeting to attend. The elf would have loved to have stayed in bed with Thorin all morning, screwing the time away until the dwarf could hardly make it down to the stables, as had been the case on a number of occasions when there hadn't been one of these wretchedly boring council meetings.

He supposed it was sometimes uncomfortable for Thorin on the long ride home, as it often was when it was his turn to ride back from Erebor, but it was the elven king this time who wondered if he could manage to sit through the morning's meeting without a nice, comfy cushion. That tattoo on his right nipple which had been done a few months ago was still working its charm and Thorin couldn't get enough of him. No, rephrase that: they could never get enough of each other but, since the tattoo, it was Thorin who tended to be on top and who fucked him until his backside felt really sore. Mind you, he liked it that way. When Thorin took his leave, he loved to have such a memento for the next few days, reminding him of his lover wherever he went – and especially wherever he sat.

Deep in such delightful thought, Thranduil hurried across the Mirkwood courtyard. His head was down and nothing impeded his progress until he bumped into something soft and squishy. "Sorry!" he muttered, glancing up. He didn't have to glance up very far because he had nearly knocked the dwarf woman, Bris, off her feet.

He reached out to steady her and his face broke into a smile. "Bris! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed.

"I'm on business," she replied with a wide grin.

"Me too," was the hasty response. "Look, can't stop. Come and have a cup of tea and a chat later this afternoon. Or, if you prefer, I'll dig out a bottle of Thorin's dwarven beer from his secret stash." And with a quick wave, he was gone.

He was still smiling when he entered the council chamber. Bris was a tattoo artist who had come at his request to tattoo his nipple after Thorin had asked him if he could find it in his heart to have a small one done, just for him. At first he hadn't found it in his heart and there had been a bit of a quarrel, but then he had changed his mind and had had the tattoo done secretly as a surprise for the dwarven king. He grinned to himself as he remembered how the whole thing had nearly ended very badly but it had eventually brought pleasure to them both and had given him the chance to meet Bris.

She was such a character: middle-aged but with quite striking features, abrupt and bossy in manner, but not embarrassed by the slightest thing. She had poked her way around his body with unselfconscious ease whilst Thranduil had blushed to the roots of his platinum hair. But they had laughed together and had learned respect for each other. How nice that she was back again. And he wondered what her 'business' was.

The council chamber was already full – they were all waiting for him and he had to apologise for his tardiness. He then found that especially soft cushion (a few of the courtiers noticed and cast sly looks at each other), sat in a corner and nodded off as his councillors discussed the most exquisitely boring things. But the elven king suddenly jerked awake as Badhron, a rather pompous and nitpicking courtier, dragged his name into the debate.

"Our lord king…" he was saying, "set a very poor precedent when he allowed himself to be tattooed in the dwarven tradition, presumably to please his partner, Thorin. The tattoo," he continued sternly, "is not an elven practice. In fact, it is considered an anathema by us, a matter of self-mutilation, and we should all feel a proper revulsion."

He glared around at everyone in the room as if daring anyone to be foolish enough to challenge him on the matter and his gaze finally came to rest on Thranduil. "My lord," he said, "you have made a very unwise and very selfish decision. And it shocks me that your actions have not been condemned roundly, not least in this council. Instead, I am hearing reports that some young elves are also considering a tattoo and that Glinor, a senior elf lord who should know better, already has one." And he gazed in an accusatory way across the room at the elegant courtier who lounged gracefully in one corner.

Glinor raised a sardonic eyebrow. "And you will never know," he responded with a lop-sided grin.

But Thranduil suddenly realised that he, actually, knew. He remembered how Glinor had come visiting a few weeks previously with his wife in tow. "Don't let Faervel know, "he had laughed when the elven king had revealed his tattoo down at the hot springs, "or she'll want me to have one too." And, sure enough, she had come to see his tattoo.

"Let's have a look, then," she had said autocratically, poking his nipple through the silk gown. "I've heard all about it."

Glinor threw him an embarrassed glance at his wife's rudeness, but Thranduil just grinned and unbuttoned his robe. Glinor would suffer for this, no doubt about it. "Anything for a lady," he said, smiling graciously. And Faervel peered closely, her eyes wide and goggling.

"All right. I've seen enough," were her final words. And she grabbed her husband's hand and tugged him from the room. Glinor gave a helpless look over his shoulder. After that, Thranduil had forgotten about it until now.

.o00o.

Pt II

Shock and Awe

When the meeting concluded and lunch was being served in the council chambers, Glinor slipped from the room and Thranduil followed.

"So, she made you have one done," he said softly in the elf lord's ear as he caught up with him. "Any regrets?"

Glinor stopped and turned. "None whatsoever," he laughed. "Best day's work I have ever done – or Bris has ever done, actually. My sex life has improved no end and Faervel was right to twist my arm on the matter."

"Ah," replied Thranduil. "Is that what Bris is here for? Has she got a string of new customers?"

Glinor nodded. "I believe so. A group of young elves has started a fashion – they're more daring than some of us and don't care what their elders say on the matter. I think it's mainly the odd bracelet or perhaps a secret mark that identifies them as belonging to a certain crew. They'll regret that when their alliances change over the years."

"Well," grinned his king. "I showed you mine; now you must show me yours."

Glinor hesitated for a moment and then said. "All right. People are having lunch. Let's go down to the hot springs."

"So, not exactly placed where one can just roll up a sleeve?"

"Not exactly," responded the courtier with an amused grimace.

.o00o.

"By Eru!" exclaimed Thranduil. And then he fell silent in complete awe.

"Good, isn't it?" said Glinor smugly.

They were standing up to their thighs in the hot water and Glinor had just turned around to face his king. His entire genital area, both his prick and his balls, was covered in a blue, red and black tattoo – snakes writhing amongst flowers and such.

"By Eru!" Thranduil breathed again. Even Thorin didn't have one there. And, to cap it all, the elf lord had a gold barbell piercing the tip of his cock. Not only that, but there were funny little bobbles, centrally placed in a line, all up and down its length.

"What on earth are those?" Thranduil finally managed to ask.

Glinor looked pleased with himself. "It's called pearling," he said. "Small pearls are inserted under the skin through incisions. Along with the piercing, they give Faervel intense pleasure. And, of course, the tattoo is a huge visual stimulus."

Thranduil winced. "No," laughed the elf lord. "The pearling didn't hurt much and it healed very quickly. But the tattoo was something else, as you must know."

"It's jaw-dropping – the whole thing," murmured Thranduil. "Quite magnificent really. But don't show Badhron – he'll have an apoplectic fit!"

"Or perhaps, for a bit of fun, I should," replied the courtier. "There's nothing that he or I can do about it."

Thranduil went back to his apartment, there to await Bris. He would really tease her when she turned up, he grinned to himself. But, over a glass of wine, he found himself thinking about Glinor's tattoos and his other fancy bits and pieces. He had to admit that he found them all far more exciting than his own little tattoo and the more he thought about it, the more envious he became.

Thorin would really get a lot of sexual pleasure from them, he thought. And he would do anything for Thorin. But, it would also be a selfish decision too because the thought of a tattoo all over his prick and balls, plus that piercing and pearling, had begun to give him a powerful sexual frisson. It would make him into an exciting lover. And would Thorin ever leave him with what he had to offer every night? Thranduil's insecurities about his relationship with the dwarf began to surface and he started to think that such ornaments to his body would bind the dwarven king to him forever. He would be irresistible.

Then, just to pass the time, he began to think of what he would have tattooed on his genitals – if he had it done, of course. And he thought of two dwarven axes, one on each of his balls, and Orcrist on the length of his prick, with all three of the weapons entwined in foliage. And his thoughts about what he could have done gradually resolved into what he would have done and he was completely ready for Bris when she marched in through the door without knocking.

.o00o.

Pt III

Difference of Opinion

"You might like to know, Bris," said Thranduil, twirling his wine glass lazily by its stem, "that you are the rudest dwarf I have ever met."

"Then I must introduce you to the rest of my family," she grinned, plonking herself down next to him on the sofa. "Besides, I'm not likely to catch you doing something you shouldn't, am I? Not now Thorin has returned to Erebor."

"But perhaps I have a secret lover," he murmured.

"Perhaps, but unlikely," was the response. "And I don't think you'd be doing anything naughty when you've invited me to tea. That'll be milk, no sugar, then. I'm sweet enough." And she gestured authoritatively towards a kettle of hot water boiling in the hearth. "You can play mother."

"Ah, Bris," said the elf, rising gracefully to his feet and preparing the tea in a beautiful china cup. "What did I do before I had you to remind me that we kings need to show a bit more humility?"

"Well," she laughed, "I can imagine that you were even more of an arrogant pain in the backside than you are now. Any cake? I like chocolate."

Thranduil cut her a slice from the range of delicacies on the sideboard. "I hear from Glinor that you'vebeen busy."

"So, he showed you, did he?" she mumbled through a mouthful of cake. "There's a surprise."

"I did show him mine."

"But, his is a lot more intimate. Not many have it done there, you know. But his wife came with him to discuss it and when I told them all about the possibilities, that's the one she wanted. And, if she wanted it, he wanted it too. They're a very loving couple, you know."

Well, me and Thorin are a very loving couple as well, he thought grumpily. And, if that's what I have to do to show my love for him…..

"I'm quite surprised," he continued out loud, "that a wife would let another woman touch her husband's private parts."

"Actually," said Bris, licking the chocolate crumbs from her fingers, "you have little choice if that's where you want a tattoo. The male artists are reluctant to handle another man's prick. And it's become a sort of tradition for women to do these intimate tattoos."

Thranduil was curious. "Does anyone ever – umm – harden up when you touch them there?"

She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. "Well, did you harden up when I was messing with your nipple?"

The elven king gave a shout of laughter. "I was too frightened of you. My poor little cock was too scared to do anything but shrivel away from you."

Bris grinned. "There, you've spotted my defence system. My manner is designed to intimidate you guys so much that feeling sexy will be the last thing on your minds. One dwarven warrior told me that he was really frightened he would get a hard-on and I would chop it off in disgust. And that's the way I protect myself from unwanted advances."

She took a delicate sip of tea. "Mind you. It's not a fail-proof method. There are those who are really turned on both by pain and by a woman bullying them. I've had some nasty moments."

Thranduil looked concerned. "So, what's your fall-back position?" he asked.

"This," she said, reaching down the side of her boot and pulling out a very sharp dagger.

The elf smiled at her courage. "Just remind me of that knife before you start on my next one."

"What next one?" she asked brusquely.

"Umm, I've been thinking it over and I've decided that I want what Glinor's got – you know, with all the bells and whistles."

Bris didn't look pleased. "You need to think properly about it first. That sort of tattoo is not something that you take on lightly."

"I have thought about it, I've even decided on the pattern," he muttered sullenly. He had imagined that she would be pleased with the extra business, but, here she was, questioning his judgement. "I think I'm old enough to make my own decisions, don't you?"

She had got up to pour herself another cup of tea, but now she turned and bowed. "Your wish is my command, O mighty elven king," she said sarcastically. "Now, how about another slice of cake?" And, when she had eaten that at her leisure whilst Thranduil tapped his boot, she pulled out a piece of parchment from her bag and asked him about his design.

She drew a quick sketch as he described what he wanted and he peered over her shoulder, nodding his approval.

"Well, I suppose that Thorin ought to like all that dwarven weaponry," she sighed. "I'll do it in Erebor when you're there next – after you've had a chance to talk about it with him."

"Oh, I'm not going to tell him," said Thranduil with a careless wave of his hand. "It's a surprise. I want it done tomorrow, to give it time to heal."

Bris opened her mouth to say something but then she bit her lip. She shoved her sketch away into her bag and then pulled out a ruler. "Let's see it, then," she snapped. "This has to be made to measure."

Thranduil yanked down his breeches defiantly and Bris pulled up a stool so that she was within inches of his cock. He felt her cool fingers lifting his balls and then the steel rule pressing against his genitals. Yes, he could understand why some might be turned on by this and he drew in a deep breath and began to do difficult multiplication sums in his head.

"There you go," she said, giving his cock a sharp tug. "You can pull up your breeches now. And you want a piercing through the tip?"

"Yes," said Thranduil curtly as he sensed yet further disapproval. And then she pulled out a jewellery case which contained a selection of straight, curved and circular barbells and the elf stubbornly chose a rather large one. Bris raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

As she took her leave, she added, "You'd better go down to your Treasury and find a few pearls too. Not too big. Are you listening, Thranduil?"

"Yes," he replied sulkily. But he was secretly wondering what size he could get away with before she started ranting.

.o00o.

The next morning, Thranduil had a bath and slipped on only a shirt and a dressing-gown. Then he waited rather apprehensively for Bris' arrival. She banged into the room as usual and flung her bag down bad-temperedly on the floor. Then she covered a long table with a sheet and placed a pillow on it. "Get up there," she snapped. The elven king slipped off his robe and lay down on the table feeling very exposed. She set out her paints and her needles on another table and then produced the drawing for his approval.

"Very nice," he said but he secretly thought what a really beautiful job she had done.

She got hold of his prick firmly. "I'll start with this first and I have to stretch the skin. It's going to hurt – a lot," she added. And, as she pulled him tight, he clenched his fists and shut his eyes and waited….and waited.

In the end, Thranduil opened one eye to see what she was up to. Bris was standing there, bent over him with a needle in her hand – unmoving.

"Get on with it," he snarled.

Bris suddenly blinked. And then she lay her needle down carefully and released his prick. "No, I'm not going to do it, I'm afraid," she said in a clear, determined voice. "Once it's done, there's no going back."

"But you did it for Glinor," snapped the elf angrily.

"No, I did it for Glinor and his wife. They were both there. We all discussed it together and it was a joint decision. I just can't do it when Thorin's not involved. What if he's repulsed by it? It could bring an end to your relationship."

Thranduil was furious. He had really steeled himself for this tattoo and now it was being denied him by this bloody-minded dwarf woman. And if one of his courtiers could have it done then why not the king? "I have employed you to do this," he shouted, "and I demand – I order - you to do it! Or would you like to see the inside of my dungeons?!" And he swung himself threateningly off the table.

If Bris were taller, they would have been standing nose to nose. "And don't you dare pull that dagger from your boot," he growled. She took a step backwards and placed her hands on her hips.

"Well, don't you look the silly one, dressed only in a shirt with your willy dangling out the bottom?"

Thranduil raised a fist. At that precise moment, he could have quite easily hit a woman. By Eru, she was provocative! Bris took another step backwards. "All right!" she snarled. "Keep that fist to yourself and get back on the table. If you want this pattern on your prick then you shall have it on your prick!" And she snatched up the drawing and began to study the details.

The elven king drew in a deep breath and climbed back on the sheet, ready to submit himself to her ministrations. He hoped she wouldn't be too brutal.

.o00o.

Pt IV

Revulsion

When Thranduil rode up to the gates of Erebor ten days later, he was feeling far more excited even than when he had had his nipple tattooed. What he had done this time was just so much bigger. The nipple tattoo had put Thorin into such a sexual frenzy that he could hardly imagine what his newly decorated cock and balls would do for him.

The minute he knocked on Thorin's door, the dwarf grabbed it open and then hauled him into the room, pushing him up against the door. Then he yanked open the elf's shirt and sucked the tattooed nipple into his mouth. "I have so missed this," he gasped.

Thranduil looked smug. There would be so much more to miss when he went back to Mirkwood this time and he pressed himself hard against his lover. With a huge grin, Thorin thrust his hand down the front of the elf's breeches and then paused in surprise, feeling the piercing and the ridges under the skin. The dwarven king kissed the elf tenderly. "And what have you done for me this time, I wonder?"

Thranduil gave him a secret smile. "How would you like to see, my love?" he asked, undoing the front of his breeches and proudly displaying his engorged and decorated member. The dwarven axes stood out proudly on his dangling balls and Orcrist, covering his entire length, looked ready and able to plunge into Thorin's body. Thranduil smirked.

But Thorin stared for a moment. And then all colour drained from his face. He turned away, rushed to a plant pot and was violently sick. Thranduil looked on totally appalled. Then the dwarf turned towards him, pale and sweating. His eyes were drawn to the elf's genitals once more and he raised his hand to his mouth and began to retch.

"I must leave," he managed to get out and then he fled from the room.

The elven king stood there in a stunned silence. Bris had been right: Thorin was totally repulsed. He had to find both her and the dwarf and, tidying himself, he also made a hasty exit from the room.

.o00o.

Bris was sitting in her apartment, drawing a small tattoo design for a young elf back in Mirkwood, when the door crashed open and Thranduil made a dramatic entry into her room. "What was that you said about rude dwarves?" she asked, looking up.

A dishevelled and shaking elven king cried, "You've got to help me, Bris!" before collapsing in a chair.

"Ah," she said calmly. "So, he didn't like it, then?"

"He was sick in a plant pot," groaned the king.

"Oh dear," she answered with a certain false sympathy Thranduil thought. "That's quite an extreme reaction. But, I did warn you….."

"Will you shut up, Bris," he sighed. "I just want your help."

She grinned and, going into the adjacent room, she spread a towel on her bed. "Get your breeches off and lie down," she said. Thranduil quickly did as he was told. "Well, I suppose," she continued, "that castration would be one solution."

"It's not a joke," snarled Thranduil. "Just do what you said you would do."

With a flourish, Bris produced a bottle and a rag from her bag. "And if you get a hard-on, I shall stop immediately," she said severely.

Well, there was a lot of rubbing involved and remaining limp was almost an impossibility. Thranduil did twitch a bit, but the dwarf woman just grinned to herself and pressed on. "There you go," she finally said. "You'd better go and find him."

Thranduil thanked her sincerely and then dashed from the room. Lying on the bed, he had been thinking – in between all those times tables – about where Thorin might have disappeared to and he had finally decided that it was likely that he had fled to the walled garden.

.o00o.

It was a lovely Spring afternoon. The sky was a pale, rain-washed blue; blossom covered the trees and bluebells were appearing in clumps all over the grass. Thranduil opened the door to the walled garden quietly and immediately saw Thorin lying on the grass, his face hidden in the crook of his arm. The elf lay down beside him and Thorin stirred, immediately aware of his presence; but he didn't open his eyes.

Thranduil unbuttoned his breeches. "Look, Thorin," he said softly. But, the dwarf shook his head.

"I can't," he whispered.

"Look!" commanded the elven king more forcefully. One eye opened a crack and then both sprang wide open on a gasp.

"It was only painted on," said Thranduil quietly. "Bris refused to do a real tattoo until I had had a trial run. The print she did would have lasted a month unless she rubbed it off with a special solution. And she's just done that."

"Rubbed?" snapped the dwarf, sitting upright.

Thranduil rolled onto his back laughing and pulled Thorin on top of him. "Yes, rubbed: very, very hard. It was torture and I can now multiply thirteen up to goodness knows how many powers."

Thorin kissed him on a long sigh and the elf stroked his dark hair. "And now you must tell me, my love, why you, a dwarf, were so repulsed by that tattoo."

The dwarven king made himself comfortable in his lover's arms and, clasping his prick, began to stroke the ridges made by the pearling with his thumb. "Well, my revulsion goes back a long way. Do you remember how I told you about that crush I had on a lad from Dale when I was very young? He wasn't interested but I had that tattoo done on the base of my spine – my very first tattoo – as some kind of misplaced tribute to him."

The elf nodded and kissed the top of Thorin's head.

"This is all mixed up with my jealousy of my brother, Frerin. He was more popular, more handsome, more funny, more everything than me and I had a hard time keeping that jealousy under control. Then, one day, a group of us were all bathing in the Lake – including that lad from Dale – when Frerin joined us and, when he stripped off, he had a tattoo on his genitals. Everyone was very impressed and my crush was fluttering his eyelashes at him all day. That evening, I told Frerin that I was going to have one too." Thorin sighed as the bad memories began to surface. "But, just like Bris, the tattooist refused to do it because it would have been my first one. She did that one on my spine instead. And I must admit, that was painful enough and I was glad that I hadn't gone through with things."

Thorin's hand gripped his cock more tightly, and Thranduil knew they were coming to the crux of the story. "But, when we were down at the Lake next and all I had was this little tattoo on my spine, Frerin laughed his head off – and so did everyone else. They called me a coward and the lad from Dale was especially scornful. They made jokes about it for months and I have never felt so humiliated in all my life. When you showed me your tattoo, I suddenly had the most vivid flashback to that time and I don't know if I could have coped if it had been a permanent one."

"We'll never know," whispered Thranduil.

Then Thorin slid down his lover's body and thrust a tongue through the piercing on his cock. "But, I'm glad you had this done," he said. "And this." And he nibbled at the ridges created by the pearls. "This is the sort of body art that's best appreciated from the inside," he laughed.

Thranduil began to strip off and Thorin followed suit. Then the elf pressed the dwarven king down into the grass and carefully penetrated him, wondering what his new-fangled cock would do for his partner. Thorin's strong fingers dug deep into Thranduil's buttocks and he cried aloud. The elven king stopped in horror: "Am I hurting you?" he asked anxiously.

"No! Keep going, keep going!" he yelled and, within moments, his prick, sandwiched between their two bellies, erupted in a volcanic flow of cum.

Usually, the dwarf collapsed in his lover's arms and went to sleep; but, this time, he continued to thrust his backside against the delights of the barbell and the pearls. Thranduil grinned to himself. Success! And he pushed harder and faster until he felt his own orgasm rising like a wave within him. His own explosion was met by a second one from Thorin and, as his cock slowly shrivelled and withdrew from the dwarf's backside, he noticed that his partner continued to move against him.

"That was amazing!" panted Thorin. "I feel as though I could manage another one."

"Not yet," gasped Thranduil. "Let's go back to the apartment and try again when I've got my breath back."

An hour later, Thorin was finally satisfied – almost. The elven king was sitting in the bathing pool with the dwarf on his lap. The latter was attached, limpet-like, to the tattooed nipple, sucking sleepily away, but still wriggling against Thranduil's semi-erect cock. "Thank you, Bris," the elf murmured to himself. "Thank you for your advice, your artistry and your workmanship."

At that moment, that very lady banged into the room and stood by the edge of the pool. The two kings were too exhausted to react in any way whatsoever. "Who is it?" murmured Thorin, detaching himself for a few seconds from the, by now, rather sore nipple.

"Bris," muttered Thranduil as the mouth clamped back into place again.

"Hello, Bris," the elf managed to get out. "I suppose you want to be paid."

"That's about it," laughed Bris, "but it looks like the wrong time – although I'm not quite sure if any time's the right time when you two get together."

"Come back tomorrow morning," offered the king generously. "Late tomorrow morning." And he tiredly blew her a little kiss of thanks.

Shaking her head and smiling, Bris closed the door quietly behind her. She was really glad for them. But, as she slowly returned to her empty, lonely apartment, she sadly wished that there was someone in her life, waiting there for her, a handsome prince with a big cock decorated with piercings and pearls and perhaps just a teeny tiny tattoo.

.o00o.

Poor Bris: she's lovely, isn't she? But, perhaps one day her prince will come.

If you haven't done so already, you might like to read the story prior to this, The Kings and the Tattoos, where we meet Bris for the first time.

And if you're totally new to this series of stand-alone Thorinduil stories, then their whole arc starts with King of the Antlered Throne.

My thanks to those who have stopped by to make a comment or to favourite or follow. It always gives me pleasure to interact with my readers.

And, just as an aside, I saw RA's latest film, Urban and the Shed Crew, at a film festival in Leeds last week. It was a good production, the acting was brilliant from everyone and RA looked like a modern-day Thorin in it. And you see Richard as you've never seen him before, LOL! I hope it gets a distributor so that everyone else has the opportunity to see this on the big screen.