A tender hand caresses your bare chest, feeling it heave up and down in the cold darkness of the bedroom. Smiling, you close your eyes as you give into the post-sex exhaustion. You put a hand over the one on your chest, holding it there. You feel a warm head nuzzle against your neck. You smell the familiar scent of lembas and flowers in his hair, and your smile widens. You don't need to see to picture the handsome elf laying by your side. "Legolas, that was fantastic," you murmur.
The elf whispers something to you in elvish, kissing your neck. This is the first time you've done it here, in Mirkwood, in the elven prince's chambers. A thought takes you. Your elven prince's chambers. Every prince needs a princess, but who could have imagined the prince of the Woodland Realm needed a prince? Certainly not you, when you met him at the spring feast. Even then, you were fascinated by his perfection, his grace, enraptured by those perfectly pointed ears.
You only got close to him once at that feast, when you went up to introduce yourself to him. Bowing low, it was the first time you caught that sweet scent of lilac and lembas bread, as your face reddened and you found yourself stuck staring at his leather boots, unable to look up. Stuttering, you managed to conceal your feelings and wish him well, before vanishing off to some other part of the party. However, later that night, he found you outside the throne room, begging to know who you were.
That first night, when he asked to see you, was the most magical night of your life. You delighted in Legolas, staring into his deep brown eyes, and he was very interested in you, asking you questions about Minas Tirith and your life. However, after that you had to return to your service in the white-walled city, far away from Mirkwood your new elven love interest. Then, almost a year later, when you had given up hope of seeing your prince again, he appeared at your house in Minas Tirith.
Over the next few months, you and Legolas courted. Sure, the neighbors thought it strange that you were making love to another man every night, especially that the man in question was an elf, but none dared to publicly say so. During those cold wintry nights as the shadow rose in Mordor and other people huddled by the fire for comfort, you slept with the elf prince. His warm presence in your bed soon became commonplace, and even now, in his room, you felt the same ease you felt in Minas Tirith.
Yawning, you turned and cast an arm around the elf, who was silently staring off into the distance during one of his waking dreams. While his habits and ways were strange to your folk, you had slowly grown accustomed to them, even learning elvish from your lover into the small hours of the night. You caressed the tip of his ear, pressing your bare skin against his warm back. All was right with your world. Unable to stop smiling, you closed your eyes and drift off to sleep.