*sigh* SO…this came from an admiration for the beautiful Elven king that is Thranduil. Need I say more? Please review, fav. and follow if you don't mind…real simple…type the letters, click the buttons…do iiiiiit.
NOTE: This is not a full story (for the moment) more like simple snap shots of a relationship that we didn't get to explore in the movies (or did we? I'm kind of lost while writing this)
He was watching her from the roots of a bowing elder tree. His fingers grazed over the tips of the broad leaves above their heads, eyes faintly sparkling as she murmured sweet words into the thin, pliable, limb she cradled in her right hand. She smiled against the bark, eyes darting around, as though the tree were telling her all of its secrets. He smiles ever-so-slightly, pushes himself from the rough bark of his seat and begins to move towards her.
But she turns on him.
And she smiles, all teeth and he can't help but freeze. But he doesn't show that he finds that smile to be the most distracting thing about her. For the moment.
She lets go of the tree branch, reaches out to him. His eyes flash to the silver band baring the symbol for infinity on her left wrist and twist, catching that wrist with skill full fingers. Her expression falls, her eyes soften and then she giggles – coming back to reality – as he spins her in a light circle. Her head tilts back and she laughs, eyes fluttering as pleasurable tingles shoot through her body, feeling his lips brush over the tender expanse of her throat exposed to him.
She pulls her head forward again, scrunching up his access to her throat. She smiles shyly through her bangs, her fingers tightening in the fabric of his violet-colored robe. If she is envious of one of his features, it is that hair. She can never get hers to grow that beautifully, but she supposed it came with the territory of being an elf.
"Fiel," he murmurs, lips brushing over the top of her head.
She hums, doesn't speak. They're watching them, the disapproving eyes of the guards. He does not care, he will dispose of any opposed to her. Though, she knows the standards of even elves. She is not his fiancé, his bride. She is almost a mistress…a concubine if he had been previously engaged in a relationship. She lays her right cheek against his chest, soaks in his warmth, his thrumming heart beat. The court does not favor her. Again, he does not care.
But she does.
He knows it is taking a toll on her.
"Come," he takes her right hand in his, tugging her gently towards the gate into the palace carved into the mountainside. "I shall take you to my chambers. You require rest."
She can feel what he sees with those special eyes of his. The haggard appearance of mental warfare with his entire kingdom.
