Author: Ana Swan
World of: Tolkien
*this story is a work of fiction. It may or may not stick 100% to the Tolkien universe. Some major events have been pushed aside to fit these stories in. Please note this is just for fun and is not meant to be taken seriously.
Chapter 1:
Lady of Rivendell
As the sun set, the last bit of light stolen by night's dark clouds, Nethil sat by her favourite tree in the royal garden and watched as fire bugs danced to the calming sound of swucran song. The sound they made as they awoke from their slumber was said to be so calming that it could tame an Orc. Nethil wasn't entirely sure that was even a possibility and no one had ever dared test the theory out. Still, regardless of whether the myths were true or not this was her favourite part of the day. It had been many years since her father, Elrond Lord of Rivendell, had promised her hand in marriage to the Elvenking Thranduil. It was as a sign of peace and harmony between the two clans, to prove to all those in Middle Earth that the elves were not to be trifled with. That they stood strong as a race and their numbers, combined, were mighty. Nethil understood the reasoning behind it but her heart broke that day. It would be a loveless union and she felt as if she had lost all her freedom. Thranduil fell short when it came to love and passion but this was not entirely his fault. He had loved once but she'd been taken from him and Nethil could sense he had never truly forgiven fate for their cruelty. Still, this was the hand fate had dealt her and while her heart dreamt of wild adventures and true love forged in starlight she could not disobey her father or break the arrangement he and the Elvenking had made. It had been many, many years since she had last seen her father and she yearned to see him again. Despite the predicament she was in because of him.
As Nethil brushed her long, fiery red hair she felt a presence behind her. Legolas, son of the Elvenking, sat down beside her dressed in his formal attire. A deep hole seemed to swell in her stomach. She had forgotten about the celebration.
"Father is not impressed," he said sternly. His voice was stern but his lips widened in to a smile and he laughed. "Hundreds came from all corners of the land to celebrate your day of birth. The party was in your honor. Imagine everyone's disappointment when the guest of honor was nowhere to be seen."
"I did not forget on purpose," she said slightly embarrassed. "My mind has been elsewhere."
"On home?" Legolas asked.
"No," Nethil mumbled. "I'm just not entirely sure of what my future holds and if I'm honest that frightens me. I don't like not having control."
"At least you and my father have that in common," joked Legolas. "He told me only today how he does not know how to subdue you. You're wild of heart and can think for yourself. This displeases him I think."
Nethil laughed. She did find it rather amusing that she made her King frustrated.
"Your father is a great King but even he cannot keep me chained like a common spielkt. Though he does try annoyingly hard to do so. This is something my own father learnt many, many years ago."
Ever since she was a little girl Nethil had always had a mind of her own. She would be up and dressed and already outside ruining her dresses before the nursemaids had even awoke themselves. Growing up as the youngest with an elder sister like Arwen had not been easy. Arwen was beautiful and graceful and everyone loved her. While her people loved her too she was seen as more of a ruffian than a Lady of Rivendell. She yearned for freedom and adventure, not the confines of a palace. Her father had always joked that it would take something more than an elven boy to keep her a grounded wife. Someone wild, passionate and stubborn, just like her. Yet, here she was; betrothed to an Elvenking who was anything but wild and passionate; though he was infuriatingly stubborn. Nethil felt her life was being wasted here and she prayed for something or someone to give her a reason to run away from here. For a cause, perhaps, that she wouldn't feel guilty about.
"Does it make you uncomfortable having me here?" Nethil asked Legolas. She turned to look at his beautiful face, glowing in the moonlight. He was hundreds of years older than her and yet she was going to become his new mother soon. Of course, they saw each other as good friends more than mother and son.
"At first, yes. I will admit that," he said, his grey eyes looking in to her blue ones. "I like having you here though. Believe it or not you've had a greater impact on my father than he'd care to admit. You've made a great impact on everyone here in the Woodland Realm."
Nethil was surprised to hear this. Mainly because since she'd arrived here she'd felt more alone than ever, even with someone like Legolas to talk to. She knew she didn't fit in here. She didn't belong.
"Do you think it would be terribly unkind of me to just retire to my bedchamber? I'm not in the mood for celebrations this evening."
Legolas smiled and helped her to her feet. "I think that will be alright. Ill let father know. However, I do have something for you first."
Legolas held up a finger to motion her to wait a moment and he disappeared. He wasn't long gone however and soon came back holding a piece of material in his hands like it was a precious child. This wasn't just a piece of material though; Nethil could tell it was only used to wrap whatever was beneath it. Legolas presented it to her and watched as she unwrapped it. She heard the clang of a blade and pulled out of its sheath an incredible sword with moon stones in the handle.
"It's the finest steel known to elves. Forged by Eol himself and encrusted with moon stones. I acquired it for you long ago but was waiting until today to give it to you."
Nethil was speechless by the gift. She had never received anything like it before. It was beautiful.
"Thank you," she said breathlessly. Nethil re-sheathed the sword and wrapped it back up in its protective cloth before wrapping her arms around Legolas' neck.
To anyone who did not know Nethil a sword would seem an odd present for a future Elvenqueen but Nethil had been training secretly with Legolas for many decades now. She had always had to borrow a sword borrowed from the armory for their sessions but now she had her own and with the power of moon stones in the handle it would give her even greater strength. She was always bestowed with gifts that related back to the stars and moon. She drew her powers, her gift, from the heavens and skies; an ability that she and she alone could wield though it was not entirely known why.
Nethil locked her arm with Legolas' and they began the walk back to the palace. "Oh, and by the way nothing you do could ever be unkind, Nethil."
Legolas walked Nethil back to her bedchambers where they said their goodnights and parted ways. Since she'd arrived here hundreds of years ago she and Thranduil had slept in separate chambers. This would continue until they were married but even then Nethil was certain she'd barely ever see him except at formal occasions. Their marriage was to be purely ceremonial. To show their enemies that there was no discord between the different elven clans.
Nethil closed the door to her chambers and slipped off her dress, allowing it to fall to the floor around her ankles in a heap. The windows were open, allowing a soft cool breeze to enter the room. As the cold night air brushed past her and the moonlight danced on her skin she felt her breasts harden ever so slightly as her skin erupted in goose bumps. She walked over to her bed which had been carved out of the stump of a large, dead tree and picked up her spider-silk nightgown. It had been a gift from her sister quite a few years ago; an old item of clothing that once belonged to their dear mother. It was soft and light and fitted her like a glove. Nethil blew out the flame in the lantern beside her dressing table casting the room in darkness save for the moonlight streaming through the open windows. Just as she pulled back the sheets on her bed there was a soft but confident knock at the door. Who could that be at this time of night? Surely the Elvenking had not summoned her at this hour.
As she opened the door she was shocked to find Thranduil standing there. It was quite out of character for him to come to her. She bowed her head in respect and stepped aside so he could enter.
"Good evening Nethil," he said walking past her. "I seem to have caught you at an inconvenient time." He was referring of course to her nightgown which she realized was inappropriately see-through in the light.
"Of course not my King, you're more than welcome to stop by my chambers whenever you'd like."
This was highly unusual behavior for Thranduil. Not once had he stopped by her chambers personally in all the years she had been here. His unusual presence here did intrigue her and she was already tired of using pleasantries.
"You were not at the celebrations tonight, correct?"
Now it made sense. She was in trouble. She'd received many tongue lashings from her soon-to-be husband for her tardiness and lack of grace but tonight was different. He'd always summoned her in the past, never had he come to her.
"Forgive me, my King. I was unwell and did not feel up to socializing."
Thranduil turned to look at her, his cold eyes staring right through her. There was something unusual about him tonight. Nethil couldn't put her finger on it but his eyes were wild and he seemed agitated. Nethil's heart raced behind her ribcage.
"You have lived here as my ward for a long time and the time has finally come that you are of appropriate age for us to wed. I was hoping to introduce you to a few important people this evening because of this fact. I have to say I'm disappointed that I was not at least informed of your decision to be absent. I did not realize your people were as rude as they are rudimentary."
Nethil narrowed her eyes at his words and tone of voice. He may be her King but never would he ever rule over her.
"I said I was sorry," she said scathingly. "You talk of rudeness and yet here you are in my private quarters talking to me like one of your subjects."
"You are one of my subjects," he spat back. He stormed over to her, his face inches from her own. "You would do well to remember your place."
"No I am not one of your subjects. I am to be your wife and therefore soon I will be Queen and you will not talk to me this way. Now, if you'll be so kind I'd like you to leave. It is after all my birthday and as you did not invite my father to tonight's celebrations I am not in a forgiving mood."
Nethil brushed past him but gasped as he reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair. He pulled her towards him, tilting her head back as he gripped her hair tighter. His lips were brushing against her cheekbone as his eyes closed and his free hand grasped her breast and then slid down her body to between her legs. Thranduil spun her around to face him, grabbing her hands and pinning them behind her back. She could feel his heart beating faster as the desire in his eyes grew. He placed his lips against her neck, biting her softly as one of his hands lifted her nightgown up. She quivered at his touch having never felt a man's hands on her body before. He released his grip on her hands and Nethil wrapped one around his neck while the other helped his hand explore her body. His breathing grew heavier on her neck and he kissed his way up to her lips. As their lips locked Nethil felt her body grow hot. Thranduil's fingers explored her deeper and she ran her hands through his long blonde hair, pressing her body against his. She could feel him harden beneath his robes and he took his hands off her only to push her down on to her knees. As his manhood surfaced, hard and throbbing in his hand, she took it in her mouth. Unsure but unexpectedly excited for what was to come. Nethil's tongue stroked his member as she teased the tip of it with her lips. He gasped and trembled at her touch and she found herself to be thoroughly enjoying having him react in such a way. She took as much of him down her throat as she could before her eyes began to water. He pulled himself out, her saliva dripping off the tip of his hard cock.
Thranduil placed his hand under her chin, forcing her to look up in to his face. It was flushed, slightly, but stern again. She got to her feet and he placed his lips on her's. He then pulled away, grabbing her hands and pinning them behind her back again. He led her over to her bed and pushed her down, bending her over the side. He lifted up her nightgown and Nethil felt cold air against her backside. Thranduil didn't say a word; he just lifted his robes up over his head and tossed them on the floor behind them. His right hand gripped her right cheek as his left hand teased her clit, gently. She waited with baited breath and felt him rub his throbbing member against her wet lips. Then, without as much as a warning she felt him enter her; slowly at first but deeply until he had filled her entirely. She gasped and moaned loudly as he moved in and out of her. He was precise with his thrusts and each one was hard. She could hear his scrotum slap against her skin each time. He groaned as he penetrated her, gaining speed and momentum the more he enjoyed himself. With one last, deep thrust he kept himself inside her, bending over her and pressing his stomach against her back.
"You might be my Queen soon but I still rule over you," he grunted. "Don't you forget that."
He rolled her over on to her back and lifted her legs up, placing one leg over each of his shoulders. He grabbed her hips and pulled her towards him locking his eyes with her's as he entered her once again. This time she could see the determination on his face. With each thrust of his pelvis his lips curled in to a snarl but his eyes never left her's. She could feel a heat rise in her body as she readied herself for the climax. She threw her head back as she came. The pleasure was so intense the muscles in her opening tightened around his cock. He grunted as he too came, filling her with his hot seed. He collapsed on top of her, just enough that she could feel the heat from his skin but not that she was smothered. He breathed heavily in her ear as his hair brushed her sternum and his hands gripped the sheets above her head. He kissed her once again, this time his hands wrapped around her waist. He pulled her on top of him and they lay together catching their breath.
Thranduil's fingers gripped her arm as he held her. Still, he did not say a word but Nethil didn't mind. Her head was buzzing from the thrill of their love making. If truth be told however, she wasn't sure what to do now. She didn't move she didn't breathe loudly or make any sound. She knew his temper was short and she was not sure how long he'd be this tolerant for.
Sure enough, her arm began to fall asleep and as soon as she moved even slightly to relieve it Thranduil loosened his grip on her and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up and put on his robes before leaving without so much as a goodnight. Nethil watched him go and then sighed, letting her head fall back on to the pillows. She felt strangely at peace however and pulled the bed sheets up to her chin before drifting off to sleep.
