The first thing Clea realizes is that she's not dreaming. This is not her bed, or her room, or the black unconscious of a barroom floor. The second thing she realizes is that she's falling. It's dark and warm, like a mineshaft, and seems to go on forever. Until it doesn't.
She manages to land on her feet, rather than give herself internal bleeding and splat all over the floor. Of the room she's somehow landed in, which is a pretty wow sort of space. She thinks blood might throw that off.
She rotates slowly, staring up at the ceiling and the columns and the amazing silvered scrollwork on the walls.
"Are you quite through gawking?"
Clea jumps a foot and whips around to find the source of that… unff voice. There's the most amazingly pale man in the room. Everything about him – ears, hair, fingers, clothes… an honest to goodness crown! – is long and pale.
He's eyeing her with a calculated disinterest. "Who are you, mortal?"
"I'm- wait, mortal? I'm from LA!"
"I know not of this land. Ellay?"
"Yeah. LA. Los Angeles. The city of angels… and sushi… and plastic surgeons."
"I know not what any of those things are."
"O-kay. How about… Hollywood? Swimmin' pools, movie stars?" If the haughtily blank look on his gorgeous face is any indication, she might as well be a lunatic spouting incantations. "Never mind."
"Impossible. I frequently mind. I attend all relevant matters under my command."
"No… *sigh* never mind." Realizing she's done it again, she rolls her eyes and hastens to explain. "I mean, it's not important. So, anyway you wanted to know who I am. Well, 4 years of court ordered therapy haven't been able to suss that one out, but if you want a name, it's Clea."
"A strange appellation. Then again, you are quite strange, so perhaps it suits you. Does it have a meaning?"
"Yeah. According to the bookmark I got for my 9th birthday, it means 'glory'."
"Aside from glory, I understood not one word of that explanation."
"Right. Never mi- I mean, uh… what about you?"
"As a rule I am not addressed so informally, but my name is Thranduil."
"Wow. Cool name. Does it mean anything? Like in your language?"
"Of course." He stops and after a minute, she gives him an 'and?' look to continue. "It means vigorous spring."
Ohhhh, I'll bet it does. She can't help it. She giggles. She then tries to suppress her laughter and ends up blushing when she snorts. His thin pale eyebrows rise elegantly, and she tries to calm down. Her face is starting to flame, and the contrast is only highlighting his pale.
"Why does my name cause you such fits of mirth? Is it a mortal thing?"
"Yeah let's go with that," she says in a quivering tone. She's still shaking with held in giggles, arms crossed over her body to hold it together, when he inclines a few inches in her direction.
"Explain."
"Oh, I'd really rather-"
In a burst of emotion she knows has to be rare, one fist slams into the elegantly carved arm of his throne. "Now."
That sobers her up. She swallows down any lingering laughter, and tries to beg off. "I really don't think you'd find it as funny as I did." He lets out twin exhalations through his nose that are too refined to be considered a snort. If he were a dragon, she imagines perfect ribbons of smoke threading from his elegant nostrils. She swallows again and crosses her arms a little tighter. "Your name means vigorous spring, and I was just… thinking I'd like to see just how vigorous your spring is."
She's not expecting him to get it – elves don't seem the sort to get innuendo – but he surprises her with a considering expression before replying. "I do not typically engage with species with which I am unfamiliar. But if you would really care to know…" He straightens with an ethereal smoothness, descending the few steps to her, and extending a hand.
Her eyes bug a little out of her head but she wipes her palm on her jeans before accepting his offered hand. He stands beside her, glances at their clasped hands, rolls one shoulder in a motion too smooth to be a shrug, and begins to lead her out of the room.
"By the way, the spring refers to a water source, not a long coil often used in a trap."
"Whatever you say, Elf-Lord. I wouldn't mind the moisture, and I'm definitely caught because of something long and hard, so it doesn't matter one way or the other to me."
He refrains from commenting on her still strange syntax, and instead extends his arm out straight. His eyes move over the bared flesh of her arm. "Before we engage with one another, I will ask that you take a bath to remove those dirt flecks on your skin."
"These are freckles." His expression tells her he has no clue. "They're little marks where the sun kisses you."
He pulls up short, a slight frown furrowing the milky skin between his lickable brows. "Whose son?"
"No, the… big bright thing in the sky? You have a moon- you gotta have a sun here, right?" Following a stately nod, she continues. "They're… also called angel kisses."
"More angels. Is everything about you related to a celestial body?"
Her lips curve into a wicked smile as they step through a series of doors and arches to a lavishly appointed bedchamber. "Tell you what- you get me out of these clothes, and you can judge for yourself."
He gives her a long, careful perusal, from her strawberry blonde hair to her pinkened cheeks, following the trail over her voluptuous curves to the bottom of her peep toe heels. "Your terms are acceptable. Shall we?"
A/N: blame it on tumblr. I saw a gif post with like 8 tiles of the LOTR elves and what their names meant. then this happened.
besides, Thranduil is played by Lee Pace, and Lee Pace is lickable. this is my first post in the fandom; try to be nice.
hope you like it. whether you do or not, feel free to leave a comment. I like comments; comments are my precious.