The King

Chapter Two: Desire

by blurr

The night moved slowly, creeping over the mountains that Enelya knew as her home. She gazed at them for hours, the tall peaks standing against the sky like ancient gods. Gods that guided her throughout her life and now she was to trade them for the darkness of the caves of Mirkwood. Just the thought caused her heart great pain. But what was she to do? She could not refuse; that was simply the easy way out. No, she would accept her fate; honor her father and her King, and hopefully please her Prince.

But why did it hurt so much?

Why did she not feel so honored, as her father said she was?

Yes, she had been accepted as the royal concubine. The royal concubine was a high title, a she-elf with such grace and beauty that she was treated as a precious jewel. She felt like snorting at the thought, this role that was expected of her made her feel like anything other than a most valued treasure. She wanted to say she did not know why she felt so numb inside, but in honesty, she knew the truth.

The King had given her away. She felt ashamed of how this made her feel. Ever since that first meeting with the King, Enelya always held a young and foolish love for the older elf.

But wasn't this how it should bet? He was supposed to be her father figure, an uncle at that. And yet, here she was, upset that he would give her away instead of wanting her for himself.

She felt her gut sink. Oh God. She felt sick at the true emotions raging through her.

Enelya lifted a hand to her forehead. Blessed light, where did this desire come from?

She desperately wanted the King to take her, not his son; she didn't even know the Prince. Sure Legolas was renowned for his looks and archery. Sure he was a warrior among warriors, but was he a Lord among Lords? Did he possess years of pain, sorrow, joy, and control like his father? Did he contain that aged wisdom that peaked her curiosity? Could he look at her in the way that only the King had? Like a pearl, like a treasure?

But the King, ah- the King. He was an elf with power, wit, and good looks. He poured out sensuality, and yet, at the same time, was reserved enough to remain mysterious.

Could she even have these thoughts?

She felt guilty; she was but a small girl to the old king. Ah, but he didn't look so old. His handsome young looking face was framed by perfect, long, hair that seemed to be the color of the moonlight. His voice, while deep and wise, held a sense of boyish charm. The only sign to his age were his eyes, his deep eyes that made her feel lost if she didn't hold on to something.

Enelya cursed herself. What was to come of this realization?

The door opened and simply by his presence, she knew the King had come out to join her. Her gut folded over while her heart jumped to her throat. She clenched her fist, her nails biting into her palm. Good grace, had he sensed her thoughts and decided to come rebuke her?

Noting his silence, she forced herself to come across natural. Clearing her voice she forced a simple, "Good evening, my lord." She took a deep breath, letting the mountain air calm down her burning flesh. She felt a deep sense of pain cut into her chest, folding her over; why did she feel her relationship with him was plummeting?

Thranduil lost his wits for a moment, seeing her clad in her usual white attire, the moonlight shifting over her skin as she gazed over the mountain pass.

She was tense, he noted. Her shoulders unusually straighten, her fist clenched, her breathing perhaps a bit too fast. Was she still angry? Of course she was, he thought dimly. But all the while, she looked beautiful. A perfect gift from the Valar was the sight of her to him. She was simply too stunning not to touch. But he couldn't. She was to be his son's concubine. But wasn't everything in the Kingdom his? Why could he not enjoy her, she was his after all.

And so, carefully, he let his fingers find their way to her exposed shoulder, surprised at the way she stifled a gasp, apprehension clouding her eyes.

"You are upset with me?" He asked slowly, feeling unsure of himself; something that did not happen frequently.

She ignored his touch and responded dully, "You are mistaken, my lord."

His fingers traced slowly down to her elbow, drawing secret pictures as they went. He was fascinated with smooth velvety skin underneath his fingertips, soft and innocent. Enelya felt her heart beat faster. What was he doing? The rough skin of his hands provoked the most secret sensations that she had never experienced. Surely the King knew that she had not experienced a man before? At least, not with a willful heart like now.

She bit her lip at the dark thought.

She glanced at him, watching as he kept his eyes fixed on her exposed skin. She knew that look, but never had it been directed at her.

"Thranduil?" Her voice came out weak, catching his attention.

He realized exactly who it was he was feeling and the consequences and pulled back. This was Enelya, daughter of his best friend, soon to be royal concubine to his beloved son.

Ah, but this was Enelya, elf-maiden of the mountains that captured his heart with a simply laugh. The she-elf who saw him, not the crown on his head. The only elf-maiden who had the guts to be his friend rather than his admirer. And for that he desired her all the more.

The way her chest was heaving, her breast meeting the low collar in each intake of air was simply too much.

He only wanted a taste.

He put his hand on her waist, leisurely, marveling at how small and fragile she seemed. Her trembling amplified her vulnerability. This overcoming urge to keep her, protect her clouded his mind and he fumbled for a moment.

Could he be satisfied with just a taste? Would that suffice?

"Will you accept your role I have provided for you?" He asked, unsure at his own words, watching her eyes lazily finding his own. She nodded numbly. To his surprise, he felt a rise of disappointment. Where was her anger? Where was that passionate rage that he so loved on her pouted lips? Pulling her right against himself, he let his lips drift towards her exposed collarbone, exploring what wasn't meant for his questing.

"You would not fight this?" He asked tersely.

"You are unbelievable." She asked, finding her courage again. "You put me in this position and yet you expect me to rebel?" She narrowed her eyes at him, igniting a thrill in his gut. "And you have the nerve to rebuke me when I do?"

"You honor me then."

He continued his assault with a sly grin. He grazed her collarbone with soft kisses. The smell of lavender was overwhelming, putting a strain in his desire. He let his lips drift lower, grazing the tops of her exposed breast which rose with each staggered breath. "Do you wish to know why I have arranged this?"

His touch made her mind go blank. Unwilling, her hand went to his tunic, holding on as his lips pressed against her bosom.

"Done what?" She sighed, trembling.

"Made you a concubine?" Her only response was a slight moan, making him smile darkly. "I wanted the best for my son." Sobering, he straightened back up, for only a moment. Taking in the way her bottom lip was parted, her breath was heavy, her eyes lazy with lust. "You Enelya are the best. Only you could satisfy my son."

"Thranduil..." this time his name came out more as a sigh.

She couldn't believe it. She had never felt so on fire before. The King of Mirkwood was seducing her. Did he have too much wine that his actions were unguided? Her thoughts were frozen when Thranduil pulled at her lacings.

"Please," his voice dropped to a whisper, "I want to taste you."

She was shocked. This wasn't right, but she felt as though her will was melting, she didn't care if it wasn't right. Did he just intend to use her and hand her over to his son?

"I'm not for your tasting." She gritted out between her teeth, unbelievable rage sobering her lust.

He met her gaze straight on. "You were always meant for me. You are mine."

"So you are just breaking me in? Is that it my friend?"

Feeling like he was slapped he pulled back, looking over the hills for a moment to find his words. "You would think of me that low?"

"I know not what to think anymore." Came her quiet reply.

He nodded, that was fair. "Forgive me then, my Lady. I was wrong to touch you. I have disgraced you, haven't I?"

He glanced over to see her brows burrowed, a frown set deep into her lips.

"Disgraced me?" A small smile appeared, smoothing out the lines of her grimace. "I am flattered that my friend would desire me as such."

He laughed, reaching for her again. Her simple presence ruling out his judgment. "Then a taste you won't mind."

Losing her voice, she nodded numbly, not understanding what he really meant.

Satisfied, Thranduil took her lips roughly, provoking a deep moan from the maiden. She felt his hands become more demanding, pulling up her dress. This was moving too fast, but she didn't care. She just wanted him to indulge in her, take her.

"Say you are mine." He demanded into her ear. His breath was hot against her neck, making her forget herself. "Say it," he demanded again. His hand found her inner thigh. The soft touch of his fingers was driving her mad.

"I'm yours, my Lord," and the slow rhythm took her. Like a force, he took her, breaking her, rebuilding her, tearing down her walls once again. And while he carried her to that place that only he could take her, a hidden truth appeared in her mind. She loved him. And with that thought, the King of Mirkwood abruptly stopped and held her hard to himself.

The thought repeated in her again and the overwhelming sense of sorrow buried deep poured forward.

"My Lady," he growled deeply in ear, "You would dare play with fire?"

With a start, Enelya woke up, alone in her room.

A dream. It was nothing but a dream.

It took her a moment to calm her breath. The images replayed themselves violently. Never in her life had she ever thought of the King in a sexual manner. But now all she could do was desire the elf she knew as her friend and confidant.

She sighed and began praying the thoughts away. But no matter how hard she tried, the last words the King had spoken to her before she woke up kept replaying. But it felt so real, like elves dreams often are. Mixing truth and reality. How did she not notice this fondness she held for him before? Of course she was aware of his handsome looks, his perfect charm, but love him? And indeed she did love him, but not how a lover should be loved.

Pulling herself out of bed, Enelya made her way outside the small cabin, aching for the cool night air to calm her burning flesh. There under the stars she was sure to find her answers in the night. Opening the door however, she was met with the unnerving sight of Thranduil himself, gazing over the mountains, much like she had done during her dream.

Perplexed, Enelya felt her gut drop. He stood leaning against a support beam, his arms crossed, his eyes slightly unfocused. Despite , she felt concern etch at her emotions. "My friend, why are you out here?"

The King inwardly smiled at her words. Friend. So perhaps she wasn't too angry anymore? "I am ridden with guilt." He said finally, sighing as his confession sunk in.

"Nay, it is I my friend who is shamed with guilt. I have spoken harshly against the King. For that I am sorry."

"No my Lady, you have spoken harshly with your friend whom you trusted and I betrayed that trust. I deserve your anger." He glanced over at her, smiling at the way she looked unkempt. It was a rare and beautiful sight.

"You did what you thought was right. And I am sure things will work out fine."

The King frowned. He heard her doubt clearly in her voice. She did not believe a word of it. "Your pain runs deep for what I have done."

"Nay My Lord."

"I am not your Lord Enelya, Legolas is now." His voice sounded tired, disappointed. But she did not dwell on it but instead forced herself to move by his side. Thranduil cast a side-glance at the maiden. She looked unusually anxious. Reaching for her hand, he pulled it close to his chest. "I need to hear that you forgive me. I know I don't deserve it, but I need your pardon."

"It is yours, always it is yours." She smiled softly, pulling closer to him. "Let us not fight. Let us promise right now that we will never fight." He felt laughter pour through his chest. She raised an eyebrow at his response and sighed dully. "Yes, you are right. That could never happen. Even right now I want to smack you over the head." And then a sweet smile of her own appeared, smoothing out the tension between them. "I am to be your son's concubine," she said, the words sinking in.

"Aye, and you are fine with this?"

Her dream hit her abruptly, reminding her of all the hidden truths she felt. Was she fine with being what she thought was a royal whore? Was she ready to give away her dreams to be a source of sexual pleasure to one elf that could not, and was forbidden to love her? Paling, she looked at him yet could not find her voice.

The King noticed this and felt concerned. "You look ill? Is all well? Are you not fine with this?"

"All is well my Lord." She said calmly, pulling her gaze from his. "I'm not exactly happy with the planned events, but I," she breathed in deeply, "I...trust you." Indeed all was not well. He looked beautiful and her flesh acknowledged it. How could she live in his Kingdom fighting this urge every day while still managing to please his son? The tension pulled at her thighs and she decided the best thing was to return to her bed, away from the King. "I must go. I bid you good night."

"Are you upset with me?" He asked brusquely, reaching for her hand to keep her near. Blessed light, how often this maiden's moods changed.

Enelya visually jerked, making Thranduil lift a perfectly arched brow.

She slowly turned to him, finding herself in a déjà vu of her dream. "Upset, my Lord?"

The King fought his concern now, watching the way she chewed her bottom lip. "Are you sure you are alright, my child?"

My child? Enelya felt her heart fumble. Of course he thought of her as a child. Suddenly she felt great shame and foolishness. How silly of her to even have any notions. He was Thranduil, a great Lord among Middle Earth, and here she was, a young child, lusting after what wasn't hers. With an inner smirk, she hoped that Legolas was exactly like his father in looks, how could she be disappointed with that?

Still noticing his concerned stare, she smiled the best she could, "Aye, my Lord, all is well." And perhaps, it would be. "Good night."

And alas the King of Mirkwood was alone again, left to ponder what Enelya was so clearly keeping from him.

The next morning came too soon Enelya thought with great dismay. The morning filtered into the room, dull and gray. Appropriate, she thought as she remember the day's events. Today she was to rid herself of her life she so loved, and travel with the King to a place she did not know to please a prince she never met. Groaning, she pulled herself out of bed, letting the cold air assault her senses. Immediately she noticed a jar with a purple substance on the floor next to her door. She crossed the room, smiling as she realized it was perfume. A warm feeling enveloped her as she read the note sitting against it.

A useless item for someone so beautiful anyways, but the King suggested it nonetheless.

She laughed despite herself. She was thankful for the perfume, which she intended to pour into her bath as soon as she thanked her father. Entering the main room of the cabin she found both elves standing shoulder to shoulder with an expression she could not decipher.

"Good morning my daughter." Duramin said formally. Despite the polite formalities Enelya could still hear the hesitation in her father's voice. Guilt weighed her down, remembering her harsh words the night before. The King warned her about leaving on bad terms, and thus, she decided it would be best to seek forgiveness before she took her leave.

Playing along she straighten her back and nodded her head in respect. "Good morning my father," and with a small bow towards Thranduil she murmured, "my King."

Pleased, the King continued the traditional proposal one received for such a position the morning of their journey. It was a pointless tradition Enelya thought, but charming at the least.. "Today you have been selected as royal concubine to Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. This is a great honor to be bestowed. You, lady of grace and beauty, will become esteem lady of the court and reside in the great halls of Mirkwood's caves. Do you accept such an honor I have imparted upon you?"

Ignoring the slight tug at her heart, she smiled, ready to accept what the Valar had orchestrated. She would accept this fate, honor her father, and be held in high respect from her kind for doing so. "May I return the grace you have shown me with such an offer. I accept this role you have bestowed, and will do well to please your son." She looked at the ground, feeling her fate sealed with every passing word.

The King felt a great conflict rise abruptly in his chest. He was pleased, and yet he realized the great pain his friend was accepting. She was truly the most amazing creature, so unlike the other maidens in her age. Tradition always held a place in his heart, and for her to go along was such a strange blessing.

"Then I bid you to accept this gift of perfume that I offer my only daughter, royal concubine if the Prince shall have her. May it sweeten your soul, and bring peace where you find turmoil." Her father's voice seemed proud, and if anything, that made it all worth it.

The King stepped forward, holding a box that she did not notice before. It was a special box, large and heavy; made of white wood that had intricate carvings of flowers and vines. She looked at the King hesitantly, wondering what gift he had to offer in such a package. "And I bid you my friend," he held her gaze, letting his term of friend warm her, "to accept this gift of mine, royal concubine to the Prince if my son will have you."

Raising a brow she took the box, seeing the smile on her father's face. Opening it carefully, she was met with a white, simple gown, adorn with no jewels, but held a simple beauty of the ancient days. "My Lord?"

Her father stepped forward too, this time, reaching out to cup his daughter's face. "A white gown to represent the innocence you possess my love. A perfect gift for the Prince of Mirkwood."

Innocence. Did innocence have such erotic dreams? She felt a darker thought circling at the rim of her mind, but she pushed it deeper down. She felt guilty, but nodded anyway. "It is lovely, and you have my gratitude."

The King noticed the look that passed her eyes at her father's words. He was reminded by her strange behavior the night before. What did his friend keep from him? What was she hiding? "I'll have you know that this is the very gown my wife wore the day she was binded to me."

Enelya froze. What? He couldn't possibly give it to her. That was simply too much. "No, no, no. I cannot take this, my Lord, you must take it back!" She pushed the box back towards the King.

"You are not grateful?" He asked, surprised at the refusal.

She looked perplexed. Was he crazy? Did he actually expect her to accept such a gift so easily? "Not grateful? I am more grateful than I have ever been, but a gift of such value I cannot accept, surely you must understand this? This feels more appropriate for your son's bride, not a concubine."

He sighed. "All I understand is that you are indeed the most headstrong elf I know." Why was she so stubborn all the time? But despite himself, he felt proud at the way she held her own. Biting down his smile, he forced his voice to be demanding and firm. "You will accept it."

"Forgive me for I cannot." came the curt reply.

He felt a certain pride swell at the way her words were concise, firm and clear. As though she spoke with authority that both of them knew she did not possess.

"My friend," he began, slowly, unsure on what angle to take. "I would not offer it if I did not think you could match her beauty. She would have loved you dearly if she had the chance to meet you, and I am sure she would offer it as well. You were made fit for a queen." She looked down at the ground, but Thranduil place a hand under her chin, gently coaxing her to look at him, "Let's pretend, you and I, that for once you are a queen, and you are more beautiful than any star."

Slowly, Enelya smiled, her old self-coming through. "Are you saying that I am generally an ugly elf?"

"Of the most horrible kind." And with that, the two friends laughed as though no tension had ever passed between them. Her father merely shook his head, amused at their behavior. He would miss watching the two banter.

"Alright, I will accept such a gift, and I will demand you to refer to me as Queen Enelya, for a day." She placed a hand on her hip, tilting her chin in only a pompous way that she could get away with.

He lifted a brow. "Demand?" Surely she would not demand from her King?

"Do queens not demand their kings?" Duramin asked sarcastically.

Thranduil snorted. "Please, a queen is a woman after all. Do not all she-elves try to demand their husbands around?"

Enelya rolled her eyes and pointed at the bucket next to the front door. "Please, good sir, I expect my bath drawn." She pushed the jar of perfume into Thranduil's hands. And flipped her dark hair behind her shoulders.

Amused the King started to hand the jar back. "And if I refuse?"

"You will not." She said tersely. Starting to retreat back to her room.

"Pray tell my child, why is that?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I will have your head."

"It would look lovely above the fireplace dear." Duramin added absently.

The Elfking snorted. "And whom will behead me for you?"

"I will." She said as though it was common sense.

"You have some skills in this area mountain elf?"

She smirked, pausing at her door. "Lets just say I am a woman of many talents," her father laughed heartily agreeing. "Now," She straightened her back and pointed again towards the bucket, "my bath or your lovely head."

T.B.C.

hope all is well with you. thanks for your reviews.

-blurr