There will likely be some substantial time skips throughout this story, and here we come to the first one. Please drop me a review if you have the time, and as always, thanks for reading.
Chapter Three
Twenty-five years later
Elizabeth meandered down the wide walkway, smiling at the elves that bustled past on their way to the feasting halls. There was a time when she had not thought elves could bustle, her first impression of them as regal, dignified beings had not lasted long after she had attended a few of their revels in the woods. Their delight in nature, and in the whole-hearted pursuit of the innocent pleasures of music, food and wine, were all things she happily shared in and enthusiastically took part of.
Thranduil had generously given her fine lodgings after their initial meeting, turning her over to the care of his chief servant Galion, where she was informed she could occupy herself in whatever way she saw fit, the king having decreed that she could work at any job she wished to, or none at all. He simply didn't care. This she found incredibly amusing, especially the way Galion said it, as he was able to imitate the airs and graces of his liege with almost perfect accuracy.
As such, she had spent her years drifting from one interest to another. First, she had spent several years in the gardens and fields, caring for the flowers and helping to plant and harvest crops, as needed. Next, she had spent time in the kitchens, honing her baking skills and learning how to make perfect loaves of bread that even made the elves praise her fine crusts. Next, it was the healing rooms, where she learned a few useful things about herbology, but lacking all magic, she would never be able to truly become any sort of healer, so soon gave up.
After that, she attacked the libraries with gusto, by that time having mastered both the Silvan and Sindarin spoken by the wood elves, and adding the ability to read and write it in short order, devouring any and every tome on the history of the elves that she could get her hands on. Some of them were very sad or downright shocking, and had her feeling just slightly better about some of the shameful history of mankind.
In such pursuits, twenty years had soon passed her by, and she found she was increasingly bored by the wardrobe choices offered by the elven seamstresses, so began to design and sew her own things, as she used to do when she could find nothing in the shops to suit her back home. Trips to the shoe makers followed, so she could have a fine pair of heels made to accompany her feast day frocks, and they were intrigued by the stilettos she showed them, and some other sketches and drawings she made in an attempt to achieve the perfect shoes.
Stopping, she lifted her foot out in front of her and admired the red leather on the high-heeled, strappy sandals the most gifted of the shoe makers had miraculously created for her. Three inches high and beautiful enough to make her sigh in pleasure; her ankles had never looked so lovely. They were a perfect match for the gauzy, crimson gown she wore, which was layer upon layer of satin and tulle, slit shockingly high on either side to allow a range of movement, but with her dark, opaque hose she had brought from home which she had hoarded like a miser, she was still able to maintain enough modesty not to offend. Or so she hoped.
Slipping the loop of fabric off her wrist which held her train off the floor, she smoothed her dark hair back from her face a final time before opening the doors to the hall and stepping inside, smiling at the sea of golden lanterns glowing softly around the room and the elves everywhere dancing, eating, drinking and talking animatedly to each other. She moved out of the doorway and released an excited breath, finding the atmosphere contagious as she plucked a glass of wine from the serving area and winked at the brunette elf who was filling glasses for the endless waves of thirsty elves...and one thirsty woman.
Not having much of an appetite for food, she quickly finished her first glass of wine and soon acquired a second, finding one of her favorite plush chairs in a corner where she could watch the revelry unimpeded. Other than the King's dais, it was one of the better seats to be had.
"Why do I always find you hiding in the corner, Lady Elizabeth? And wearing such a brightly colored gown, you should surely be out there dancing."
Tilting her head back to confirm the voice belonged to who she thought it did, she quickly rose and curtsied, then lifted her wine in salute and took a sip. "Your Royal Highness, you honor me by your notice and kind words."
He frowned and reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "How many times must I ask you to call me Legolas?"
She smirked, unable to resist. "At least once more, my prince, as always."
He lifted a brow, a smile tugging at his mouth and she laughed. "Forgive me, Legolas, but you know I dearly love to tease you." She finished her wine and set the glass on one of the tables, turning to him expectantly.
"Do not apologize for something we both enjoy, my lady. Will you come and dance with me?"
"Certainly."
Reaching down, she quickly slipped the satin bracelet around her wrist, lifting the train of her skirt high enough off the floor to allow dancing, and showing off her newest shoes. Legolas eyed them with interest before reaching for her hand to lead her to the far side of the room.
"Is this another ensemble of your own design that you wear?"
He twirled her expertly into the sea of moving couples, leading her strongly in a dance much like the waltzes she so loved from back home. She smiled, happy there would be no worry about having her toes trodden on from a clumsy partner, as she had never before seen a clumsy elf, least of all the elegant Prince Legolas.
"Yes, I made this dress and designed the shoes to match. Do you think my fashions will ever catch on here?"
He laughed and spun her again. "I do not know, but this design you wear now is perhaps a bit risque for elves."
Elizabeth laughed in simple delight when he moved her effortlessly, enjoying the twirling dance just as much as the company. "But why? I am not showing any skin as none of the material on my legs is see-through..."
She glanced up into his amused blue eyes and he shook his head at her. "I am no expert on the clothing of females, but none of the elleth I have ever seen have worn slits up the sides of their gowns, that is all. It is possible my father may like it, however. If nothing else, he seems always entertained by your strange clothing."
"Well, that's a comfort, at least," she mused. "The approval of one king is worth more than the approval of ten thousand commoners."
Legolas laughed freely, drawing the looks of several of the nearby couples. "Why, Lady Elizabeth, how very like my father you sound."
"Where is King Thranduil, anyway?" She glanced up to the dais and immediately locked eyes with the Elvenking, who seemed to have suddenly appeared on his throne from one minute to the next. "Ah, he just materialized from thin air, as you all seem wont to do."
The prince gave her an indulgent look. "Or perhaps you are just remarkably unobservant, for I saw the king walk in and sit down."
Annoyed, she shot Legolas a flirtatious smile and fluttered her lashes. "I believe I was just too enthralled by the conversation and ethereal beauty of a certain prince to notice anything else."
"Why do you always say things you don't mean?" he asked with a sigh. "How will I ever know when to take you seriously, or should I assume all you say is a jest?"
She frowned. "Of course not. I'm not always teasing, just some of the time. And I wasn't jesting about your attractiveness or lovely personality either, even if it sounded like it," she said absently, her eyes straying back to a bored looking Thranduil, watching them.
Glancing back up at Legolas, she smiled genuinely to see him giving her a puzzled look. "You mentioned at the last feast that you wanted me to show you one of my favorite dances from my land, but are you sure you still want to learn it? It's probably very...provocative...by elven standards. I have no wish to corrupt you, dear prince."
"If you are attempting to make me blush, you will have to work much harder than that. I am overcome by curiosity to see this dance now, particularly if you deem it shocking," he murmured, leaning closer to speak his words against her ear.
She examined his face appraisingly. "You're really just a rebel at heart, aren't you? Careful with leaning too near me, Legolas, your father watches us with sharp eyes."
"Well I know it," he said with a pleased chuckle. "Since he looks so bored, perhaps we ought to give him something more to entertain." And so saying, he immediately led her from the dance floor and back out into the hallways beyond the throng and released her with a twinkle in his brilliant blue eyes. "Now, teach me this dance."
~o~
"And the final pose ends with my leg wrapped around your hip and you in a lunge, with your one hand supporting my thigh and your other arm across my back holding me flush against you..." Biting her lip, she shook her head. "Actually, now it comes to it, I think it best if we skip that part entirely. No need to be too shocking all at once."
Legolas lifted a golden brow, and that was all the warning she had before he pulled her against him and lunged, effortlessly enacting what she had just described to perfection, causing her to suck in a surprised breath at his strong grip against her thigh.
"Like so?" he asked with a smug grin.
She pushed out of his arms and straightened with a small smile. "Casanova himself would be jealous," she smirked, continuing before he could inquire as to who Casanova might be.
"But surely you are satisfied now, Legolas, and do not intend to actually dance the Tango before your father and the entire kingdom? I have managed to avoid his anger these twenty-five years, and I would not like to invite his ire now."
He frowned, his eyes searching her face intently. "Has it truly been twenty-five years already since you came to live among us?" He tilted her face from one side to the other. "Yet, I see no difference in your appearance. I thought mortals aged more dramatically, for you must now be at least...forty-five years of age?"
She smiled mysteriously as she backed away several steps. "I am just a bit older than that, my friend, although it's never considered polite to ask a lady her age. Now, I shall do the entire dance for you once, but I will not temper my movements as I have been and that way you may better judge if this is truly a wise thing or not."
Elizabeth began the steps, humming one of her favorite pieces of music to tango to, adding back in the normal snap and rolls of her hips as she moved, flipping her long hair playfully as she swayed and allowing her gaze to fill with the passionate intensity that was an inherent part of such dancing.
Straightening from the final pose, she raised her brows questioningly, noting with satisfaction that he stared at her with parted lips and wide eyes, expecting he would abandon the scheme immediately.
"It's perfect," he breathed with a delighted grin, taking her hand and tugging her back into the hall.
The elves around them had clearly partaken liberally of the wine, their laughter louder and more free than usual, and the night had taken on a more pronounced air of gaiety than before.
Stopping by the wine table to gulp down two additional goblets of liquid courage, Elizabeth followed Legolas to where the musicians played. The very strong drink was doing an excellent job of making everything soft and hazy around the edges, and she swayed her hips side to side with the music, closing her eyes and smiling.
The prince spoke quietly to several of the musicians, singing them the same tune she had hummed to herself while dancing. He smiled his approval when they quickly picked up the melody and the familiar sounds of tango music filled the hall, lending a sultry air.
Legolas extended a hand and bowed slightly, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Shall we dance, Lady Elizabeth? I believe my father is far enough into his cups now that he may even enjoy our performance, or perhaps ignore it entirely."
Slipping her hand into his, she took a fortifying breath, trying to quiet the nervous flipping in the pit of her stomach. She smiled hesitantly. "Are you really sure about this, Legolas?"
When he spun her into his arms and nodded to the musicians, she tried to ignore her trepidation and enjoy herself as they began to dance in earnest, the floor quickly clearing as none of the other elves knew the unfamiliar steps, but watched them with interest.
Keeping his eyes fixed on hers with the same intensity she had shown him when demonstrating, while they moved together to the sinuous and sensual steps of the Tango, she found herself pondering just what kinds of passion elves were capable of. Clearly, based on their histories, the kind of anger and covetousness which could lead to murder were not beyond them, making them seem a bit more...human; in that way, at least.
But what about physical desire? Did they even feel it? From what she had observed, they seemed generally friendly in their interactions with her and each other, but otherwise she found elves quite...sexless?
They were certainly different from any human courts she had moved in, where such debaucheries frequently took place as could cause a whore to blush, particularly in the courts of several of the Louis' of France. Although, many of the European courts were the same in their excesses and intrigues, some of them just hid it better than others.
Legolas dipped her unexpectedly, making her laugh and bringing an answering grin to his lips, which she suddenly found herself contemplating and wondering what it might be like to kiss him. The fine wine the King always provided for feasts coursing through her was doing away with her inhibitions, and she quite forgot herself, allowing more of her own hot-blooded tendencies to make an appearance, even going so far as to caress his cheek during one of the turns. Fortunately, it looked like just another part of the dance, and the prince did not seem to mind her familiarity.
If there were surprised gasps from any of the elves during their dance, the music managed to drown it out and Legolas finished the whole display with the full shock of the final pose, which he held Elizabeth in for several seconds before releasing her and bowing over her hand, then leading her back to the corner of the room after they both acquired fresh glasses of wine.
Elizabeth finally murmured a hasty farewell and slipped away. The weight of all the eyes on her had dimmed the pleasantness of the whole affair, and she knew that when she allowed herself to even acknowledge a thought of what it might be like to kiss the prince, she had made a grave error somewhere during the course of the evening.
~o~
Standing atop the highest walkway that allowed a mostly unobstructed view of the bright stars that the current feast was in honor of, she swirled the liquid in her goblet with a frown, unable to recall how many refills she had drunk.
"Too much wine makes fools of us all," she sighed.
"That is very true. Dorwinion is much stronger and finer than the usual fare, and you seem to have imbibed freely, judging by your very interesting...dance."
The Elvenking stood at the top of the steps behind her, looking at her with considering eyes.
"Your Majesty!" With a surprised gasp, she attempted a curtsy and nearly lost her balance close to the edge. The King reached out and yanked her against him swiftly, her wine goblet clattering onto the walkway beside her. Her hands automatically grasped handfuls of the rich robes across his chest to anchor to.
Glancing back to the sheer edge and the blackness beneath, she stared up at him with wide eyes. "How far down does that drop go?"
"Very far," he said with a slight lift of his regal brows. "You would not have survived the fall."
She breathed a laugh, nearly giddy with relief. "After all I have lived through, and the great distance I have traveled to come to this faraway place… That would have been a truly ridiculous way to end. I suppose you did not build your walkways with drunken human clumsiness in mind."
"What made you wander all the way up here?" He was staring at her with a face so still and void of all emotion that it put her in mind of some vampire tales she had read, and she wondered if his skin would feel cold and dead to the touch. Would his lips?
Shaking her head, she leaned more heavily against him, feeling a sudden wave of wine-fueled dizziness. "I came to see the stars more clearly, as seems appropriate during a feast of starlight. Why else?"
He removed one of his hands from her arms and grasped her chin, angling her face toward the celestial glow from the heavens to his satisfaction.
"There is truly nothing more beautiful than the pure light of stars." He released her chin and reached for a lock of her dark hair, letting it slip through his fingers, his expression what might almost have been called brooding. "You are rather lovely for a mortal. I suppose I am able to see why my son is drawn to you," he mused.
"Sire, I assure you that..." He placed a finger over her lips, and they parted slightly at the unexpected warmth of his touch there.
"I am aware you worry over my reaction to that dance Legolas led you in, since you refused to look at me the entire time, but you need not. My son has been amusing himself for some time by engaging in things that he thinks will shock or embarrass me. It is a kind of game he plays, trying to wring a reaction from me."
Elizabeth frowned in confusion. "That sounds like the behavior of an adolescent."
"Yes, precisely. Legolas is, in many ways, still more child than adult."
Thranduil's hand came to rest on her shoulder, with his fingers curled loosely around her throat and his thumb brushing against the fluttering pulse there. It occurred to her that she had never felt more vulnerable or like prey than she did in that moment, swallowing against a dry throat and struck by the absolute alienness of the being before her.
"But I am no child," she whispered, looking from his lips to his eyes where a flicker of something grew in intensity. A kind of madness overtook her and she wanted nothing more than to drown in the warm touch at her neck and press her lips to any part of his skin that she could reach.
He stared into her eyes with such focus that her heart began to beat faster in response, the movement of his thumb achingly slow but never ceasing against her pulse.
"No. There is nothing resembling a child in your eyes." He tilted his head slightly. "You fear me."
She shook her head, unable to break the hold of his gaze on her. "I… I do not fear you." But perhaps I fear myself while near you, she added silently. A shiver went through her at the feel of the King's body against her own. "Do elves never...kiss?"
If her eyes had not been locked so tightly onto his face, she might not have noticed the very slight lift on the one side of his mouth, indicating a subtle amusement.
"Certainly. Have you truly thought otherwise?"
Blushing, she finally managed to drop her eyes to the rich fabric covering his chest directly in front of her. "I have never once seen any elves kiss or embrace. It made me wonder."
"Elves are intensely private when it comes to intimacy. Even to kiss one's mate in the presence of others would be considered very poor form. But why this sudden interest in such things?" He frowned slightly.
"Look at me," he commanded, and she obeyed instantly, unable to deny him anything. He searched her eyes, immediately recognizing what lay there in the gray-green depths. "Ah, I see." His mouth twisted consideringly. "You desire for me to kiss you."
The way he stared at her made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her. Were humans perhaps physically revolting to elves? Was she?
"No," she blurted, then paused when she saw him lift a single, golden brow in disbelief. "That is to say, not if you find the prospect repulsive." She looked down at where she clutched his robes, forcing her hands to finally relax and release him, preparing to step away. Her hands flattened against his chest when his arm unexpectedly glided around her back, pulling her closer.
"I have never kissed a mortal," he mused quietly. "Although, I suddenly do not find the prospect entirely...unpleasant." He tilted her head back with gentle pressure from the same thumb he had been using to torment her pulse point, and slowly lowering his own head, he met her lips with his own.
She sighed in pleasure at the first brush of his warm lips, sinking deeper into his arms as the scent and the feel of his body surrounded her in a welcoming cocoon. Already, he was ravishing her mouth masterfully, the taste of wine and spice on his tongue a heady mix against her own. Her fingers stole across his shoulder and up his neck to the delicate point of his ear, which she stroked ever so gently in fascination. His ragged exhalation of breath gave her a thrill, even moreso when he jerked her tighter against him and kissed her more ardently. Had she ever dared to think elves sexless? What madness! Never had she felt such a frighteningly deep well of passion from any man.
At that moment, Elizabeth learned that an entire lifetime could be lived within the space of a single kiss from the Elvenking. There was an initial burst of joy in her heart, like an explosion that rocked and shook her, soul-deep, and different than anything she had ever experienced in all her days.
It slowly gave way to a consuming warmth, a feeling that made mere physical desire alone seem weak and pale by comparison, and she wondered if that was what elven love might feel like. She basked in it for a small eternity, her spirit spinning and twirling in and with another she knew frolicked beside her. From their dance came a newer, smaller presence, which joined and completed the circle that had somehow been lacking before.
Next, mingled with the warmth, she began to feel a sorrow at the very core of her person, a deep grief that scraped against her heart like shards of cutting glass and bludgeons against her bones. Her soul was rent forcefully apart in all directions, pulling her full of thinness and holes, the pain far and away beyond the very worst physical agony she had ever endured and she moaned against his mouth in helpless protest, shattering all the sensations flooding her when he pulled away. Breaking whatever spell had woven its way around them but still echoing with the faint ache of passion, they stared at each other in confusion and shock, both their cheeks wet with tears.
"What was that?" Her hand shook when she raised it to press against her pounding heart.
Thranduil still stared at her with his lips parted and eyes wide in either horror or shock, but she couldn't discern which. He touched his own cheek, then stared at the wetness on his fingers like he had never seen such a thing before.
Elizabeth's gaze fell to the ground in front of her, drawn immediately back into reliving the whirl of agonizing pain she had just escaped and a sob spilled from her throat and fresh tears wended down her cheeks. She pressed a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stop the sounds of her grieved weeping, but she seemed to have no control over the overpowering emotions that continued to run riot through her.
Having quickly gained control of himself, the king shook her sharply by the shoulders. "Elizabeth, look at me. Be calm and listen," he commanded, but she continued to cry brokenly with bowed head, the sounds echoing deep within him, tearing at his insides.
Quickly speaking the words of a sleeping spell, he caught her before she crumpled and turned to retrace his steps back down the meandering stairwell, the mortal woman held securely in his arms.
~o~
