A chapter in which Hermione says 'umm' a lot. For good reason. You'll see. ;-) Your reviews and comments are so much appreciated. Thank you. Enjoy. x

Hermione downed her glass and poured another. She let them take a few drinks but found it hard to relax. 'Right, I'd better show you where we'll be sleeping. Where you'll be sleeping! You'll!' she corrected, wide-eyed with horror at her slip. 'It's fine. I have space. Loads of it. Loads of rooms. My room's right down the end of the corridor, far, far away from you … so you won't be disturbed or anything.' But please disturb me if you want to, danced the fantasy in her head.

The elf and the dwarf were looking at her with frowns of confusion. For a moment, they turned to each other in mutual bewilderment.

'Right, so, this way. Umm …' She came to the spare room with the double bed and turned to Thranduil. 'You can stay in here. Bathroom's opposite.'

He stepped into the room and after taking a while to appraise his surroundings stood with his hands outstretched and his eyes closed.

'What's he doing?' Hermione whispered to Thorin.

'Being the self-absorbed, pretentious imbecile he always is.'

Thranduil was murmuring under his breath. 'Sanga kala, kalya sinome.'

'Do you understand what he's saying?'

'I would not waste an ounce of time or energy learning that pointless language … but –' The dwarf cleared his throat before betraying surprisingly considerable knowledge. '– I believe 'kala' has something to do with light.'

'Ah.' Hermione stepped up to the elf. 'You could just – umm -' She leaned over and flipped the switch by the door. Light flooded the room. Thranduil gave a pinched sniff to cover his embarrassment.

Thorin sneered under his breath. 'Any excuse to show off.'

'Your turn!' She virtually pushed Thorin down the corridor and took him to the smaller spare room before the two could reignite their feud. She read the immediate lack of enthusiasm in his face. He huffed dispassionately.

'Is there a problem?' she asked, arms crossed.

'He has a larger bed.' The dwarf glowered, the muscle in his jaw working fast to stem his annoyance.

'Well, I thought … you know … he's a bit, umm … longer.'

The dwarf shot her a glare. Bad choice of word perhaps. She blushed scarlet and looked at anything but him.

Thorin continued. He may be petulant, but he delivered his grievances in such a gorgeously low, earthy voice that she could listen to him complain all night. 'My needs are equal to his. I require space just as he does. I tend to be very restless in the night … especially in unfamiliar circumstances … unsettled … active.'

She made the mistake of looking at him. He was staring straight at her, that blistering expression on his face again. She swallowed hard and tore her gaze away. 'Well, sorry, this is it. It's perfectly comfortable … for one.'

There was a silence. She glanced at him again. He was still looking at her. Oh, don't do that. He could throw her onto the bed now, or the floor, or up against the wall, anywhere. If he kept staring at her like that, she may just have to throw him up against the wall. 'Umm …' she murmured again in an attempt to distract herself from her raging lust. 'I think the kettle must have boiled. Excuse me.'

Hermione hurried down the corridor. She busied herself making some pasta. Luckily, they seemed to stay in their rooms. There were plenty of gadgets to discover. Hermione heard a television being switched on and the taps in the bathroom being turned on and off several times.

She threw together the pasta, put out some salad and called as casually as she could, 'Food's ready!'

The two emerged, Thorin first. He sat himself at the head of the table without hesitation. When Thranduil appeared he cast the dwarf a look of pure superior venom before seating himself with a flourish at the opposite end, where Hermione had intended to sit.

She gave each a full bowl of pasta. Thorin said a clear thank you and immediately began to eat. Thranduil, on the other hand, picked up his fork cautiously, and with an expression of contemptuous uncertainty, twined some pasta on the end and held it up for examination. 'What do you call this curious substance?'

'Spaghetti carbonara. It's very popular here.'

'And what reason is there for that?'

She couldn't suppress her sigh. 'Because it tastes good. Perhaps if you actually tried it, you'd realise.'

Thranduil brought the fork closer to his mouth but after a slight sniff recoiled away from it in disgust.

'Eat it, elf. You dishonour the lady. She has gone out of her way to provide for us.'

After a glare at his opposite number, Thranduil started to eat some salad. Even then, it was as if every mouthful was paining him.

'Would you just prefer some bread?' Hermione asked.

He held up a hand. 'My hunger is not severe. My last meal, consisting of the good food of my people, will last me long enough.' After picking at two more pieces of rocket, he put down his fork and waited silently.

Thorin, on the other hand, was devouring his bowlful. 'Thank you, my lady. I for one recognise a good meal when I am given it, and the kindness of strangers. You have gone to much trouble to provide for us and I assure you of my gratitude.' He finished with a smug look at Thranduil. Clearly, his appreciation of food outweighed his appreciation of sleeping arrangements. Their need to score points off each other was ridiculous. She tried to draw the discussion round to getting them back.

'So ... I need to work out how to get you back to Middle Earth. It may take some time, especially as I really don't know how you got here to start with. It may help to know what was happening when you were transported here.'

'We were scouting the area, trying to find a path through a distant part of the forest,' said the dwarf. 'It was suggested we try near a river.' He glared at the elf.

Thranduil gave a terse sigh. 'No, you were scouting the area and that was your suggestion. I merely provided details of the terrain, if you recall. I was waiting while you gathered your ragged assortment of so-called associates into some sort of order.'

'You had granted us leave and promised us safe passage, but then we somehow became disoriented after following your advice. Remind me in future to listen to my own head, you two-faced deceitful liar.'

Thranduil's nostrils flared. 'You should not have come through my kingdom in the first place, dwarf fiend. You know the perils of your kind venturing into our territory. I only promised what I did to honour Mithrandir. He has shown us great forethought and kindness in the past.'

'Gandalf has indeed helped us all, so why then betray those in whom he has put his trust?' Thorin had stopped eating and was rising slowly out of his seat, the veins in his forearms livid with rage.

'You think yourself so righteous in your purpose, but you are guided only by gold lust and greed, dwarf.'

'And you care not for these things? If you had your way, there –'

At that point, Hermione stood up and threw her fist down on the table. 'Enough!' She fixed them both with a look that would freeze blood. 'I don't care who said what to whom or who is after what gold or where you were going or whose woods you walked through to get wherever it is! Right now you are in my home and at my table and you will at least pretend to get on. I've got enough on my plate trying to work out how to house you, feed you and get you back to your own land, let alone referee your infantile squabbles and bickerings. When you finish – if you deign to eat it – put your plates over there. You know where you're sleeping – good night! Honestly, call yourselves kings? You're like two children in the playground! Just grow up!'

With that, she stormed out of the kitchen and went to sit in the living room.

Late night slid into the dark silence of early morning. They didn't disturb her, and despite listening intently for sounds of discord, it became quiet. She heard doors opening and closing and footsteps in the corridor, but little else. They must have gone to bed.

Hermione sat, trying to make sense of her extraordinary day. She released a sigh. She'd wanted more, hadn't she? She knew about this kind of magic: wish fulfilment magic. She knew it worked in extreme situations with intense longing, but only to those deserving of it. Was she deserving? Surely not. She sat on the sofa and pulled her knees up, hugging them in tight. But then again it was Christmas. Perhaps this was her present. But what exactly was she supposed to get out of it? The answer was surprisingly simple. Hermione smiled to herself and rubbed her chin distractedly along her knee. Everyone deserved something special sometimes, didn't they? She pictured them both, the one dour but darkly attractive, the other stunning beyond reason, tall and enticing …

'I apologise for my conduct.'

Hermione gasped and spun her head to look behind her. Thranduil was standing in the living room, noble, elegant, inscrutable, but now, for the first time, with a look of genuine humility on his face. 'I greatly value your hospitality and kindness. Indeed, I do not know what would have befallen us if we had not happened upon you. It is a most perplexing world in which we find ourselves.'

She smiled gently. 'I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have lost my temper, but I still can't believe this has all happened. I mean you're not even –'

'What? I'm not even what?'

Real, she had meant to say. They weren't real. This was a dream, a fantasy.

'Never mind,' she said.

A fantasy, a wish come true. The manifestation of it was now walking slowly towards her. God, he really was the most gorgeous thing she'd ever seen. She hugged her legs tighter, longing for some physical relief from the ache of desire which was crippling her.

'Hermione,' he said, silken smooth. 'I am glad to be here. I am glad that you found me … or perhaps I found you. Did you not think that? That our coming together is design, not fortune?'

Coming together. Oh God, did he know what he'd just said? 'Umm …' It was all she could think at that moment.

He slowly reached down a hand to her. She looked at it, as if taking hold of it would send her careering down a path she couldn't control, but then reached up her hand and placed it in his. Thranduil closed his long fingers around hers and she felt herself rising to her feet, not pulled exactly, although that is what was happening, but floating rather.

She stood directly before him, a mere inch away, and had to crane her neck to look up into his eyes. She asked softly, 'You said something to me before.'

'What was that?'

'You said that … although you were restrained in most things, there were some needs that were harder to resist.'

Thranduil smiled, that soft, enticing smile of invitation. 'Indeed, that is so. My wife passed from me many centuries ago, and in that time I have had no wish to isolate myself from intimacy. I am a king, Hermione. My position allows freedoms other elves are not permitted.'

'I've found recently that … I've also been missing something. It's as if I'm searching for something …' She blushed and dropped her head. He brought a finger under her chin and lifted it so that she was forced to look at him again.

'Continue. Tell me, beauteous lady, tell me what you are seeking.'

'I'm not sure, but I think perhaps that's one reason you're here. I think perhaps you're here for me, because … I want you to be.'

'You want me?'

She nodded.

'In that case … you have found what you seek.' He bent his head and kissed her. It was the warmest, softest kiss she had ever had, yet there was something inherently present about it, something that seemed to ground her, to bind her to him. She coiled her arms about his neck, feeling his hair running like gossamer through her fingers, and pulled him in harder. He responded. If his lips were soft and warm, they were still incredibly determined. His hands moved from cupping her face to sliding around the back of her head, and he held her firm, inescapably.

Despite the sense of assurance, it was also a kiss of complete abandon, open mouthed and deep. After making her dizzy with desire, he broke away to kiss down her neck and she felt her clothes being loosened. 'Is this right?' she murmured. 'Is it alright to do this?'

'Right? Does it not feel right?'

'Uh huh,' she slurred. 'So right.' She pulled him back for another kiss. He had already managed to draw off her shirt and was now pushing down her jeans.

'There is your answer. If two people are free and they desire … then they should do.'

'But I'm not an elf.'

'And I am not in my world. The rules of the universe are bending to suit us. I was brought here for a purpose, Hermione. You are that purpose. This is our purpose. Now … give yourself to me.'

Why hadn't anyone said that to her before? It bloody worked!

Thranduil set about removing every item of her clothing. He was singularly focused, and she stood there quite still and silent as if a hallowed atmosphere had descended. When he had finished, he stood back and studied her. 'Such beauty, remarkable in one not of my race.'

She forgave him his arrogant observation. She was enjoying his attentions too much, and when he reached for the hooks on his own clothes, she forgot all about it. Hermione watched, her breathing shallow, as he shrugged off his robes, which fell into a shimmering pool at his feet. Soon he stood before her in only the tightest breeches, his torso completely naked.

Bloody hell, could such a perfect body exist? For someone with such elegance, she had never seen such masculine perfection. His muscles were smooth, rippled and defined. He stood tall for a moment, as if giving her time to appreciate what was before her, then pushed down the breeches and revealed … the rest.

Hermione swallowed. Any doubts she may have had as to whether elves had all the same bits as men were banished, exiled and trampled into oblivion. Oh. Yes.

She was gawping now, but there really was nothing she could do about it.

'You see me at my most defenceless.' Defenceless!? With that lethal weapon? 'I open all I am to you, my lady. Do I have your approval to continue?'

'Umm …' Come on, Hermione, re-engage brain. 'Umm …' She just nodded. He kissed her as if he'd never kissed another before. In the midst of the kiss she found herself guided back to lie on the sofa. He kissed along her neck, down and down, pliant kisses which seemed to leave little marks of fiery pleasure. His right hand found its way almost secretly between her legs. She'd been wet since they'd carried her to Buckingham Palace, she must be soaking now. When one of his fingers parted her outer lips and glided over her nub, she gasped with the sheer sudden pleasure of it.

Thranduil broke away from his kisses to give her a curious look, almost as if taken by surprise. But he soon lowered his head again and took a nipple in his mouth. He sucked and nipped, drawing pure sensation from it which coupled with the swelling pleasure he was coaxing out with his fingers.

She moaned, an unsuppressed moan of pure gorgeousness. God, this man – elf! – knew what he was doing.

Then he put a hand over her mouth. Hard.

It surprised her, but she wasn't about to complain. She couldn't pretend she didn't like a bit of domination. And he was a king, after all. If that was the way he wanted to do things, she'd get used to it. She moaned against his palm and got a firmer hold in return. He seemed to go at her more fervently. Two fingers pressed hard up inside her, finding her g-spot and tapping away until she nearly came. He still tugged and nuzzled her nipples, adding his teeth for the most delicious pangs.

When his fingers slipped out and returned to her clit, she was hurled past the point of return. She was there, falling, pleasure rushing through her headlong. Her limbs shook and her toes curled with the force of her orgasm. She tried to cry it out but any sound was caught in the hand still clamped hard over her lips. Only when every ounce of pleasure had left her did he release his grip on her mouth. She panted hard, but before she had time to thank him or speak, he had pushed her legs apart and was inside her.

Hermione's eyes widened in sheer surprise. He was long and had entered her with no forewarning, but she was full, and that sense of grounding returned, as if there was no other way of being. She reached up and clasped him to her. His skin was so smooth it was almost silken. Thranduil kissed her again, all the while moving sublimely inside her. She gripped his back, adoring the feel of his muscles as they flexed under her fingers. He inhaled deeply through his nose with each thrust but kept his mouth clamped tightly shut. The intensity of his concentration turned her on so much she felt another orgasm fast approaching.

'Oh God,' she moaned. His eyes opened and he pushed up to look at her again. He must be nearly there too. He lay down and continued moving, but his hand rose to her mouth again. Before he could cover it she caught a finger in her mouth and sucked, twirling her tongue on it. He moved harder.

Merlin, she'd come again! Hermione bucked up to draw him further in and whined, groaning out her need for more. Thranduil lifted himself off and stopped moving. He was staring down at her in confusion bordering indignation.

She looked up, bewildered. 'What is it?'

'Are you in pain?'

She almost laughed aloud. 'No.'

'Am I hurting you?'

'What? You're incredible. You're making me feel incredible. Please, please don't stop. Just … move in me again. Oh God, please move.' She bucked along him, urging him to move. Another moan emerged with her frustration.

'Then why do you make these noises?'

'What?'

'These strange noises – moans and wails. They are sounds of pain.'

'No, they're not. They're sounds of pleasure, of abandon. I don't even know I'm doing it.'

'You must not.'

'What?'

'When we lie together, we are silent.'

'When who lies together?'

'My people. The sanctity of the moment must not be broken by noise.'

Hermione could barely believe what she was hearing, but right now her need to finish overrode all else. 'Thranduil … I … please … please don't stop … Don't you want to carry on?'

'Of course. You fit me like no other, and you give me extraordinary pleasure, but this is strange for me, perplexing. Will you be silent?'

'I …' She really wasn't sure she could. 'I'll try.'

He kissed her again, and he kissed her so incredibly well that right then she'd do anything for him. Thankfully, he started to move again. He was holding her head in his hand and his thumb was close enough to take in her mouth. She concentrated all her oral energy into that to prevent any illicit moans, sucking so hard it must have hurt him. He seemed to like it. His brows furrowed in that look she recognised as the approach of ecstasy. He may be silent but he communicated his pleasure in other ways.

Despite their silence, his skill had brought her swiftly to the brink of another climax, and with only a few more thrusts she came again, stupendously, pleasure juddering through her harder than ever. She was still gripping his back. When she felt him tense and the faintest shudder ripple through him, she knew he'd come.

He lay on top of her afterwards, his breathing fast but still remarkably quiet. She stroked his back and felt him deep and hard within her.

'Am I allowed to say thank you?' she asked gently.

He lifted his head and smiled. 'Yes. When a coupling is completed, you may say anything you wish.'

'You're a wonderful lover.'

'As are you.'

'But … is that always the way?'

'What?'

'Silence.'

'Yes.'

'But don't you find it hard?'

'We are accustomed to it. I have, after all, had many thousands of years to accustom myself to it.'

'Did you really not like it when I moaned?'

'It surprised me. It confused me. I thought I was hurting you.'

She pushed herself up and smirked. 'Oh, believe me, you were definitely not hurting me. Thranduil, I'm not sure I can be quiet every time. You make me feel too good.'

'But it is my way.'

'But it's not my way. And sometimes, my Lord,' she teased, 'it's good to try new things. Like you said, it may be beneficial to have a woman of experience.'

He contemplated her for a time then softly returned her smile.

'Now, we can't stay here all night. Your bed or mine?' she asked.

Thranduil kissed her once more and murmured against her lips, 'I believe I can remember the way to mine.' With that, he stood and lifted her up. For the second time that night, she found herself being carried in the arms of the Elven King. As he bore her into the bedroom she glanced down the corridor. The door of the Dwarf King was firmly shut.

Umm ... next ...? x