"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"

Azgalia screamed as she felt a warm mouth close on her collar bone.

"Chill, Your Grace" – she heard a female voice.

The goblin turned, her heart still in her throat and still beating at a frenetic pace. She looked up – but not by much – at a short elleth with long erythraean hair and prominent ears.

"You ... you ... know of me?" – Azgalia asked the elf, garbed and equipped as a warrior.

The she-elf nodded.

"Since you arrived at Erebor we – the Forest Guard – were given standing orders not to shoot you on sight. Same applies to your warg. And I'm Tauriel, Ma'am."

Azgalia, now with heartbeat almost normal, looked up sternly and crossed her eyes to indicate she was eying her clavicle.

"And this ... disrespect for my person?"

"Oh, that." Tauriel grinned at her, a light blush colouring her cheeks. She lowered her head bashfully and kept her eyes behind the lush curtain of almost black eyelashes while she explained:

"You have such sweet, delicious, pretty collar bones I could not resist a bite" – the elleth giggled, with a touch of nervousness in her mirth. "Will the orcess take offence?" – she finally wondered about her actions.

"We Sylvan elves are a very touchy feely folk, always touching , always petting, always grooming one another's hair, oh, that sort of thing, you get it?" – Tauriel gushed.

Azgalia wondered at how similar sylvan elf and orc customs were. Was there a connection? Personally she was reserved and did not like her personal space being invaded.

"Azgalia" – she introduced herself and the two women pecked one another on the cheek in manner of greeting and making acquaintance.

The ginger now turned to Fluffy and addressed the warg in elvish. The warg, enthralled by the sounds of Sindarin, peed over the memory of the blood of hundreds of generations of wargs spilt in wars with the elves and was rubbing her flanks against the elleth's legs, circling her, making the figure eight around her, wagging her tail like a runaway windmill and making whimpering noises. Simply pathetic ...

"What's her name?"

"Fluffy."

"So Fluffy, who's been a good girl? Who?" the elf murmured as she scratched the warg between the ears. This was pleasure overload for the simple bitch from Gundabad. She went boneless and collapsed, rolling belly up and shamelessly – as was typical of Gundabad wargs - begging for more. While she knelt and scratched Fluffy's tummy Tauriel looked up at Azgalia and said:

"No need to be shy" – alluding to her still huddled stance. "We are all girls here, the warg included" she giggled– "we've all got the same T&T."

"Tee and tee?" – the confused orcess asked.

"Tits and twat." – this time the elf definitely belly chuckled.

Azgalia felt herself warming to the long eared elf. Her earthy humour was so very much like home, not the prim and proper dwarrow who would faint if they were heard farting. She thought of her mother-in-law and snorted.

A new series of curses and grunts from the males attracted the ladies' attention.

"Nice bums on the two of them. I'd just love to fondle their arses" - the new arrival commented wistfully. And made grasping gestures with her delicate albeit strong hands.

"Maybe I'd even tug at something too, tee-hee"– the she elf giggled while hiding her mouth behind her slender fingers tipped with porraceous nails and winked at the orc lass.

"Yet I prefer the leaner meat, if you understand my meaning" – Tauriel chuckled with a twinkle in her eye.

For some time the nubile females enjoyed the view. The males were enthusiastically going at one another, their bodies slick with a mixture of sweat, blood and moisture from other sources. Their clothing was in tatters and they were now mostly clad in boots.

Unaware that they were mirroring one another, the two maidens sighed and licked their lips while gazing at flaying limbs and ... appendages.

Fili pinned Legolas to the ground and in spite of the Sinda's sinuous movements managed to keep the glistening with slick elf's body underneath him. The dwarf tried to headbutt and smash the elf's nose but the elf – pinned or not – managed to evade the mallet like forehead of the king of Erebor.

Looking at the struggling bodies Azgalia began to have interesting thoughts about herself and Fili. About her and Fili together. With Fili pining her down ... she felt heat enter her face and nethers and crossed her legs ...

"You his cow?" – the elf nudged Azgalia's ribs with her elbow.

Azgalia inhaled in indignation at the insult. She was about to swing and knock the bitch's teeth out when the elf continued, oblivious of how close she had skirted having the orc's fury unleashed on her.

"I can see it in your fea. We Sylvan elves are very clever in noticing such things. The Sindar – those rotters, innit - may look down on us but we know a lot they don't. I can see that you and that fine hammed young bull there are bonded. But it is only the ellith who are so clever."

The friendly Sylvan continued.

"We can see who is an item with whom, as well as two or three relationships into the past. The ellyn, however ..." she pursed her lips and sniggered - "the thick headed sods can barely tell if they even ARE in a relationship, let alone notice anything about anybody else. Self centred gits!" - she sniggered as she threw her hair over her shoulder.

Her disparaging comments on ellyn perceptiveness notwithstanding, the Sylvan's pupils nonetheless dilated at the sight of Legolas' strained muscles, with bluish streaks of raised veins as he attempted to break Fili's leg by bending it the other way. Or at least twist the ligaments at the knee. She crossed her legs.

The orcess wound down and exhaled. It was not an insult then, but a manner of speech. How appropriate, such rustic imagery from the unsophisticated elleth.

"Cow, eh? Brazen little tramp!" – still seething at the "c" word Azgalia asked sweetly:

"Oh, what an unusual nail colour! The zits I popped last week were almost identical in hue!"

Tauriel lifted her hand and straitened the palm and fingers, spreading the fingers out like a duck spreads its webbed feet when landing on water, and admired her porraceous nails.

"Oh, its part of field craft, you daft moo! Camouflage!" and giggled while she wriggled her finely boned fingers.

Meanwhile wallowing in the grass Legolas had released the dwarve's lower limb - the King of Erebor had gripped the Prince of Mirkwood's crotch in a "let loose or lose" hold. Now the two warriors were again uncoupled and were circling one another, panting and snarling with feral expressions at one another.

The Queen of Erebor could take it no longer. The throb of her womanly core drove her wild. She strode into the clearing, shoved Legolas – who happened to stand in her way – out of the way – not even registering the fact – as she made a beeline to hubby.

There Azgalia stood and stretched to her full height in front of him.

"Husband. You. Me. NOW!"

She grabbed his hand and yanked him towards the bushes.

"Oh, my! I'm dragging a dwarf into the bushes! I'm such a tart!" – the thought flashed through her mind and disappeared immediately, burned out by her raging desire for a fuck. She was cockstruck and she knew it.

Once the vegetation had closed behind them she roughly pushed Fili to the ground and knelt on one knee on his chest to keep him down on his back. Azgalia's foofaracha was wet beyond reason and her folds were fully unfurled flashing Fili with a fine line of fuchsia flesh as she crouched above him, taking her aim. She dutifully impaled herself. Her honeyed walls glided smoothly down the generous girth of her husband's engorged and already weeping with barely constrained anticipation willy.

"YES!" - her screech of delight could be heard from the Halls of the Elven King to the Withered Heath and from Erebor to Gundabad.

AN:

I patterned Sylvan elf behaviour on Chimpanzees.

I wish to thank the authors of various erotic scenes posted on FFN for providing me with a wealth of fortunate - or less fortunate – metaphors to rip off.

"Your Grace" was the term of address of King of England until the Welsh upstart, Tudor, demanded to be called "majesty".

Range of Azgalia broadcasting her orgasm – there IS magic in the Middle Earth, you know ...