Writer's Note: Someone on Tumblr messaged me and mentioned that Aragorn and Maddie in the Erynion/Maddie drabbles now share a connection. Then I found a bottle of wine and read somewhere while researching Elves and sex that beautiful hair was erotic to Elves like firm butts are to humans. So yes, a combination of those things was written on wine. I can't help it if my best ideas coincide with open bottles.

Connection

I stumbled into a seat near the throne, scooting closer as the chair scraped on the floor until I was within speaking range. Aragorn, nursing his second beer, looked totally unphased by my ungraceful attempt to approach him. Erynion didn't know it, but Legolas had plied me with Elvish wine. It wasn't Dorwinion, but that stopped mattering after the first glass.

"We have a connection now," I blithely informed the King of Gondor. The title that normally intimidated me had lost all power under the influence of this wine. "You married an Elf, and I… I'm attached to one."

Erynion and I weren't married, per say, but apparently Elvish rites didn't really requite a formal ceremony or witness. So… according to a fair number of Elves we were practically married and the garden in Mirkwood cinched it. No one had informed me of this until months later, when Erynion's brother, Ethiron, had called me his new sister-in-law. It was a good thing Erynion was fast, because I almost slapped him on principle.

(What happened later that night is a different story.)

"How has that been for you?" Aragorn asked sounding remarkably sober. I leaned on the back of the chair, which I couldn't straddle because of the formal dress but I gave it a try, and looked him dead in the eye.

"Hot."

Aragorn's expression didn't change, but I was also 95% sure he did not get that. 'Hot', as a term to describe a person's physical appearance and/or sexual ability, did not share the same slang meaning in Westron as in English. Erynion had figured it out, but Aragorn hadn't had the chance.

"It's been good," I amended thoughtfully. "I love Erynion, even if he is bad at teaching me Elvish."

This wasn't actually true; it was more that I had no tongue for the ethereal language. I never managed to sound graceful or beautiful speaking it, no matter how many times Erynion repeated himself. I'd learned the important bits though: 'hello', 'how are you', 'I'm fine', 'I love you', 'Thunor stop that'.

"And how is living among the Elves?"

"Stiff," I admitted immediately. "But they are nice. Erynion's family…" I had to pause as I thought of his brother, his only family left in Middle Earth. Ethiron had been curious, but if he'd had any concerns I'd never heard or seen any of them. Though as Erynion had proven, Elves had thousands of years to practice the art of lying and hiding things. "It is different. Usually Elf and Men couples live among humans."

"Yes," replied Aragorn with a faraway look.

Worried I was losing my chance at asking him the really vital question I was working towards, I was quick to draw him back. "But Elves aren't so different really. Just old. And connected with nature." Aragorn nodded, and I took that as encouragement. "But I do have one question… and I know you were raised by Elves."

Aragorn looked down at me from his throne, where he watched over the rest of the merrymaking in the room. He was kind of scruffy, and it must have been the wine that made me remember kissing Cliff when he hadn't shaved in a few days. Elves didn't grow facial hair, and I found I didn't miss the sensation of sandpaper on my cheek in the least.

"You know how some men are all about boobs or asses?" I asked, and Aragorn looked at me blankly. Neither of those words were Westron, but I had been steadily sipping at my wine throughout this conversation so I was long past remembering what language I was speaking. "What is with Elves and hair? My hair is very boring, but any time I style it Erynion always looks at it differently. Not leering, because Elves." This is self-explanatory to me. Elves are above leering and horniness like human men, or at least they don't show it like any boyfriend of mine ever did. But for Erynion a hairbrush in my hand was like a promise of a striptease. Of course, it took me a year into our relationship to realize that, because Elves do subtle really well.

My thoughts had gotten totally sidetracked, but thankfully Aragorn must be thinking about Arwen's own hair fetish or something (Aragorn did have nice hair, though I had always liked blonds more) because he seemed to take a long time to come up with a total non-answer. "Elves… enjoy beautifully kept hair."

"But why?"

He just shrugged, sipping from his glass. I waited him out, since I had my own glass to finish. "They are folk who appreciate beauty and cleanliness."

I knew that already, one of the reasons I was glad I ended up with an Elf. Erynion never minded stopping for a bath or standing around while I tried to decide which soap smelled the best (all Elvish soap smells fantastic, by the way). I had a feeling Elves found hair erotic, but Aragorn confirmed it.

That wasn't a very satisfying answer though, but I suppose there wasn't really a reason for why some men got restless at the sight of bare legs and why I lavished so much attention on the v-lines of Erynion's hips. At least I was perfectly happy to keep my hair soft and pretty, and bonus if he liked it. I ran my hand through it at that thought and encountered a tangle almost immediately. Typical.

"Offer to let Erynion help you with you hair sometime," Aragorn said as soon as he put the goblet down. He started to smile as I painfully dragged my fingers through my tangled hair. I pulled them free and almost regretted letting my hair grow out so much—almost. Erynion's joy at my hair was worth the pain. "You would both appreciate it."

I gulped down the last of my wine. "I'll report back General," I joked, snapping off a sloppy salute, which in retrospect must have made no sense at all to Aragorn. Gondorian salutes were totally different.

"You needn't," I think I heard Aragorn said, but I decided I'd had enough wine to tackle Éowyn's questions concerning body hair and Elves and left him to his beer.

That night I took Aragorn's advice and flopped into the seat in front of the vanity and picked up my hairbrush. Erynion had given it to me when I finally got to see what all the fuss was about the Elven home of Lothlórien. (The fuss was justified.) It was silver and decorated with carved mallorn leaves.

"Erynion," I called. The elf looked up from where he'd been lounging on the bed, lazily taking me in. "Will you brush my hair?"

Some people talked about how amazing it felt to have someone brush their hair, but somehow I'd gone my whole life without having any strong feelings towards it. At least until this moment, when Erynion's bright eyes appeared in the vanity mirror. He seemed to both relish and cherish the experience of brushing my long hair, working out the tangles patiently, and all the while shooting suggestive looks anytime our eyes met.

My hair was a like a waterfall of silk when he was done, but I didn't get more than a moment to admire it before he tumbled me to the bed. We made love as his hair hung like a silk curtain around us and he deliberately ran his fingers through mine until he was fisting it when climax washed over us both.

"Will you teach me how to do those braids you do?" I asked into his neck later, unable to move any of my lethargic limbs. My hair was probably full of tangles again, but I was sure Erynion would be happy to brush them out once more.

"Of course," he said against my cheek, and I had a feeling those lessons would be a lot more fun than the Elvish ones.