We'll after a bit we're back. Sorry for the inconvenience and please enjoy the new chapter.
Fae woke in the middle of the night, a gasp coming from her throat as she moved. Not only did her head hurt, but her lower regions did as well. Frowning, she pulled back the covers, and there on the sheets was evidence that she was no longer a virgin, and her marriage was official. She felt sick to her stomach for a moment, but swallowed, collecting herself. Then she noticed that Thranduil was not in the bed with her.
It took a moment for her to notice the sound of water coming from the other side of the room. Sliding from the bed, she plucked a silk robe from a small couch in the corner and wrapped it around herself, padding silently on bare feet towards the noise. She stopped there in the doorway for a moment, watching Thranduil as he sat peacefully, steam rising from the water around him. He was truly beautiful, and she had just opened her mouth to speak when she saw them. She couldn't hold back the gasp that left her mouth.
Scars, a shock of scars down the left side of his face, and as he turned quickly, she realized that his left eye was completely useless. His glamor was back up an instant later, but what had been seen, could not be unseen. They stared at each other for an immeasurable amount of time, searching each other's eyes.
"How?" was the only thing she could think to ask. A little smirk played across his features, and he settled back down in the hot pool.
"Dragon. During the Battle of Dagorlad." He said simply, as if it didn't matter. But her heart ached for him. How could he have survived? He looked at her suddenly, any softness, tenderness, or vulnerability he'd shown was gone, all traces. He actually sneered at her.
"Now you know the truth of why my first wife is not present in my life." The smile he wore was cold, and she gave an involuntary shiver. "Will you too go running for the shores of Aman? Or to your little mortal, perhaps?"
Anger took over, and she glared at him, realizing that obviously, Iythrinel had told him about Bard. She should have known, but could not find it in her to be angry at Nel for it. She sighed, and after bringing her temper under control, she looked at him with the straightest face she could muster, "You cannot help that you have scars. I will not run because of that. If I were to run, it would be the fault of your personality. Highness."
He lifted a brow at that, and she was satisfied. So she let the robe fall from her shoulders and settled into the water on the side opposite him, letting the hot sooth her soreness away. They stared at each other for a while, not speaking, and it was only about an hour before dawn before they spoke again. She rose from the water, completely adoring the idea of drying off and going back to bed, when he spoke up.
"You will not be seeing him again, Faeilân."
She stopped, then turned to look at him over her shoulder, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
"What?"
"You know of whom I speak. I must admit I was surprised to find you still a virgin after what Iythrinel told me. How long have you been seeing him?"
Fae stared at him with wide eyes, her breathing labored. Thranduil was her husband, yes, but Bard…. She wasn't sure she could go without seeing his smile again. She steeled herself, lifting her chin.
"He is a friend, nothing more. And we became so on the first night I arrived." And it was the truth, she had no reason to hide it from him. It would be poor choice to kill the man you were sent to save. But she couldn't make any promises if he thought he could strike her and get away with it. As from his eyes she got the feeling he wanted to.
"You will not see him again." And he sank back in the water, letting his head rest against the edge.
"Why do you even care!?" her temper, the one she'd been holding back all this time, finally released, and she let loose a torrent of hostility towards him, "You have everything. Literally, everything. I have given you, everything. My hand, though neither of us wanted it, my virginity, and one day I will even give you a child! I have been here a year, and have not asked anything of you. This one thing I want, and you would take it from me? What more could you possibly want? You don't know me, or love me. These rings mean nothing without our hearts! So why, do you care, what I do?"
By the end of it, she was winded, and tears were in her eyes again. She took deep breathes, in through her nose, out through her mouth, and didn't look away from the cold glare he gave her. As was the entirety of their relationship, they stared. And then he shrugged.
"You are right. It does not matter. Keep seeing your mortal then. What is a few years? Lay with him, give him a child even. What is fifty years to an elf? I would assume he has already lived half of that. They will all die eventually. And then you will be left with me."
Apparently, the horror on her face was obvious, as he gave a little nod of his head and dismissed her by closing his eyes and laying his head back against the edge of the pool again. Her heart was in her throat as she turned and left, wrapping the robe around her again and fleeing towards the rooms she'd been in since her arrival.
As she burst through the doors, Ainur shot alertly to his feet, looking around wildly though his eyes were clouded with sleep.
What? What's happened? he asked, sniffing at her, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. Has he hurt you? I'll-
"No." she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her head over his. He nuzzled her, confusion prominent in his mind.
Tell me, Faeilân. What has happened?
His voice had always comforted her, and it helped to settle the tears that poured down her face. She told him, or rather, showed him, the conversation from the bath. His mind glowed red, hot with anger, and he probably would have killed Thranduil in that moment had Fae's arms not been locked so securely around his neck.
Easy, little one. I will take you to the mortal.
Iythrinel was just walking down the halls when Ainur sped past her, Fae on his back and she could hear the woman's slight whimpers. Confused, she did not try to follow, knowing she would never catch up.
"What has he done?" She asked herself, now speeding towards Thranduil's room. Once at the door she barged in, her eyes first landing on the messy sheets, then on the open door of the bath room.
"Thran." She said as she walked towards it and was met by the man with a cold look on his face, a robe tied securely around him.
"What is it Iythrinel?" He asked, voice devoid of all emotion. She flinched back but kept eye contact, refusing to back down from him.
"What have you done to Fae?"
He sneered as he pushed past her. "Nothing has been done to the woman, I simply told her to go and run off to that mortal you told me about."
Iythrinel stiffened and rounded on Thranduil, she was truly mad at him now, "Thranduil, I have known you for nearly our entire lives, tell me, did you question her innocence? Did you ridicule her because of that man? After she gave herself to you?"
He did not turn to her, "It is none of your business, now leave, but after you take care of that mess." he gestured to the bed.
"I will not, I am going to go and find her, good day." she said coldly and left the room, with a whistle Mistamor was at her side. "Come on girl, we must find our friends."
Breaking through the foliage on her way to the river, Nel quickly halted Mistamor's movements. "Orcs?" she breathed out, she would know that vile smell anywhere. Sliding off the large panther she stalked forward and parted a bush, there in a clearing was a group of around ten orcs, and what captured her heart in ice cold dread was the sight of an elven child. He lay crying in the middle of the group as they jeered and pushed at him.
"Mistamor, I will distract the orcs, you grab the child and take him to cover." Mistamor nudged against her and she stood knocking an arrow and shot it through an orcs hand that she deemed far too close to the child as she burst through the foliage, "Keep your vile hands away from the child scum." she said and quickly as the orcs turned to her Mistamor leaped in and snatched the fearful child up and away.
The orcs, shocked at first, laughed and brought out their weapons, "A wee lil elf, who does she think she is boys? We shall have fun with her, break her and eat her I say!" And with that the 10 all pounced on her. The first few she easily defeated, and she would have just as easily defeated the others but a roar bellowed and quickly she saw the child attempt to enter the fray. Her eyes widened.
"I can help!" He claimed but he did not see a black blade about to pierce through him.
"No!" She lunged and grabbed the child, hissing as the blade pierced her from behind, through her. Quickly and with such fury she spun, blade still inside of her and beheaded the beast. Her eyes were on fire.
"You will not harm a hair on this child's head!" And like a furious beast along with Mistamor she tore the orcs to shreds. Finally, she stumbled, nearly falling but Mistamor quickly caught her on her back, shifting she pulled herself on and turned to the child holding out a hand. "Come we must get you home." He fearfully got on with her avoiding the blade still embedded in her and felt her slouch.
"Miss?" He asked, but received no response. A sudden voice entering his mind scared him.
'Hold onto her, do not let her fall!' He did as he was told and The giant panther sped through the woods.
The guards scrambled when a great panther landed before them snarling.
"Is that not Lady Iythrinel's companion?" One guard asked. They paused at a whimper and saw that on the great beast was Iythrinel shrouded over a child. "She has a sword through her! Hurry summon the healers!"
The child tumbled off, sobbing, and with him fell Iythrinel, though Mistamor covered her body with her own, growling at any who got near.
"Move aside!" The guards parted and Legolas came forward, "Nel?" he whispered, and tried to go forward, but even he was denied by Mistamor. Draining of nearly all color as he saw a steady pool of blood start to grow he turned, "Send word to Father!"
The guard shook his head, "We already have Prince Legolas."
Mistamor looked around but could not sense Fae, she would only trust Nel to her. 'Ainur! You must bring Lady Faeilân back, Iythrinel has suffered a grave injury!'
Bard growled as the pounding on his door continued. "Go away!" he'd said it over and over, but still it continued. So finally, he got up, complaining the entire way. "This better be- Fae?" he stood there in a stupor, staring at the tear streaked face of Faeilân with sleep clogged eyes, squinting against the early morning light. Ainur was next to her, looking at him with sad eyes.
"B-Bard? I'm sorry it's so early...I ju-"
Without asking, he wrapped his arms around her and brought her to his chest, laying his head over her own as a torrent of fresh tears rocked her frame. Cradling her, he brought her inside, letting Ainur pass first before he kicked the door closed, sitting at his small kitchen table, rocking Fae in his lap.
"Shh, shh now, darlin'. Tell me what's wrong." he cooed and coaxed her, and she felt like a child, even more so by the fact that she couldn't stop crying, nor could she understand the relief she felt at being able to feel Bard, well and alive, against her. Thranduil, in his cruelty, had made a valid point. She looked up into Bard's handsome face with watery eyes, and she couldn't hold back. She started from the beginning, the very...beginning. Everything poured from her mouth, the truth of her marriage, why she'd been sent, who had sent her. She didn't know if he believed her or not, she couldn't tell by the strangely stoic face he was wearing.
"And then he said that you would die so my love for you didn't matter and that after you and your children were gone all I would have left is him and I couldn't bear it I had to come see you before I could never again…." she trailed off, the sentence rushed and all strung together, and she was breathing heavily by the end of it, ready for another round of tears. And still he stared.
"Bard. Would you say something? Please.."
"You love me?"
She wanted to punch him. Out of all that, that was what he'd gotten? But her eyes softened, and her hand reached to caress his face.
"You are all I think about. All through the day, in my dreams it is your face I see. I do love you, and your children. But I cannot deny that the elvenking made a very valid point. I am immortal, and you will die. And when you're gone, Sigrid, Bain, and then Tilda…." she trailed off again as her lip trembled and fresh tears dripped down her face, and a deep sob shook her shoulders again. Bard cupped her face with both of his hands.
"Oh, no, no. Shhh, sweetheart." his voice whispered against her lips, and then he was kissing her. His hands framed her face, and her fingers went into his hair. He kissed her until she felt faint, and then he kissed her some more. He kissed her until she was panting and breathless and wanting. He stared into her eyes fiercely, and then a slow smile turned up his lips. "So it was your first time last night, then?"
She nodded, because she couldn't speak yet. A little grin spread across his face. "And did he render you speechless?" he asked, and again she shook her head. Her fingers were still in his hair. She loved his hair, brown and streaked with the greys of wisdom, the greys of age, of experience. He leaned forward, and his lips brushed over hers, barely touching, but she felt it all the way to her center.
"And you are a daughter of the Valar?" His nose nudged at her neck, and she bit her lip.
"Yes.." Was her breathy answer.
"And did he take his time with you? Did he make you call out his name?"
He was torturing her, her breathing ragged, and she tugged at his hair as his lips trailed path of fire down her neck. She found herself sitting astride him, her body pressed firmly into his as his lips' blazing trail lit the rest of her aflame. She felt his arousal pressing insistently against her core, and she knew she wanted him, right there, in that chair.
Fae let out a shriek and fell when a loud sound shocked her, and Bard stood quickly, hauling her up off the floor even as he made a grab for his bow. But it was Ainur, bursting from Bain's room and into the main room.
My lady, we must make haste! he roared, and this time Bard heard the voice, not just the growls. His eyes grew wide and he looked at Faeilân.
"I can hear…"
"Yes, I allowed it after I told you the truth."
There is no time for this. Lady Iythrinel has been mortally wounded! he shouted at them, pacing along the ground as if caged, snarling and hissing. Her breath caught in her throat and Bard grabbed her up, acting quickly.
"Go, I would follow but I am sure your king would have my head." it was half joke, half serious. Thranduil's personal guard was probably dying and it was not the time for the elvenking to meet his wife's significant other. Bard shuddered at the very idea.
He opened the door, looking about before he stepped back, Faeilân already climbing atop Ainur's back. He looked at her with dark eyes, sadness lurking there.
"Be safe, be swift. I pray for her recovery." he dipped his head to her, and she gave him a sweet kiss before Ainur burst from the doorway, eating up the ground in haste.
We are on our way, Mistamor. Do not let her slip into the fade!