The Ears of the Elves
By Asso
Chapter Twenty-five
A few secrets of the robe yet.
Definitely not trivial secrets.
The Ears of the Elves
Chapter Twenty-five
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The Princess woke up slowly. Slowly her eyes fluttered open.
For a little while, she stood suspended between sleep and wakefulness, while her eyes tried to focus on the strange environment - unusual, but, somehow, to her already known - that surrounded her, just as her brain was attempting to do with the glimpses of what seemed strange memories, confused and... pleasant, with the freakish sensations, the... emotions... that, with a sort of lazy pleasure, were stirring inside her, seeking to acquire concreteness and substance, just as she was sleepily doing, trying to gain consciousness, in the bed where she had found herself lying and that she dimly knew she had to know already, just like the setting where she stood.
Then her eyes - and her mind, too - put in sharp focus the environment. And, together, her mind put in sharp focus the bed. And those memories. Those sensations. Those emotions.
Peremptorily and forcefully, they swarmed into her, crowded all together into her mind.
Vivid and powerful.
And permeated with gladness and appeasement.
That she had never felt before.
The Princess moved her hand under the blanket that covered her.
Her hand could touch him.
He was there. Next to her. Huge and powerful.
Real.
Close to her.
She turned her head to look at him.
There he was.
Supine.
By her side.
His head lay on the pillow.
His blond, wild mane was spread, in disorder, on it.
His face was tranquil.
His face of a monster.
Of... a monster.
Yes.
Of a monster.
As much as... as much as subtly, arcanely sweet that monstrous face could appear at that moment.
As much as subtly, arcanely soft the eyelid, shut on the only eye of him, could appear at that moment.
That eye.
That she knew it was so blue. So beautiful.
That, as hesitantly, started to open up.
Revealing little by little its gentle, blue radiance.
The Princess slowly turned a little on her hip, on the bed. She lifted cautiously her head to look at that eye that was waking up.
The leonine head turned slowly on the pillow in turn, toward her.
The blue eye watched her.
The head of the Princess fell back on the pillow, while her gaze, bewildered and astonished, got lost into the glittering blue of that eye which was staring at her.
With no trace of mockery.
That eye.
So warm.
Like… his arms.
His arms!
She… she had not been inert flesh in his arms.
She…
She had been throbbing, living flesh in his arms.
The blue of that eye enwrapped her.
She felt his hand from under the blanket take... delicately... the hand of her that was touching him.
His hand!
She had responded to the touch of his hand.
She had responded, quivering, to anything he had done to her.
She…
The leonine head got up from the pillow.
The blue eye peered at her.
…she had palpitated, shuddering with pleasure in his possession.
His hand squeezed, softly, hers.
She… she had…
The Princess, without thinking, without even being aware of it, gently squeezed in turn his hand.
The leonine mouth seemed to want to talk, to want to say something.
But said nothing, instead.
While the blue eye continued to stare at her.
While she unconsciously continued to reciprocate the soft hold of his hand.
While the joyful wonder of what had happened enveloped her with a warmth that she would never have imagined could exist.
The wonder… of what she had done
Of what she had… given him.
… She had given him no ifs and buts, with her whole self and without struggle, all he had wanted from her.
And… even more.
She had given him herself.
T'Pol stopped reading.
She watched Trip with eyes that looked to shine with the light of the stars.
Trip watched her in turn, with eyes so bright that they seemed to want to compete with hers.
He held her close to him.
"Do not stop, T'Pol. Read on."
The hand of him disentangled itself from hers... gently.
Gently, he pulled away from her and turned around.
Gently, slowly, he pulled down the blanket, got out of bed and stood up, turning to the bed.
He stayed like that, naked, in front of her.
His blue eye, soft, on her.
And soft sounded his voice.
"You have murmured to me not to stop, Princess."
That said, he stood watching her for a brief moment and then leaned down and, gently, pulled up the blanket to cover her. He straightened up again, then he bent a little forwards again. He leaned with his hands on the edge of the bed.
His eye had never stopped staring at her nor it ceased to do it, as - while the Princess' brain, her eyes fixed on his, was still floundering confusedly in the vain attempt to find a reply, a rejoinder, a remark of any kind, to the quiet affirmation of him - he talked again, quietly and softly again.
"You have wanted me to go on."
And, at this point, the Princess looked down. And blushed. Visibly.
And how would she not do it?
It was like that. He was telling the truth. She had murmured to him not to stop. She had whispered it to him with passion, in his arms. Even before he could think to stop, if ever he could think to do so. She had done it at… at the very moment in which her… state… had become manifest.
She had asked him, with eyes closed with desire, to pick up what no one else had ever picked up before.
She has asked him to take from her even more, much more than all he wanted from her.
She had asked him to gather from her secret garden the flower that had never been gathered before.
She... the Princess, closed her eyes, overwhelmed ...she had not yielded to his strength, to his prevarication.
There had been no need.
She had donated him herself... spontaneously.
She had wanted - She! From the depths of herself! - the Nameless One to be the first man of her life.
T'Pol could not keep reading.
She felt Trip's gaze wrap her like a warm mantle.
Felt his unspoken assertion.
His tacit, sweet wonder.
She turned her look toward him.
She nodded.
"Yes Adun. It's so. Even the Princess, as I have done with you, has given her whole self to the one who has taken her heart. It was necessary the petty blackmail of the Nameless One to lead her to do it, but she did. She has wanted him to take what only he could take."
Trip almost stammered. "As you did... as you did with me."
T'Pol nodded again. She leaned her face on his chest. She shut her eyes. Her voice was a dream whisper. "Yes, Trip. Now I know. Before, no. Prior to being brought to understand by you. But now I know. Now I understand everything. For real. I know now, I understand, like you, that it could not be otherwise. Because I'm the Princess and you are the Nameless One."
T'Pol felt Trip nod his head. She heard his voice. Solemn.
"The road, though, is still long. I feel it, honey, without need for you to tell me. But the first step is done. The way of salvation is open for the Nameless One. The Princess has made him savour the taste of happiness." His gaze dropped to T'Pol. "As you did with me, T'Pol."
T'Pol looked at him in turn, warmly, but with a glimmer of sadness and regret in her deep, dark eyes. "It is true. But it is also true what you feel, Adun. The road is still long. She, the Princess, as it was for me, is not ready yet. She can not yet admit the truth. And… and there will be suffering for both, as it was for us, because, as I did, she will deny the evidence."
Trip's gaze became sure. It got loaded with true strength, that quiet and reliable force that had always fascinated T'Pol, that others understood that existed, but that only she really knew.
"But she will do it, T'Pol. As you have done. And she will save the Nameless One from himself. From his destructive resentment towards the world that has taken away his humanity. As you have done with me. As you saved me from my destructive grudge against the world that had brutally taken away my sister from me. "
T'Pol clung tight to Trip. "Yes, Trip. She will do it." Her voice got very low, seemed to exude a pensive wonder. "And the result will be… will be mind-blowing!"
A certain amount of surprise tried to peep into Trip's eyes, but he managed to push it back.
Mind-blowing? Well, not bad! Not a trivial adjective, for a Vulcan. Not at all. It was an adjective that, in its exuberance, not exactly matching the proclaimed vulcan sense of measure, spoke volumes.
Trip understood that T'Pol was talking about the reason of her bewilderment, the bewilderment, that is, she had shown at the beginning of that... well, yes... of that mind-blowing night.
But, again, he did not want to investigate.
By now it was clear to him. T'Pol needed for him to come to discover the reason by himself, uniting himself to her in her bewilderment. Substantially, she needed what she needed always, that is to say his sharing her emotions, making them his own, because this was the only way she had in order to face and control them. And to enjoy them, too.
And in a sense she was doing it already. She was - Unconsciously? Mh... - keeping him on tenterhooks, she wanted to load him with her own bewilderment, by making him portend the weight of its cause without telling him openly.
She was unloading on him her emotion, so that he could take charge of it freeing her from its weight.
Easy, eh, his life with T'Pol? Well, in any case, it was worth it. It was... it was, yes... it was even gratifying to know he was her... do we want to say it all?... her exhaust valve for her overloaded batteries. It was a pleasure and an honour, this, that he alone could have. Tiring? Sure, bone-crushing, it could be said! But, guys! How much love from her - after so much, futile shilly-shallying - in exchange for this! For a love as great as the one she now showed for him, for giving her the opportunity of expressing, of manifesting such a love, the price he had to pay was a real pittance! Indeed, in truth, an absolute nothing!
Therefore he, once again, made no comment.
Simply he nodded, quietly.
Then he smiled, with warmth, and, finally, after a few instants, he laughed softly, an amused expression on his face, as if he was having fun for some secret thought.
Obviously such an expression didn't certainly go unnoticed to the eyes of T'Pol, who raised an eyebrow questioningly. She knew very well her chicken, by now, and when the above mentioned chicken put on that sort of expression…
Trip, of course, noticed immediately T'Pol's raised eyebrow as well as her quizzical look.
He chuckled softly again.
"Oh excuse me, darling. You wonder what the hell I may find amusing in all this. It's the road, honey, the length of the road still to be done by the Princess and the Nameless One."
T'Pol did not even blink, but her eyebrow rose imperceptibly a little more.
"Sweetie, how could the road ahead not be still very long, if it is true as it is true that you are the Princess?"
T'Pol's eyebrow went up a little more yet, rather suspicious. "I find it difficult to grasp the nexus, my ..." The tone was not exactly affectionate. Indeed, definitely distrustful. "...Lord."
"Well, you see darling, do you remember how long it took for you to admit to yourself what you felt for me? Okay, so then, if the Princess also has only one ounce of your stubbornness..."
Trip stopped abruptly.
Oh shit! Had he gone mad? Okay being sincere, but talking like that to T'Pol was like stroking a cat backward. And her nails knew how to scratch well more than the claws of a wild cat!
Trip desperately tried to remedy in some way and, naturally, he made a disaster.
"Stubbornness? Who spoke of stubbornness? I expressed myself badly! I meant... I meant wariness, here!"
"Wariness?"
"But… but not in the sense of diffidence, in the sense of... of logical caution!"
"Logical caution? Would you mean, my Lord, that it has been logical that I showed caution in accepting my feelings for you?"
"Well… in… in a sense…"
"And that's what I did? I've shown logical caution in resisting my feelings for you?"
"Oh... here…"
"Did I do or didn't I, my Lord?"
Well, it is well known. It is not easy to tell lies in certain circumstances, even if you have the best reasons in the world to say lies and even if you are motivated by noble intentions. Mh, maybe even not exactly noble. It's not at all easy, especially if you are in confusion and under pressure. The truth can come out straight from your heart... inopportunely.
"You didn't! What you showed was a damn stubbornness, damnit!"
A disaster, nothing to say.
"Oh... ah... uh… ih… eh… ah… I mean..."
"What do you mean, my Husband and Lord?"
"I mean... oh damn!... okay, you've been damn stubborn, holy shit! But… but you... you had surely your good reasons, here! As the Princess! Sure! You can not... you can not say that she has no good reasons to hesitate to admit to herself her feelings for the Nameless One. It's not that he's exactly a rosebud!"
"Ah, I understand, my Lord. I've been stubborn, you say, but I had my good reasons to be so. Just as the Princess. But in this case, my Lord, the fact that, as it happened to her for the Nameless One, it took me so long to admit my feelings for you, does it mean that, as for the Nameless One, it's not precisely proper to define you as a rosebud?"
A very short break, then T'Pol finished in great style, with a very soft tone. Extremely soft. Too much soft.
"My Lord?"
Trip's jaw went slack, then, after a moment, swung shut.
Now, on his face there was the most dismayed of expressions.
"I am not a rosebud, T'Pol. I am a fool."
Well, can you believe? The broadest of smiles blossomed at this point on T'Pol's lips.
"My adorable and adored fool, you mean, don't you, my Husband and Lord?"
And so Trip found himself to have some problem again with his mandibular articulation. However he recovered promptly and, not hard to believe, he didn't take it bad at all.
Guys! What a knockout of a girl, his T'Pol! A veritable knockout! A bombshell! In all senses! Both in the coachwork and in the central command unit!
And how could it ever be possible not to externalize this to her blatantly?
For Trip, of course, being him Trip, it did not take more than a millisecond.
"That's my girl!"
Surely not precisely a whispered exclamation.
And, fortunately, his was not the strength of a vulcan male, because otherwise the bones of T'Pol would have ended up with shattering in his embrace.
But we must say that the strength of his embrace had very little to envy to the strength of the embrace of a vulcan male (still assuming this one could be able to embrace for the sheer hell of it).
And it must be said too that T'Pol did not complain at all.
After a certain amount of time (not at all wasted, it must be said, and occupied not only by the embrace, may the particular state of T'Pol rest in peace), Trip decided they had to go on with the reading.
Well, damn it! Could anyone possibly deny that it was worthwhile more and more?
He did not think minimally to stop hugging T'Pol. He just loosened a little the hug and, raising his head, looked at her gently and slyly at the same time.
"Okay. Let's keep on reading. It just seems to be the case to do it. But, if the road is still long, it is better to come back to take some precaution."
Without leaving the embrace of T'Pol, he bent down and picked up the blanket.
For the umpteenth time, with some inevitable contortion, he covered both her and himself with it.
"Here. Now that's fine." Then again he laughed. "And as for my hand... still the same position, sweetie?"
T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "Is some new and compelling reason arisen, by chance, why it should no longer be so, my Husband and Lord?"
Trip became ostentatiously serious. "Absolutely not, my attentive vulcan wife."
"All right, so ..." T'Pol positioned herself to allow Trip to be able to easily place his hand where it was more than logical for it to be. "... I beg you, my Lord, even if it means that you will have to resume reading in person the fable, being to me impossible to do it in this position, not to want to place your hand differently."
Trip, not grudgingly in truth, complied with T'Pol's request.
This done, he, although with some difficulty, considering that T'Pol was languidly and blissfully lulling softly herself in his arms and that his left hand was pretty busy, rearranged himself for reading.
But, oh... well, he failed to restrain himself.
His malicious sprite made his voice be heard and he had to obey him.
"Ah, it promises to be really interesting."
He clearly felt the sudden stop of T'Pol's languishing movements.
"What do you think, honey of my heart? Who will be the winner? You or the Princess? I mean with regard to stubbornness? A very good race, nothing to say."
There could be no doubt. What came from T'Pol was a muffled grunt.
Trip pretended not noticing.
Giggling beneath his moustache, he went back reading.
End of Chapter Twenty-five
TBC
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Who will be the winner, my friends?
T'Pol or the Princess?
Yes, definitely a great race, no doubt about it.