Hello! and welcome back to my story. I've been nervous to post this chapter, but this is what the characters wanted to do! Fair warning: smut ahead. And also: same sex smut. If that upsets you, maybe skip this chapter.

I'm very busy now at my new job, so keeping the updates rolling has been difficult, but I know I've got an awesome group of readers that is very supportive and patient. Camp Nano is coming in April, so I'm hoping to lean in there and up my word count. As always, let me know what you think and what you'd like to see me write about. The farther I get with this story, the more things I'm seeing that I want to go back and edit—but I'm resisting! For now, I'm going to pour everything out "on paper" as it were, and I'll worry about cleaning edits later.

Thank you again for reading, and enjoy!

Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm was mending, and I was so relieved, I was weak with it.

If this continued, he'd be up and about soon, out in the forest he loved so well—and we'd be able to put this strange… flirtation… behind us. I fantasized that perhaps everything would go back to the way it had been. The way it should have been from the beginning.

Where both the prince and the Elvenking were concerned, I was highly uncomfortable.

I had no wish to become embroiled in a kingdom-wide scandal, thoroughly embarrassing myself and losing my job into the bargain. I would have faced the spiders of Mirkwood rather than endure a shamefaced return to Lothlorien, especially necessitated by a falling-out with the royal family.

And it might come to just that, I thought ruefully to myself as I made my way to the baths one winter morning in the Court of Mirkwood.

As terrible as Legolas' injury had been, it had at least provided everyone with a distraction. True, I'd spent many hours in his company, entertaining him with poems, songs, and stories, but he hadn't focused solely on me. Chiefly, his body needed to heal.

The soft sounds my feet made in the hall brought me back to the present, and I thought through the rest of my day. It was early morning now. I would bathe and try to relax. Then I would spend some hours in the music library continuing to tidy up. Around luncheon, the prince would almost certainly call for me, so I would go to his rooms. I made a mental note to collect some interesting pieces of literature that he hadn't seen yet.

I nearly collided with Chalia, who was on the way to the baths herself.

"Oh!" she cried, as we danced back and forth for a moment, and then we laughed and she caught me tightly by the waist before I lost my balance. I felt her long, silken hair brush one of my arms, and my skin broke out in gooseflesh.

"Good morning," I said, still laughing.

"Good morning," she returned with a smile. When we'd steadied ourselves, she linked arms easily with me and we continued down the hall.

"So—" we both said at the same time, and laughed again.

"You go first," said Chalia quickly.

I shrugged and shook my head. "I was only going to ask how you were. I feel I haven't seen you in weeks."

"I think you must be right," she agreed. "How does the prince fare? The last time we were together, I believe we were helping a healer pull an arrow from his chest."

"Yes," I said gravely, shuddering. "There are only a few moments in my life I wish never to relive. That is one of them. But to answer you, the prince is recovering. He grows stronger every day."

"That's a relief," she said. "You've got quite the stomach, I must say," she added.

I shrugged. "I only did as commanded."

"Perhaps," she said pensively.

There was a strange little silence between us, and then we'd reached the entrance. She gestured that I should precede her, so I did.

Immediately, the steamy air surrounded us, and I inhaled gratefully. The two of us approached one of the intricately carved stone benches and began to shed our clothing.

Chalia was so beautiful. We'd seen each other undressed many times, but in consternation, I found my skin flushing this morning at her nearness. I tried to keep my eyes averted so she wouldn't notice.

"How have you been?" I asked, attempting to sound casual.

She tossed her last underthing onto the bench and made her way to the pool. "I'm very well," she replied after a moment. "But busy. The patrol is being tested by these new orders."

I nodded, but wasn't sure what she meant.

"How are you liking the guard?" I prompted, following her in.

Together, we relaxed into the warm water, breathing a collective sigh of satisfaction as it enveloped our bodies.

Chalia dunked her head and resurfaced, slicking her long, dark hair back. "I'm relieved," she answered then.

"Relieved?"

And she nodded. "I was so unhappy before, thinking of how undefended the compound was. Now, I take an active part in securing our borders." She lowered her chin to the surface of the steaming pool, clearly enjoying the heat. "And not that one elleth like me makes all the difference, but I believe that my lobbying for active patrols of the forest is what moved the king to send the guard out."

I stood suddenly, feeling the rush of water from my limbs and the tepid air brushing my skin. "What?"

"Well, you remember," she cried, laughing a little. "Thranduil Elvenking wasn't going to do a single thing about the spiders. Admittedly, the attack on the prince may have been what resolved him at the last, but…"

My mouth had fallen open. It was the first I'd heard of any of this.

"I was extremely outspoken," Chalia was saying, "Both with my officers and with the prince himself… you know how I can be…"

"The patrols are going out into the Mirkwood?"

She broke off and looked up at me. "Fil," she said, concern suddenly flooding her face. "Sit down—you've gone pale."

I plopped myself back down in the water, succeeding only in splashing Chalia, choking myself, losing my balance, and finally toppling over backward. A few moments later when I'd coughed the last of the water from my lungs, I looked her in the eye and demanded, "Start from the beginning."

She laughed. "I supposed it's been a while since we've spent any time together. I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

I shook my head, very concerned now. "I knew this was something you cared deeply about," I told her, "But I didn't imagine you'd be placed on active patrol yourself."

She trailed one of her arms languidly through the water. "I'm happy to do it, Fil. I wanted to do it. From the beginning, I approached the prince and spoke to him about why I thought our kingdom was in danger. Remember? They made that exception and I was allowed to apply for the guard outside of the normal rotation?"

I felt my eyes narrow, and my mind worked to process it all.

"And I passed," she added with a smile. "Prince Legolas said he hadn't seen a recruit do so well in at least two hundred years. I was nervous to do it—for a lot of reasons…"

I noticed for the first time how her chest reddened when she spoke of the prince, and my mind began to put the pieces together.

"...And then, once I was enlisted, I stayed focused on my goal. I spoke to everyone I could. I had this idea that instead of keeping the guard here at the compound and fending off any beasts that happened to stray too close, we should take the fight straight to them. After a while, others started to listen. My officer took most of the credit for this new venture, but I don't mind too much as long as the Court of Mirkwood is kept safe. Now, groups of us go out into the wood every day and hunt them."

My mouth was dry. "How long has this been going on?"

"Oh, weeks, now. It's going well. I've felled several of them myself."

I felt a little faint. "Oh, Valar. Oh, Chalia—you're being careful, yes? You're armed, protected?"

She gave me one of her most winning smiles. "Of course! Have you ever seen the guard fight? Think of the training you went through, Fil—we are physically and mentally the most exemplary warriors in all of Middle Earth. I'd like to see a spider try and hurt me."

There was a little lull, and then I said quietly, "They hurt the prince."

I watched her carefully this time, and her face changed, new lines of concern appearing under her eyes. "Yes," she whispered.

I wondered how I'd never seen it before… was I not paying attention when the two of us attended the prince in his quarters? Or when Chalia spoke of him to me before enlisting?

"I'm glad—" she said slowly, "That he has you to keep him company while he's healing. That must make the time go faster for him. And I couldn't imagine a more talented or beautiful storyteller."

"Chalia…" I began.

"Really," she continued, a little more loudly than she needed to. "I'm very glad. And you're so enchanting when you sing and speak," she added. "You must do his heart good when you're in his company. I know that he asks for you."

So gradually that I almost didn't notice it, she had drawn closer and closer to me.

Manwë, I thought to myself for the thousandth time as I stared at her long eyelashes and full lips, But she is so beautiful. So very, very beautiful…

"I wish…" she whispered, reaching out and touching my chin with the tips of her long, elegant fingers.

Before I knew what was happening, she had drawn me close and kissed me.

Her lips were warm and so soft, and the flavour of her was like spices, apples, and salt. She tasted me again, and the way the tip of her tongue brushed my lower lip stroked me awake between the legs.

My heart began to race.

There was a silent moment while we each drew a breath, waiting to see what the other would do.

Chalia had placed her fingertips along my jaw and was staring hungrily down at my mouth. It was this, I think, that decided me.

I kissed her back. I brought my own hands to rest on the silky skin of her bare shoulders and leaned in, allowing my nose to brush hers. By now, our bodies were touching under the surface of the water. I could feel her fevered skin and the way she pushed herself against me.

Again and again, softly and slowly, I pressed gentle kisses to her sweet mouth. Even with the rush of blood throbbing in my ears, I did not hurry my pace. I did not push or pry. I felt Chalia's breath hitch in her throat. As one, we moved toward the side of the pool and she relaxed as her back came to rest against the stone.

She caressed the sides of my face with her thumbs absently, focused on my mouth and the sensations I wrought within her. When I broke off my ministrations and lipped at the smooth skin of her long neck, she sighed.

I chose not to think, not to judge the situation or make any conclusions. Today was today; this morning was this morning—this was the reality before me, and nothing else. I accepted it. Valar, did I accept it! It came to me then how hungry I'd been for contact of this kind, especially of late. My body wanted this, and I'd carefully ignored it.

The sounds of our movement in the water were captivating, echoing off the chamber's high ceiling.

Chalia brought her hands languidly to my bare breasts and brushed one, then the other. I gasped at her touch, the now-wetness at my core finding natural homogeny in our surroundings.

Feeling competitive now, I leaned forward and tilted her head to suit my purpose, placing soft kisses at the shell of her ear. She shuddered then, and I held her loosely in my hands. I continued to worship her delicately pointed ear with my mouth—now beginning to massage the lobe—ever-so-gently! with a thumb and forefinger. My reward was a gentle cry of pleasure, and I smirked against her skin.

Boldly, she brought her weightless legs up under the water and wrapped them about my slender waist; my knees nearly gave way. With our cores pressed tightly together, she rocked against me experimentally once or twice.

It had been some time since I'd engaged in this way with an elleth, but I had done it before, and enjoyed it. This, though—this was… exquisite.

After a creative assault on the gorgeous column of her pale throat, I pulled back and looked her in the eyes, wanting to judge my progress.

To my horror, they were filled with tears.

"Are you—?" I choked, not sure what to say. "Should I—?"

"No," she cried, shaking her head. "Please don't stop. I want this."

But I frowned and held myself back.

Chalia tucked her hands behind my neck and pulled me into her, spinning us slowly about in the water so that my back was to the wall.

"I've wanted this for a long time," she whispered, so close, I could feel her breath on my lips.

"Me, too," I agreed, just before she claimed my mouth.

With Chalia in the lead, my mind spun. She was assertive, brave in a way I could never be. I was clever and intuitive, but she was powerful. With trembling lips, she made love to me, singularly focused, until I swooned. She smelled wonderful; she tasted wonderful-er. The things her mind chose for her body to do and show to mine left me breathless, my center throbbing for release.

When she dipped one of her hands below the surface of the water and reached for me there, I was ready, opening for her and hissing my pleasure into her shapely shoulder.

It didn't take long.

Two or three incursions, and I was shaking, burying my face in her neck, and riding the crest of my climax.

She held me and stroked my hair while I recovered, taking deep, steadying breaths.

I imagined the heady scent of our combined desire was a cloud around us and felt myself grow drowsy at its insistence.

"Now, you," I whispered, finally, into her flushed ear. I felt her tremble for me in anticipation, and with a silly waggle of my eyebrows, I let go of her, dropping both hands into the pool and touching her, gently at first.

It was like playing an instrument, and I pleasured her the way I preferred to be pleasured, a mix of fast and slow stimulation with contrasting pressures. There were so many ways to surprise her, so many ways to wring a reaction from her. I tried them all, thrilled with how she responded to one finger, two fingers, three. One here, one back there. One thrusting, one rubbing. One tracing careful little circles down in front.

When I cupped her buttock with one hand, she moaned softly into my hair.

Twice, I brought her to the edge and then slowed, frustrating her, I knew.

When she finally broke, she did it sobbing with relief, and I held her through it, kissing her softly until I thought she might shudder herself apart.

After, we stayed in each others' arms for several long moments, not speaking, neither one of us willing to break the spell.

At last, she whispered, "Thank you."

Much later that day, still flush with my exertions and wonderfully relaxed, it occurred to me that I was less worried about Thranduil Elvenking of Greenwood the Great or Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm than I had been in days. One had to consciously make choices to reach a point of irreparability with another, and I hadn't made them yet—with either ellon. I would strive not to.