While the ceremony hadn't taken long, it had been all the more burdensome for everyone present. There had been no speeches ‑ no one in Minas Tirith had known Erestor well enough to find the proper words. The laments though had come all the more from the heart.
Including Arwen's. After all, Erestor had originally just put himself right in the middle of the Stewardaides because he'd been trying to protect Aragorn's and her life, and Tarisilya's, too. The loss of him was just as sad as the one of every single soldier perishing because of these criminals, or of this captain from Lórien.
Afterward, she couldn't tell anymore what had run through her head by the fire. Most of it had been random memories, of a time long before Aragorn, long before the war and her decision against immortality; a time when her biggest worry had been something as trite as a certain eccentric librarian throwing her out of his sanctuary for climbing shelves.
The latest catastrophe had shaken her soul too much to already think consciously about the good times that she'd had with Erestor, in many exciting lectures for example. Later, once she would have found some distance … For the moment, she needed to suppress.
Thinking about Erestor too much right now would mean thinking of Glorfindel, and of the tearful goodbye she'd said to him yesterday. Of the gloomy silence that Aragorn and she had watched one of their oldest friends leave in when he had left the walls of this city behind for the last time, with grief-stricken shoulders, on a battle steed dully trotting away instead of dashing off in its usual wild gallop.
She didn't want the very last images before her inner eye that she'd ever seen from two elves who had accompanied her all her life, to be of blood and defeat. So she ran, consciously and by using a lot of effort.
By the time the gathering was over and she could let herself sink into a bath that her handmaiden Ranír had been nice enough to prepare already, her mind was fortunately indeed comfortably empty.
In the course of reconstruction back then, Aragorn had insisted on a little washtub being built inside one of the rooms of the royal chambers assigned to both of them so that Arwen didn't have to go to the slightly secluded bathing rooms any longer. Something that both of them had been very glad about recently. Barhit's last stand had further kindled their worry about the Stewardaid in the Citadel.
As long as Arwen didn't only have herself to take care of, they had to avoid every risk: they had agreed on that. Her not staying anywhere unprotected for long was part of that.
With her knees drawn up, she was sitting in silence for a few long minutes, in the water heated over the fire before, and stared at the surface, broken by light waves. It entered her mind, out of nowhere, that she would soon no longer be able to take this position since her belly would be in the way. A thought putting a smile on her lips at least for a moment. But the exhaustion that had become a constant companion in the last few weeks still tortured her so that the noise of the door opening had her startle.
"It's just me, mîl nín. Is the water even still warm? Are you alright?" Aragorn watched her posture relax again with a frown, and how she slightly shook herself.
"I just wasn't expecting you. Did I not explicitly instruct the guards not to let anyone in here?" An order that didn't include her husband of course, but she couldn't help teasing him a little. Humor, as awkward as it might be right now, could only do them both good.
"I think, after careful deliberation, the soldiers decided that they can make an exception for me." Aragorn knelt down next to the tub to be on eye level with her.
"Without asking for my permission?"
Arwen dipped her hand in the water and splashed some of it towards Aragorn as if they were adolescents wrestling in a hot spring outside the valley as her brothers and she had used to do so often ... and as she more than once had done with Aragorn himself too, later, in sparring lessons.
Only back then – with them knowing that the beginning of the war was only a matter of time and that both their physical abilities would then have to be schooled as perfectly as never before –, it had been more about who would make it first to get the other with their head underwater and how long their training partner would make it to hold their breath before the inevitable surrender would come. Much to the horror of both her father and Glorfindel if the two of them had been caught at such challenging methods not without risk. There had also been the occasional hidden touch underwater, even if it had been only to distract their partner … That, fortunately, they had always been able to hide from Elrond. Arwen had a vague idea, a sermon about that would have sounded a lot more annoyed. With such images on her mind, she quickly had a whole different idea than more crisis conversations …
"What do you think? Still warm enough?"
"More or less." In spite of his surprised laughter, there was no way, Aragorn's critical glance missed that Arwen's body was very lightly shaking although there was indeed some steam still emerging from the water surface, combined with the intensive, sweet scent of all those flower petals on it.
What had happened at Rauros was still present after all. Especially what else had almost happened to Tarisilya … for a second time. The assassination had brought it home to Arwen only too clearly that the danger was still imminent. The worry overshadowing everything was already back in Aragorn's restless grey eyes as well, though his not exactly discreet glance at her bare body had hopefully made him notice that Arwen had finally put on some weight.
Before she could even try to calm him down, he pulled himself together and got one of the big towels prepared for her from the shelf on the wall. "Come on, mîl nín. You've played water spirit long enough."
"But I don't want to go. Not yet." Resting her head on her knees, Arwen looked at him with a mock plea. It was obviously another of these moments when he wanted to deal with his fears himself. So she wouldn't force him to talk but rather try her hand at distraction.
It helped. She could almost watch Aragorn looking inside of him, how he focused solely on her instead of anything else. Now he wasn't King anymore, not the leader of his people, not an uncompromising warrior, or even just someone grieving after a huge crime. Only her husband.
"Is there any space left in your tub for a Dúnadan who could very badly use a bath?"
"Oh, so when there's not a river nearby, my tub is suddenly good enough for you? I guess the fish make no longer good bathing partners for the noble Dúnadan Lord." With her nose wrinkled, Arwen threw more water into Aragorn's face and dodged cleverly when he tried to get back at her.
Aragorn hurried to shed the dark tunics and the tight breeches he'd chosen for the ceremony. While he pretended not to see Arwen's very interested glance on his body, there was an unmistakable glistening in his eyes when he sat down behind her, pulling her close. For a long moment, he just enjoyed being near to her, with his jaw braced on her shoulder, until the day's tension at least started to melt away from him.
At some point, he reached for one of the many soft cloths spread on the tub's edge, in Arwen's favorite color, blue. "Given how busy you are staring into nothing, I bet you didn't even clean yourself yet, did you?" he taunted her. "We have to get to that immediately." He dipped the cloth into a bowl with soap – just one of the many care utensils that the handmaidens were regularly putting on the board bolted to the tub edge to spoil their Lady – and put it on Arwen's shoulder. "Do you want me to call one of your maidens or is your husband allowed to do this honorable job today?"
"As if I needed anyone for that." Arwen rolled her eyes a little, good-naturedly. The two of them had already rolled in the dirt together in battles with orcs when they hadn't even been a couple yet officially. Of course, her husband knew better than anyone that the noble Lady of the elvish realm - or now of the court of Men - could very quickly become a gruff wanderer herself when the situation demanded it.
Which didn't mean, she couldn't appreciate the advantages of a cozily furnished home though, especially with such charming company …
As expected, it didn't take long until said cloth was tossed far across the tub edge into some corner and the last of worries got lost in mutual satisfaction at least for a while.
Much later when they'd long ended up in Aragorn's bed, snuggled up to each other, Arwen could feel her husband reach out his hand and put it on her belly. He'd turned his head her way, with his eyes only half-closed in spite of his visible tiredness, as if he wanted to make sure that everything was being alright with that small bump.
"Nothing's wrong with them, mîl nín. When you're here with us, what could happen anyway?" Arwen put her hand on her belly, next to his, and quietly hummed an elvish song as if the baby was already able to hear it and it could lull it to sleep.
When Aragorn recognized the slow melody, his voice quickly mixed with hers. It was the same that Arwen's father had doubtlessly often used to lay him to rest, too, when he'd been just a scared little half-orphan plagued by nightmares far too often.
Arwen left it to him to finish the song, tenderly caressing his forehead and down to the tip of his nose, his cheek. "I could swear, the baby always feels far more comfortable when you're with us. When I'm in your arms, it's as if there's only us in the world, Estel."
Aragorn only pulled her even closer as if he never wanted to let go. He kissed the slightly darkened spot that his mouth had tortured earlier, then her neck, and finally her lips. "Even on the worst evenings, you manage to soothe my mind, Nauriel."
"Not entirely selfless, mîl nín." Arwen let her lips graze over his, only lightly now. "I would do everything to be able to see such a smile on your lips more often." Carefully untangling herself from him, she pulled him down with her onto the mattress.
Caressing his lower arm in exhaustion, she had to grin. Not even the twilight of the room could hide certain scratches she'd caused earlier. "We're leaving traces on each other." She eyed the bruise on her shoulder critically as well. "If I'm not careful, my collar won't hide that tomorrow. The whispers that would cause among the handmaidens again."
"If they have time again to worry about something like that again, the triviality of daily routine has at least returned to the Citadel." Aragorn breathed a kiss onto her hair.
"Very true. Promise me, you'll stay in bed longer than usual tomorrow?" Half asleep already, she searched his eyes once more. "I want to see your face first thing when I wake up."
"I'll be there." And there would have been no better way for this evening to end than with this assurance.
Entering the bedroom, Tarisilya forgot about her short irritation completely. Two single candles on the nightstands had been lit, the curtains were closed. Something lay on her pillow, wrapped in one of those precious red and silver cloths that Legolas always used when giving her a present.
Her husband was waiting for her by the window. He had quickly changed his clothes but was still wearing a tunic of a very dark color, like earlier, appropriate for the occasion … and yet the rest of what he was doing here was not. She didn't think him tasteless enough to actually try and celebrate the death of an alleged rival. But she couldn't think of anything else that was supposed to be special about this day.
Only when Legolas thrust a single white rose into her hand, she remembered. Her begetting day had been two days ago. On her way to Minas Tirith, she'd seriously had bigger things to worry about than realizing that just like last year already, that event would pass without leaving a mark on her once more.
In fact, such anniversaries had never been relevant for the two of them so far, because there had either been some disaster just happening at the time or they hadn't been able to meet. Tarisilya was even having a vague suspicion that the obligatory feast on the occasion of his own special day, that her husband often celebrated with his father at New Year's, had in truth not much to do with the actual date; the hobbits had suggested something like this when they'd been in Minas Tirith.
And there had simply never been a chance to ask Legolas himself about something so banal. It was sobering, realizing more and more how little normalcy they'd had in the thousand years they'd known each other. And this was once more not the night to change that either. "Legolas …"
"I know. Just a reminder." He squeezed her hand for a moment before getting the gift from the bed to give it to her. "Maybe you should more see this as a new beginning, too."
Just moments ago she'd still had half a mind to meet him with new reproaches. When she unwrapped a thick book covered in red, she had to swallow thickly. Maybe he still didn't really get what she wanted to do, but he supported her in it. That was worth a lot already. This book was a lot smaller than the one, Erestor had last been writing in which suited her just fine; after all, she also wanted to do her new job during travels, too. Besides, regardless of all sympathy and the vague friendship budding new between them in the end, the number of quirks Erestor had had was not something she would adopt, too. No endless copying for her.
This, right here, was her very personal new beginning, just like her husband had said. In no way could he have apologized more impressively for just not having the strength to take her in his arms earlier when he'd been busy trying to leave a long time of fear behind, just like her. Maybe, dealing with grief, that, Legolas was just having even bigger problems with than Tarisilya had ever suspected; and such a trauma, too, could not be made forgotten within a few minutes.
A moon rising over the ocean had been painted onto the cover of her new little treasure, a work in fine detail. There was no way her husband could have found someone so quickly for this. The image was just as beautiful as the one he'd left on one of the few empty pages in her mother's book all those centuries ago, as a reminder that there was someone who wanted her. "Is that yours?"
His embarrassed nod had her raise her brows in surprise. "I didn't even know you still …"
"That I still do a lot of drawing? Whenever opportunity knocks though that is not often. Did you really never see me do it? Oh, Ilya." He let himself fall on the bed with a sigh. "It's like suddenly, nothing at all between us is as it was. Did we really have so little time for each other from the start?"
"Less than it would have been appropriate, I guess." Still hesitative, she sat down beside him.
The insecure way he was caressing the back of her hand felt like a stranger's touch. It frightened her. It hadn't even been like this in the very beginning. She had always felt that with him, she was in good hands. For centuries, this nearness to him in her soul had been enough to be certain that her feelings for him were real, though they could basically count their meetings before their betrothal on one hand.
Feeling exactly how motionless she remained, Legolas let go of her abruptly and started to pace the room, plagued by the same worries haunting her. "Do you regret it, Ilya? Your father blamed me for putting your heart in chains when I asked him for permission to marry you. Was he right? Was it too early?"
"No." In spite of everything, it was good to know that he was finally thinking about the two of them again. It assured her that her brief insecurity earlier came from the same emotional fatigue weighing down on him so heavily. Emotions weren't the problem. Emotions had never been their problem.
"I know we belong together, I always did. But in some moments, even after all these centuries, you're still a stranger to me. We do indeed need to finally take the time that we've never had back then. I hope Cair Andros will give us that chance."
Carefully pressing the book to her chest, she got up. "Thank you. This really means a lot to me, you know that. But we should both spend this night in our own way. I don't think it means the same for us."
"And I think, we've had enough of assumptions about each other." This time, Legolas didn't just let her leave. "Ilya, let us talk." She hated the way he sounded, his voice so full of yearning for something that she just couldn't give him right now.
"We need to. But on such a night?" Standing in the doorway already, she stopped after all. "That ceremony brought back everything awful from the last few months. I don't want to hurt you unnecessarily."
"Any more than I've hurt you lately? I am not made of parchment, I don't break that easily. And my love for you is not fragile either. Ilya, please. Maybe a little bit of confrontation is exactly what we need so that we can continue our life together."
"Maybe." Not entirely convinced yet, she put the book on the dresser that Erestor's book had also already found a place on and let herself sink down on the window sill, partly under the cover of the curtain, with her knees drawn close to her chest.
"For me, this is mostly a matter of trust, Legolas. I never had a reason to mistrust you, and until recently, I was of the opinion, it would be the same for you. No."
She cut him off before he could interrupt her. "Don't say something you can't stand by. You really don't get it, do you? I left East Lórien only because of you because I was even more afraid of losing you than of something possibly happening to our baby. I almost paid for that with my life. Our little one and I, we wouldn't be here right now if it hadn't been for Erestor. Not only did he pull me out of that river; if he hadn't been standing in front of me, that arrow would have hit me. Does none of that matter?"
"Of course it does." Legolas approached her but paused when she dismissively raised her hand, sitting down again. It was the first time for her to see him so extremely restless that his fidgeting almost tore off the buttons of his tunic.
"At the ceremony tonight, I only didn't want to make another mistake. This childish jealousy because of Erestor has long stopped mattering, Ilya. When you arrived here, I just couldn't tell why your grief was so big, given how you always talked about him. Last year, he showed up here out of nowhere, and you act as if he was Sauron himself. And then you suddenly tell me, you two were …" He couldn't remember what exactly it was though that should have happened between Erestor and Tarisilya there. After all, he had never even asked but had rather run away to pout.
"Exactly. We were." She nodded briefly before staring at the sky again.
For a few minutes, they kept silent. There wasn't anything, in particular, Tarisilya was thinking of. Instead, she just allowed the images of that time back then in that she had locked away so deeply in her heart for a long time. Because it hadn't been of importance. That was what she had always been telling herself. Because Erestor should have known better. Because she had warned him several times. What she'd never done though until that conversation before his death was understanding him, and maybe that had been the only thing he really would have wished her to do.
"Not the hint of a life sign for almost four hundred years. Your father almost died back then, I know. You had a lot of responsibility … Still. No one could tell if you would ever show up in my life anymore at all. In all this time, Erestor was the only one who almost managed to close that wound you had left. Did it actually ever occur to you that without him, we would probably never have started our relationship? If he hadn't made me see how firmly I was really attached to you, it's likely I would have given up on waiting at some point."
Now it was Legolas, becoming irritated, in spite of all readiness to reconcile. "Don't you think I would have understood that? I didn't forget about you back then, Ilya, not for a single day. But your father had been very clear. It was the job of fate to decide when the time for us would be right. And if it would never have come, I would somehow have needed to accept living with this pain. In these centuries of distance, our lives had carried on. That was something I had to expect. I just wish you could have told me. At our wedding at the latest. I've asked you why he wasn't there. And then you cover for him even when he attacks you in the middle of the street. Knowing about his betrayal would have saved us a lot of trouble."
"Yes. That's something I will not use any excuses for. I'm very sorry about that. I never said I did everything right." This wasn't getting them anywhere. Harshly pushing the curtain aside, Tarisilya jumped to the ground, waiting until Legolas came to stand opposite her.
"All these difficulties come from us never really having learned to talk to each other. That needs to change, and quickly. But when? I can't come with you to our settlement before the child is born. If we don't want our baby to suffer damage, you need to visit us as often as possible, but you can't stay here uninterruptedly. That might not be good, anyway. I have much to catch up with." She nodded towards the books. "Until birth though, I don't want you to fear constantly that I could do something against your will again. I let you go your own way although it's been tearing me apart, watching you do it. Now I want you to grant me the same right."
"That's not so easy." It was visibly hard for him to reproach her, but he felt just like she did that they finally had to say all of this out loud for once, or it would eat them up at some point and their love would really take damage. "You didn't even have enough trust to say to my face what you think about this whole thing. Instead, you go talk to my father of all people …"
"Apparently I'm talking to him more often than you do," Tarisilya interrupted him more harshly than intended. The anger boiled up in her again. "And here I was wondering if it was my fault that he's not written to us about our first child even once. You're accusing me of not talking to you about things that could have plunged the whole realm into misery, although you couldn't even tell me that you hate your father so much that you never tell him anything about our lives. Or that you can't ask him about such trivial things like your own begetting day date."
"But that's not even …" Legolas shrugged helplessly. "In the last few millennia, he and I just drifted far apart, that's all. We've only just begun approaching each other again. We also regret a lot of what has happened between us. You're right, Ilya: There's endlessly much we need to talk about. And in the end, we will hopefully have learned how to do so without causing each other pain. A single night is not enough for that. So ... If I have to let you go once more so that you can come back to me, that's what I'll do albeit with worry in my heart. I don't know if I can deal with the fear for you two for months to come. You would both be safer in the settlement."
Her bitter laughter unsettled him visibly.
"You don't believe that yourself, do you?" When Legolas tried to pull her close, hearing the sob in her voice, Tarisilya pulled away almost roughly.
"No! That might have helped not having any nightmares in the past. When I could still believe the people who told me, nothing could happen to me. In the last few days, two elves that should have taken care of me have died. When I tried to get to Lórien, I would almost have fallen into the hands of the bastards of that one Dunlendings tribe. Here, in Minas Tirith, drunk Men abuse me verbally, and Cair Andros is just waiting for someone like Barhit to arrive on a ship and storm the settlement. Tell me, where am I supposed to feel safe? Where can I trust in nothing happening to our child?" She only realized that she was losing it when it was too late already when Legolas caught her because a crying fit made her knees go weak. Her resistance quickly turned into her clinging to him.
Somehow, Legolas made it to steer her to the bed but she was still freezing, ever until he lay under the cover with her, warming her with his whole body and trying to calm her with quiet, half-sung words. She hardly understood any of them. Her own sobs were too loud. Too many thoughts of fear were suddenly blocking her senses. Therefore, she didn't even manage to translate his people's slightly ancient dialect in her head. But that wasn't even necessary. Even in the middle of an argument and better than with any phrase, he managed to get across the only message that counted, the answer to her despaired question.
With me.
"Thank you." Once she could breathe again, she raised her head and nestled against his hand on her cheek, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry …"
"Do not apologize. I'm afraid, such conversations are part of it, too."
Since her trembling had subsided a little, he sat up slowly and pulled her up with him so that she didn't have to lay there with the uncomfortable Mithril top on. "I can't make up for everything I did wrong within a few minutes. I can only work on our future together. Until you give birth, Cair Andros will be our last safe fortress on Middle-earth, Ilya. I promise you that. But I want you to know that even until then, I'll be with you every single day that you want me to until I can finally get you to come live with me. A short message is all it takes."
"I know." Grateful that he'd finally noticed how heavily the kidnapping was weighing down on her, she rested her head on his shoulder. Now, his touch did finally feel really good again, because his heart was with her, not with any worries. "How long can you stay?"
"I guess the others can deal without me for a few days," he smiled but turned serious again quickly.
This hadn't been more than a beginning, they were both aware of that. "We'll only have to learn again to fall into each other unconditionally. That takes time. Tell me where to start. How I can show you right here and now that there's nothing more important to me in this world than you and our baby."
"Just stay with me. That's all I ask of you." She breathed it against his shoulder and left a fleeting kiss there before reaching back to open her dress.
Legolas was faster. Opening the complicated lacing for her, he pulled the black fabric down, helped her get out of the protective shirt again, and even unfastened the needles holding her braid in place at the back of her head.
"If you don't stop spoiling me like that, I'll forget how to do that myself soon."
Her grin died quickly when she noticed Legolas' terrified glance at her leg. Yesterday, she hadn't given him a good chance to look at her. Now that she had nothing on anymore, he was confronted with the last physical traces of the kidnapping. "It's healing. The scar will go away someday."
"Do you really think, scars would bother me, moon queen?" Resting his forehead against hers, he tried not to let that sight destroy the calmness arduously built in the last few minutes. It was an old nickname from a time that they'd actually both left behind. But she still liked to hear it from his mouth. Though Legolas hadn't even noticed himself: It had been long since they'd been that close. "Just that this bastard even got a chance to do this … I should have been there."
"You couldn't. I know that." Extremely tenderly, she touched his temple and let her fingertips rest right by the corner of his eye. "I'm glad you didn't throw yourself into that danger. It's me who should have been there. After all, it wasn't hard to guess that your eyes would start giving you trouble again soon. I know you don't think very highly of it, Legolas, but I still want to try it with healing."
"Not today." This was still not a subject he liked to talk about much. This was his very personal fear that not even millennia of battle experience could erase.
There was something entirely different on his mind. "I can't believe how much it's grown." Slowly, almost shyly, he caressed the small bump of Tarisilya's belly. Even more guilt was written on his face when he realized how much of the pregnancy he'd missed. "Is it moving already?"
"Not in a way that we could feel yet." Tarisilya didn't tell him about that one moment during the kidnapping. If there had really been something there … Then that was something very special that no one would believe anyway; something that was between her child and her only.
There would be other moments for Legolas and her, like this one. No matter what had happened, at least right now, she felt completely comfortable and safe. The wish to tear down the last wall with a kiss was suddenly overwhelming.
Legolas seemed to have read her mind once again because his lips were already on hers before she could even move closer. How long had it been since he'd last kissed her so slowly, so tentatively? Just a feather-light touch, the tip of his tongue tracing her mouth until she opened her lips and invited him to go further … When their tongues met, it was a cautious game without any fighting before he broke away from her. There were no words that could have expressed it clearer how happy Legolas was that the storm was finally over.
Tarisilya rested her chin on his shoulder in satisfaction and lost herself in the fresh scent of his loose hair, letting her hands wander over his back tenderly. His tunic, no matter how thin and delicate it was, was bothering her. She didn't want to say it; it would have ruined this precious moment. So she rather tugged on the fabric discreetly.
There were some things they didn't need words for to understand. With a smile, Legolas nudged the tip of her nose with his and sat up to fulfill her wish.
He did hurry, yet for her taste, he was taking too long. When he was still busy with his breeches, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, a deep sigh on her lips when her chest pressed against his strong back. Maybe it was the pregnancy, but she had never experienced such a strong craving for this sensation. Her fingertips gliding over his chest, she recalled each of the areas she couldn't see yet because she didn't even want to let go of him long enough for him to lay back down.
And she was accordingly disappointed when he stopped her hand. "Don't, elwen, please. You're about to remind me of things unfit for this night."
While that was actually not what she'd had on her mind at all: The moment he said it, she realized that it didn't even sound that odd. The heat started to rise in her body, in any case, trying to rule her emotions already. She gently pushed Legolas back down onto the mattress by his shoulder, let her hand rest on his chest, and looked into his eyes questioningly. "Are they?"
"Yes." Gently but firmly, he pulled her down beside him. "That I've been too clumsy to stand by you earlier doesn't mean I have no respect for death. I know how bad this thing makes you feel. I don't want to exploit it that we're both yearning for each other."
"You'd only exploit if you didn't see me." Now at the latest, every anger was forgotten. "I'll need a lot of time to process this loss. At least for a while, I want to forget. If there's something you want to do for me, help me with it." It would probably have been easier, convincing him with gestures. His breathing going faster and that he did his very best to not touch her, revealed that he did indeed want her nearness just as much as she wanted his. But then she'd have done exactly what she had accused him of after Aragorn's and Arwen's wedding.
Legolas' thoughts, too, were with this catastrophic night. "I don't want to hurt you again, Ilya. Right now, that's what I'm most afraid of."
Telling him he couldn't, would have been a lie. Maybe there was another way to remind him of how she wanted such a night to go without her possibly feeling overwhelmed again. Tarisilya sat up a little and stared down at her husband for long seconds. She would ask something of him that he wouldn't give easily, not after the incident with the two men who had almost killed him in the war. On the other hand, it oft just did take exactly such radical measures to achieve something with him.
"Do you trust me so much that you can let yourself fall into my arms?"
"From the day I met you." She was confusing him, but the answer came without hesitation.
Not stopping for even a moment, she swung her left leg over his hips and bent down to him, her lips grazing his before she grabbed his wrists and drew his arms upwards, under the pillow. "Leave them there."
For a few seconds, he looked at her as if he was about to ask her to put her clothes back on and sleep in the other room after all. She had touched his sorest spot dead on. Only knowing that she was giving him a chance to prove himself had him stay silent and nod at last.
Although Legolas' eyes were filled with endless yearning, he gave Tarisilya all the time she needed to just look at him, to find the necessary nearness again. Another freshly wed elvish couple would probably not even be able to imagine how few of such nights the two of them had had so far. Somehow, there had always been something in the way. Therefore, although they'd shared a bed several times, in some ways, it was as if they were still getting to know each other.
Ever since the war, there had always been some kind of wound that had made Tarisilya see Legolas' body with the eyes of a healer, not of a wife. Besides, the catastrophic events had often not only feasted on his mind but on his flesh, too. Today, for a change, she could finally eye him in relief again. It was easy to ignore the new scar on his shoulder from the last fight, and the crisis had at least been good for something: Legolas had got his energy back. The lean muscles were back on his upper body, and his ribs did no longer stand out. His hips slotting against hers, too, had stopped feeling so bony.
Legolas had been holding on until Tarisilya thoughtfully touched said area with her fingertips, but now a tremble went through him. Something at his groin was timidly nudging Tarisilya's center. He made a move to pull her close to him, out of reflex alone, but then his hands relaxed again under the pillow. He smiled at her, embarrassed. "You make it difficult for me."
"I didn't even mean to." She quickly bent down to him and gave him a brief kiss. "I've only realized once more how seldom it was granted to me so far, seeing you this way."
"We have time." The words didn't come easy for Legolas when Tarisilya's lips grazed his cheek, his temple, finally staying on his ear. Just feeling her breath there was enough for the growing hardness between his legs to belie his words. "If you prefer to …"
Tarisilya quickly put two fingertips on his lips but took them away again immediately when her husband started to leave tender kisses on her hand. Her blood was flowing faster when she straightened up and Legolas' cock was pressed against her most sensitive spot. Her own body betrayed her with a first bit of wetness and made further patience impossible. There would be enough chance for melancholy in the future. Right now, passion won.
Just lightly for the moment, she moved against him, smiling at a suppressed moan Legolas let out. "Don't hold back." This time, she took her time with her kiss, enjoying how Legolas let her take the lead completely. Tonight, for the first time, she consciously realized how prone he sometimes was to play a role a little too dominant for her taste. He'd just taken it too far last time; she wouldn't allow that to happen again. More thoroughly than she'd maybe ever had, she explored his mouth with the tip of her tongue while her hands caressed up and down his tense arms. While she joined the questioning dance of his tongue, she only did until he tried to push it back against hers. That was when she dodged quickly and eyed him admonishingly, one eyebrow raised. This really turned out to be fun.
With a sigh of submission, Legolas let his head sink back on the pillow. "I'm all yours."
"At least for tonight." Tarisilya deliberately ignored his disappointed hiss when she scooted downwards, away from his hips. It was actually just by chance that she grazed the insides of Legolas' arms when she let her hand wander deeper. Seeing him startle made her curious. With enough pressure to not turn the teasing into a tickle, she stroked the sensitive areas and watched in fascination as his eyes closed and his body surrendered to growing arousal far more relaxed again. Her lips followed the trace of her fingers but she stopped immediately when he startled away. "Unpleasant?"
"No, just …" He paused, shaking his head at himself. "Just … new."
"You said it yourself … We always had far too little time for each other. I'd say, we have much to catch up with."
Tarisilya waited until Legolas lay back down hesitatively and started fondling him again, breathing on the sensitive area and letting the tip of her tongue dance over it until Legolas was breathing faster and faster. Without hurry, she redirected her efforts to his upper body until she found the tender skin of his right nipple. Remembering that her husband sometimes liked it a little rougher, she bit down lightly on it.
With a moan, probably without even really realizing it, Legolas put a hand on Tarisilya's neck to keep her where she was. "Forgive me." He quickly pushed his arm back under the pillow before she could regard him with another of those sharp looks. "I just wanted …"
"You like it," she said impulsively, blushing immediately. No, it wasn't really easy yet to talk about such things. They both had to learn that. "Why don't you just tell me then, elwen?"
"You've changed very much, Ilya." It didn't sound negative, just a little wistful.
She nodded and put her head on his chest because his questioning glance was suddenly impossible to deal with. "Can you live with that?" Suddenly it was her, feeling this nonsensical fear that had tortured Legolas since yesterday – that something could come between them permanently.
"Look at me." It had been long since she'd last heard so much affection and sympathy in every single of his syllables. Tears filled her eyes when she could feel his love for her so deeply in her heart, in their still so weak marriage bond, as if it'd been her own. "I will always accept you just the way you are, Ilya."
The new moment of seriousness quickly ended. "So? Do you plan to keep on letting me suffer or will you do that again?"
"That?" Teasing him was more fun by the minute. "What do you mean?" She let her fingernails wander over Legolas' other nipple almost casually. "That?" Stretching a little, she rubbed her groin against Legolas' cock once more that was already stirring again with quite a bit of interest, so that she could whisper in his ear. "Or something like that?" She leisurely caressed his arms again and touched the tip of his ear with her lips.
Legolas' hands clenched around the pillow. He was fighting himself but it was still a step too big to make.
Tarisilya quickly felt sorry for him. No need to go too far. She dropped a line of tender kisses along his neck, the line of his collarbones, the little hollow next to it. Then she circled one of his nipples with the tip of her tongue provocatively. "Or this?"
"This," he whispered, hardly audible and yet far more than Tarisilya had expected.
Satisfied, she licked the darkened skin, harder and harder, until the small bud in its center protruded. Legolas' purr encouraged her; carefully catching the area between her teeth, she tugged on it. His loud moan had her pause, but since his arousal only strained harder against her body, that had apparently not been a sound of pain. Raking her nails over the other nipple, her fingertips lightly squeezed that one, too, and pulled on it, gently, as she was still unsure how far she could go.
"Harder …" This time, the order was clear. It was sheer willpower only now that still kept Legolas' hands where they were. A first layer of sweat was glistening on his skin. Tarisilya had managed to make him forget his initial reservations completely. Now he enjoyed what she was doing for him.
She raised her head without her teeth letting go so that his sensitive skin was being stretched more and more. When she squeezed harder on his other side then and twisted her hand a little, the moan turned into a scream of lust. Legolas' chest arched up, his body caught between arousal and a hint of pain so that Tarisilya rather let go of him, just caressing his nipples with her fingertips now until their redness faded.
"Not yet," she answered the silent plea in his panting, with her arms thoughtfully crossed on his belly. "Just this once, I want you to surrender to me completely."
She let him lure her in for a kiss but still kept control. First, she sucked on his lower lip and used her teeth on it as well. Then she traced the attractive shape of his mouth with the tip of her tongue, not rushing anything. The touch of their tongues was also just a single mutual caress before she pulled back and took Legolas' face between her hands, straightening his messy hair.
She enjoyed the feeling of their bodies being nestled together consciously, of Legolas' arousal bathing in the wetness between her legs, making her wish for an end of the waiting herself. Soon. She forced herself to suppress her desire, breathed another small kiss to Legolas' strong jawline before scooting downwards again, without breaking eye contact.
Legolas surprised inhale upon Tarisilya's hands closing around his butt cheeks and the tip of her tongue touching his belly, proved her right. Now she fully relied on him to guide her, just like earlier, to show the best ways of spoiling him. That was all she was asking of him tonight, to try and make it clear to him why she had felt so low after their last time. Before she could go back to letting herself fall into his arms unhesitatingly, she needed to show him how she wanted him to treat her. And it was an exciting lesson indeed …
She liked how his skin felt on her lips and how he was thrusting his hips against her when his cock grazed her sensitive breasts. She stayed there for a moment, taking the chance to cover his belly with kisses, to tease the hidden button that was his navel with her tongue. The grounded scent of his elfhood surrounded her when his arousal left warm traces of wetness on her, and she kneaded his behind harder, knowing that he was reacting just as strongly to that as she was.
Legolas' hips sank down onto the mattress, chasing her movements. For a moment, he forgot what he'd just been waiting for so impatiently. All the more loud did his noises of lust become when Tarisilya licked the glistening white off of his lower belly before going lower and lower.
The strict expression was back on her face already when Legolas' rested his hand once more on her neck, but this time, he just wanted to catch her eye. When she had made a move to be that close to him the first time, he'd stopped her already. But this time, he didn't do it because he was at the end of his composure already. "Ilya, I … You don't have to do this, you know."
Tarisilya smiled. Contrary to some people's opinion, sometimes, her husband was a quick learner after all. Stopping? Now that his body was trembling in expectation and she could hear his heart race, his voice being nothing more than a choked whisper?
She lovingly took his hand and caressed it briefly instead of pushing it away. "Just show me how." Without waiting for an answer, she put her right hand around his cock and allowed the fluid on it to wet her lips, just feeling the smooth skin at first. Then she used the tip of her tongue, keeping to the sensitive slit in the middle for a long moment until she noticed how Legolas moved towards her.
Only when his hand clenched on her neck, from how badly he was keeping himself from pushing her, she opened up for him, let him slowly slip inside her mouth until her lips met her trembling fingers. It felt foreign, his beloved, warm scent being so close, that very special taste of salt and yearning … She could even taste the traces of her own wetness that grinding against him so firmly had left. It was intensive, closer than everything they'd shared so far … And that was exactly what made it so good. Being so close to his body, the muscles of his loins twitching … It was a feeling of control, of knowing that he was being completely in her hands right now, and only in hers. That alone made it worth it.
Tentatively, she sucked on the head of his cock, sighing deeply when Legolas' throaty moan signaled her that he wanted more. She let her hand slip down to the heavy swell of his balls, cradling them the way he liked it so much, harder than she had dared so far. He seemed to enjoy it just as much as usual tonight, closing his eyes with a deep breath. A chance she seized to take in what her hand had covered before as well, until the faint tickle in her throat became too unpleasant and she had to retreat a little.
"Just like that," Legolas whispered to her, his eyes glistening dark with lust. "You don't know how hard you make it for me to keep it together."
"Then just don't. Because I just got started."
With that, she lowered her head to his cock again and started to suck on him once more, with more confidence now, enjoying every drop of his lust hitting her tongue before she took him inside again. She took only as much of him as she felt good about though; instead, she was moving faster and harder now. Given how his hips went up again and again, and how everything that he might have wanted to say turned to unarticulated sounds, apparently, she wasn't doing anything wrong in particular …
She realized quickly that in spite of her request, Legolas still tried to not let himself go too much. It was only every now and then that his hand pushed her a little further downward, or that a noticeable jolt went through his body. But he kept on breathing remarkably calmly. Only the almost painfully looking hardness of his cock revealed how much of his control she'd shattered already.
When the effort was starting to show on his face as well, she reached for his hand again and paused until he was looking at her. "Let go, elwen."
"But you …"
She interrupted him with a smile. "I told you: Today, I just want you to give yourself to me."
"I already did." In the end, his desire for more of these touches was stronger, and for this tension in his lower belly to end that Tarisilya could feel under her fingertips. He lovingly caressed her hair, her slightly swollen lips. "A little faster," he murmured, still hesitatingly, but when she followed the request at the latest, his mind abandoned him. His head fell back on the pillow; he didn't even realize that his hand was still clawing it hard. Again and again, his hips arched towards Tarisilya.
She, too, let nothing but sensation guide her. And how right it felt, finally being with her husband like this again. Maybe it was her quick movements that made her feel that dizzy, or her short breathing, of the smell infusing the air, speaking of their shared lust. All she felt now was his arousal, the hot blood flowing in his veins, how his body was shaking when she took him in especially deep without really realizing.
And when he whispered something next, she just ignored it, doubling her efforts instead of stopping until he pushed his hips towards her one last time and far more warm fluid filled her mouth. His quiet scream was still echoing in her ears when she raised her head, carefully, because she noticed immediately how sensitive he was when she just used the tip of her tongue lightly to remove the last traces of his height. Slightly exhausted, dazed, she put her head on Legolas' chest.
When Legolas pulled her in his arms, at last, looking for words, she just shook her head. "Anytime, elwen." She kissed him, just fleetingly because he was still gasping for air, and rested her head on his shoulder, with her hand placed on his chest, to enjoy every second before falling asleep to the fullest.
Sleep was somehow the last thing on her mind though when Legolas wormed his thigh between her slightly spread legs and rubbed it over her still damp center. Before she had even really calmed down, her arousal was growing again already. She'd longed for rest just a minute ago. Instead, every single cell of her body was suddenly yearning for him. If those were pregnancy side effects, the next months would definitely be very … intense.
Legolas' fingertips gingerly grazed her breasts. "Will you let me touch you now, elwen?"
Her moan was answer enough. When exactly had her nipples actually become that sensitive? She willingly let herself sink back onto the mattress, to get more of that intense sensation alone. Since Legolas was going a lot slower than her returned lust demanded it, she just grabbed his hand and guided it back to where it had just been.
His amused glance still managed to her blush, in spite of all the confidence she had rightfully earned earlier. Fortunately, he made no comment. It took him a moment to find out how to touch her now without causing her pain, but at the latest when he tenderly sucked on one of her nipples and slowly fondled the other with his fingertips, nothing but a firm caress, she became boneless in his hands.
Now it was her who couldn't keep her hips from twitching, especially since Legolas had set his mind to annoying her a little by starting to massage her legs. Which was pleasant, given some tension from the pregnancy, but not what she was yearning for right now. "Are you trying to drive me crazy?" she growled when he stroked from her knee up as if he had all the time in the world.
"Not today." With a quiet laugh, he turned to her nipples again, never taking his hand off her thigh. Instead, he let it wander even higher when Tarisilya opened her legs wider in challenge.
She threw her head back in surprise when two fingers sank deeply into her wetness immediately and started to move inside of her. She was glad when Legolas pushed his arm under her head. Feeling him support her helped her let herself go. A third finger teased her most sensitive point, whenever she was pressing down against him. Faster than she was prepared for it, the heat consumed her body. When she opened her eyes for a moment, she saw Legolas stare at her in excitement, satisfied and, most importantly, with all his love. It was that expression that triggered her height, and having Legolas' lips on hers, again and again, until her breathing finally evened out.
It didn't take long before she ended up in his arms again, just like at the beginning of the night, tender words of love being whispered in her ear. Every single one of them warmed her soul like Legolas' strong arms around her body did and gave her the assurance that while not everything might be alright again, it would hopefully soon be, in spite of all the grief, misunderstandings, and anger.
They could talk again tomorrow. When Legolas silently pressed her to his chest at last and his slow breathing grazed her skin, when the shadow of sleep darkened her eyes, too … That was when Tarisilya felt that she was exactly where she belonged, for the first time in many long months.