When Saryn came to herself again, she found that she was lying nestled in an enormous curtained bed, cool white sheets pulled up to her chin. Where am I? she thought groggily, reaching a stiff, white hand up to wipe the sleep from her eyes. Wherever she was, she had been bathed. The hand that had been caked and crusted with mud and slime was now supple, scented faintly with the odor of honey soap. The sleep had done her good. She no longer felt dizzy and detached from everything, as though she were observing things from outside of her body, but she was still ravenously hungry.
She sat up in the bed, wincing as the muscles in her back gave a sharp twinge. Moving slowly, she tossed the thin coverlet aside and swung her feet onto the hard wooden floor. In no hurry, she stretched placidly and looked at her surroundings. She was in a large, airy room decorated with rich, luxuriant, brocade tapestries. A polished cherry table sat on her immediate left, host to a heavy, pale yellow pitcher and a vase of freshly cut mint. To her right was a simple mahogany door. It was flanked by a matching cherry bureau on the left and an armoire on the right. Turning to look behind her, she saw a set of glass doors, beyond which lay a balcony overlooking a bright spray of late spring forest. There was also a chair hidden in the corner. Someone was sitting in it, head drooped to their chest, their breathing deep and steady. Asleep.
Telvryn, she thought, it's Telvryn. Sweet dear, he's been watching over me. If that was Telvryn, then where was Cerek? Probably dead. The fever had all but consumed him the night they had escaped the bog, and she had way of knowing how long ago that had been. Even then, he had been beyond all salvation. Surely he was gone now.
She started toward the sleeping Telvryn, intent upon rousing him from his slumber so that they could set about discovering the nature of their predicament. If they were in hostile territory, she had no desire to linger long, and if they were not, then she wished to thank their kind benefactor. She had only gone a few tentative steps when the sweet smell invaded her nostrils. Wild strawberries. Her heart skipped a beat and then began triphammering in her chest. Could it be? A soft, hopeful cry spilled from her lips, and she glided across the room to the chair on eager feet.
There could be no doubt as to the occupant of the chair. Legolas, not Telvryn, sat slumped in the soft cushioned chair, his chest rising and falling as he breathed life into his troubled dreams. Even at rest, his beautiful face wore a pained, uneasy expression. A few strands of blond hair had tumbled onto his face, and she reached out a trembling hand to brush them away. She needed the simple act of contact to reassure herself that he was real, not just a vivid phantom conjured up by her fevered mind to distract her as she tumbled into the nothingness of death.
He stirred at her gentle caress and his stormy gray eyes fluttered open.
"Saryn!" he cried when he saw her.
Suddenly she was enfolded in his strong, warm embrace, his arms infusing her with all of his love. She wept then, soft hiccoughing sobs of relief, and he led her back to the bed, whispering loving words of comfort in her ear. At last she was at his side again, no longer enslaved by fear and doubt. She clung to him, reluctant to let him go, lest the Fates should snatch him away again.
"Saryn," he said, pulling himself away to cup her tear-streaked face in his hands, "Oh, Lord of Elbereth be thanked that you live. You were so pale and lifeless in my arms that I thought you had passed into Valinor. I was so frightened without you. You can't imagine the terror I felt in my heart as I faced the thought of life without you."
"Well I can imagine it, my love, for it was just such a terror that drove me to find you," she replied, stroking his cheek.
Their blissful reunion was interrupted by the entrance of Haldir, who flung the door open with a loud crash. He was flanked by Galadriel and Elrond.
"Forgive me, my friend," he said, looking immensely relieved. "I heard cries and thought something was amiss with Her Ladyship." To Saryn he said, "Good afternoon, Lady Saryn. It soothes my heart much to see you awake after such a long time."
"Do not apologize, my friend. I am grateful for your prudence," answered Legolas, inclining his head in gratitude.
His eyes darted to the faces clustered behind Haldir. When he saw Elrond, his face hardened.
"I bid Her Highness welcome," he said, "but as for him, if he should pass over the threshold, I will strike him down. Much did his deceit nearly cost me. I will not abide his hands upon my wife."
Galadriel flitted serenely into the room. "Still your tongue, Legolas," she said calmly. "Your emotions undo you, and your conduct is unbecoming. This is my realm, and I decide who shall go and who shall stay. Well you know that Lord Elrond has been an excellent physician to Saryn. It is because of his tireless care that she now stands recovered before you. Bitterness is dangerous young one; let it not lead you astray.
Legolas flushed a furious red but said nothing.
Saryn watched the exchange between her husband and Galadriel with some trepidation. It was evident that he was furious with King Elrond, but for what she could not guess. She had never heard him speak to anyone that way, least of all a royal, and the acidity and bare hatred in his voice frightened her.
"Welcome, Saryn. I am Queen Galadriel of Lothlorien," said the queen, extending a lily hand.
Saryn took the hand and kissed it, bowing her head in deference to the radiant personage before her. She was ashamed of her tear-stained face and disheveled hair. Such a great lady as this commanded order and beauty, and right now, she had neither to offer.
"Do not fear," said the queen, sensing her discomfiture. "Indeed I did not expect to find you half as well as you are. Lord Elrond has mended you well. All of the castle, of the realm is at your disposal, but first I would have Elrond examine you to his satisfaction. Given your condition, it is the only prudent course." She looked at Legolas, who had fixed her with a befuddled stare, then back at Saryn. "Does he yet know?"
"No, Your Highness," answered Saryn, a secretive smile curling her lips.
Galadriel nodded. "Then I leave Lord Elrond to his examinations. If you need but the smallest trifle, ask, and it shall be yours." With that, she flashed a mysterious smile at the by now hopelessly confused Legolas, and vanished through the open doorway like a puff of smoke.
Elrond stepped forward and began to gently palpitate her swollen abdomen. From the corner of her eye, she saw Legolas bristle, his jaw clenching furiously, but he made no move to intercede. His anger and confusion swirled across his face, a kaleidoscope of raw emotion. She reached out and took his hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Some of the tension drained from his face, and he stroked her small hand lovingly with his thumb.
"Are you having any pain?" Elrond asked, probing her stomach with his fingertips.
"None, my lord," she replied.
"Any unusual discharge?"
"No."
"Any bleeding?"
"No."
He gave her abdomen a few more gentle proddings and stood. I can find no harm, but have more care in the future. Is there anything else you require, my child?"
"I am half-mad with hunger and mightily desire a hot bath," she said.
"As well you should," he said approvingly. "For eighteen hours have you lain here, unmoving and pale. I will have supper and a bath brought up forthwith. Anything more?"
"Sir, my friends?"
Elrond sighed. "My sentry has suffered a badly broken arm, but he is well on his way to good health. He is resting comfortably in the room at the opposite end of the corridor."
"And the other?" she asked hesitantly.
The elf king's face grew grave. "Whatever befell him in that foul bog is beyond my skill to heal. He shall be lucky to survive until dawn."
"I fear I am responsible for his fate," she whimpered miserably. Had I not shot him in the throat, he never would have passed beneath the shadow of the bog."
"Hush, child," he soothed, "it is useless to torment yourself with what has already passed; it will do you no good."
Inside his head, the malicious voice of doubt spoke up. Fine advice indeed. Why, then, do you not heed it? Hypocrite.
"If there is nothing else, m'lady, I will take my leave," he said, suddenly wanting more than anything to escape into the fresh dusk air.
"No, there is nothing, Your Majesty. Thank you," she said.
"Very well, then." He patted her hand and gave the scowling Legolas a curt nod before retreating from the room.
Legolas waited until the door snicked closed before he turned his bewildered face to his wife. "Saryn," he said, taking her hands in his own, "What comes of all this poking and cryptic speech?" he beseeched her. His voice was plaintive.
Surprisingly to him, she stood from the bed and laughed. "My dear husband, I was certain you would have grasped the nature of things by now." Her deep blue eyes were alight with merriment.
He gaped at her. "I know only that Elrond has taken much interest in the strange swelling of your belly. I beg you, tell me truly of that which ails you."
"Ails me? Oh indeed! All women should wish for such an ailment!"
She was howling with laughter, her creamy face apoplectic with mirth. She clutched her sides and sank down onto the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
When she had recovered enough, she wiped her streaming eyes with the back of her hand and said, "Oh, my sweet Legolas, it appears your worry for me has clouded your reason. I suffer no ailment, but rather a glorious blessing."
"A blessing?"
"On the same day you set out from Rivendell, I went to see the midwife, for my bleeding had not come. She told me such wonderful tidings. The day we have long hoped for has come. Dear one, I am with child!" She stood and twirled happily before him.
Legolas sat frozen on the edge of the bed, certain he had not heard her correctly. Surely she had not told him that she was with child. That was an impossible dream, one he had abandoned long ago. Could it be? Had they really been blessed after two hundred years?
"I'm sorry, darling. I fear I did not hear you correctly. Did you say that you were with child?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Yes! Isn't it splendid, love?" she answered. She was beside herself with glee. The look on her husband's face was priceless.
"Truly?" he asked, still certain that it was a cruel joke.
"Love, never would I deceive you. It is so." She took his hand and placed it upon the small swell of her belly.
He drew a sharp breath as his hand touched the smooth, unyielding protrusion of her belly. So it was true then. Inside of his wife's womb lay all of his nebulous hopes and formless dreams. Beneath his clumsy, groping hand, his heir took shape, drawing upon the history in its blood to form strong arms and sturdy legs. All of my life, I have dreamed of this moment, and now it has come to pass. The gods have blessed me with a child, an heir, yet he shall be much more. He shall be my legacy and an everlasting monument to our undying love, he thought.
He scooped the unsuspecting Saryn off her feet and gave a celebratory whoop, swirling and dipping her in great, looping circles. Looking at her as she squealed in frightened delight, her delicate neck exposed, her hair flying in all directions as they spun, he was filled with a sweet, heady contentment, and for the briefest of moments, he was convinced that he knew how the souls in Valinor felt each day.
"Long have I waited to hear those very words," he said breathlessly, setting her down before his arms failed him.
"Long have I waited to say them," she replied, brushing her lips against his.
They spun around at the sound of several throats clearing in unison. Three guards stood watching them with barely concealed grins. One bore a tray holding a large pot of soup and two loaves of bread; the others carried between them a large wooden tub of steaming water and a cloth sack filled with bubble beads.
"Well, what are you staring at?" he demanded excitedly.
"Nothing, sir, take no offense. It's just that you are in an exceedingly good humor, it seems," responded the tray-bearing guard.
"Well, of course I am," he quipped, a big goofy grin spreading across his face, "I am to be a father."
"Ah, congratulations, my lord," the guards chorused, stamping their feet in lieu of applause.
"Yes, yes, thank you," he cried, flapping his hands as if to shoo their plaudits away. "Please put the food on the table and the bath over there. Then you may go. My wife needs her rest."
Saryn laughed behind her cupped hands as the guards did as they were told and scurried away, parting with a final round of congratulations.
"My dear Legolas," she tittered, "already you spoil me."
"And I intend to spoil you beyond all reason," he declared, pulling out her chair from beneath the small table.
She giggled helplessly and sat down to eat. The soup was a rich, creamy potato, and she devoured it greedily, reveling in its smoothness as it coated her long-neglected stomach. First one bowl disappeared, then another, her hunger only seeming to grow with every spoonful. She was halfway through her third bowl when she noticed Legolas' calm eyes watching her.
"What is it? Have I got a spot of cream on my chin?" she inquired, reaching for a linen napkin.
"No. I was just thinking of how barren you neck looks without this," he said, pulling out the silver joining pendant.
Her hand flew to her neck, dismay registering on her face. In all of the excitement of their reunion, she hadn't noticed it was missing. "Oh no! How could I have lost it?" she cried, tears welling in her eyes.
Seeing her sadness, Legolas scrambled from his seat and rushed to her side. "Do not weep, my love," he soothed. "It is but a small matter of fastening it around your neck again. Haldir has already repaired the clasp. See?" He lowered the small chain over her head and snapped it around her neck.
"All the same, I am ashamed to have lost it," she sniffled.
She finished her fourth helping and pushed the bowl away a few minutes later.
"Are you sure you will have no more?" he asked, wiping his mouth and offering her the pot.
"No. If I eat one more bite, I shall pop," she said, pushing back her chair and standing up.
As if to drive the point home, she uttered a loud, sonorous belch. Legolas gaped at her in open-mouthed shock.
"Oh my! Excuse me," she apologized with an embarrassed snicker.
She turned toward the tub, intent on stripping and sinking into a hot bath, but Legolas' strong arms wrapped around her waist.
"Legolas, though I am pregnant, I assure you that I can still walk," she chided gently.
"Neither walking nor bathing was on my mind," he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear.
"Oh? Perhaps I can be persuaded to delay my bath," she said in a throaty whisper.
"Indeed," he murmured, hands sliding up to cup her breasts through the soft fabric of the simple nightgown she wore.
Her breathing quickened as his expert hands roved her body, caressing her in all the right places. She cried out as his fingers brushed her hard nipples. Valinor, but he knew how to make her body beg for him.
"I see your body is of the same mind as I," he smirked, turning her around and pressing his lips to hers.
She opened her mouth, and his warm tongue darted inside to explore the familiar confines of her willing mouth. She moaned into him as his hands squeezed her aching breasts. Her body screamed with desire, and she pulled him close.
"Take...take...," she begged, the fire between her legs driving all rational thought from her brain.
"Take what?" he teased, knowing full well what she wanted.
"M-," was as far as she got before he jerked the nightgown over her head and tossed it into the corner where it was promptly forgotten.
He loved the sight of Saryn's naked body. Her glowing white skin and voluptuous curves intoxicated him, especially when she was flushed with desire as she was now. The sight of her glistening sex inflamed his already considerable passion, and he reached down to stroke her, catching his breath when she moaned and thrust against his hand.
"Is there something you want?" he cajoled, lowering her to the floor.
She nodded, her eyes dark and burning with unspoken lust.
"Well?" he asked, trying to stifle a smirk.
Too far gone with desire to speak, she yanked mutely at his pants, exposing his own desire. She hissed in anticipation and spread her legs in silent appeal as he settled on top of her.
"Are you sure no harm will come to the child?" he asked as he positioned himself.
"The child has survived the bog of the damned; it will survive the tender ministrations of its father," she gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips.
Thusly encouraged, he entered her, tensing as she screamed, then relaxing when he realized it was a cry of pleasure, not pain. He settled into a slow and delicious rhythm, savoring her soft heat. His eyes, hazy with arousal, drank in the sight of her as she writhed and lunged beneath him, her eyes rolling in ecstasy as he pleasured her. He lowered his mouth to her engorged nipples and began to suckle, eliciting a soft shriek of approval.
He increased his tempo, groaning as she flicked her tongue slowly over the sensitive tip of his left ear. Only she could make him feel such a strange mix of unbridled lust and love. He wondered if she knew how beautiful she looked when they made love. She had to know what her mere touch did to him, the sensations it brought out in him. Coherent, linear thought disintegrated when she began tracing her fingers around the supple perimeter of his ears.
His body surged forward, now beyond his control. The small part of him that was still aware of the world around him heard her laugh as she cried out, the secret place between her legs contracting, clutching at him, as she reached her climax Then he heard her crying his name over and over, a frenzied litany pouring from her lips.
"Yes, yes, Legolaslegolaslegolas," she chanted, raking her nails down his back, drawing thin weals of blood.
Instinct took over completely, and he drove himself within her with a hoarse cry, his climax blotting out everything but the concentrated ecstasy between his legs. He shuddered at her calming touch, sinking on top of her with a happy sigh. His senses were always heightened after lovemaking, and he could smell her sweet pear scent beneath the more pungent odors of sweat and sex. Her heartbeat fluttered beneath his ears, still elevated from her exertions. He listened as it gradually slowed, assuming its more customary trotting lubdub.
"I love you, Legolas," he heard her say, her fingers running through his sweat-dampened hair. "Don't you ever leave me again."
"Never," he said, and drifted to dream in her arms.
26
While Legolas and Saryn consummated their reunion, the rest of the Fellowship sat downstairs in the Great Common Room, trying to ignore the racket. A roaring fire crackled in the mammoth fireplace, and it was around the hearth's gaping mouth that they now sat, each nursing a goblet of red wine.
"When I swore allegiance to this quest, it was to send the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom, not suffer the hellish torture of listening to elves couple," groused Gimli, stopping his ears.
"Likely the elves would say the same about the coupling of dwarves," pointed out Boromir, his words slurring slightly. The full goblet he now held precariously in his hands had not been his first.
"There are worse things to hear than the coupling of two devoted elves, Gimli," said Gandalf with a humorless grin.
"Such as?" countered the dwarf.
"Such as the coupling of orcs," came Gandalf's retort.
The dwarf paled considerably. He had not thought of that unpleasant possibility. There was a retching sound to his right. Boromir was struggling with his gorge.
"Here now," he said indignantly, "why must you conjure in our minds such foul images?"
"I was merely providing Gimli with an example," snorted the wizard defensively.
"Yes, well, at least she's not a screamer," Boromir observed, taking another generous gulp from his goblet.
"What's a screamer?" asked Pippin, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
"Ah, a screamer, my friend," said Boromir, swaying dangerously on the edge of his chair, "is a mythical creature. Every man wishes to couple with her, for if they can coax from her lips a scream, it is proof of his prowess and virility."
"What's so bad about that?" said Pippin.
"Nothing for the lucky fellow that pries a ululating cry from the creature, but for his unlucky companions who must hear the sound of her screams while receiving none of her benefits, it is torture indeed. Some have been known to go mad," related Boromir, thumping his goblet on his knee for emphasis and sloshing red liquid onto his pants.
"I hope I never cross paths with a screamer," declared Pippin, properly awed.
"I shouldn't trouble myself overly much if I were you," said Boromir, and the group exploded into peals of laughter.
Only Elrond did not join in their mirth. He was not disturbed or offended by their chatter-he was old enough to know that such was the talk of men of all races. No, he was rendered silent by darker thoughts. Since their arrival in Lothlorien, he had known the time to face his past had come. For most of the day now, Galadriel had been calling out to him in his mind, bidding him come to gaze into her mirror. He had resisted, knowing all too well what it would show him, but it was no use. She was too strong, too insistent. She always won.
Tomorrow he would go to Galadriel. After all these years of running from the truth,
there was nowhere left to go.
She sat up in the bed, wincing as the muscles in her back gave a sharp twinge. Moving slowly, she tossed the thin coverlet aside and swung her feet onto the hard wooden floor. In no hurry, she stretched placidly and looked at her surroundings. She was in a large, airy room decorated with rich, luxuriant, brocade tapestries. A polished cherry table sat on her immediate left, host to a heavy, pale yellow pitcher and a vase of freshly cut mint. To her right was a simple mahogany door. It was flanked by a matching cherry bureau on the left and an armoire on the right. Turning to look behind her, she saw a set of glass doors, beyond which lay a balcony overlooking a bright spray of late spring forest. There was also a chair hidden in the corner. Someone was sitting in it, head drooped to their chest, their breathing deep and steady. Asleep.
Telvryn, she thought, it's Telvryn. Sweet dear, he's been watching over me. If that was Telvryn, then where was Cerek? Probably dead. The fever had all but consumed him the night they had escaped the bog, and she had way of knowing how long ago that had been. Even then, he had been beyond all salvation. Surely he was gone now.
She started toward the sleeping Telvryn, intent upon rousing him from his slumber so that they could set about discovering the nature of their predicament. If they were in hostile territory, she had no desire to linger long, and if they were not, then she wished to thank their kind benefactor. She had only gone a few tentative steps when the sweet smell invaded her nostrils. Wild strawberries. Her heart skipped a beat and then began triphammering in her chest. Could it be? A soft, hopeful cry spilled from her lips, and she glided across the room to the chair on eager feet.
There could be no doubt as to the occupant of the chair. Legolas, not Telvryn, sat slumped in the soft cushioned chair, his chest rising and falling as he breathed life into his troubled dreams. Even at rest, his beautiful face wore a pained, uneasy expression. A few strands of blond hair had tumbled onto his face, and she reached out a trembling hand to brush them away. She needed the simple act of contact to reassure herself that he was real, not just a vivid phantom conjured up by her fevered mind to distract her as she tumbled into the nothingness of death.
He stirred at her gentle caress and his stormy gray eyes fluttered open.
"Saryn!" he cried when he saw her.
Suddenly she was enfolded in his strong, warm embrace, his arms infusing her with all of his love. She wept then, soft hiccoughing sobs of relief, and he led her back to the bed, whispering loving words of comfort in her ear. At last she was at his side again, no longer enslaved by fear and doubt. She clung to him, reluctant to let him go, lest the Fates should snatch him away again.
"Saryn," he said, pulling himself away to cup her tear-streaked face in his hands, "Oh, Lord of Elbereth be thanked that you live. You were so pale and lifeless in my arms that I thought you had passed into Valinor. I was so frightened without you. You can't imagine the terror I felt in my heart as I faced the thought of life without you."
"Well I can imagine it, my love, for it was just such a terror that drove me to find you," she replied, stroking his cheek.
Their blissful reunion was interrupted by the entrance of Haldir, who flung the door open with a loud crash. He was flanked by Galadriel and Elrond.
"Forgive me, my friend," he said, looking immensely relieved. "I heard cries and thought something was amiss with Her Ladyship." To Saryn he said, "Good afternoon, Lady Saryn. It soothes my heart much to see you awake after such a long time."
"Do not apologize, my friend. I am grateful for your prudence," answered Legolas, inclining his head in gratitude.
His eyes darted to the faces clustered behind Haldir. When he saw Elrond, his face hardened.
"I bid Her Highness welcome," he said, "but as for him, if he should pass over the threshold, I will strike him down. Much did his deceit nearly cost me. I will not abide his hands upon my wife."
Galadriel flitted serenely into the room. "Still your tongue, Legolas," she said calmly. "Your emotions undo you, and your conduct is unbecoming. This is my realm, and I decide who shall go and who shall stay. Well you know that Lord Elrond has been an excellent physician to Saryn. It is because of his tireless care that she now stands recovered before you. Bitterness is dangerous young one; let it not lead you astray.
Legolas flushed a furious red but said nothing.
Saryn watched the exchange between her husband and Galadriel with some trepidation. It was evident that he was furious with King Elrond, but for what she could not guess. She had never heard him speak to anyone that way, least of all a royal, and the acidity and bare hatred in his voice frightened her.
"Welcome, Saryn. I am Queen Galadriel of Lothlorien," said the queen, extending a lily hand.
Saryn took the hand and kissed it, bowing her head in deference to the radiant personage before her. She was ashamed of her tear-stained face and disheveled hair. Such a great lady as this commanded order and beauty, and right now, she had neither to offer.
"Do not fear," said the queen, sensing her discomfiture. "Indeed I did not expect to find you half as well as you are. Lord Elrond has mended you well. All of the castle, of the realm is at your disposal, but first I would have Elrond examine you to his satisfaction. Given your condition, it is the only prudent course." She looked at Legolas, who had fixed her with a befuddled stare, then back at Saryn. "Does he yet know?"
"No, Your Highness," answered Saryn, a secretive smile curling her lips.
Galadriel nodded. "Then I leave Lord Elrond to his examinations. If you need but the smallest trifle, ask, and it shall be yours." With that, she flashed a mysterious smile at the by now hopelessly confused Legolas, and vanished through the open doorway like a puff of smoke.
Elrond stepped forward and began to gently palpitate her swollen abdomen. From the corner of her eye, she saw Legolas bristle, his jaw clenching furiously, but he made no move to intercede. His anger and confusion swirled across his face, a kaleidoscope of raw emotion. She reached out and took his hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Some of the tension drained from his face, and he stroked her small hand lovingly with his thumb.
"Are you having any pain?" Elrond asked, probing her stomach with his fingertips.
"None, my lord," she replied.
"Any unusual discharge?"
"No."
"Any bleeding?"
"No."
He gave her abdomen a few more gentle proddings and stood. I can find no harm, but have more care in the future. Is there anything else you require, my child?"
"I am half-mad with hunger and mightily desire a hot bath," she said.
"As well you should," he said approvingly. "For eighteen hours have you lain here, unmoving and pale. I will have supper and a bath brought up forthwith. Anything more?"
"Sir, my friends?"
Elrond sighed. "My sentry has suffered a badly broken arm, but he is well on his way to good health. He is resting comfortably in the room at the opposite end of the corridor."
"And the other?" she asked hesitantly.
The elf king's face grew grave. "Whatever befell him in that foul bog is beyond my skill to heal. He shall be lucky to survive until dawn."
"I fear I am responsible for his fate," she whimpered miserably. Had I not shot him in the throat, he never would have passed beneath the shadow of the bog."
"Hush, child," he soothed, "it is useless to torment yourself with what has already passed; it will do you no good."
Inside his head, the malicious voice of doubt spoke up. Fine advice indeed. Why, then, do you not heed it? Hypocrite.
"If there is nothing else, m'lady, I will take my leave," he said, suddenly wanting more than anything to escape into the fresh dusk air.
"No, there is nothing, Your Majesty. Thank you," she said.
"Very well, then." He patted her hand and gave the scowling Legolas a curt nod before retreating from the room.
Legolas waited until the door snicked closed before he turned his bewildered face to his wife. "Saryn," he said, taking her hands in his own, "What comes of all this poking and cryptic speech?" he beseeched her. His voice was plaintive.
Surprisingly to him, she stood from the bed and laughed. "My dear husband, I was certain you would have grasped the nature of things by now." Her deep blue eyes were alight with merriment.
He gaped at her. "I know only that Elrond has taken much interest in the strange swelling of your belly. I beg you, tell me truly of that which ails you."
"Ails me? Oh indeed! All women should wish for such an ailment!"
She was howling with laughter, her creamy face apoplectic with mirth. She clutched her sides and sank down onto the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
When she had recovered enough, she wiped her streaming eyes with the back of her hand and said, "Oh, my sweet Legolas, it appears your worry for me has clouded your reason. I suffer no ailment, but rather a glorious blessing."
"A blessing?"
"On the same day you set out from Rivendell, I went to see the midwife, for my bleeding had not come. She told me such wonderful tidings. The day we have long hoped for has come. Dear one, I am with child!" She stood and twirled happily before him.
Legolas sat frozen on the edge of the bed, certain he had not heard her correctly. Surely she had not told him that she was with child. That was an impossible dream, one he had abandoned long ago. Could it be? Had they really been blessed after two hundred years?
"I'm sorry, darling. I fear I did not hear you correctly. Did you say that you were with child?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Yes! Isn't it splendid, love?" she answered. She was beside herself with glee. The look on her husband's face was priceless.
"Truly?" he asked, still certain that it was a cruel joke.
"Love, never would I deceive you. It is so." She took his hand and placed it upon the small swell of her belly.
He drew a sharp breath as his hand touched the smooth, unyielding protrusion of her belly. So it was true then. Inside of his wife's womb lay all of his nebulous hopes and formless dreams. Beneath his clumsy, groping hand, his heir took shape, drawing upon the history in its blood to form strong arms and sturdy legs. All of my life, I have dreamed of this moment, and now it has come to pass. The gods have blessed me with a child, an heir, yet he shall be much more. He shall be my legacy and an everlasting monument to our undying love, he thought.
He scooped the unsuspecting Saryn off her feet and gave a celebratory whoop, swirling and dipping her in great, looping circles. Looking at her as she squealed in frightened delight, her delicate neck exposed, her hair flying in all directions as they spun, he was filled with a sweet, heady contentment, and for the briefest of moments, he was convinced that he knew how the souls in Valinor felt each day.
"Long have I waited to hear those very words," he said breathlessly, setting her down before his arms failed him.
"Long have I waited to say them," she replied, brushing her lips against his.
They spun around at the sound of several throats clearing in unison. Three guards stood watching them with barely concealed grins. One bore a tray holding a large pot of soup and two loaves of bread; the others carried between them a large wooden tub of steaming water and a cloth sack filled with bubble beads.
"Well, what are you staring at?" he demanded excitedly.
"Nothing, sir, take no offense. It's just that you are in an exceedingly good humor, it seems," responded the tray-bearing guard.
"Well, of course I am," he quipped, a big goofy grin spreading across his face, "I am to be a father."
"Ah, congratulations, my lord," the guards chorused, stamping their feet in lieu of applause.
"Yes, yes, thank you," he cried, flapping his hands as if to shoo their plaudits away. "Please put the food on the table and the bath over there. Then you may go. My wife needs her rest."
Saryn laughed behind her cupped hands as the guards did as they were told and scurried away, parting with a final round of congratulations.
"My dear Legolas," she tittered, "already you spoil me."
"And I intend to spoil you beyond all reason," he declared, pulling out her chair from beneath the small table.
She giggled helplessly and sat down to eat. The soup was a rich, creamy potato, and she devoured it greedily, reveling in its smoothness as it coated her long-neglected stomach. First one bowl disappeared, then another, her hunger only seeming to grow with every spoonful. She was halfway through her third bowl when she noticed Legolas' calm eyes watching her.
"What is it? Have I got a spot of cream on my chin?" she inquired, reaching for a linen napkin.
"No. I was just thinking of how barren you neck looks without this," he said, pulling out the silver joining pendant.
Her hand flew to her neck, dismay registering on her face. In all of the excitement of their reunion, she hadn't noticed it was missing. "Oh no! How could I have lost it?" she cried, tears welling in her eyes.
Seeing her sadness, Legolas scrambled from his seat and rushed to her side. "Do not weep, my love," he soothed. "It is but a small matter of fastening it around your neck again. Haldir has already repaired the clasp. See?" He lowered the small chain over her head and snapped it around her neck.
"All the same, I am ashamed to have lost it," she sniffled.
She finished her fourth helping and pushed the bowl away a few minutes later.
"Are you sure you will have no more?" he asked, wiping his mouth and offering her the pot.
"No. If I eat one more bite, I shall pop," she said, pushing back her chair and standing up.
As if to drive the point home, she uttered a loud, sonorous belch. Legolas gaped at her in open-mouthed shock.
"Oh my! Excuse me," she apologized with an embarrassed snicker.
She turned toward the tub, intent on stripping and sinking into a hot bath, but Legolas' strong arms wrapped around her waist.
"Legolas, though I am pregnant, I assure you that I can still walk," she chided gently.
"Neither walking nor bathing was on my mind," he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear.
"Oh? Perhaps I can be persuaded to delay my bath," she said in a throaty whisper.
"Indeed," he murmured, hands sliding up to cup her breasts through the soft fabric of the simple nightgown she wore.
Her breathing quickened as his expert hands roved her body, caressing her in all the right places. She cried out as his fingers brushed her hard nipples. Valinor, but he knew how to make her body beg for him.
"I see your body is of the same mind as I," he smirked, turning her around and pressing his lips to hers.
She opened her mouth, and his warm tongue darted inside to explore the familiar confines of her willing mouth. She moaned into him as his hands squeezed her aching breasts. Her body screamed with desire, and she pulled him close.
"Take...take...," she begged, the fire between her legs driving all rational thought from her brain.
"Take what?" he teased, knowing full well what she wanted.
"M-," was as far as she got before he jerked the nightgown over her head and tossed it into the corner where it was promptly forgotten.
He loved the sight of Saryn's naked body. Her glowing white skin and voluptuous curves intoxicated him, especially when she was flushed with desire as she was now. The sight of her glistening sex inflamed his already considerable passion, and he reached down to stroke her, catching his breath when she moaned and thrust against his hand.
"Is there something you want?" he cajoled, lowering her to the floor.
She nodded, her eyes dark and burning with unspoken lust.
"Well?" he asked, trying to stifle a smirk.
Too far gone with desire to speak, she yanked mutely at his pants, exposing his own desire. She hissed in anticipation and spread her legs in silent appeal as he settled on top of her.
"Are you sure no harm will come to the child?" he asked as he positioned himself.
"The child has survived the bog of the damned; it will survive the tender ministrations of its father," she gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips.
Thusly encouraged, he entered her, tensing as she screamed, then relaxing when he realized it was a cry of pleasure, not pain. He settled into a slow and delicious rhythm, savoring her soft heat. His eyes, hazy with arousal, drank in the sight of her as she writhed and lunged beneath him, her eyes rolling in ecstasy as he pleasured her. He lowered his mouth to her engorged nipples and began to suckle, eliciting a soft shriek of approval.
He increased his tempo, groaning as she flicked her tongue slowly over the sensitive tip of his left ear. Only she could make him feel such a strange mix of unbridled lust and love. He wondered if she knew how beautiful she looked when they made love. She had to know what her mere touch did to him, the sensations it brought out in him. Coherent, linear thought disintegrated when she began tracing her fingers around the supple perimeter of his ears.
His body surged forward, now beyond his control. The small part of him that was still aware of the world around him heard her laugh as she cried out, the secret place between her legs contracting, clutching at him, as she reached her climax Then he heard her crying his name over and over, a frenzied litany pouring from her lips.
"Yes, yes, Legolaslegolaslegolas," she chanted, raking her nails down his back, drawing thin weals of blood.
Instinct took over completely, and he drove himself within her with a hoarse cry, his climax blotting out everything but the concentrated ecstasy between his legs. He shuddered at her calming touch, sinking on top of her with a happy sigh. His senses were always heightened after lovemaking, and he could smell her sweet pear scent beneath the more pungent odors of sweat and sex. Her heartbeat fluttered beneath his ears, still elevated from her exertions. He listened as it gradually slowed, assuming its more customary trotting lubdub.
"I love you, Legolas," he heard her say, her fingers running through his sweat-dampened hair. "Don't you ever leave me again."
"Never," he said, and drifted to dream in her arms.
26
While Legolas and Saryn consummated their reunion, the rest of the Fellowship sat downstairs in the Great Common Room, trying to ignore the racket. A roaring fire crackled in the mammoth fireplace, and it was around the hearth's gaping mouth that they now sat, each nursing a goblet of red wine.
"When I swore allegiance to this quest, it was to send the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom, not suffer the hellish torture of listening to elves couple," groused Gimli, stopping his ears.
"Likely the elves would say the same about the coupling of dwarves," pointed out Boromir, his words slurring slightly. The full goblet he now held precariously in his hands had not been his first.
"There are worse things to hear than the coupling of two devoted elves, Gimli," said Gandalf with a humorless grin.
"Such as?" countered the dwarf.
"Such as the coupling of orcs," came Gandalf's retort.
The dwarf paled considerably. He had not thought of that unpleasant possibility. There was a retching sound to his right. Boromir was struggling with his gorge.
"Here now," he said indignantly, "why must you conjure in our minds such foul images?"
"I was merely providing Gimli with an example," snorted the wizard defensively.
"Yes, well, at least she's not a screamer," Boromir observed, taking another generous gulp from his goblet.
"What's a screamer?" asked Pippin, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
"Ah, a screamer, my friend," said Boromir, swaying dangerously on the edge of his chair, "is a mythical creature. Every man wishes to couple with her, for if they can coax from her lips a scream, it is proof of his prowess and virility."
"What's so bad about that?" said Pippin.
"Nothing for the lucky fellow that pries a ululating cry from the creature, but for his unlucky companions who must hear the sound of her screams while receiving none of her benefits, it is torture indeed. Some have been known to go mad," related Boromir, thumping his goblet on his knee for emphasis and sloshing red liquid onto his pants.
"I hope I never cross paths with a screamer," declared Pippin, properly awed.
"I shouldn't trouble myself overly much if I were you," said Boromir, and the group exploded into peals of laughter.
Only Elrond did not join in their mirth. He was not disturbed or offended by their chatter-he was old enough to know that such was the talk of men of all races. No, he was rendered silent by darker thoughts. Since their arrival in Lothlorien, he had known the time to face his past had come. For most of the day now, Galadriel had been calling out to him in his mind, bidding him come to gaze into her mirror. He had resisted, knowing all too well what it would show him, but it was no use. She was too strong, too insistent. She always won.
Tomorrow he would go to Galadriel. After all these years of running from the truth,
there was nowhere left to go.