Chapter 10

CW: Sexual content

…

The journey was going to last a little less than a week. Not terribly long, though she knew if they rode lighter it would have been only a few days. But when one traveled with royalty, there was a lot more to carry than what a pair of saddle bags could manage.

Their retinue was small, with two wagons and twelve riders. Beyond herself, Thranduil, Legolas, Carwegeth, and Galion, there were nine guardsmen. Miriel was not enthusiastic about being outnumbered by ellon, but at least the guardsmen were friendly and respectful. None of them treated her as anything less than a lady of the court, though she suspected they were freer with their language than they might have been if it had been any other elleth. It was a better reception than what she'd likely received at their destination.

To Miriel's surprise, Legolas managed long days in the saddle fairly well. The last time she'd taken a trip with him, he was barely bigger than a loaf of Tuigalen's sourdough bread. Now he rode his own pony alongside her and his father. Back straight, grip on his reigns lose, he looked every bit as comfortable in the saddle as Thranduil. The sight of his bow and quiver strapped on his back made her heart both swell with pride and stutter with apprehension.

"May he not need to use those on this journey."

Miri, unlike the prince, was prone to soreness. She didn't ride often anymore and knew by the time her thighs were used to the daily friction their trip would be over. Thankfully this time she'd thought to pack a salve, applying the rosemary-scented oily spread each night before bed. It soothed the chafing enough to let her fall asleep relatively quickly.

Also unlike her last journey, Miri slept in her own tent this time. Well, hers and Carwegeth's. It was small, cozy, just big enough for their bedroll and saddlebags, but it was enough to have a shred of privacy for a few hours.

She felt like a bad elf — laying in her small tent, she was closer to nature than she'd been in a long time. The wind rustling the leaves and the sound of crickets ought to have lulled her sleep. But she would lay awake, staring up at the shadows moving against the beige canvas above her, tension falling from her muscles very, very slowly. Thankfully her weariness would take hold after ten or fifteen minutes and she would eventually succumb to darkness.

Legolas shared his father's tent and had been excited about the prospect leading up to the trip. Miri had worried that perhaps too close proximity would be a big transition for them both. She need not have feared, however. On their second morning of riding, she caught a hint as to how the sleepover must have gone.

"Ada, will you tell me a story again tonight? Perhaps another of the constellations?" Legolas looked up at his father, mounted atop his stag, his blue eyes bright.

Thranduil inclined his head, lips pressed in a smile. "I already have one in mind, Legolas."

From her spot only a few mounts behind them, Miri grinned.

…

They were a little more than a day out from Lothlórien. Though she had not taken this trip many times, Miri could recognize the change in landscape. The plains were becoming dotted with more and more trees, the river swinging eastward. The land was closing together, drawing into a forest. But the biggest sign was the growing tightness in her chest.

"Are you nervous?" Galion asked from where he rode beside her. He had doubled back a few hours ago to take position beside her at the end of the party, behind the wagons. He was always thoughtful in that way.

"Only a little," she said, feigning lightness. "With Thranduil and Legolas in attendance, I doubt my presence will be of much note."

Galion laughed. "Yes, us Greenwood elves rarely leave our forest. I supposed there will be great interest around Legolas in particular."

"Everyone will be eager to see an elfling," she agreed.

Children were far more of a rarity among the elves than other people of Arda. An elfling was a blessing. Therefore, they were to be clucked over and cherished. She had no doubt Legolas would be treated to many biscuits and cakes, pats on the head, and other such fawning attention. Miri would have to make sure he ate something resembling a vegetable during their time Lothlórien least he learn to refuse them once they were home again.

They rode together for another hour before Thranduil signaled for the party to stop and set up camp for the night. After the horses were tethered, Miri set about removing their tack, brushing them, and assisting in preparing feedbags of oats, her assigned task. The two guards who drove the wagons were also responsible for this. Dorchir would fetch buckets of water and Sellion distributed feedbags.

Sellion, who was quick with a smile, asked her from across the back of a grey mount, "Are you on cooking duty tonight, Miriel?"

She snorted. "Thank your lucky stars I am not, Sellion, I am not known for being a cook."

"Then you need practice!"

"You ought to pray I never get a turn at that assignment," she chuckled. "Else you'll get practice in eating burned food."

He chortled at this.

Everyone had an assigned task when they stopped to camp. Some of them rotated, like cooking or fetching water. Thranduil typically set up tents. Galion would build a fire in the center of the ring of tents. Legolas joined Avron, a solemn ellon, to gather firewood. The small elf would fill a sling with kindling and rush back to Galion, proud of his contribution. Carwegeth would follow behind Thranduil to set the proper saddlebags at the door of each tent. Everyone else was out fetching water, digging latrines, or hunting for game.

Tonight, it turned out, was Dorchir's turn to cook. A former soldier, he had a fair amount of skill in turning simple ingredients into a filling meal. He'd managed to make a stew with the rabbits the others had brought back, along with a few wild onions and the dried carrots Tuigalen had packet. Everyone was grateful for the hearty fare after a long day's ride.

Miriel sat eating quietly as Thranduil outlined the plan for the next day. They would get to Lothlórien a little before sunset. They would be greeted by a party of guards a few miles from the gates, who would escort them to the royal residence. He and Legolas would need to clean up before greeting their hosts. Everyone else would have the benefit of a bath and an opportunity to rest. Miri looked forward to using a bathtub instead of a river for bathing and eating something besides game for dinner. Not to mention sleeping in a real bed.

From across the fire, she could watch a small elf droop over his bowl, eyes heavy. Miri glanced at the king, who gave her a small nod of approval.

"Come Legolas," she called gently. "It's time for bed."

Any other night he might have protested. Nearly of long days had persuaded him that bedtime was not the enemy. Tonight, Thranduil had too much to do before he could collapse into his own bedroll, so the duty of putting the elfling to bed fell upon her. Legolas dutifully rose without protest, feet dragging, and followed Miriel to his father's tent.

Miriel helped him wipe the road dust from his face and brushed out his braids before tucking him into his bedroll. Stretching out on the ground beside him, she sang softly until his eyelids flickered closed, breaths coming out long and deep. When she rose and crossed to the tent flap, Thranduil's long shadow was awaiting her. She slipped out and faced the king, tilting her head upwards to meet his gaze.

"He's asleep," she said softly. "He was tired."

The elfking nodded, expression impassive. "Are you off to bed now, too?"

"Not quite yet."

Again he nodded. "Will you partake in a drink with me, then?"

The invitation surprised her. They'd not spent more than a few minutes alone since their journey began. Surely he'd be more comfortable sharing a cup among his guards and Galion? She was not going to be jolly company, not tonight. Still, Miri found herself nodding nonetheless, then waiting when the king held up a finger before slipping into his shared tent. He returned bearing a flask. They walked beyond the circle of tents that made up the camp, the yellowed light of the fire fading with each step until they were in a blue gloom. Thranduil beckoned her toward a fallen log, swinging his long legs over the trunk. Hers barely brushed the ground once she sat, straddling the girth as he did so they faced one another. They could still hear the others laughing from around the fire, but it was faint.

Thranduil handed her the flask, nodding for her to uncork it. Miriel took a small slip and was immediately grateful for her caution. Whisky burned her throat. She passed it back to him and watch the king take a long drink.

"I hope tomorrow's ride is easy," she said as he lowered the flask. "I know Legolas is eager to explore all that Lothlórien has to offer."

"He might have to wait until he's had a little more rest," Thranduil replied wryly. "We will all need the extra rest, I think. It's been a smooth, but long ride. I am glad we will arrive with a few days to spare before the ceremony."

Miri wasn't. If she'd had things her way, they'd arrive and leave quickly, just enough time to attend all necessary functions and depart without offending anyone. They would offer offense, anyways — she was in their party, after all.

The closer they rode, the more she regretted agreeing to join the party. How could she have thought for a moment the comfort of her presence would outweigh the negative attention they'd receive? It would be tenfold, what her accompanying one of the very ellon she'd declined.

"How are you doing with him?" she asked after taking another sip, wincing at the burn.

"Well, I think. He seems…" Here Thranduil hesitated. "Happy."

"He enjoys spending time with you," she said with a small smile. "He loves you, Thranduil."

Thranduil offered his own smile, but his eyes held a hint of bleakness. "I fear I will let him down. I am not…I have never been easy with my affections, Miriel."

"You're easy enough with him." She placed a hand atop his. Gestures like this felt more natural now, after weeks spent by his side, his face unglamoured, praying to all the Valar that he might return to them. "Legolas has known only compassion and love from you. And he has a kingdom full of others that adore him too. He knows we all show our feelings in different ways. What you do share with him is meaningful."

He turned his palm upwards, interlacing their fingers, considering their joined limbs silently for a long moment. "You always have a way of reassuring me," he said, voice low. "And I have no idea how you've come to bear it."

Miriel bit her lip. "You are my friend, Thranduil," she said finally, squeezing his fingers. "It is not a burden to bear."

"Friends?" His silver eyes shifted upwards to meet her gaze, head tilting in question. "Are we, now?"

"Are we not?"

He sniffed. "I was under the impression you hated me, headstrong elleth."

She took another sip from the flask, passing it back to him. "I would hope we are beyond any hatred between us. And I'm hardly the headstrong one between us."

"I've never known another elf nearly as ungovernable as you."

"That's the kindest thing you've ever said about me." Miri pursed her lips, hiding a smile.

The king's eyes were twin stars in the blue shadows, bright and merry, shining in the dark. She'd managed to banish the bleakness that had lurked between them earlier, somehow. Impulsively, she lifted her free hand to his cheek, resting it against his cool skin. Thranduil closed his eyes — she instantly missed them — and turned into her touch, his nose brushing her thumb. Nuzzling into her hand.

Breath caught in her chest. This was intimate — too intimate — but she could not bring herself to draw away.

"I've never hated you," he breathed suddenly. "I've been enraged by you. I've cursed your name, I have even longed to banish you from my sight. But never hated, Miri."

Thranduil smoothly moved against her hand as he spoke, his lips skirting her wrist, a faint brush of heat on her pulse point. The world beyond them seemed to freeze in that moment, the sound of crickets and other nightlife fading out to silence. Her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears, the only noise that could be perceived as the king's lower lip dragged against the heel of her palm. That gesture alone fueled an impulse to moan. Miriel bit her lip again, holding back.

One eye opened, wicked lust glowing in the gloom. The king shifted against the log and pulled Miri closer with their interlocked hands. Their thighs were touching now. Using the back of his fingers, he skimmed her face from temple to jaw, eyes heavy-lidded. Wordless, he cupped her chin, lowering his face to hers. Yet Thranduil paused just a breath away from her lips.

"Miri," he murmured.

She didn't let him finish, closing the space between them and sealing his mouth with her own. Thranduil moved a hand to the base of her skull, holding her in place ask he reciprocated the kiss, lips moving in time with hers. His other hand was on her bottom, urging her closer. He nipped her lower lip, quickly soothing it with a gentle suck. Miriel opened against him and he plundered her with his tongue, his other arm snaking around to pull her even closer until she was almost atop him.

Hands resting against his solid chest, she swung a leg over his thighs to straddle him. When the telling hardening at the apex where they met bucked upon contact, Miriel made a noise half between a hiss and a groan. The sensation of his need melted her. Breathy huffs escaped her as her hips moved of their own accord, grounding into his length. She fought the need to cry out. How would it feel to have him plunged inside her? She was already in agony just feeling him against her with layers of cloth between them. Could she even imagine the sensation of skin against skin, his cock sliding against her wet slit?

Thranduil twisted her hair into one tight coil, pulling back to expose the hollow of her throat, teeth scraping against the delicate skin. Miri gripped his right shoulder, letting out a low noise of want. She'd let him take her right here on this log, the bark scratching her back, her cries muffled by the pressure of his mouth. Lower the waistband of her leggings, wrap her legs around him, move in time as they sought twin pleasures.

He need only ask.

The tip of his cock found just the right place, a glorious friction. She keened and he clamped a hand on her thigh, keeping her just so, rocking against that which brought her such pleasure. His mouth continued its travels, taking advantage of the neck of her shirt unfolding. With a moment of fumbling at the ties, he was soon grazing on her bosom, mouthing her nipples through the fabric of her camisole. Heat was still building as she continued moving against him. Miriel's breath came out in short, broken pants.

"Thran —" she gasped as her pleasure mounted and mounted. Before she could finish his name, she broke with inhalation, burying her face in his sweat-streaked neck to muffle her cry.

She didn't have long to recover. In moments, the king was shifting backward so he was stretched out beneath her, Miri perched above, straddling him. It was a tricky balance given the curved nature of the trunk, but she managed. Holding her hips, he guided her in a rhythm, murmuring encouragement as she again began to build towards her second climax. His hands drifted upwards towards her chest, appreciatively spreading his fingers out over the expanse of skin.

A loud laugh from the circle of fire abruptly broke the moment. Thranduil pulled back, hands stilling from where they're been stroking her breasts, eyes hazy.

This time, instead of pulling away, Miriel brushed his hair back from his temple, stroking his face, willing them both to calm. When Thranduil's gaze finally focused it was on her eyes, the bright glow of lust tempering into something less fiery. He captured her wrist again, pressing a kiss into the tender flesh. Then he shifted, standing, bringing Miri up onto her feet with him. They stood together, silent, chest brushing, breathing slowly steadying. Miriel reached for his hands. They weren't cold anymore.

Thranduil's lips quirked, gaze shifting down to their interlocked fingers. "Come," he bid. "Tomorrow is a long day."

Padding quietly, they walked to her tent. Thranduil held her back for a moment. His thumb traced her swollen lower lip, eyes shadowed in the contrast of firelight. Before Miriel could say anything, a kiss was pressed into her brow. Then Thranduil was sweeping away once more, heading to his own tent.

A combination of alcohol and weariness granted her a swift journey to unconsciousness.

….

For the first time in a long time, the king had been wrong. A handful of guards did meet them a few miles from the gates of Lothlórien. But instead of leading the party to the stables, where everyone would be dispersed among various guest rooms, they were brought to a pavilion at the base of a set of elegant stairs, so beautifully sculpted they almost looked organic. Two massive trees flanked them, giving the space an even greater sense of grandeur.

Miriel quickly realized, heart sinking, that she would not be allowed to slip away to the tub that was awaiting in her guest chambers. For Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel were floating down those stairs side by side, each motion measured. Behind them, a few courtiers trailed behind, appearing far less ethereal.

The king dismounted instantly, everyone else in their retinue following suit. Miri slid down, legs weak. Carwegeth moved to her side. The lady's maid gripped her nearest hand. Then she gave Miriel a light push, ushering her forward to stand by Legolas.

When she took her place beside the prince, the elfking glanced her way. His eyes crinkled, almost imperceptibly, with concern. Miri merely looked down at Legolas, resting a hand upon his small shoulder. This was not the reintroduction she'd pictured. Exhausted and sweaty, wearing dusty travel attire, her hair in a loose braid. The courtiers she'd grown up with were quite literally looking down upon her. And the king whose hand she'd refused standing beside her.

How must she look to them?

Thankfully, Thranduil momentarily spared her the uneasiness by shifting forward when Galadriel and Celeborn reached the pavilion. They were first to bow — fitting, as Thranduil outranked them — and he followed with an inclination of his head.

"King Thranduil, Prince Legolas," Celeborn intoned. "We welcome you. Your journey has not been too arduous, I hope?"

"Our travels were fair enough," Thranduil replied evenly. "My party is grateful for your hospitality. The road to Lothlórien has been a long one."

"It is truly a generous gesture for you to join us on this occasion." Galadriel's eyes swept between the Elfking, his heir, and the elleth standing just behind them. "I know that it is not often you leave the Greenwood. And to bring your son…."

Legolas took that as his cue to bow, executing the gesture flawlessly. "My lady, my lord."

Galadriel smiled down upon him, her expression genuine and warm. "Prince Legolas, you are most welcome. You are the spitting image of your naneth."

The elfling shifted uncomfortably at the compliment, glancing back at Miriel with uncertainty. She lowered her head a fraction of an inch.

"Thank you, my lady," he replied politely.

The Lady of Lothlorien's crystal gaze alit upon the prince's guardian. Her head tilted as she took in the elleth's appearance. The warmth she'd show Legolas was retreating. "Long has it been since we have seen you in our woods, Miriel Dolithien."

Miri bowed her head and dropped into a shallow curtsey. "Indeed, my lady."

"You departed with little ceremony," Galadriel continued. "How curious you've made your home among our brethren in the Greenwood. We were surprised to hear you had settled in Thranduil's court."

Thranduil spoke before Miri could bristle. "We are most fortunate Lady Miriel arrived after Queen Caladhiel's passing to assist us in the guardianship of Legolas and assumed a role as my seneschal. She has become indispensable to our family. I know that my wife would have been grateful to know our household was in such capable hands."

"We have missed the benefit of her company among our court." Galadriel's eyes had not shifted off of Miri at the king's interjection. "You bring a unique…spirit to every gathering, my lady."

Miri had no idea what Galadriel meant nor what the expected reply could possibly be. What did "unique spirit" imply? Probably nothing especially admirable. Aware of her status as a member of Thranduil's court, therefore a representative of Greenwood, she tightened her jaw and inclined her head.

"You give me too much credit, Lady Galadriel," she murmured, hoping she was coming across as demur rather than aloof.

"We're so pleased this occasion has brought you back under our trees once more."

"Indeed," Celeborn agreed. He exchanged a long glance with his wife. An unspoken communication passed between them before he turned back to their guests. "Come, you must be weary. We have quarters prepared for your party, Thranduil."

With that they were split — the horses and guards steered towards the stables, the king, prince, Miri, and Carwegeth ushered up the staircase and lead to their rooms. She was relieved to see Legolas's room was next to hers, Thranduil's flanking the other side. The rooms were high in the palace, airy with large arched windows, giving beautiful views of the golden leaves fluttering in the late summer breeze. Legolas had not spent much time exploring his own chamber, climbing into bed within seconds of entering. Miri shook her head, knowing his sheets would need to changed after his nap, but she pressed a kiss into his brow. She sent word that Legolas's things could be left in the hall outside of his door and he was not to be disturbed before dinner.

The elfking was waiting in the corridor when she stepped out of Legolas's chambers to depart for her own. A storm was brewing behind his eyes.

"What troubles you?" she inquired softly, hand instinctually slipping into his.

Thranduil immediately tightened his grip. "I fear I did not make it clear enough to our hosts you are a member of our family and therefore not to be insulted."

"If that exchange was an example of Galadriel's idea of an insult, I'm curious to see what she considers a compliment."

His lips pulled down in displeasure. "I know this kind of behavior is exactly what made you hesitant to accompany us, Miriel. I promised you I would protect you from it."

She touched his cheek, speaking in a soothing tone. "Thranduil, you cannot scare everyone into submission. There will always be those that whisper from the edges of the room. I appreciate your frustration, but you should not dwell on this. There is nothing they can do or say that would truly hurt me."

"I don't believe you're completely immune to their judgment," he countered gently.

"No," Miri admitted. "I simply know words and glances are nothing in comparison to true pain. Please, I do not want them to cast negative thoughts upon you for trying to defend me."

He held her pleading gaze for a long moment before dropping his eyes to their still-clasped hands. "If you wish," he finally agreed roughly. "My tolerance can only hold for so long. I did not expect hostilities from our very arrival."

She rolled her eyes. "They were hardly hostile, Thranduil. Awkward, perhaps, but not hostile."

The king hummed in disagreement. It was nearly a pout.

Miri pulled away, moving towards her room. "Get some rest," she advised. "I know I am weary and could use a real bath."

Thranduil nodded, though it was clear from his expression something still troubled him. He sighed. "We're expected to attend a welcome dinner shortly before sunset. It shall be somewhat more intimate than other occasions during this visit. Can you ensure Legolas is cleaned and dressed in time?"

"Of course." Miri suppressed a groan. She'd been foolish to hope their hosts would allow them a quiet evening of rest before jumping straight into the festivities. With a soft smile, she slid away and headed towards her room, leaving the king alone in the hall with his heavy brow still furrowed.

A tub had already been brought forth and was being currently filled. Miri could have cried at the sight of clean, hot water, the body oils, and soaps awaiting her. She took her time bathing, knowing that within just a fortnight she'd be deprived of the luxury again. Her time in the elfking's hall had made her used to having consistent access to bathing facilities. The last week had been a stark reminder of her days of sleeping rough.

After she had cleaned up, Miri slipped on a nightgown and curled into her mattress. Another wonderful experience after close to a week of sleeping on the ground. Within a few minutes, she was thoroughly asleep.

…

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