I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien, but they are his, not mine.
I gain only the enriched imaginative life that I assume he intended me to
gain.
Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.
AN: This chapter contains adult content.
*******
7. Night meetings
Legolas drifted silently along the path, listening to the murmur of the trees. They were content enough with the juices of spring flowing through them, but they were also wary of the nearby river rushing noisily along between banks that barely contained it. Legolas could feel their desire for the river's water at their roots and their fear that that water might embrace them in a death grip that would wash them away. I feel it too, he assured them, patting a beech that seemed particularly troubled. But the river stays in its place yet. We do not have to worry yet.
Unfortunately, he thought there was a very good chance they would have to worry the next day. The clouds he had seen in the west were moving steadily toward them, and enough rain had already fallen upstream that the river was rising again. He could not smell rain on the cool night breeze, and that was some comfort at least. Perhaps we will escape yet, he thought hopefully, and then put thoughts of flooding out of his head as one of the things he could do nothing about and would deal with when the time came.
As he would deal with Thranduil when that time came too, he thought, a little forlornly, wondering for the hundredth time how his father would react to the news that Legolas had not been able to stop the settlement Elves from giving away some of the food the king had sent. Would Thranduil believe that Legolas had not tried hard enough or had been inept in his efforts? Would he think Legolas had interfered in trade arrangements?
If he does think that, he will be furious, Legolas thought unhappily. When Thranduil was angry, he could be sharp-tongued enough to flay the offender's sensibilities raw, and he might very well demand that Legolas do something very unpleasant to correct the error he had made. Thranduil had once forced Eilian to apologize to Sólith for some imagined slight that was making relationships with the settlement difficult. Something like that would be distasteful, but the thought that he might have lost his father's trust or respect was nearly as painful.
From ahead came the sound of light footsteps, and he could not help reaching for his sword and sliding into the shadows off the path before realizing that the steps were Elven. If peace ever comes, he thought, I wonder if I will be able to stop reacting like a warrior. He was a little afraid that the answer was no, that he would forever see danger in the world around him. He grimaced. Anyr would undoubtedly think he was profoundly un-Elven, and in truth, Legolas sometimes thought that himself.
From around a bend in the path, a slim figure came into sight, wrapped in a cloak with the hood up against the evening chill. For a moment, he did not realize who it was, and then suddenly he smiled and his heart accelerated as the curls drifting out from around the edges of the hood told him that Tuilinn was walking toward him. He had followed Galivion's advice and looked for her earlier, but he not seen her, and now here she was before him.
He stepped out onto the path and spoke immediately so that she would not be alarmed by his sudden appearance. "Good evening, mistress," he greeted her. "You are out late by yourself."
She stopped abruptly at the sight of him and then laughed in evident relief when fear faded as she realized who stood before her. "Good evening, my lord," she said, pushing her hood back to see him better. "I walked some of the Mannish children home. Their parents are so busy building shelters that they do not have time to fetch them." Although he knew she had no particular feeling for him, her voice was warm. He wanted her to speak to him some more.
"Are you very tired?" he asked hesitantly. "I am restless and I thought I would walk a bit before going to bed. I would welcome some company if the children have not worn you out."
She considered for a moment. "I am not too tired, and I would enjoy a walk before bed. I like being out at night. There is a path ahead that leads to an apple orchard where the children were playing this afternoon. Shall we walk that way?"
He turned to walk back in the direction she had been taking when he met her, keeping a careful distance between them so as not to seem presumptuous by touching her. "Did you ever get my friend Ródien to eat his carrots?" he asked.
She looked as if she would laugh, just as he had intended her to do, but then some other thought evidently occurred to her and her face sharpened. "No, but it was no matter," she said a little stiffly. "Other children wanted them. Nothing is going to waste."
"I did not mean to imply that it was," he protested.
They walked along in silence for a moment. "I am sorry," she said. "I should not have assumed you were criticizing. After all, I could see today that you were really trying to understand Anyr's position, and you did agree to let us feed the Mannish children."
He blew out his breath in exasperation. She made him sound like a hidebound bureaucrat. "Neither the king nor I would let children go hungry if we could help it," he said.
She stopped abruptly and put her hand on his arm, and he was immediately aware of his skin tingling under her hand, despite the fact that both a fold of his cloak and his tunic sleeve lay between it and his arm. "Truly, I am sorry," she apologized again. "You have done your best to help us, and I thank you for that." She was looking earnestly into his face, and he felt a sudden, nearly irresistible impulse to kiss her.
Remember who you are, he reminded himself sharply, and as if she sensed something amiss, she removed her hand and turned to begin walking again. After a second's hesitation, he followed her, vividly aware that there was danger here of a sort he had not thought of when he reached for his sword at the first sound of her footsteps. In a short time, they reached the orchard, and in wordless accord, they seated themselves on a bench that had been crafted from a fallen tree and turned their faces up to the few stars that were visible in the cloudy sky. With a valiant effort, Legolas made sure there was a good foot between them.
"Your companion said that you were newly returned from the south," she said. He nodded wordlessly. "Tell me about it," she invited.
He hesitated. In his years as a warrior, he had found that he did not like to talk to those at home about what he had seen and done while on patrol. They did not always understand, and it seemed cruel to force the horrors of battle upon them. Moreover, they sometimes recoiled at the savagery in which warriors engaged just to survive. "The Shadow lies heavily there," he finally settled for saying.
She considered that in silence. "When you come home again," she finally asked, "can you leave it behind or does it follow you?"
He sat stock still, unable for a moment to answer. And then, to his shock, he found himself responding her honestly. "It clings to you," he breathed. "It soils you, and you grasp at every beauty of Arda, every person you love, every innocent child you see, to try to find clean happiness again." What am I saying? he asked himself. He had never spoken like this to anyone before.
She turned her face to his, and at that moment, the clouds covering the moon parted, and he saw her face glowing with its pale light. His hand was resting on the bench between them, and she put her hand over it. "Your adar must be very proud of you," she said. "He is fortunate to have a son who will venture near to Shadow so that all those clean and innocent things can survive."
As if spellbound, he reached with a tentative touch to brush her hair from her face. "You need a ribbon," he murmured, "a green ribbon." And because he could not help himself, he bent his head and brushed his lips gently across hers. As he did so, he was aware of his body humming in concert with hers, and with the trees, and with the spring grass pushing through the muddy ground beneath them.
"I have been waiting for you to do that," she said softly.
An hour later, Legolas climbed as quietly as he could on to the flet he was sharing with Annael on the excuse that he and Galivion each needed one of the guards with them at night. His friend lay wrapped in a blanket, apparently asleep, but he lifted his head when Legolas gathered his own blanket and lay down next to him. "You look pleased with yourself," Annael observed sleepily. "You must have persuaded Anyr to act as if he had some sense."
Legolas laughed. "You must speak more kindly of these settlement Elves," he said. "I have decided I like them." Annael snorted and then rolled over to go back to sleep. Legolas lay with his head pillowed on his arm, feeling himself slipping away to the dream path almost instantly. It had been a very long day, filled with frustrations to be sure, but with its good moments too.
***
Eilian scraped up the last of the mush he had made by boiling the acorn meal that Alfirin had sent with him. It had a pleasant enough nutty taste, and he supposed he should be glad he had it, but he had eaten enough of it this winter that he would celebrate if he never saw it on his plate again.
He had spent the afternoon in the meadow and then gone back to his campsite, which was along a stream a half mile or so outside the settlement. All the while he had wondered what was happening in Celuwen's cottage and had watched for her return. He had finally decided it would be foolishly optimistic to think he was going to get any of the rabbits he and Sólith had shot that morning, but he had been unwilling to leave his camp to hunt for more in case she should come while he was gone. Hence he had resorted to fixing what felt like his thousandth meal of acorn meal mush.
He rose, stretching carefully. His hip felt better after his rest in the meadow, but it still ached a little. He gathered his dishes, and carried them the short distance to the stream to wash them. Then he added a few more sticks to the fire. He was returning to his seat beneath an oak tree when a light step sounded and, without looking, he knew it was Celuwen. He turned to see her emerging from among the trees, carrying a bowl with a plate set over the top of it to cover it.
She held the dish out to him. "It seemed only fair that you should get some of the rabbit."
"I have already eaten," he said, taking the dish from her. "I will set it in the stream to keep cold for tomorrow." He used one of his spare bowstrings to tie the plate over the dish and then carried it to the edge of the stream and set it in the cold water, making sure the water was shallow enough that it would not lap over the edge of the bowl. When he turned back to the campfire he found that, in the circle of the fire's warmth, a sober-looking Celuwen had removed her cloak and seated herself on it leaning against the oak. He went to sit next to her, put his arm around her, and pulled her against his side. She nestled her head against his shoulder and let out a long, wavering breath.
As had happened each time he touched her on this trip, a shock ran through him, and he felt the beginnings of arousal. "What happened with your adar?" he asked hastily, trying to take his mind off the growing pressure in his groin.
"He admitted he kept your letters from me," she said grimly. "He has promised he will not do so again."
Eilian pondered this answer. He supposed life would be better if he and Celuwen could write to one another, but even as he thought that, his body told him that he, at least, would have a difficult time accepting letters as the only contact between them. I may have to accept it, he thought desperately. After all, even if Sólith agreed to let them wed, the customary betrothal period lasted a year, and Thranduil had said it might have to be longer. But perhaps he could placate his increasingly urgent desire for her if their betrothal were arranged so he knew there would be an eventual end to waiting.
But how could they become betrothed? Thranduil had insisted that Celuwen's parents would have to agree to such a step. Eilian did not think getting Isiwen's consent would be a problem, but he was much less hopeful about getting Sólith's. He stroked Celuwen's dark hair, reveling in its silky texture and trying to ignore the soft pressure of her breast against his chest.
"If your adar is allowing us to write to one another, does that mean he is willing to let us become betrothed?" he asked.
She turned her face up to his. "Betrothed?" she asked a little breathlessly.
He nodded. "I came here to ask if you would agree to bond with me." Her lips parted slightly and her breath quickened. In fear she might refuse, he hurried on before she could speak. "I know you worry about my being a warrior, and I cannot leave my adar's service. As the king's son, I have an obligation, and I would want to defend the realm even if I were not who I am. But your letter said you thought you could be content with the time we could have together even if I did have to be away most of the year."
She put her hand to his lips, stopping the flow of pleading words, and then she stretched toward his face and kissed him. In an instant, every effort he had made to curb his desire for her was burned away by the heat that flowed through his body like molten metal in a forge. Without breaking the contact of the kiss, he put his arms around her waist and drew her onto his lap, only too aware of the sweet agony of her bottom pressed against the increasing swell of his arousal. In the tiny portion of his brain that was still responding to reason, he knew that she had not answered his question. He pulled his mouth an inch away from hers and she let out a soft sound of protest. "Would your adar consent to our betrothal?" he asked again.
She bit her lip. "Not yet," she acknowledged. "But he will eventually. I know he will."
Eilian touched his forehead to hers and groaned. Thranduil's words echoed in his ears: "Are you sure there is anything you can do that would make you acceptable to her parents?" In all truth, he knew that the answer to that question was no, and suddenly he could not bear it. He pulled her more tightly against him.
"I cannot wait for 'eventually,' Celuwen. Do you want to do that?"
She looked at him uncertainly. "What do you mean?"
"Bond with me here and now, my love. Once it is done, it cannot be undone, and our parents will have to learn to live with it."
She wet her lips, and he found himself staring in fascination at the tip of her tongue sliding across them. She tried to speak. "I ..." she began and then stopped with a shudder when he bent to kiss her ear.
"Even if your adar allowed the betrothal, we would have to wait at least a year. Do you want to wait that long, Celuwen?" Deliberately seductive, his hand moved to brush her breast and then cup it. She made a small sound and leaned into the caress. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, feeling it harden underneath the soft wool of her gown. "A whole year?"
"But where will we live?" she managed to gasp. "What will we do?"
"Let me take you home," he urged. "We will live together when we can and write to one another when we cannot and rejoice in one another always." His hand now moved to her skirt, sliding it up so he could caress her calf. "Bond with me, Celuwen," he urged. "Let us do it now. We have waited long enough." With determination, he spoke the words of the blessing. "As Manwë is my witness, Celuwen, I bless you and promise that I will treasure you and not harm you. I will love you and be faithful to you for all of time and perhaps beyond." He held his breath to see if she would respond in kind.
She stared at him for a moment with her eyes wide and serious. And suddenly, something in them shifted, and his heart leapt in anticipation. She drew a deep breath. "As Varda is my witness, Eilian, I bless you and promise that I will treasure you and not harm you. I will love you and be faithful to you for all of time and perhaps beyond."
"In Eru's name," he breathed, all but weeping with relief and wonder over what they had just agreed to do. He bent his mouth to hers again, slipping his tongue between her lips and reveling in the taste of her. His hands moved to fumble with uncharacteristic clumsiness at the lacings on the front of her gown, and he realized with a start that she was unfastening his tunic. He tugged the front of her gown open and slid it off her shoulders to reveal the thin straps of her lace-trimmed chemise. He ran one finger delicately along under a strap, down to the top of the chemise and exulted when Celuwen arched her back to try to bring his hand into closer contact with the warmth of her breast. He slid his hand into the chemise and was rewarded by hearing her moan, and he suddenly realized that he was moaning too, reveling in the unbelievable softness of her breast under his touch.
He had to let go of her when she pulled his tunic and silk undertunic over his head in a single tangle of clothing but then was immediately tugging again at the shoulders of her gown, sliding it down from her arms and then pushing it down her legs until she kicked it off and her shoes with it. She lay in his lap now, clad only in her stockings and the thin chemise that reached to the middle of her thighs. Her hands moved over his naked chest, exploring his muscles and making him dizzy when she touched one of his nipples.
"You are so beautiful," he choked out. She flung her arms around his neck and drew his head down to kiss him again, while one of his hands supported her and the other crept up beneath her chemise to caress her thigh and then slide around to cup her bottom. With their mouths joined, her gasp was lost in his indrawn breath.
The almost painful pressure in his groin told him that he was not going to be able to wait much longer. He slid her off his lap to lie on her back on her cloak, yanking the chemise off over her head as he did so. And then he stopped and stared at her. In the firelight, she looked almost wanton, naked except for her stockings and holding her arms out to him. How could they have waited for so many years? he suddenly wondered. How could they have considered waiting for more? She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and he wanted her with a force that was almost beyond his control. He shoved his own shoes off and then unfastened his leggings and slid them down his lean hips to stand naked in front of her. Her eyes went to his erection and then suddenly slid to one side.
"Oh, Eilian," she cried, and he realized that she was looking at the wound on his hip. She sat up, making his mouth go dry at the way her breasts changed shape as she moved, and she ran her hand gently over the wound, causing him to draw in his breath sharply. Then, impulsively, she leaned to kiss the angry, red mark. Her hair brushed against him, and the touch of it was the straw's weight that broke his restraint. He grasped her shoulders, pushed her onto her back, and lay down with his body covering hers.
"I love you, Celuwen," he murmured into the crook of her neck as he trailed kisses down her throat. He despaired at how inadequate the words were to tell her what he felt.
She put her hands on each side of his face and drew it up to look at hers. "I love you, Eilian," she said and pulled his mouth down to hers. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and was suddenly aware of the heat that was coursing through her body too and coming to a focus where his body was straining to join hers. He could wait no longer, he knew, and with a heart singing at this moment of joining of bodies and fëar, he entered her.
She gasped and moved her hands to his shoulders to push him slightly away for a moment. Then her eyes met his, and as she looked at him, the alarm in them eased and he could feel her relaxing a little, trusting herself to his care. He could have wept at the love that was evident in her face. With a supreme act of will, he held still for a moment, allowing her to adjust to this intimate contact, the sign and means of the bonding they had agreed to. Then, as he began to move again, she slid her hands down his back and onto his buttocks, to guide the rhythm of his movements. Eilian's muscles tightened at her touch and then, nearly overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations sweeping through him, he lost himself in making love to this maiden who now was a maiden no more.
Place and time faded away, and only he and Celuwen in the here and now mattered. He touched her body with an intensity that threatened to drive all reason from him, and suddenly he realized that he was also touching her mind, her heart, her whole being. He could sense the pleasure he was giving her and the love she felt for him and the fear and anxiety that were slowly melting from her in the heat of their joining. Their eyes met in wonder, and he knew that she must be sensing him in the same way.
And then, Celuwen suddenly seemed to tense beneath him and draw her brows together as if she were concentrating. She tightened her hold on his buttocks and pulled him closer to her as she lifted her hips to meet him. And then she dissolved in a series of small, soft cries. And as she tightened around him, he too felt his world explode and lost all knowledge of where he was. He was falling; he was flying. He was lost; he was found. He was home.
*******
Fanfiction.net has been more than usually uncooperative for the last few days, so it's possible people sent me reviews I didn't get. I'm sorry. I remind you that this story is also posted at www.storiesofarda.com, which is a very reliable site. You can get alerts from there. It's also free of slash, mary sues, and stories about Thranduil hosting the Wheel of Fortune.
Frodo3791: I think you're right about Legolas not desiring to be a leader. I think he can take responsibility when he needs to, but he really has no ambition to be in charge. And I think that's one of the reasons he follows Aragorn so faithfully.
JastaElf: Anyr is my hippie elf. He is generous and completely feckless. He shrugs and says "whatever" and expects someone else to provide for him. And I think I will have to have some dreadful fate for Tinar, but I haven't quite decided what it should be yet. And Jasta, I have to say you are so consistently generous in your reviews. I am very grateful to you.
Lamiel: I had thought that maybe Legolas would let Thranduil deliver the final smackdown of Anyr. And you know that the Elven king could do it all the way from the caverns! And for Tuilinn getting between us fangurls and Elf-boy, I'm afraid it's too late. :-0
Feanen: I thought Legolas handled a tricky diplomatic situation well too. I am a person who is inadvertently rude at meetings because I am impatient, so I could never do as well as he did.
Dy: Thranduil is going to have a lot to be peeved about, I'm afraid. Neither son is bringing good news home from his point of view.
Farflung: Legolas is, indeed, in a difficult situation. But I thought Galivion might be too. It's his job to advise Legolas and he knows that Legolas is inexperienced at diplomacy. And he doesn't know Legolas all that well in a tough situation. So that's why I had him make the pretty interfering remark about the maiden. But Legolas agreed with you: he thought it was over the line too. :-)
Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.
AN: This chapter contains adult content.
*******
7. Night meetings
Legolas drifted silently along the path, listening to the murmur of the trees. They were content enough with the juices of spring flowing through them, but they were also wary of the nearby river rushing noisily along between banks that barely contained it. Legolas could feel their desire for the river's water at their roots and their fear that that water might embrace them in a death grip that would wash them away. I feel it too, he assured them, patting a beech that seemed particularly troubled. But the river stays in its place yet. We do not have to worry yet.
Unfortunately, he thought there was a very good chance they would have to worry the next day. The clouds he had seen in the west were moving steadily toward them, and enough rain had already fallen upstream that the river was rising again. He could not smell rain on the cool night breeze, and that was some comfort at least. Perhaps we will escape yet, he thought hopefully, and then put thoughts of flooding out of his head as one of the things he could do nothing about and would deal with when the time came.
As he would deal with Thranduil when that time came too, he thought, a little forlornly, wondering for the hundredth time how his father would react to the news that Legolas had not been able to stop the settlement Elves from giving away some of the food the king had sent. Would Thranduil believe that Legolas had not tried hard enough or had been inept in his efforts? Would he think Legolas had interfered in trade arrangements?
If he does think that, he will be furious, Legolas thought unhappily. When Thranduil was angry, he could be sharp-tongued enough to flay the offender's sensibilities raw, and he might very well demand that Legolas do something very unpleasant to correct the error he had made. Thranduil had once forced Eilian to apologize to Sólith for some imagined slight that was making relationships with the settlement difficult. Something like that would be distasteful, but the thought that he might have lost his father's trust or respect was nearly as painful.
From ahead came the sound of light footsteps, and he could not help reaching for his sword and sliding into the shadows off the path before realizing that the steps were Elven. If peace ever comes, he thought, I wonder if I will be able to stop reacting like a warrior. He was a little afraid that the answer was no, that he would forever see danger in the world around him. He grimaced. Anyr would undoubtedly think he was profoundly un-Elven, and in truth, Legolas sometimes thought that himself.
From around a bend in the path, a slim figure came into sight, wrapped in a cloak with the hood up against the evening chill. For a moment, he did not realize who it was, and then suddenly he smiled and his heart accelerated as the curls drifting out from around the edges of the hood told him that Tuilinn was walking toward him. He had followed Galivion's advice and looked for her earlier, but he not seen her, and now here she was before him.
He stepped out onto the path and spoke immediately so that she would not be alarmed by his sudden appearance. "Good evening, mistress," he greeted her. "You are out late by yourself."
She stopped abruptly at the sight of him and then laughed in evident relief when fear faded as she realized who stood before her. "Good evening, my lord," she said, pushing her hood back to see him better. "I walked some of the Mannish children home. Their parents are so busy building shelters that they do not have time to fetch them." Although he knew she had no particular feeling for him, her voice was warm. He wanted her to speak to him some more.
"Are you very tired?" he asked hesitantly. "I am restless and I thought I would walk a bit before going to bed. I would welcome some company if the children have not worn you out."
She considered for a moment. "I am not too tired, and I would enjoy a walk before bed. I like being out at night. There is a path ahead that leads to an apple orchard where the children were playing this afternoon. Shall we walk that way?"
He turned to walk back in the direction she had been taking when he met her, keeping a careful distance between them so as not to seem presumptuous by touching her. "Did you ever get my friend Ródien to eat his carrots?" he asked.
She looked as if she would laugh, just as he had intended her to do, but then some other thought evidently occurred to her and her face sharpened. "No, but it was no matter," she said a little stiffly. "Other children wanted them. Nothing is going to waste."
"I did not mean to imply that it was," he protested.
They walked along in silence for a moment. "I am sorry," she said. "I should not have assumed you were criticizing. After all, I could see today that you were really trying to understand Anyr's position, and you did agree to let us feed the Mannish children."
He blew out his breath in exasperation. She made him sound like a hidebound bureaucrat. "Neither the king nor I would let children go hungry if we could help it," he said.
She stopped abruptly and put her hand on his arm, and he was immediately aware of his skin tingling under her hand, despite the fact that both a fold of his cloak and his tunic sleeve lay between it and his arm. "Truly, I am sorry," she apologized again. "You have done your best to help us, and I thank you for that." She was looking earnestly into his face, and he felt a sudden, nearly irresistible impulse to kiss her.
Remember who you are, he reminded himself sharply, and as if she sensed something amiss, she removed her hand and turned to begin walking again. After a second's hesitation, he followed her, vividly aware that there was danger here of a sort he had not thought of when he reached for his sword at the first sound of her footsteps. In a short time, they reached the orchard, and in wordless accord, they seated themselves on a bench that had been crafted from a fallen tree and turned their faces up to the few stars that were visible in the cloudy sky. With a valiant effort, Legolas made sure there was a good foot between them.
"Your companion said that you were newly returned from the south," she said. He nodded wordlessly. "Tell me about it," she invited.
He hesitated. In his years as a warrior, he had found that he did not like to talk to those at home about what he had seen and done while on patrol. They did not always understand, and it seemed cruel to force the horrors of battle upon them. Moreover, they sometimes recoiled at the savagery in which warriors engaged just to survive. "The Shadow lies heavily there," he finally settled for saying.
She considered that in silence. "When you come home again," she finally asked, "can you leave it behind or does it follow you?"
He sat stock still, unable for a moment to answer. And then, to his shock, he found himself responding her honestly. "It clings to you," he breathed. "It soils you, and you grasp at every beauty of Arda, every person you love, every innocent child you see, to try to find clean happiness again." What am I saying? he asked himself. He had never spoken like this to anyone before.
She turned her face to his, and at that moment, the clouds covering the moon parted, and he saw her face glowing with its pale light. His hand was resting on the bench between them, and she put her hand over it. "Your adar must be very proud of you," she said. "He is fortunate to have a son who will venture near to Shadow so that all those clean and innocent things can survive."
As if spellbound, he reached with a tentative touch to brush her hair from her face. "You need a ribbon," he murmured, "a green ribbon." And because he could not help himself, he bent his head and brushed his lips gently across hers. As he did so, he was aware of his body humming in concert with hers, and with the trees, and with the spring grass pushing through the muddy ground beneath them.
"I have been waiting for you to do that," she said softly.
An hour later, Legolas climbed as quietly as he could on to the flet he was sharing with Annael on the excuse that he and Galivion each needed one of the guards with them at night. His friend lay wrapped in a blanket, apparently asleep, but he lifted his head when Legolas gathered his own blanket and lay down next to him. "You look pleased with yourself," Annael observed sleepily. "You must have persuaded Anyr to act as if he had some sense."
Legolas laughed. "You must speak more kindly of these settlement Elves," he said. "I have decided I like them." Annael snorted and then rolled over to go back to sleep. Legolas lay with his head pillowed on his arm, feeling himself slipping away to the dream path almost instantly. It had been a very long day, filled with frustrations to be sure, but with its good moments too.
***
Eilian scraped up the last of the mush he had made by boiling the acorn meal that Alfirin had sent with him. It had a pleasant enough nutty taste, and he supposed he should be glad he had it, but he had eaten enough of it this winter that he would celebrate if he never saw it on his plate again.
He had spent the afternoon in the meadow and then gone back to his campsite, which was along a stream a half mile or so outside the settlement. All the while he had wondered what was happening in Celuwen's cottage and had watched for her return. He had finally decided it would be foolishly optimistic to think he was going to get any of the rabbits he and Sólith had shot that morning, but he had been unwilling to leave his camp to hunt for more in case she should come while he was gone. Hence he had resorted to fixing what felt like his thousandth meal of acorn meal mush.
He rose, stretching carefully. His hip felt better after his rest in the meadow, but it still ached a little. He gathered his dishes, and carried them the short distance to the stream to wash them. Then he added a few more sticks to the fire. He was returning to his seat beneath an oak tree when a light step sounded and, without looking, he knew it was Celuwen. He turned to see her emerging from among the trees, carrying a bowl with a plate set over the top of it to cover it.
She held the dish out to him. "It seemed only fair that you should get some of the rabbit."
"I have already eaten," he said, taking the dish from her. "I will set it in the stream to keep cold for tomorrow." He used one of his spare bowstrings to tie the plate over the dish and then carried it to the edge of the stream and set it in the cold water, making sure the water was shallow enough that it would not lap over the edge of the bowl. When he turned back to the campfire he found that, in the circle of the fire's warmth, a sober-looking Celuwen had removed her cloak and seated herself on it leaning against the oak. He went to sit next to her, put his arm around her, and pulled her against his side. She nestled her head against his shoulder and let out a long, wavering breath.
As had happened each time he touched her on this trip, a shock ran through him, and he felt the beginnings of arousal. "What happened with your adar?" he asked hastily, trying to take his mind off the growing pressure in his groin.
"He admitted he kept your letters from me," she said grimly. "He has promised he will not do so again."
Eilian pondered this answer. He supposed life would be better if he and Celuwen could write to one another, but even as he thought that, his body told him that he, at least, would have a difficult time accepting letters as the only contact between them. I may have to accept it, he thought desperately. After all, even if Sólith agreed to let them wed, the customary betrothal period lasted a year, and Thranduil had said it might have to be longer. But perhaps he could placate his increasingly urgent desire for her if their betrothal were arranged so he knew there would be an eventual end to waiting.
But how could they become betrothed? Thranduil had insisted that Celuwen's parents would have to agree to such a step. Eilian did not think getting Isiwen's consent would be a problem, but he was much less hopeful about getting Sólith's. He stroked Celuwen's dark hair, reveling in its silky texture and trying to ignore the soft pressure of her breast against his chest.
"If your adar is allowing us to write to one another, does that mean he is willing to let us become betrothed?" he asked.
She turned her face up to his. "Betrothed?" she asked a little breathlessly.
He nodded. "I came here to ask if you would agree to bond with me." Her lips parted slightly and her breath quickened. In fear she might refuse, he hurried on before she could speak. "I know you worry about my being a warrior, and I cannot leave my adar's service. As the king's son, I have an obligation, and I would want to defend the realm even if I were not who I am. But your letter said you thought you could be content with the time we could have together even if I did have to be away most of the year."
She put her hand to his lips, stopping the flow of pleading words, and then she stretched toward his face and kissed him. In an instant, every effort he had made to curb his desire for her was burned away by the heat that flowed through his body like molten metal in a forge. Without breaking the contact of the kiss, he put his arms around her waist and drew her onto his lap, only too aware of the sweet agony of her bottom pressed against the increasing swell of his arousal. In the tiny portion of his brain that was still responding to reason, he knew that she had not answered his question. He pulled his mouth an inch away from hers and she let out a soft sound of protest. "Would your adar consent to our betrothal?" he asked again.
She bit her lip. "Not yet," she acknowledged. "But he will eventually. I know he will."
Eilian touched his forehead to hers and groaned. Thranduil's words echoed in his ears: "Are you sure there is anything you can do that would make you acceptable to her parents?" In all truth, he knew that the answer to that question was no, and suddenly he could not bear it. He pulled her more tightly against him.
"I cannot wait for 'eventually,' Celuwen. Do you want to do that?"
She looked at him uncertainly. "What do you mean?"
"Bond with me here and now, my love. Once it is done, it cannot be undone, and our parents will have to learn to live with it."
She wet her lips, and he found himself staring in fascination at the tip of her tongue sliding across them. She tried to speak. "I ..." she began and then stopped with a shudder when he bent to kiss her ear.
"Even if your adar allowed the betrothal, we would have to wait at least a year. Do you want to wait that long, Celuwen?" Deliberately seductive, his hand moved to brush her breast and then cup it. She made a small sound and leaned into the caress. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, feeling it harden underneath the soft wool of her gown. "A whole year?"
"But where will we live?" she managed to gasp. "What will we do?"
"Let me take you home," he urged. "We will live together when we can and write to one another when we cannot and rejoice in one another always." His hand now moved to her skirt, sliding it up so he could caress her calf. "Bond with me, Celuwen," he urged. "Let us do it now. We have waited long enough." With determination, he spoke the words of the blessing. "As Manwë is my witness, Celuwen, I bless you and promise that I will treasure you and not harm you. I will love you and be faithful to you for all of time and perhaps beyond." He held his breath to see if she would respond in kind.
She stared at him for a moment with her eyes wide and serious. And suddenly, something in them shifted, and his heart leapt in anticipation. She drew a deep breath. "As Varda is my witness, Eilian, I bless you and promise that I will treasure you and not harm you. I will love you and be faithful to you for all of time and perhaps beyond."
"In Eru's name," he breathed, all but weeping with relief and wonder over what they had just agreed to do. He bent his mouth to hers again, slipping his tongue between her lips and reveling in the taste of her. His hands moved to fumble with uncharacteristic clumsiness at the lacings on the front of her gown, and he realized with a start that she was unfastening his tunic. He tugged the front of her gown open and slid it off her shoulders to reveal the thin straps of her lace-trimmed chemise. He ran one finger delicately along under a strap, down to the top of the chemise and exulted when Celuwen arched her back to try to bring his hand into closer contact with the warmth of her breast. He slid his hand into the chemise and was rewarded by hearing her moan, and he suddenly realized that he was moaning too, reveling in the unbelievable softness of her breast under his touch.
He had to let go of her when she pulled his tunic and silk undertunic over his head in a single tangle of clothing but then was immediately tugging again at the shoulders of her gown, sliding it down from her arms and then pushing it down her legs until she kicked it off and her shoes with it. She lay in his lap now, clad only in her stockings and the thin chemise that reached to the middle of her thighs. Her hands moved over his naked chest, exploring his muscles and making him dizzy when she touched one of his nipples.
"You are so beautiful," he choked out. She flung her arms around his neck and drew his head down to kiss him again, while one of his hands supported her and the other crept up beneath her chemise to caress her thigh and then slide around to cup her bottom. With their mouths joined, her gasp was lost in his indrawn breath.
The almost painful pressure in his groin told him that he was not going to be able to wait much longer. He slid her off his lap to lie on her back on her cloak, yanking the chemise off over her head as he did so. And then he stopped and stared at her. In the firelight, she looked almost wanton, naked except for her stockings and holding her arms out to him. How could they have waited for so many years? he suddenly wondered. How could they have considered waiting for more? She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and he wanted her with a force that was almost beyond his control. He shoved his own shoes off and then unfastened his leggings and slid them down his lean hips to stand naked in front of her. Her eyes went to his erection and then suddenly slid to one side.
"Oh, Eilian," she cried, and he realized that she was looking at the wound on his hip. She sat up, making his mouth go dry at the way her breasts changed shape as she moved, and she ran her hand gently over the wound, causing him to draw in his breath sharply. Then, impulsively, she leaned to kiss the angry, red mark. Her hair brushed against him, and the touch of it was the straw's weight that broke his restraint. He grasped her shoulders, pushed her onto her back, and lay down with his body covering hers.
"I love you, Celuwen," he murmured into the crook of her neck as he trailed kisses down her throat. He despaired at how inadequate the words were to tell her what he felt.
She put her hands on each side of his face and drew it up to look at hers. "I love you, Eilian," she said and pulled his mouth down to hers. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and was suddenly aware of the heat that was coursing through her body too and coming to a focus where his body was straining to join hers. He could wait no longer, he knew, and with a heart singing at this moment of joining of bodies and fëar, he entered her.
She gasped and moved her hands to his shoulders to push him slightly away for a moment. Then her eyes met his, and as she looked at him, the alarm in them eased and he could feel her relaxing a little, trusting herself to his care. He could have wept at the love that was evident in her face. With a supreme act of will, he held still for a moment, allowing her to adjust to this intimate contact, the sign and means of the bonding they had agreed to. Then, as he began to move again, she slid her hands down his back and onto his buttocks, to guide the rhythm of his movements. Eilian's muscles tightened at her touch and then, nearly overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations sweeping through him, he lost himself in making love to this maiden who now was a maiden no more.
Place and time faded away, and only he and Celuwen in the here and now mattered. He touched her body with an intensity that threatened to drive all reason from him, and suddenly he realized that he was also touching her mind, her heart, her whole being. He could sense the pleasure he was giving her and the love she felt for him and the fear and anxiety that were slowly melting from her in the heat of their joining. Their eyes met in wonder, and he knew that she must be sensing him in the same way.
And then, Celuwen suddenly seemed to tense beneath him and draw her brows together as if she were concentrating. She tightened her hold on his buttocks and pulled him closer to her as she lifted her hips to meet him. And then she dissolved in a series of small, soft cries. And as she tightened around him, he too felt his world explode and lost all knowledge of where he was. He was falling; he was flying. He was lost; he was found. He was home.
*******
Fanfiction.net has been more than usually uncooperative for the last few days, so it's possible people sent me reviews I didn't get. I'm sorry. I remind you that this story is also posted at www.storiesofarda.com, which is a very reliable site. You can get alerts from there. It's also free of slash, mary sues, and stories about Thranduil hosting the Wheel of Fortune.
Frodo3791: I think you're right about Legolas not desiring to be a leader. I think he can take responsibility when he needs to, but he really has no ambition to be in charge. And I think that's one of the reasons he follows Aragorn so faithfully.
JastaElf: Anyr is my hippie elf. He is generous and completely feckless. He shrugs and says "whatever" and expects someone else to provide for him. And I think I will have to have some dreadful fate for Tinar, but I haven't quite decided what it should be yet. And Jasta, I have to say you are so consistently generous in your reviews. I am very grateful to you.
Lamiel: I had thought that maybe Legolas would let Thranduil deliver the final smackdown of Anyr. And you know that the Elven king could do it all the way from the caverns! And for Tuilinn getting between us fangurls and Elf-boy, I'm afraid it's too late. :-0
Feanen: I thought Legolas handled a tricky diplomatic situation well too. I am a person who is inadvertently rude at meetings because I am impatient, so I could never do as well as he did.
Dy: Thranduil is going to have a lot to be peeved about, I'm afraid. Neither son is bringing good news home from his point of view.
Farflung: Legolas is, indeed, in a difficult situation. But I thought Galivion might be too. It's his job to advise Legolas and he knows that Legolas is inexperienced at diplomacy. And he doesn't know Legolas all that well in a tough situation. So that's why I had him make the pretty interfering remark about the maiden. But Legolas agreed with you: he thought it was over the line too. :-)