Chapter Summary: More seduction and a declaration of desire.

Author Notes: Rating will eventually go up (again). Don't worry, R is the highest I'll take it. I just can't help it, Glorfindel is forcing me to go to extreme measures. He's just so damn sexy!

Glorfindel (with wry grin): But this is simply how I always behave!

Shout Outs:

Jousting Elf With A Saber - The only reason I write like this is because I am incredibly hard on myself, and I continue to practice. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I eventually want to write a novel for young adults and have it published. Big dreams are only accomplished through lots and lots of hard work.

Roisin Dubh - Mistress of the Genre, eh:chuckles: Why thank you for the flattery! And Glorfindel is going to be as randy as he can possibly get. He's got sex on the brain and he's gonna get it before this fic is over!

Mercury Gray - Yes, you wrote chapter two. Please forgive me that I didn't give you credit. I shall try to remember to post that whenever it's due. I'm very sorry about that.

Andromida-1971 - Wolfish rogues are very fun. They'll do whatever it takes to get what they want.

The King and Queen of Gondor had been wed for six days already, as well as Lord Boromir and Lady Rhoswen. The married lovers had been seen very little in that time, leaving Faramir and a few other courtiers in charge of the court. After the seventh day, Queen Arwen Undomiel issued a general invitation to her husband's court and her train to attend a masquerade to celebrate her recent marriage and the end of the war. Eowyn was thrown into an excited dizziness. She had never been to a masquerade and begged Silmarien to help her with her gown and mask.

"Come Eowyn, it is nothing to be so concerned over. I fear that you shall faint if you go on like this," Silmarien smiled at the woman she already considered a sister.

"Do not be so cruel to me, Mari," Eowyn replied. "I have not been brought up to expect feasts and parties and celebrations simply because one is happy."

"I suspect there will be a great many festivals given by the queen. She seems to be the sort to celebrate the changing of seasons. I admire her love for life! Do not think that I dislike such joy."

And so the two women sent for servants to make especial gowns for them as quickly as possible. Silmarien advised Eowyn to dress as a fox to confuse her brother Faramir, who would expect her to make homage to her country's love of their horses. Fiery reds and golds were used for her gown which flowed elegantly and yet allowed enough movement for lightfooted dancing. Silmarien herself designed a hairstyle for Eowyn so that she would not be recognised by those who were not used to seeing her hair combed back. Eowyn's mask covered the upper half of her face, allowing her smile to still peirce Faramir's heart. Her blue eyes would flash behind the brightly colored disguise.

"Silmarien, you've done well for me," the princess of Rohan exlaimed when she at last tried on the entire ensemble. "I can't wait until the feast! How I shall laugh, because Faramir will not know me!"

"Remember that at midnight the masks will come off, and he will be sure to chase after you then!" Silmarien laughed.

"What shall you go as, Mari?"

"Come to my chambers, and I will show you. I have it hidden, though I think people will know immediately who I am."

Silmarien had put together a gown that was light and silvery. The silk shimmered as if it were made with mithril, and a matching veil was temporarily attatched to the bodice and sleeves to create the illusion of wings. Her mask, which was designed in the same fashion as Eowyn's, was completely black, save for the edges which were lined by silver threads. She had chosen to attatch small black feathers to silver combs she would pin her hair back with. When she tried on her costume, Eowyn gasped.

"A raven! Oh, how clever you are, Silmarien, to play upon the title your people have given you!"

"Yes, but I am certain that my identity will not be in question. So be it, I did what I could," Mari laughed.

At last, the night of the masquerade came, and the feasting hall was near overflowing with excited guests and colorful costumes. Aragorn and Arwen were quite easily distinguished from any others - their masks matched and paid homage to the male and female lion.

Faramir made his entrance, dressed in green velvets and adorned by a shimmering green mask. He immediately spotted his sister and went to her, smiling. "I feel like an imbicile. Do I look like one as well?" he asked her goodnaturedly.

"No, of course not," she replied, adjusting the collar of his tunic. "But tell me, what are you supposed to be?"

His lips twitched and he looked away. "A lizard."

Silmarien threw back her head and laughed. "Poor brother!" she said after she caught her breath to kiss his cheek. "Fear not, if anyone criticizes your costume, I shall swoop down upon them and darken their eyes for their insolence."

"So comforting to know I have a raven to protect me," he chuckled. "But where is Eowyn?"

With an amused smile, Silmarien bade him look for her if he could. As he turned to do so, Boromir and Rhoswen appeared. Rhoswen waved at her sister-in-law and took Boromir's hand, nearly dragging him behind her.

"Isn't this such fun," she laughed. "I haven't been to a masquerade in so long!"

"I am amazed that you could convince my brother to actually dress according to the occasion. Pray, tell me your costumes!"

"I am a cat, of course. Meow!" Rhoswen laughed.

Boromir's lips were set in a fine line. It was obvious he was not yet comfortable in the role that his wife delegated to him. "And I am a ferret," he said a bit unhappily.

"There are worse fates, Boromir," his sister giggled. "You could be a lizard."

Boromir suddenly cracked a smile. "Show me this lizard and I shall laugh at him."

"Go find him yourself, but I warn you that if you laugh, there will be consequences, for he is under my protection."

So feasting and drinking went, and not long after the entrance of the latest guests, several feminine shreiks were heard. Silmarien had just taken for herself a goblet of wine and was forced to step back so that a red butterfly could escape a pair of dark-haired hunting dogs who had pointed ears. Lothiriel, who had dressed as a mouse, was with Silmarien and shook her head.

"I am glad Lord Denethor decided to decline his invitation and retire early to his rest," she said. "If he had been here, he would have called the guards on those two elves. They will never adhere to the modesty of Gondor's court."

"I think that the presence of a race who does not care to put on a pretense of reserve will do good to this court. It is time that they are shaken to wakefulness. I have seen too much false chastity here, and I tire of it. Look, there is Lady Alfirin. Her father named her because he was enamored of the Elven way of speaking, and yet he did not take the time to teach her decorum. See how coyly she glances at the poor Rohirrim warrior she speaks to!"

"Yes, I see what you mean. But I still think that the introduction of Elvish ethics - or lack thereof - will send this court into a scandal. I confess that it is not so restricted in my father's court, but we are not as free with ourselves as the purer-blooded of our kin are."

"Ah, so you admit that you are worse than I!" Silmarien laughed. Lothiriel joined her.

"Perhaps, but not so bad as the Lord Elrond's court!"

As the night progressed, Silmarien grew uncomfortably warm and sought to cool herself in the garden. She could still hear the music from the feasting hall, and after a time danced along to the tune, stepping lightly and clapping in time to the lively dance.

Glorfindel had grown weary of watching the twins chase after the poor butterfly and searched out the dark-haired lady he had met in the gardens a week ago. He spotted her just as she turned to leave. Pushing past an owl and a hare, he followed her to the gardens and was delighted to witness the grace of her lithe frame as she danced. When the song ended, he came into the light and called to her.

"Hail, Lady Raven," he said, bowing. "We meet again."

It seemed that she was more prepared to meet him than their previous encounter.

"Greetings, my lord," she smiled, assuming it was the elf lord who had tried to kiss her. "I see that you are a...wolf, tonight?"

He smiled in a manner that made her shiver right down to her feet. "Indeed, I am a wolf every night."

Tilting her head to the side, Silmarien considered his words. "Shall I then be able to trust you to keep company with me, Lord Wolf?"

He bowed again. "May I die a dishonorable death if I am not trustworthy."

"Very well said, but I must continue. Your conduct when last we spoke would have been frowned upon were my brothers or father present. Indeed, if my father hears reports of my seduction by a stranger, he shall be angered and perhaps order your imprisonment."

"I do not fear imprisonment, my lady. But if I may say so, I could not help myself on our last encounter."

Silmarien blinked behind the mask. Was this elf wooing her? It thrilled the very fiber of her being. Barahir was never so bold when he spoke to her. His manner of a shy boy who was fighting to prove himself to her was wearying, and left her feeling empty. This...mysterious worshipper didn't feel the need to prove himself to her. He was already confident that she would accept him, and offered her many chances to do so.

"Are you then not in control of your passion, sir?" she smiled, teasing him.

His lips twitched. So, she is curious, he thought. Then I have gained some ground.

"If you think that I had no control, you know me not."

After a moment of shocked silence, Silmarien regained her ability to speak. "Disclose to me your deeds, then, Lord Wolf," she said. "For indeed, I know you not and yet I wish to remedy it. Come, let us be acquainted."

He came closer and kissed her proffered hand. But it was no chaste, ordinarey kiss. His lips opened slightly and let his teeth graze her knuckles, scratching her lightly and then letting his tongue caress the hurt. He watched her as he did so, and noted that her breath was leaving her and that her eyes were wide and slightly darker.

"Is this how you treat a woman," she asked quietly, her voice trembling.

Glorfindel straightened and smiled wickedly, knowing she wanted more. "Nay, only a woman who tempts me to throw away all decorum and reason."

She had not withdrawn her hand from his grasp, and so he continued to hold it, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. Silmarien watched as he raised her hand to his lips, this time kissing her fingers, one by one touching his lips to the very tips. More than once did he set his teeth gently to her sensitive skin, sending sensations up her arm.

"What manner of man are you," she murmured. "I do not even know your name, and yet you seek to overpower me with whatever brazen, dark magic you have in you."

"This is magic? At last, I understand what mortals mean by that term. And why do you desire to know my name? So that you may speak it to your brothers and hasten my arrest, or so that you may murmur it in your sleep when you dream of pleasant things?"

"How dare you speak so of me!" she returned, tearing her hand from his grasp. "I will not be enticed by such an arrogant one as you!"

Before she could turn away, he stepped closer, backing her against a tree in the garden so that she could not escape. Silmarien's eyes narrowed.

"I shall call for the guards," she threatened.

"I shall run faster than their lazy feet can come," he replied. "And I'll venture to say that you would never cry out for help. You have enjoyed everything I said to you, for no one has ever been so bold to the daughter of the mighty Steward of Gondor. No one has ever dared to approach you, the unattainable lady with a sureity that he could walk away knowing he has won you. Come, lady, admit it. You savor the forbidden because it has never come to you."

"You insolent..."

Silmarien could not finish, for his lips had suddenly covered hers in a feirce kiss. His tongue licked at her lips, demanding entrance. When she did not give it, his mouth pressed against hers and opened it for her, after which his tongue plundered her mouth mercilessly. She fought against it for a time, trying to push him away. When she failed, she succombed to his invasion and discovered she enjoyed the taste of wine upon his lips, the feel of his tongue licking the roof of her mouth. When he pulled away, she was breathless, and he smirked at the sight of her swollen lips.

"What think you of me now, Lady Raven?" he purred, his hands at her waist.

"I think you a selfish beast."

"Praise indeed," he chuckled. "But?"

"But," she continued, "If you would have me think otherwise of you, demonstrate a gentler passion."

"My passion is what has already been named by you - selfish and beastly. However, if you wish it..."

Glorfindel lowered his head and kissed her again, this time allowing her to open her mouth to him of her own will. It was slower this time, not as urgent, but still quite deep. His hands moved up to her back, pulling her close to his body in a firm embrace she could not escape even if she wanted to. Her own hands slid up his chest and around his neck. The Elf heard her sighs and delighted in his momentary victory. She was enjoying this, and he was encouraged.

Again, they pulled away, and Glorfindel smiled at her. She looked away, suddenly guilty at feeling pleasure. But it felt so good! His touch, his kiss - both of them - excited her beyond all reason. But what would her father say? She was intended for someone else, someone she did not feel excitement for.

"I am a shameful, villainous creature!" she mourned.

"Why so?" the lover behind the golden mask asked. "Because you enjoyed a kiss?"

"Because I must obey my father and be wed to my cousin, while my senses are stolen away by another."

"Ah, the truth at last. But that is easily remedied! Let me go to your father, and beg favor. Surely he would not deny me, if you prefer my suit."

"What? You, who will not even give me your name?"

"Hear me speak it now, and remember it well," he murmured, his lips lowering to nibble on the delicate flesh of her neck. "I am Glorfindel, a lord of the forgotten city of Gondolin and advisor to Elrond of Rivendell. And you, Lady Silmarien, daughter of Denethor, are desireable in my eyes. I would seek your favor, if you would have me."

He continued to nip at her throat, being careful not to leave any lasting marks. Her tremulous sighs made him smile and gave him his answer. "Yes," she hissed, her dark eyebrows knit together. "Yes!"

Steamy! Leave reviews, if you can move at all!