WARNING: There is some sexual content in this chapter! If you don't like that Please don't read any further!
Chapter 2: Backlash
As they rode hard through the forest the bright sunlight filtering down through the canopy diminished, an ominous rumble reverberating in the distance. Fat water droplets began raining down on them, erasing the tear tracks along Janessa's face. The water rolled off her leather attire, keeping her dry but it quickly soaked her hair and drenched Glorfindel.
Janessa's arms and legs had long since gone numb from the awkward position she was in and her chest hurt from bouncing against Asfaloth's flank as the horse galloped. The golden-haired elf held her in place with a hand against her lower back. When the elf had bound her he had taken her weaponry, securing it to his back along with his own bow and quiver. He had, however, missed the twin long knives tucked securely in Janessa's boots.
With the onset of the rain Glorfindel urged his steed on faster. On they rode and with every passing moment the cold rain washed away Janessa's despair, a seething rage slowly growing to replace it. Janessa's focus turned inward, her anger growing and feeding off itself.
The seneschal was unaware of Janessa's extreme emotional state. He could feel her body shaking as she sobbed silently and when she suddenly went still, her muscles tensed. Glorfindel wondered at the change for a moment before returning to his own musings. He mistakenly assumed she was afraid and had mastered her fear.
The seneschal tried to focus on the task at hand, bringing this strange woman to Imladris and getting Legolas' questions answered. For answers this woman surely had to have. Despite his best efforts the elf found his thoughts wandering in a direction he did not want them going. They continuously found their way back to the unusual reaction that he kept having to the human laid before him. Again and again he had to push back an unexpected wave of desire, the feeling of her muscles beneath his splayed fingers proving a rather effective distraction.
Glorfindel found this more than disconcerting, believing himself long beyond such feelings, secure in his bachelorhood. Desire, he had decided, was something he had simply outgrown, his mind turning to other pursuits. For centuries he had turned away every suitor, male or female. No ellyn or ellon had managed to turn his head, yet this human female had sparked his interest with a mere fleeting description from the Mirkwood Prince.
The effort it was taking for him to keep his mind off the redhead was proving a distraction unto itself. He managed to focus himself again as he caught sight of the Bruinien through a break in the trees. Almost there. Shortly thereafter Asfaloth burst through the tree line onto the slope before the river.
Had they not already been soaked from the water coming off the trees the downpour they emerged into would have done the job. Before they even reached the river the precipitation was so thick the elf could barely see three feet in front of the horse's nose. Glorfindel pulled the stallion back to a walk, peering through the murkiness.
They splashed through the choppy rising river, both elf and horse releasing a sigh of relief as they reentered the trees, the evergreens providing some relief from the torrential watershed. As if on cue, the rain let up as they broke from the forest, passing through the entry arch and into the courtyard of the Last Homely House, the precipitation lessening to a light mist.
A curious Legolas, followed by Lord Elrond and Gandalf greeted them, emerging from the edifice at the sound of clattering hooves on the cobblestones. The two elves and the Istari drew up short as they beheld the red-haired figure slung across Asfaloth's withers. Legolas stared wide-eyed at the seneschal as he dismounted. The golden elf caught the Prince's gaze and gave a slight nod, acknowledging the other's suspicions. Elrond and Gandalf, seeing the exchange, burst into a torrent of questions, their focus on Glorfindel, eyes glancing to the redhead slung across Asfaloth.
By the time they reached Imladris Janessa had worked herself up into quite a snit. So it was red-faced and pissed-off that she was pulled off Asfaloth. Set on her feet, her numb legs collapsed beneath her weight, driving her to her knees. Anticipating her body's weakness, pins and needles shooting through her extremities Jan moved with the fall to get her hands from behind her.
The woman dropped with her backside to her heels, the lack of control in her limbs causing her to fall on her side, landing smack in the middle of a puddle. The redhead rolled away as Legolas stepped forward to pull her to her feet, managing to tuck her now tingling legs up to her chest, sliding her bound wrists under her feet so her hands were before her.
Legolas stepped back again as Jan righted herself, left knee on the ground, right leg up, her hands sliding from her ankle up her calf, pulling her pant leg up to expose the handle of the knife in her boot. She smoothly withdrew the blade and stood, backing away from the group, rotating the knife handle so the blade faced toward her arm. Janessa's mind whirled as she eyed the four males warily, her hand twisted around, working the blade over the hithlain wrapped around her wrists.
The elves and Istari were speaking rapidly in Sindarin, Jan catching the odd word as well as the names Legolas, Elrond and Gandalf. It wasn't hard to identify who was who. Elrond bore a strong resemblance to his twin sons as well as being the only raven-haired elf present. Gandalf was recognizable as a white-haired and robed old man. That left only one other who could only be Legolas.
The Prince easily stood out by his almost androgynous features. Other than his clearly masculine lean build, the slightly angular nature of his feature marked him as male. Simply put, he was a damn pretty elf, his appearance ethereal.
The way Jan had angled herself only Legolas and Glorfindel had actually spotted her retrieval of the knife. The Prince approached the woman with his hands extended, palms out, attempting to look non-threatening. The Sindar elf effectively drew the woman's attention as Glorfindel circled around behind her, Elrond and Gandalf noticing the blonde elves' behavior and falling silent as they watched the tableau.
The tough elvin rope suddenly gave way beneath Jan's blade, freeing her hands. The seneschal chose that moment to spring forward, catching Janessa's wrist with one hand, applying force to a painful pressure point, forcing her to drop the knife with a strangled cry. The elf had caught her right hand with his left and let up as soon as she relinquished the weapon.
Now even more pissed, Jan turned on the elf. She rotated her wrist in his hand, pulling free as his right arm came up defensively. Janessa blocked him, her left forearm connecting with his right just above his wrist on his inside. Using a defensive tactics move she had picked up in the military she rolled her left forearm around to the outside of his right, catching his elbow joint in an underhand grip, her right hand grasping his wrist as she took a step back, turning to her right.
This placed the elf to her left, standing next to her, his arm straight across her front at about mid-chest height. She immediately twisted his left wrist as she pulled his arm down across her body, anchoring his right wrist against her right hip, forcing him to bend forward at the waist. At the same time she rolled her left hand over her knuckles so the outside blade of her left hand pressed painfully against the nerve bundle on the underside of his arm just above his elbow. She quickly took a step back with her right foot and pivoted, dropping down to her left knee, the elf's arm pinned to her waist.
The tactic was based on spinal flexion and balance disruption. The move sent the golden elf flying through the air to land face down in a mud puddle, Janessa's weight on her left hand resting against his shoulder joint, her right hand holding his right wrist at a painfully bent gooseneck angle.
The startled elf sputtered, pulling his head back to get his face out of the muddy water. He tried to get up only to have the small woman wrench painfully on his shoulder and wrist joints. In a matter of less than five seconds she had dropped the much larger male and pinned him to the ground. The three bystanders gaped, almost disbelieving what they had just witnessed but the proof was before them.
Glorfindel lay immobile on the ground, his face contorted in pain. That's twice now she has sent me to the ground. Twice I have underestimated my opponent. More disturbing than the fact he had been taken down by a diminutive human female was his body's response to Jan's demonstration of her skill. Again he felt his loins tightening with desire. It wasn't that she was stronger or faster, but that she wielded her uncommon tactics with a surety and confidence contrary to her appearance. This was new and clearly enticing to the seasoned warrior.
Janessa's face was twisted with rage, her teeth bared in an absolutely feral expression. Through clenched teeth, in a tightly restrained murmur she warned, "Don't you EVER lay a hand on me again!" She scowled at the litter of arrows that had sprayed across the ground as she threw the elf, her expensive red-fletched graphite-composite arrows mingled with Glorfindel's blue and yellow feather-fletched wooden ones. Jan cursed under her breath, hoping none of the deadly missiles had been damaged. Fletches she could repair, but a bent shaft was a lost cause.
Janessa's attention was so focused on the seneschal she failed to register Legolas' approach. The slender elf had drawn one of his white-handled knives and turned it end up. Wincing visibly he hit Janessa across the back of the head, knocking her unconscious. The redhead slumped to the ground, her wet hair plastered across her face and back.
Glorfindel climbed to his feet, rubbing his shoulder, wondering aloud, "What did she do to me?" Sparing an annoyed glance as the woman's crumpled form he began collecting the spilled arrows from the ground.
"That was a move the likes of which I have never seen before," Gandalf spoke up.
Legolas bent over the woman's crumpled form, gently brushing her wet locks away from her face, his forehead creased with confusion. The Prince looked up, addressing his query to the seneschal, "Why did she react so violently to you?"
Arrows retrieved, rubbing his twisted arm, the golden-haired elf raised an eyebrow at the younger elf, his expression incredulous. "I believe the manner in which I brought her here only served to aggravate her already volatile state. I bound her after she came at me before."
"Was that really necessary?" Legolas pressed as he turned her onto her back and lifted her carefully into his arms.
"She would not come with me willingly. There was no reasoning with her. What would you have me do? Leave her in the middle of an unfamiliar forest? Once I ascertained who she was I felt it the most prudent course to bring her here as quickly as possible. She holds the answers to you 'affliction.'" The tall elf made a dismissive gesture with one hand, turning back to Asfaloth to lead the horse away. "No matter. I achieved my goal. She is in your hands now, literally." As Glorfindel moved off the heavens opened up again with renewed intensity.
The entire sequence had taken bare moments to happen. The two elves and Istari watched the seneschal's receding back until the curtains of water blocked him from view, apparently oblivious to the renewed downpour.
Lord Elrond blinked several times, aghast at Glorfindel's abrupt manner. The darkling elf attributed the Elda's demeanor to have been put in a compromised position so easily. His pride is stung, nothing more. Finally registering the rain, the Imladrin lord quickly ushered the drenched group inside the Last Homely House, directing them to a suite next to Legolas'.
The Mirkwood Prince handled the unconscious woman like she was made of glass. He could not quite believe that the woman from his visions was actually in his arms. Her appearance was exactly as he remembered it, her facial features now clear to his gaze. The face that so recently had been twisted with anger was positively angelic, relaxed in her forced repose.
Legolas regretted having to knock her out. He had so many unanswered questions. The source of his discomfort of some time lay in his arms, completely insensate. How did you get here and WHY are you here? I felt you die. He silently lamented, Just when things seemed to be getting back to normal.
Both Elrond and Gandalf's thoughts were following the same vein as the Prince's, each keeping their speculations to themselves. The trio arrived quickly to their destination, Legolas hefting his precious load. The Sinda laid the woman carefully on the coverlet, the residual water left clinging to her leathers immediately absorbing into the bedcovers. Her length of tangled, dripping hair quickly turned the pillow into a sodden mess.
Elrond swept into the bathing room, retrieving several large towels. He handed them out to each member of the group. The Prince quickly went about wrapping the woman's long red hair in one. Oblivious to his own sodden state Legolas then went to remove her boots, finding a second knife in the left one. He deftly removed it, handing the weapon to Elrond, the mate of which Gandalf had apparently retrieved and was currently examining, the wizard lifting his eyes occasionally to the prone form on the bed.
Elrond had no way of gauging how long she would be out. His eyes followed the lines of her form fitting black attire. He watched as Legolas examined her ankle-length outer garment. There were no fastenings that he could see. The Sinda noticed a piece of black metal at the base of her neck. Thinking it a charm of some kind he reached up and took hold of it, tugging gently. He started when the charm moved down several inches in response to the pressure, separating the fabric at the same time. The fastener was ingenious. The three looked on with amazement as the leather parted, following Legolas' hand. The Imladrin lord watched as Legolas carefully peeled off the garment and took it from the younger elf, laying it over the back of a nearby chair.
Legolas halted his actions as he examined her short zippered jacket. The long outer coat had a strange fastener and he could only assume this garment had a similar one as well. The blonde elf tugged experimentally at the bottom of the jacket, shaking his head that it was not meant to come off that way. Noticing a silver tab like the one on the long coat up near Janessa's left shoulder he reached across her to pull on it. The tab gave easily, sliding across her chest diagonally and then straight down when it came to a point just below her breasts.
The Prince was in a position to appreciate what the sliding fastener revealed to his gaze. He let his eyes wander over the expanse of tanned skin at her throat, trailing down over the rising swell of her breasts revealed by the dipping neckline of her halter top. He tore his gaze away, gently peeling the second outer garment from her skin. He couldn't help but notice the swath of skin across her midsection that was exposed. He wondered at the odd cut of her clothing. He already knew she wasn't from Middle Earth, at least not any Middle Earth that was recognizable to him.
Elrond took the second jacket from Legolas and placed it with the other coat. This time when he returned to Legolas' side he brought a small soft cloth and a basin of clear water. The elder elf had already picked up on the protective posture the Prince had taken relative to the small woman. Elrond deemed it prudent to let the Sinda take the lead, considering Legolas' connection with her. The raven elf stood back, watching the Prince gently wipe streaks of mud from her face.
Meanwhile…
Glorfindel silently cursed himself as he stalked away from his Lord. He had been short with Elrond, his emotions uncharacteristically coloring his words and actions. He let out a sigh of relief as he looked over his shoulder to find the pounding rain had formed a curtain, shielding him from the others' views.
Lost in thought he absently stroked Asfaloth's mane, his fingers twisting in the horse's locks. What is wrong with me? My emotions have never colored my behavior like this. I am always in control of myself, even in the most dire of circumstances. I don't understand this and I don't like it. She isn't nearly as fair as any of the elleths who have tried to court me. What is it about her? Without realizing it he envisioned it was Janessa's hair he held between his toying fingers, not the white horse's.
The stallion sensed his master's disquiet and turned his head, nudging the elf's shoulder with his nose. Glorfindel started, blinking several times as he realized the direction his thoughts had wandered in. The elf returned Asfaloth's knowing look, moving his hand to scratch the horse's nose. "It would seem I got lost there for a moment my friend." The stallion snorted in agreement, tossing his head.
The tall elf turned his face to the sky, letting the drops pelt down on him for a moment. He looked back at Asfaloth and grinned wryly, "Let's see about getting both of us inside and out of this torrent." The horse dipped his head in response, whickering as cantered forward, the dark silhouette of Imladris' stables rising out of the veil of rain.
It was as Asfaloth went ahead that Glorfindel caught sight of the woman's saddlebags still laid across the horse's back. I will need to return those when I go back to the house. The seneschal picked up his pace, reaching the stables shortly after the stallion. He entered the building to find one of the stable hands already relieving the horse of his burdens. The Elda murmured his thanks, leading Asfaloth to his stall and setting to work drying him off and giving him a thorough rub-down.
Glorfindel tried to let his mind go blank, losing himself in the familiar motions of routine. Letting his thoughts flow free proved a mistake as his mind kept turning to the redhead he last saw nestled in Legolas' arms. He gave up in annoyance as he felt the unexpected flare of jealousy in his chest, his leggings having already tightened to the point of discomfort. Glorfindel finished his task, laying a blanket across the horse's back and securing it.
Asfaloth sensed the Elda's persistent distraction and nudged the elf's chest with his head, neighing softly.
"Thank you old friend, but I will be fine. I just need to think about some things. Don't worry."
The horse turned his head to regard the elf with one eye.
"Don't look at me like that."
Asfaloth chuffed out air and turned, giving the Elda a shove with his head toward the stall gate.
"Alright, alright. I'm going. I'm going," the golden lord laughed as he was unceremoniously pushed out the gate. He turned at the threshold and tugged on the horse's forelock. "Good evening my friend." With relief Glorfindel realized the stallion's antics had effectively distracted him enough for the tightness of his leggings to ease. With a nod to the stable hand he collected his and Janessa's saddlebags and headed back out through the continuing downpour.
The little bit he had been able to dry off was swiftly undone as he was soaked all over again. The rain managed to wash away the remnants of mud still clinging to him. Even sopping wet the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower still put off that unearthly glow associated only with those elves who had gazed upon the Two Trees of Valinor. As one such elf he was among a minority in Middle Earth and considered even more desirable as such.
Glorfindel managed to keep his mind clear as he strode through the Last Homely House. He headed straight to the empty suite next to Legolas', correctly assuming that was where Elrond would choose to install the redhead. The Elda entered the room quietly, garnering glances from only Elrond and Gandalf as he laid the woman's saddlebags and weapons on the floor at the foot of the bed. He stepped quickly out without a word, turning back at the doorway to look back at the prone woman on the bed, the Mirkwood Prince bent over her.
Glorfindel's gaze glanced over the woman's bared arms and midriff. A knot forming in his stomach, he ducked out of the room, moving swiftly to his own quarters. As the door closed behind him, he bolted it and placed his weapons by the door before striding toward his bathing room, shedding sopping clothing as he went, leaving a wet trail in his wake.
The nude Elda took a deep breath as he stepped into the chamber, the warm moisture rising from the sunken pool in the center of the room chasing the chill from his skin. While elves were impervious to weather, they were still aware of temperature differentials. While the cold and wet did not bother him per se, the feeling was not exactly pleasant either. It was something he could banish from his mind if need be. Thus elves did thoroughly enjoy soaking in heated water.
Through a cleverly designed series of plumbing Imladris' architects had managed to channel the heated water from local hot springs to continuously circulate steaming water through submerged pools in various areas of the hidden vale, one of these located in the seneschal's quarters. This particular depression was large enough to hold three elves comfortably.
The elf stepped carefully up to the steam-slicked stones along the edge, noting the light mist that always seemed to hang just above the surface of the water. He climbed down the steps into the water, feeling the tension flee his form as the steaming liquid enveloped him. He ducked under the water for several seconds, rinsing any remaining mud from his golden hair.
Glorfindel surfaced and glided over to the ledge that ran the circumference of the pool, leaning back against the heated stones. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, the slowly swirling water gently caressing his skin. As the warmth relaxed him, his mind turned back to the scarlet-tressed woman.
Finally alone, free of prying eyes and scrutiny, the ancient elf decided to indulge his imagination, letting his mind go where it willed. He found himself conjuring images of Janessa, focusing on the way she moved, the manner in which she handled her weapons. The exposed expanses of skin he had glimpsed drew him. He imagined her hands on him, how she'd touch him, tease him.
He brought his right hand up to his elfhood, only faintly surprised at how hard he had become. He wrapped his fingers around his turgid length and slowly began stroking himself, a muted moan escaping his lips. He varied the pressure as his hand slid over the silken skin of his arousal, his thumb circling the uncircumcised head. He drew out the sensations, stimulating himself with long, sure pulls, his breathing becoming erratic.
Undone, lost in his fantasy, Glorfindel thrust his hips upward, causing waves that splashed over the edges of the pool. He brought his left hand into play, kneading the heavy sacs beneath his throbbing length. His right hand tightened on his arousal almost painfully, his strokes fast and hard, gasping, oblivious to everything but his impending release. With a guttural cry the Elda announced his completion as he came with an intensity he had not experienced in millennia, his body arching up.
Spent, he collapsed back into his seat, the swirling waters whisking away all evidence of his release. The elf ran his fingertips along the sensitized skin of his elfhood, waiting for his arousal to abate. After several moments he realized the relief he longed for had not yet come. With a resigned sigh he opened his eyes, gazing unfocused at the swirling mists about his head.
He continued to trail his calloused fingers lightly over his length, the hardened flesh twitching beneath his touch. He imagined various shapes and forms emerging from the fog that rose from the pool, these visions only serving to increase his frustration. With a gentle grip this time he began stroking himself languidly, having no desire to rub himself raw.
His fantasy this time was all the more elucidated, Janessa's face emerging from the mists before him, her lips tantalizing close to his. Her breath was warm across his face as she straddled his thighs, so close yet not quite there. The very tips of her nipples grazed his chest, his own tightening in response. Her hands slid ever so lightly over his heated skin in the barest caress. She taunted him, blowing moist air over his sensitive ears, his length pulsing in return. She knelt with his head poised at her entrance, taunting him.
With a whisper of a sigh she slowly lowered herself onto his thick arousal. Unable to control himself any longer he thrust into her with reckless abandon, his hand tight on his length, oblivious to the almost painful friction. Glorfindel cried out loudly, his voice reverberating through the chamber, the movement of his hand a blur. With a muted scream he came hard, muscles tensing as he milked every drop from his length.
When he finally regained coherence he winced as he realized how sore he was. He gingerly climbed out of the pool, moving slowly and carefully he dried himself off with a large towel from a ledge near the entrance. He flinched every time he brushed his finally softened length, comprehending that he very likely would be walking funny tomorrow.
He ignored his robe hanging on the opposite side of the door, heading straight for his bed. He thanked the Valar for the cool satin sheets he kept on the pallet, the smooth fabric soothing his raw skin. So emotionally exhausted was he that no sooner was he wrapped in the sheets' embrace than he dropped into a blissfully dreamless sleep, his eyes falling shut.
Meanwhile…
Once Legolas had Janessa situated Elrond urged the younger elf to go change into dry clothes. To Elrond's annoyance the Mirkwood Prince refused to leave the woman's side. The Imladrin Lord exchanged a glance with Gandalf before sweeping out of the room.
Several minutes later the raven elf returned, wearing dry robes himself and carrying a bundle for Legolas. Elrond nodded to the Istari who left the suite quietly.
Elrond placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder, handing the blonde the bundle when he turned, "Please, Legolas. Put these on."
The slender elf finally relented, ducking into the bathing room. When the Prince emerged he found Elrond had removed the towel from Janessa's hair and placed a damp packet of herbs against the back of her head to help reduce the swelling from the hit she had sustained.
The healer had seated himself by the fireplace in which a blaze was crackling merrily, barely audible above the din outside.
Legolas nodded his thanks and settled himself again by the redhead's side.
The storm still raged outside, the heavy rain having been joined by gusting winds, thunder echoing through the hidden vale, the weather rattling the window shutters and battering the balcony doors.
The turbulence outside matched the disquiet of Legolas' mind. Question after question rose in his mind, but the woman with the answers before him remained silent and unconscious.
The Sindar elf had been struck by a wave of confusion and fear at what he now realized was the moment Janessa had appeared in Middle Earth. Ever since then he had been aware of alien feelings in the back of his mind. Most prominently had been the rising tide of anger flowing from the woman.
Unlike previous visions the experience was not incapacitating, taking over his actions. This time it was almost like a presence in the back of his mind. He could feel her emotions but not experience events as they were happening to her. The experience was still disconcerting but far from incapacitating.
Glorfindel had somehow managed to raise her ire. Legolas wondered exactly what had happened to induce the balrog-slayer to bind the woman as he had. Legolas wondered at Glorfindel's loss of poise. The Elda was known for his ability to remain composed under the most extreme of circumstances. The seneschal had been clearly distracted. More and more questions came to the elf's mind but no answers were forthcoming.
Legolas turned his mind away from idle speculation, instead focusing on the human woman before him. They were connected to each other somehow, Valar only knew how or why that was.
After some time Gandalf returned with Aragorn and Arwen in tow. By that time Legolas had covered Janessa with several sheets and blankets, pushing the damp coverlet down to the base of the bed. The Prince himself had stretched out beside her on top of the covers, not touching, but within reach. Within moments Legolas slipped into revere.
A muted conference was quickly held by the fireplace, voices kept low so not to disturb the sleeping elf and woman on the bed. The air was heavy and tingling with electricity as the storm raged on outside. Information was shared and decisions made, the two new additions to the group throwing curious glances at Janessa.
Arwen gasped and everyone froze as the redhead moved, shifting in her forced slumber. They watched with held breath as the woman turned onto her side, brow furrowed, reaching out for something. The Evenstar covered her mouth with one hand as a sleeping Legolas drew the woman to him, Janessa releasing a relieved whisper as she folded herself into his embrace, head tucked under his chin, arm around his back.
Elrond swiftly dismissed the astounded group, ushering them out of the suite. Everyone scattered to their rooms as the hour was late and the weather increasingly foul, the thunderclaps veritably shaking the Last Homely House.
Let's follow Ellessar and his elvin bride…
Arwen practically dragged Aragorn back to their suite, slamming the door behind them and double checking to make sure it was indeed bolted as well as locked. She didn't want any unexpected visitors or a repeat of her brothers' latest prank.
Aragorn turned sharply to gaze at his wife, his curiosity clear on his face.
"Did you hear her?" Arwen asked incredulously.
Brow furrowed, the man stared at her, clearly still not comprehending what she was referring to.
Clarifying, she continued, "That woman called him by name!"
"Legolas?" Aragorn asked, surprised.
Her smile triumphant, "Yes! How could she possibly know he was next to her is she was unconscious?"
Sensing something sinister Aragorn responded, "Are you suggesting she's faking her unconscious state?"
Arwen waved a hand dismissively, shaking her head, "No. Somehow she just KNEW he was THERE!"
Still not quite understanding, "Alright, what of it?"
The willowy elf stepped forward, giving her sometimes dense husband a shove, "It means we were right and the link goes both ways. He can sense her and she can sense him!"
"Oh. Ok."
Arwen rolled her eyes in a very unladylike manner and turned away. She moved to her dresser, reaching up to undo her hair.
Aragorn silently stripped down to his breeches. Still feeling the lingering affects of the twins' latest prank he came up behind his wife and pushed her hands aside removing the braids from her hair himself before moving on to her dress.
Arwen watched the man in the mirror for several beats, turning to launch an attack of her own. In a short span of time the two twined figures fell back on their pallet, lost in each other.
Now where did Gandalf and Elrond go?
Elrond and Gandalf had retired to the Lord's study, each reclining in a high wing-backed chair, a glass of warmed murivor being sipped by each ancient being.
"You do realize this only adds to our countless questions?"
Elrond merely nodded at the Istari's observation, savoring a mouthful of the legendary liqueur. With a sigh the elf placed his glass on a nearby table, turning his attention back to his long-time friend. "Yes. We had dared to hope that Legolas' ordeal was at an end. I do not know if we should welcome or rue her arrival here. We do not even know how it is she came to be here. She clearly is from somewhere clearly not of our world. Whether she is from the distant future or a wholly different reality remains to be determined. Only one thing is certain, I believe."
Brows raised, Gandalf urged the elf on, "And what is that, pray tell?"
His eyes meeting the Istari's direct gaze, Elrond spoke plainly, "Somehow magic is involved in this. How or whose or for what purpose I can not fathom. I can only pray it is not sinister in nature."
The two fell into a tense silence, mulling over the implications of the Imladrin Lord's statements.
TBC….
A/N: I heartily apologize for how long this took to get out. Work has taken over my life again. I find myself working 16-hour shifts with only enough time in between to catch a minimum of sleep. I'm working hard on chapter 22 of Twisted so that should be up next as well as the latest installment of Two Too Much. Until then, PLEASE review. Yes, I am begging.