.

*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic; it really makes me happyyy~ =') You people are awesome, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter~! =D ***

*** Note II – Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the too-awesome-for-words Tolkien Universe. I own my ever-growing long list of OCs and my imagination~ :3 ***

*** Note III – I'm tired and my eyes hurt like hell . . . This would be the reason why there may be some awkward grammar errors and weird sentence structure in this chapter . . . (._. ) ***

*** Note IV – For clarifications: This is about two weeks later from the previous chapter – It begins the day after Lyri and Thran-Thran's siblings have returned to Greenwood~ Also, with the thing about Elrond remembering Lyrial's parents being in Lothlórien: He never informed her due to the facts that he only just remembered, and that they could be a different William and Emmeline. He didn't want to give her false hope, just in case. (o.o) ANYWAYS, onward to fluff and stuff~! \(*w*)/ (Oh, and there's some uncomfortably sensitive material in the last scene) OxO ***

.


.

~ 012 – Dancing With An Elvenking And A Dragon ~

.


.

"Life is the dancer and you are the dance."

~ Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose

.


.

Lyrial woke up with a face full of insanely soft light brown fluff.

Apparently she was being unintentionally smothered whilst being showered with bunny kisses. "Ailee! Jay!" she whined almost comically in her sleepy state. "I love you guys, but I need to breathe."

Raising from her precious bed, the young elleth rubbed her eyes while procuring a rather obnoxious yawn. A desire for reading a good Jane Austen book stirred within her; however, she procured a barely noticeable frown. All of her favorite literature from Earth cannot obviously be found here.

She then petted her rabbits, who snuggled against her thighs. "Good morning. I missed the two of you." Breathing in the fresh and damp almost-spring air, she all of a sudden felt wide awake and energized – which she thought was weird. Ailee firmly planted herself in the elf's lap, and Jay tickled the back of her hand with his wet nose. It was then that she noticed something.

"Jay, what's this?" Lyrial asked in inkling as she gently pulled a piece of ripped fabric that was hanging out of his mouth. It was a smooth and warm, velvety deep crimson material that looked to be of high quality. It did not take long for the elleth to figure out where her quiet fluff ball had torn this from. She could not help but giggle at the mental picture.

"Oh, you naughty bunny! Now what did Thranduil ever do to you?"

.


.

The Elvenking stood before the foot of his large bed. His back was to the door, and he had just finished lacing and buttoning his black breeches when a certain Sinda prince suddenly barged into the room.

"Who –? Aeluin, what are you doing?!" A vexed Thranduil rose his voice before he was then attacked with a fierce hug by his younger brother. "You do realize that there is this action called 'knocking' when the door is shut, do you not?" He mentally sighed in relief as the door to his chambers, thankfully, glided in the other direction until it completely obstructed the room's entrance.

Aeluin ignored his older brother's sass, and he buried his face against the area where Thranduil's shoulder connected to his neck. The prince was tall; not as tall as Thranduil, but when they both stood up straight, the very tip of his head came to where the older ellon's eyebrows were situated. Aeluin tightened his hug around the other's neck and his following words had a tone that was a mixture of serious endearment and comical whining: "But Thranduil! I love you; and ever since you became king, I almost never get the chance to hug you like this anymore! Not to mention that I'm just seeing you for the first time in almost three months. . ."

Those words slightly softened Thranduil's deadpanned facial expression. His quiet sigh dissipated his irritancy, and a small wistful smile tugged away at his lips. He thought his brother adorable (though somewhat annoyingly so) whenever he behaved like this, and he could not help but agree at those words. Returning the embrace, he rested a hand against the crown of Aeluin's head and he affectionately ruffled his hair. "Goheno nin, dear brother. Though please, for the ten thousandth time, do remember to knock. I don't want you barging into my room where I may be naked – someone could have been able to take a peek whilst they stroll by."

The prince's eyes gleamed impishly. "Like one of the maids? Oh, they would be gifted with a most glorious display of their king."

"I want those thoughts out of your head this instant."

Thranduil tugged at Aeluin's hair; to which the prince's head shot up. "Alright, alright! Let go!" The smirking king did as such, and the prince stepped away and smoothed out his hair. "Violent ellon," he mumbled to himself before clearing his throat. "Will you be joining us for breakfast today?"

The king shrugged on his dark grey-silver tunic. "I won't. 'Duty calls,' as they say. However, I shall see you at dinner."

Pouting, Aeluin procured a lazy wave of his hand. "Sure – Oh! Is that what I think it is?"

"Hmm? What is it?" Thranduil leisurely buttoned his tunic as he rose an eyebrow and turned to where his sibling sauntered off to.

Aeluin now stood before a night table, and he happily plucked something white and made out of paper. "Ah, it's one of Lyrial's . . . What did she call it? Ori-something?"

"Origami," Thranduil corrected, placing an emphasis on the last two syllables. "Now put that down." His eyes vaguely narrowed and his tone held an undertone of annoyance.

Gazing at the paper bird, the prince smirked at his brother's reaction. "But Thran-Thran, I want to look at it! Despite it being only made of paper, it's so detailed. . ." He kept chatting on and on.

Sitting on the edge of his bed while hauling his black boots on, the Elvenking rolled his eyes. He hated having to repeat himself. And being called 'Thran-Thran' only increased his desire to smack the prince upside his head. Though, he was also tempted to laugh. "Aeluin Oropherion, kindly put that down! Do not touch things that aren't yours."

It was times like these where he thought that Aeluin's sole purpose in his life was to cheekily irritate him beyond measure. However, he truly loved his young sibling; and it was also times like these which reminded Thranduil that it was alright for a king to show emotion. That it was perfectly natural to not always be cold and calculated, and to not continuously behave as though he had something sharp shoved up his arse.

.


.

Platinum blonde hair that shined like molten silver-gold caught Lyrial's eye when she turned the corner of one of the many corridors. Her face lit up tremendously without her even realizing it. "Aran nîn!" she crooned almost in a playful fashion. There was a light bounce in her steps.

Thranduil halted in his steps, and he turned around. Oh, how he had missed looking at her face . . . "Lyrial, I have to attend a council meeting. Can this wait?"

Resisting the urge to pout, the elleth blinked twice as she gazed into his beautiful icy sapphire orbs. "Please, Thranduil? It'll only take a minute."

The ellon mentally sighed. Damn those pleading, enchanting eyes of hers. "Alright; do tell."

Refraining from smirking – and from snickering – she extended her hand and procured a torn piece of high quality fabric. "This is from one of your robes, is it not? I apologize on behalf of my bunny's behaviour –"

"I don't own anything of the sort." He had blanked whilst attempting to save a bit of dignity.

Deadpanning at him instantly, her right eye twitched. "Thranduil, it's the exact same thing as this!" She shot her arm forward and pulled on the spacious sleeve to his billowing, deep crimson robe. "Why – Oh?" Her thumb ran along some very well done stitching on a hidden area of his sleeve. "I see you've had it fixed –"

Without warning, Thranduil clapped his hand atop hers that held the fabric. Tightening his grip, he pulled Lyrial closer. "My dear lovely elleth; are you secretly always this annoying?" His voice seethed, and yet it was smooth, low and almost seductive. His face remained neutral and unreadable, albeit his eyes swam with mixed emotions.

Lyrial's nose was two inches away from bumping into his chest. Deciding to respond in the same manner as him (although with a hint of mocking sweetness), she tilted her head upwards. "My dear handsome ellon; are you secretly always in denial?"

Their eyes were glued into the other's for Valar knows how long . . . And as soon as thoughts emerged within his head about wanting to tangle his other hand into her silky platinum blonde tresses, footsteps nearing the hallway's end were heard. The elleth was the first to break eye contact, as she blinked and turned her gaze to the side. She had a light blush tinting her cheeks. "I, uh, will see you around!" she quickly said as she pulled out of his grasp and hurriedly strolled to where she came from.

Thranduil looked after her retreating back for a few seconds before turning and making way to his original destination.

Lyrial passed by a tall ellon in dark green robes, who had just appeared from the corner to a hallway by her left. She did not see who it was; and it was after a minute in which she heard this ellon greet the Elvenking at the very end of the hallway that she immediately spun around with an alarmed expression on her face. Her slightly parted lips faintly shook. She could barely catch a glimpse of his platinum blonde hair as he turned a corner with the king. Blinking, she spun on her heel and proceeded to saunter away, and she passed by a few sentinels who had just appeared from one of the side hallways.

That voice. She perceived that voice before. Once. Only once, which she thought was strange; but she recognized it nonetheless. Originally, she heard it last year – in September and right during the time she had spent in Greenwood's prison cells. It was the voice of the night where she eavesdropped an assassination plot against Thranduil.

This elf was running loose within Eryn Galen and no one seemed to have had suspicions of him? Or perchance this elf simply had an insanely similar voice? Regardless, Lyrial felt a lingering suspicion. . .

And on the other side of the palace – right after the council meeting met its' conclusion for the day – Thranduil noticed a pretty silver ring around Thranéal's right index finger. Apparently, his dear older sister was engaged to be married to Glorfindel in a year's time.

.


.

Within a somewhat small weaved basket, the six cupcakes were about the size of tennis balls. The white-golden sponge contained blueberries that burst most pleasantly when one took a bite out of it. The rich buttercream atop the muffin heads was topped with a few cool blueberries. "Mmmm, these are lovely!" exclaimed a snowy elleth with lengthy silvery hair and pale blue eyes. She had just bit into the confectionary.

Lyrial briefly tittered happily as she finished writing a couple of slightly more advanced sentences in Tengwar onto a page in her notebook. She and her teacher were in the peaceful library. "Thanks so much; I'm glad you like them!"

"Love, not 'like.' Love." Hiriel emphasized with such a dramatic intensity. "We should bake together sometime."

The younger elleth's eyes sparkled with joy and interest. "I'd love to. I didn't know you baked . . . ?"

"'Tis actually a hobby of mine! Though, I am not quite good with pies. . ."

Lyrial stifled a snigger. "Yeah, I'm quite terrible with pies as well. I always make a mess out of the filling." As soon as she finished saying that, the ellith shot their heads up to look at each other from across the polished, dark chocolaty oak table. "Shall we attempt to make one, my dear teacher?"

Hiriel grinned whilst a determined shine flashed within her eyes. "Yes, my dear pupil. Tomorrow in my home at around this time. Meet me in the library first."

.


.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he quietly sighed in frustration. He needed some sense of tranquility, albeit he could not deny that he should be grateful. Lately Thranduil had been swamped with such glorious amounts of paperwork; and just now, his caring, attentive siblings offered their assistance whilst he took a temporary breather (per their rather forced suggestion).

Taurhîr.

Yes, Thranduil? You sound grumpy.

The majestic elk's immediate reply via ósanwe satisfied the Elvenking, for it meant that the creature was close within the borders of the elven settlement. The corners of the ellon's lips twitched as he made his way to his chambers. Ha. And you sound oddly happy.

Ahhh, I am in the presence of lovely company.

Hmm . . . Any thoughts about wanting to go for a ride?

Riding! I want Lovely Company with us, though.

That depends on who this "Lovely Company" is.

No answer came. Cheeky elk. . .

Through the grass and the trees the Elvenking in his riding clothes strolled. Adjusting his crimson cloak, he passed a couple of guard posts; and he nodded his fair head in acknowledgment as the sentries saluted their king.

His ears eventually discerned soft laughter and cooing; and after sauntering around a few damp and sweet-smelling trees, he stopped.

Thranduil, for a moment, watched as Lyrial and Taurhîr interacted with each other. There was a lot of giggling and lighthearted chastising on Lyrial's part as the light medium brown-furred elk repeatedly rubbed his muzzle against her jaw, neck, collarbones and upper chest – tickling her.

Their interactions made the icy sapphire-eyed ellon feel warm on the inside, and his breath caught as her almond-shaped doe eyes narrowed into playful crescents; due to her grinning. He gazed lower, secretly admiring at how enticing and 'Sindaresque' she looked in her white-silver dress and forest green robe-like overcoat. He noted how her dress' neckline came a little below her collarbones; and he felt the tips of his ears going red after noticing how well the bodice of said dress hugged and accentuated her breasts.

He blinked. Morgoth's balls, Thranduil; she's only a friend! Do I really think this way towards friends? He paused for a lengthy moment. A very beautiful friend. . .

Little birds chirped, both hidden and exposed within naked tree branches that were budding. Some of the other trees have already developed baby leaves; and many others were evergreen.

Thran, are you going to stop ogling? I know you're there.

Damn it, Taurhîr. Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the laughing elk and proceeded to walk closer. And you're too friendly with her! Step away.

No; why would I do that? Jealous?

Oh, how I love it when you assume such fuckery.

Taurhîr inwardly snickered and he leaned into Lyrial's touch as she scratched that sweet spot behind his ears. She then ran her hand along the length of his warm neck. "You're so soft, Taurhîr!" she exclaimed gently as she then closed her eyes and rested the side of her head against his neck. "I could just nap on you. . ."

"Be careful that you don't actually fall into a deep sleep on him. It can be quite tempting," came the entertained voice of Thranduil. He had done that a few times when he was younger, which then led to some chastising on the parts of his parents – especially since he had been covered in elk hair and leaves.

Opening her eyes, Lyrial separated from the elk and procured a small, cheeky smile at the elf next to her. "I knowwww! It's what he gets for being so fluffy . . . So how's it going?"

"Taurhîr and I are going for a ride," the ellon responded lightheartedly. And then a thought came into mind. "Would you like to accompany us?"

"Are you sure that's alright?"

"Of course; I don't mind. And Taurhîr wants you to come." At those words, the elk nuzzled Thranduil's cheek, soon gifting him with an affectionate lick. The ellon, in turn, pat the elk's muzzle, and he scratched below those ears.

Her response was a nod and a smile. And then she bit her lip in somewhat nervousness at the fact that the elk was larger and taller than her horse. How was she to hop onto that? As if her mind was being read, Thranduil moved to grip her upper hips, lifting her up effortlessly onto the elk's back. She sat in the side-saddle position due to her dress, and she flushed a light shade of pink as she realized that the handsome ellon's hands lingered on either side of her hips for an extra minute.

Drawing his arms back, Thranduil easily hopped onto Taurhîr's back. "Hold on," he said in a sing-song as he adjusted himself in front of the elleth.

Only realizing now that they were about to bareback ride on the elk, Lyrial spoke up. "Wait, are we – Oh!" She let out a squeak and she speedily wrapped her arms around Thranduil's waist for dear life as the elk began to move its' legs.

"Careful, Lyrial – he is only walking. I wouldn't want you to fall at such a speed!" the Elvenking cheekily jested as he spared a quick glance at the elf behind him.

She narrowed her eyes and playfully stuck out her tongue. "Shut it, Thranduil! I happen to have amazing balance."

"Sure you do," he chuckled disbelievingly.

"Stop being an ass," she muttered. She loosened her arms so that they were not too tight, albeit kept them firm around his waist. The smooth, silky fabric of his light silvery tunic felt cool to her. The solidity of his abdomen tempted her to simply run her hands along his chiselled torso . . . Without his clothes on . . . But she shook her head, trying to rid herself of those thoughts and her just-developed pink blush as Taurhîr picked up his pace.

Lyrial felt that the small clearing by the river held an atmosphere of serenity. It had certainly calmed her mind from that rather random, comical debate she had with the Elvenking about which animal was more adorable: Squirrels or chipmunks.

She dismounted the elk as soon as Thranduil did; however as soon as she hit the ground, her feet tangled within her white-silver dress. Releasing a surprised squeak, she would have tumbled to the ground if not the ellon with her had just held her from falling. He smirked. "How very graceful of you."

"Oh, go away," she grumbled with a mock-glare as she now stood straight. "I still need to practice my riding. . ."

"Yes, because it's atrocious," came his innocent reply.

She gaped before procuring a faux sweet smile. "Why . . . Thank you so much for your never-ending honesty!"

He winked cheekily. "Well, I do live for it."

"Which is why I'm going to ignore you." She turned to devote her attentions upon a mentally snickering Taurhîr. "At least he's nicer."

Nuzzling his snout against the curve of her smooth neck, Taurhîr's pupils snapped towards the ellon. The way you two interact is simply adorable.

Go away, Taurhîr. Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the elk before taking a small and quiet step towards the elleth. He did not admit this, but it secretly irritated him with the fact that she was devoting the majority of her attentions towards his elk. He swiftly poked her waist.

Lyrial jolted with widened eyes. "Thranduil, s –!"

"It was merely a large fly who simply wasn't looking where it was flying."

The instant, calm reply made her suspicious as she turned her face from him and proceeded to scratch the elk behind his ears. That was when she felt another poke against the other side of her waist. An evil grin slowly morphed her lips; and spinning around, she gave Thranduil a double poke on both sides of his waist. He did a double-take with vaguely widened eyes.

Taurhîr snorted entertainingly and left them – planning to return soon.

Shortly after a ten-second staring contest, the elves gave into a few minutes of elfling bliss. Their poke fight quickly turned into a tickle fight, and it acted as a reliever of stress for the ellon. Laughter emitted from the both of them; although, most of it came from Lyrial as she was one of those people who laughed easily. Currently, he held her snugly around her shoulders with her back against his chest; and with a small, impish half-smile, he tickled her stomach with his other hand.

"No . . . Thranduil, stop!" Lyrial's tittering was incessant. "No fair; I can't retaliate in this position!"

Squirming so that she could turn, she ended up tangling her feet with Thranduil's. They instantaneously tumbled to the ground with the ellon flat on his back. The elleth rose to a sitting position only to find out that she was straddling him – she was one centimetre away from sitting on his groin.

Blinking a couple of times, the Elvenking decided to take in the rather alluring sight before him: She sat flushed with her long hair somewhat dishevelled; and her lips were parted in a way that made him want to bite them. He could see her slim, lightly toned legs due to her dress being hiked up to just above her knees. Her shoulders were exposed as the top of her robe overcoat pooled to the middle of her upper arms; and that had made her breasts seem larger than they already were for some odd reason.

Lightly groaning, he made to get up when she suddenly grasped his wrists and held them against the soft, newly-grown grass. "Do you yield?" she asked almost sweetly.

He smirked as he sat up effortlessly, which released her grip on his wrists in the process. She slid down to his thighs; feeling the warm fabric of his dark grey breeches. "Lyrial," he began in amusement, "we both know that I won our little game."

"I tripped you."

"You did so accidently."

"You don't know that for sure."

"No, I know I do." He gazed into her captivating amethyst jewels for eyes. The eyes that simultaneously resembled his dear mother's, and yet, were uniquely different.

"I could have some secret skill of sneakily tripping people."

"No you don't."

She held in a giggle. "Cocky ellon."

"Insufferable elleth," he jested. Their faces were close. "I must confess . . . I really do like it when you're forceful."

She deadpanned. "The way you said that made it sound sexual."

Thranduil's eyes were filled with amusement and mischief. "That was not my intent." A pause as he gave her a thoughtful look. "Or was it? Would you rather that I –?"

"Don't finish that sentence!"

He simply procured a brief, light chuckle before lowering his back against the grass. He folded his arms behind his head as he closed his eyes and relaxed his face into an unreadable tranquility.

Remembering that she was still sitting atop his thighs, Lyrial awkwardly lifted herself off of him to sit on the soft grass next to the ellon. She straightened her dress before then fixing her robe overcoat so that it re-covered her shoulders and upper back. The comforting breeze began to feel chilly. And that was when her ears discerned movement as the Sinda rose again to sit diagonally facing her.

A kaleidoscope of beautiful, sapphire-like butterflies with black edges hovered by a tree that was half-buds and half-baby leaves.

Thranduil had a ghost of a smile form on his unreadable face; although, his eyes did swim with various emotions. He brought a hand to Lyrial's cheek, and she almost shivered at the sudden touch of his palm. The metallic coolness of his rings brought an interesting contrast with the warmth of his flesh. His thumb pleasantly stroked the skin of her cheekbone; his eyes never separating from hers. "Thank you."

"What for?" she asked gently.

He leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Simply for keeping me company," he replied, almost in a whisper.

All she could hear right now was her rapidly beating heart.

.


.

Meandering through the winding corridors with the destination in mind being her chambers, Lyrial discerned two voices. All thoughts related to Thranduil kissing her forehead and the time she had spent with him earlier this day were pushed to the back of her mind. Because the voices were distant, she could not hear what exactly they were saying. She recognized one as Chief Councillor Lord Nithron and the other . . . Was that voice from the other day!

Shortly after she halted in her steps, the voices lowered before silencing completely. She heard a door creak eerily down behind her at the opposite end of the hallway. A handful of seconds later, she caught sight of Nithron entering this corridor from a hallway to her slightly far right. He turned to where she was facing, and she watched his retreating back disappear around the end of the corridor in a rather ghost-like fashion.

Lyrial blinked thrice as she abruptly felt a gooey, icy chill that oozed uncomfortably down the length of her spine. Shaking off the feeling, she resumed her walking, albeit slowly. That was when an ellon in black robes appeared from the same right side hallway that she previously saw Nithron walk into. She recognized this handsome elf as Lord Dûrion, one of the Elvenking's other councillors. Dûrion had straight platinum blonde hair that came down to two inches past his waist, and it complimented his specific features in an almost doll-like way with his honey-golden eyes (which she found unnatural). She rarely saw him about. And when she did see him, he was either strolling silently somewhere; or whenever he spoke to others, she was not within hearing range . . . And now she concluded that this councillor had that voice due to recent run-ins.

Dûrion had passed her way while she was busying herself with her thoughts; and Lyrial's eyes darted around in puzzlement until she turned around. A tiny bit of nervousness grew, though she shoved the feeling aside. The light patter of her feet procured tiny echoes. "Excuse me, my lord?"

The councillor turned with an eyebrow raised. His eyes seemed to be guarded. "Yes? Is there something that you nee –?"

"I know."

He was slightly taken aback by her blunt interruption. "I am afraid you will have to specify. What is it?"

Staring at him wryly, her voice was hard yet calm. "I know. Why do you insist on playing dumb?"

Dûrion almost sneered. "Enlighten me, elleth." Procuring a mocking half smile, he spread his arms out by a little in a way that spelled out, 'come at me, bro.'

And Lyrial will, indeed, come at him. She crossed her arms loosely along her midriff. "I recognize your voice to be the same one who gave the order to the Haradrim assassins for Thranduil's life."

An exasperated sigh escaped from the ellon's lips. "You should know better than to lay such a serious accusation. As a lord of this realm, I –"

"Stop lying." Her lips curled into a smirk of satisfaction as she saw the wrath (and a hint of panic) flash through his eyes. His left hand had previously balled into a fist so tight that his knuckles now turned milky white.

Releasing a light and airy chuckle, Dûrion procured a rather carefree smile and a brief shrug of his shoulders before responding with such sardonicism. "Ah yes: And then I ordered the remaining Haradan to kill you in your sleep so that this encounter would have never happened!" He grinned wider, displaying teeth that shone dangerously like knives. "I must applaud our dear Elvenking for such excellent timing during that night."

Lyrial tiled her head slightly as she stared at him incredulously. "You are actually confirming this . . . ?"

A feral gleam clouded his eyes. "Why should I bother denying it when not only do you know, but you have no proof? No one will believe you."

"This masquerade will eventually break. They all do, and –" Lyrial suddenly shut her mouth and she furrowed her brows in a panic. Because she just saw his eyes flashing a menacing fire-red with a reptilian-like pupil before quickly stabilizing at their "original" honey-golden colour.

Dragon.

He procured a sickly sweet smile as he leered over her physical self. "Oh my . . . Is something the matter? Is there a ghost behind me?" Without warning, he shot his right hand out, and he gripped her around the neck before shoving her fiercely against the cool walls. "Did you see my eyes flash a different colour a few seconds ago?" The grip was firm; albeit thankfully for her, it was not tight enough to prevent her from breathing or properly talking. His face hovered closely near hers, and his voice was sadistically playful. "I think for your safety, it would be better to simply drop this. Do not waste your time attempting to find proof. Else, I'm going to have to give you a good fucking."

Lyrial squirmed uncomfortably. She loathed the real meaning of his threat. Ah, yes: A threat. Something that she had stopped listening to since she was in the middle of her teenage years. Half of the time, those who threatened would undergo their actions anyway, regardless of the circumstances as they were more like guarantees. The other half of the time, threats were simply cowardly bluffs. She exhaled slowly through her nostrils. "I do not take kindly to threats. They're useless and they don't work on me," she spoke with clenched teeth.

"Oh, you will learn," he responded huskily as his lips now hovered by her ear. "'Tis more of a guarantee, after all."

She heard her fearful, rapid heartbeats. Very ninja-like, she slowly snaked her right hand along her abdomen. She slid it underneath the forest green fabric of her robe-like overcoat.

"I will chain you to my bed." Dûrion's lips caressed the delicate shell of her ear as he purred, "I will gag you."

Her slim fingers ran along the thin leather sheath that was firmly sewn into the inside of her robe overcoat. Evidently, they came to the hilt of her stiletto, and they traced the metallic intricate designs that were vines and small flowers.

"I will strip these clothes off of your enticing body, and I shall take you in every manner." His tongue now ghosted along the shell of her ear. "And I shall very much enjoy your body writhing beneath mine."

His words made her want to curl up against Thranduil's chest and surround herself within his protective embrace. They honestly drove fear into her being; however, this was not the time to succumb to said fear. Breathing deeply with her eyelids shut, she unsheathed her long and thin dagger – agonizingly slow, so that no noise would be heard.

A disgusting shiver elicited throughout her body as Dûrion nipped and sucked on the delicate point of her ear. He cooed the following in a rather innocent tone of voice: "Mm, yes . . . I shall take pleasure in listening to your pretty mewls when I fuck you senseless – Oh?" He felt something against his naval.

Lyrial opened her eyes with calm determination, and her face was set in a neutrally unreadable expression. Hidden in between their bodies, she tightly gripped the handle of her stiletto as the sharp point of it touched the other's black tunic. "How dare you touch me in such a revolting manner? If you don't step away this instant, I will shove this blade into your fucking gut."

The councillor moved his head in order to look into her eyes. He scoffed cockily as he proceeded to squeeze her throat. "With such a tender heart that you possess? No you won't – Ah!"

Swiftly releasing her throat, Dûrion took three steps backwards in shock. The elleth massaged at her throat before standing tall; and she gazed at him with amusement twinkling within her eyes. I just did . . . Well, kinda.

The dragon in disguise eyed the black fabric by his naval, only to find that there was a one inch rip. Drops of deep, shining red blood ran from his not-that-serious wound. After noticing that the tip of her stiletto was smudged in his blood, he began to laugh. A laugh that was low and satirical. "It would seem that I've misjudged you!" He calmed down slightly and he was highly entertained. "Like me, your threats are far from idiotic bluffs – they are guarantees! And to assume that you were the type to never get your hands dirty. . ." That last bit was spoken more to himself.

"Do not compare me to you!" Lyrial spat with a raised voice, though it was not entirely a yell. She eyed the stiletto in her right hand before returning her livid orbs towards the "elf" before her.

Dûrion ignored her outburst and he procured a sadistic yet charming grin. "You know, I think I'm beginning to like you . . . What are you called?" He never bothered learning her name prior this encounter.

"Lyrial," she answered curtly with a small, wry smile.

"Well then, Lyrial." He procured a mocking bow before standing straight with his left hand covering his minor wound. "I do look forward to our next encounter."

"I don't," she snorted; tempted to laugh at this whole ordeal. Withal, she was more than glad that this situation did not escalate further.

He pouted. "Aw, do not be so rude. . ."

"You sound like Sauron," she observed after a minute of silence. Her eyes narrowed, and they were glued into his faux ones in inkling. She had recognized his speech patterns as similar to the Maia's when said Maia spoke into her mind via the One Ring when she was in Imladris.

Dûrion's eyes sparkled with intrigue, and he procured a menacingly innocent smile. It made his beautifully doll-like features almost seem ugly. "Why, my lovely elleth . . . I was his favourite dragon after all."

Scoffing a laugh, Lyrial allowed for a distasteful half-smirk to claim her lips. "So now you're admitting that you're a dragon?"

"You did witness my little eye trick around the beginning of this conversation, did you not? I will not bother concealing it from you because, as I've mentioned before: 'Not only do you know, but you have no proof. No one will believe you.' And I intend to enjoy your frustration and suffering."

He turned from her and he sauntered lazily down the corridor until he turned a corner and was out of sight. She had been glaring murderously into his retreating back, accompanied with a scowl. And now that he was gone, her breathing morphed into being heavy and laborious. Her lips parted shakily. Taking one step back, she bumped against the wall and immediately slumped to the ground on her shins. A brief clang was heard as her stiletto fell one foot away from her knees.

Lyrial used both hands to cover her mouth as she swallowed her sobs. Her eyelids were shut so tightly that they began to feel numb after thirty seconds. Oh gods, that was so scary . . . She wanted to scream, but she held it in.

Eyelids finally snapping open with wet eyelashes, she eyed the smudged blood on the shining tip of her stiletto.

.


.

Goheno Nin – Forgive Me – (Sindarin)

Aran Nîn – My King – (Sindarin)

.


.

*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D ***

*** After Note II – Next chapter: Lyrial is certain that Dûrion is a specific dragon in disguise . . . Aeluin pushes his luck again, much to Thranduil's dismay . . . And there's a 50/50 chance that Lothlórien travels will happen~ =3 ***

*** After Note III – \( *–*)/ Squeeeeeeee, I'm so thrilled for February~! My banking Co-op interview was slightly over a week ago, and they accepted me in . . . So I can't wait to start it in Feb~ #BusinessFTW \(*O* )/ Anyways, I hope everyone has an awesome week~ \(*0*)/ ***

...

Tauriel: Here's the update~ ;) Thanks for dropping by~! \(*o*)/

.