A big thank you to Jubchili for the latest review. Yes, you will all get a more detailed description of my OC. Patience, my dears.
They are stuck inside again, a storm ravaging the forest outside of the palace.
Thranduil is mostly content though he, like most elves, sought the scene of the sun (or moon, as he preffered) rather than the harsh slap of nature. Patience would have to prevail and it would. For him anyway.
He had a fire lit in the early morning hours and was seated in a lavish, high-backed chair to soak up as much warmth as necessary. Right leg crossed over the left, he balanced the back of his right hand against the crooked knee and a book was held in long fingers. He turned page, humming in satisfaction.
Then, he peered up from under his brow, eyes following the shadow 'sneaking' up behind him. Did she really think she could pull it off? He did not lift his head, waiting for ber to get close enough. When she was where he wanted her, he nudged the toes of his foot against the floor, tilting the chair back to knock into her chest, gently of course.
She gave out a small squeak and stumbled a little, fingers curling at her sides in agitation. He closed the book, setting it in the fold of his leg while he folded his hands against the rough cover. Raising his chin a little higher, he was silently amused at her small form swallowed by a silhouette cast by the fire.
"Yes, dear?"
Her right eye twitched. "How can you not be wanting to climb the walls? We've been stuck in here since yesterday afternoon."
Storm season, yes it was nerve wracking but...
"There are always ways to entertain one's self while stuck indoors," he hummed.
She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "How? I wanna be outdoors."
He sighed, fighting a grin as he pushed himself to his feet. "I know, dear, I know. But..." he pushed back a layer of hair from her throat, the cream colored curls warding off the heat of the flames and leaving her skin cool. "We must have patience above all..."
She caught on faster than usual, mind too naive for her own good and he noted the pink tint to her cheeks; that flush wasn't caused by the fire.
"O-Oh," she stuttered, letting him pull her arms up, instinctively clasping her fingers through his long hair. "I...I suppose being stuck indoors isn't so bad..."
"Atta girl," he murmured.
And she giggled, pressing her lips against his. His sensitive ears caught the brush of skin-against-skin, the rustle of fabric as she pressed her legs tight against themselves. It made him purr in satisfaction. He moved his right hand down her back, inching towards the hem of the blue breeches she was wearing. Oh so close...so close...
Her breath hitched in her throat just as there was a knock against the door. Thranduil growled and pulled away from his panting mess, approaching the door as she lowered herself into his chair, afraid her legs would give out. On the other side of the door stood a guard, the fabric under his chest plate red, a gate sentry.
"M'Lord," his nose was scrunched, obviously smelling the scent of arousal in the air. "The storm has cleared. Lord Elron requests your presence in the throne room."
"That meeting wasn't until tom -"
His words were cut by a squeal of delight and he was pushed back, away from the door as Fiel barrelled past him, running down the grand hallway towards the front gates, arms raised in the air above her head.
"Outside!"
Thranduil sighed, leaning against the doorframe as he pinched the space between his eyebrows. "By the Nine..."
"Sorry sir," the guard grunted.
Thranduil just grumbled.