Chapter Nine: Stifling Blackness
With a teasing smile, Alar slid off the carven window sill and strode purposefully towards his intended target. "Where have you been hiding? You were not present for training this morning. Have you forsaken me for Legolas?"
The Evenstar rolled her eyes. "Nay, I rose late. Legolas is out riding with my brothers – it seems they are intent on spending almost every moment of the day with him."
"Jealous?"
"A little. He was my friend first." Alar chuckled at this. "Yes, it's childish. I had merely thought that I would be able to spend a little more time in his company – I know not when he shall come visit us again."
Alar smiled kindly at her. "Do not concern yourself with the unknown. Legolas is here, and you shall have a wonderful time with him before he leaves." He told her, squeezing her shoulder gently. They strolled into the garden in companionable silence, and continued as such for quite some time, until Arwen felt a slight tug on her hair. She whirled around to see Alar standing a few paces away, a lilac ribbon held between his deft fingers.
"Alar, what are you doing?" she asked curiously, cocking her head to the side.
Her friend quirked his lips. "Admiring such a pretty piece of silk. It is remarkably fine."
Arwen rolled her eyes in response. "Well, if you've finished your appraisal, I'd –"
Alar shook his head. "No, I'm still looking." He replied placidly.
"Alar!" she whined, crinkling her brow.
"Arwen!" he whined back, trying to disguise his laugh. The elleth frowned at him.
"Argh! You are so annoying!"
The dark haired ellon merely laughed at her frustration.
"Saes?" she pouted.
"Come rescue it, Arwen! Come claim the pretty ribbon!" he baited her. Bristled, Arwen lunged towards him. Alar avoided her, and dangled the ribbon above her head. He watched with delight as his friend jumped up, arm outstretched, only to find that the silken slip had moved yet higher.
"Alar! 'tis not fair!" she complained, and she slapped him playfully across the chest. As he winced in pretend pain, Arwen kicked him in his left shin, sending him sprawling backwards over the spongy lawn, she herself collapsing on top of him. She reached for the slip of fabric now clamped in Alar's hand, trying to pry his fingers open. He retaliated, pinching her arm with his free hand. "Ow!" she cried, and slapped her hands over the broad chest once more – and he laughed. "Daro i! Stop laughing, this isn't funny. I'm angry, Alar!" she yelled somewhat pathetically, trying not to scream with frustration. Why did he continue to laugh? She finally managed to pry enough fingers away so that she could grasp the ribbon between two fingers and…and then it ripped in half. Arwen pouted, and Alar sat up, letting the flushed elleth slide down to settle on his thighs.
"I am sorry." He told her sincerely.
She shrugged. "'tis fine, 'tis only ribbon." She told him, a smile appearing on her face. Her lips then quirked upwards. "But I'd still like the other half."
"In that case," Alar smirked, "Ni am gen ne lû hen?"
Arwen's mouth dropped in surprise. She shoved him backwards, climbed off his laughing form and marched back to the house feeling childish, indignant, and, quite possibly worst of all, just the slightest bit pleased.
X
Elrohir and Elladan, along with a shocked Prince, watched these antics from some distance. After their sister had hastily exited the garden, the twins strode towards Alar, who was in the process of rubbing his sore shin. "Alar, what were you doing with our sister?" asked Elladan.
Alar grinned. "Merely playing."
"Always an elfling at heart, aren't you?"
"Always."
The brothers chuckled, and then the four entered the house, strolling down to the Halls of Healing where they met a considerably healthier Herendil.
"Mellon nin, how do you fare this day?" asked Legolas. "Your condition appears to have improved since last I came."
His friend smiled. "Indeed, much better, the fevers appear to be going away. Last night was not nearly as unbearable as those before it. The poison has almost disappeared from by body."
Legolas smiled back, heartened that his friend was only short days from leaving his bed. "I am glad to hear it. I am also thankful for Oloriel's devotion." He looked over at her, busily washing face cloths in a basin.
"'tis nothing, I am simply doing my job." She replied, not bothering to look up from her work.
Legolas smiled at her. "My thanks none-the-less."
"So, how goes your stay? Are you enjoying yourself?" Herendil asked.
"I am having a wonderful time. This morning we went riding, and after lunch I hear there may be some sort of archery contest."
"Well I'm sure that piqued your interest…and Arwen, how is she?" the bed-ridden blonde inquired.
"She is well." Legolas answered uncertainly.
Herendil shot him a disapproving look, but ceased to pursue the subject. There was a knock on the door, sounding the arrival of the invalid's midday meal. The four stood and took their leave, allowing him to eat in peace. As he swallowed a mouthful, the warrior shook his head. "Once I'm better, I'll be sure to give him a good prod in the back as far as Arwen is concerned." He shook his head once more, and continued to devour his meal.
X
"Congratulations are in order." Arwen smiled warmly as Legolas approached, and she continued. "Indeed, you were so swamped with well-wishers this afternoon that I was not able to reach you. So my belated congratulations, mellon nin, you are truly skilled."
Although somewhat taken aback by such words of praise, Legolas received them gratefully. "I thank you. It gives me pleasure to know that you enjoyed the competition as much as I."
"Indeed. I have always enjoyed such contests – they are an entertaining way to spend one's afternoon. And with brothers such as mine, I am given the opportunity frequently. Though it has been refreshing to observe those from far flung realms."
"Far flung?" repeated Legolas, halting their journey down the corridor. "An interesting choice of words. Are you, perhaps, indicating a lack of sophistication?" He stared pointedly at her, and she laughed at him in return.
"Nay," she said, coaxing him into a walk once more, "only far away."
"Really?" he asked, "You are not alluding in any way that I descend from a land of uncultured heathens?"
Arwen laughed at this. "Not at all."
"Are you certain? You are not indicating that my kinsmen, say, partake in barbaric practices? That, perhaps, we tear off animal flesh with our teeth?" he smirked. With appreciative eyes he viewed the warm flush that crept onto the Evenstar's cheeks as she froze and gasped with shame.
"Oh dear! To think that I said such things." She moaned, embarrassed to her core. "How foolish of me!"
Legolas chuckled. "And it remains amusing even now."
"'tis wicked of you to tease me so." Arwen reproached, striving to preserve what remaining dignity she still possessed. She looked in front of her, and continued onwards to the hall, eyes never straying to her left should she view the warrior prince's barely suppressed laughter.
Upon reaching the Hall, Legolas placed a hand on her shoulder. "My apologies for my words. I shall aim to behave myself this night." He smirked, and was then swept away by some of his Greenwood companions.
Arwen seated herself in between Alar and Glorfindel, and began an animated conversation with Alar. A narrative of how Legolas only won because he, Alar, had been indisposed. He exaggerated widely, and made the most appalling comments, but it did not cease to amuse her. Somewhere, in a small part of her mind, it did worry her, now and then, that she enjoyed these conversations, when she knew it was at least partially his design to bed her. But then, she thought, she was being a little unfair. Alar was, first and foremost, her friend.
The meal was served and the laughter and chatter dimmed slightly, to be replaced by the clatter of cutlery, and the twinkling of wine glasses. All ate heartily, the roast lamb tender and flavoursome, the vegetables superbly browned. Arwen looked up to comment as such to Glorfindel, when a figure across the table, and slightly to her left, caught her attention. Shredding a piece of flesh between his fingers, the Wood-elf Prince slowly sucked the morsel into his mouth, pink lips closing over his fingers, sucking them clean before slowly chewing, and swallowing. Legolas' mischievous eyes met hers and Arwen felt a sudden rush of warmth explode in her abdomen as he slowly repeated his routine. Shredding, sucking, chewing, swallowing. The mischievous look remained and he began again. Arwen's breath began to hitch.
Glorfindel, in the midst of conversation with Erestor, observed that Arwen was not eating, choosing instead to stare across the table, her utensils resting gently on her plate. He followed her vision, and much to his amusement, saw the Prince partaking in the most disgraceful table manners he had seen in many years. His eyes flicked around the table, eager to see if any others had noticed this transgression, but all appeared oblivious, happily chatting to their neighbours. Erestor's eyes met with Glorfindel's, and both smothered laughter. They still remembered that day, when Arwen first met the Prince. They remembered her reservations about their visitors due to Glorfindel's own jesting comments. It was clear that neither of the younger ones had forgotten either.
Arwen's cheeks began to burn, her breathing continued to shorten. This had to stop. And so she looked down. Staring at her lap, she felt her breath normalise, her cheeks cool. She picked up her utensils and began to eat once more, slowly chewing her meal, carefully swallowing. When next she glanced Legolas' way, he was using a knife and fork, conversing with Elrohir. Arwen let out a small breath, and continued her meal.
X
Later that night, when the minstrels and musicians began to entertain the group, a blushing Arwen was led from her seat by Alar, and coerced into dancing. The pair moved about the floor energetically, laughing all the while. One lively dance followed another, and soon the two were panting from the exertion. Eventually Alar led his friend from the throng of dancing couples, his arm draped casually around her waist. This gesture did not go unnoticed by Arwen, but she chose not to say anything, rather enjoying the feel of his muscular form.
She sat down and drank deeply from her crystal goblet, savouring each drop of the sweet wine. Licking a stray droplet from her lip, she grinned at Alar and began teasing him, telling him that were she to dance any more that night, she'd have no strength left for her training the next day. Alar merely chuckled and leaned back in his seat, swilling his own drink in a more leisurely manner. He was content this night, and happy for his friend's carefree manner.
He walked her to her chambers later that eve, and bid her goodnight with a kiss on her hand, as he was apt to do, and strode off into the night. Arwen blew on her hand, willing the tingling sensation trickling down her arm to cease its journey. But it did not. The tingling met the warm ache in her abdomen, and gradually her entire skin began to heat, her breathing to slow. Arwen sighed, sliding off her outer garments in an attempt to cool herself. What was this feeling? Lying stomach down on her bed, she closed her eyes, and willed sleep to fall upon her, but to no avail. Shredding, sucking, chewing, swallowing. Over and over again. The weight of a muscular arm, the musky smell of leather. She groaned.
Turning herself onto her back, Arwen took deep breaths, ignoring the stifling blackness enclosing her tingling body. She felt she was suffocating. Equal parts of misery and pleasure taunted her confused mind, and the Evenstar saw nought but two handsome ellyn and the promise of a long, sleepless night.
XXX
Translations
Saes – Please
Daro i – Stop it
Ni am gen ne lû hen? - Can I be on top this time?