Chapter Ten: Hot Water

Ignoring his chattering companions, he gazed across the hall and saw the two stroll merrily from their position on the floor, collapsing breathlessly onto soft lounges. He could not help but notice the heaving of an ample bosom, nor the slight rose in her fair cheeks. And when the smallest drop of crimson slid to a supple bottom lip, the Prince of Greenwood could not help but catch his breath as a moist pink tongue darted out to catch the stray droplet with one smooth, lingering swipe.

"Legolas?"

The warrior snapped his head in Erestor's direction. "Aye?"

"I begin to believe that you have not taken in any of what I have said." The dark haired advisor scolded. "Had I known as such, I'd have saved my breath."

"Now, now," interrupted Glorfindel, "you know as well as I that the Prince is more enjoyably engaged this night. To listen to politics, or to amuse one's self with rather more intimate imaginings – I do not hesitate to guess which is our companion's more desired occupation." He grinned, sending an amused look Legolas' way.

"Indeed that is not so." The slighter blonde smiled, attempting to hide behind an indifferent façade. "I am admiring the grandeur of this hall, and wishing that my friend were well enough to enjoy it."

Glorfindel allowed the Prince to steer the conversation away from uncomfortable waters until he saw the young one's eyes flicker to the doorway as he viewed the Evenstar's departure with Alar. "Come now," he began, sidling up to him, "do not attempt to deceive me. I've been walking this land for some thousands of years – do not you think that I have had ample time to observe the nature of elves?" After Legolas nodded, he continued. "And therefore, it is quite obvious to me that you fancy our dear Arwen. Is this not true?"

The young warrior shook his head. "Nay, that is not the gist of it at all. I am an old friend, hoping to rekindle the openness we once had."

"And such table manners would do much to recommend you to her as a most amiable friend – these wood-elves are indeed strange folk!" he chortled drolly, the teasing leading even Erestor to dip his head to hide a smile.

Legolas felt a slight warmth on his cheeks, although internally he was more preoccupied with angrily cursing them for mistaking his motives. It was not flirting! Only a daft Balrog Slayor who saw fit to sleep with countless pairs of elleth would think something such as that. He rolled his eyes, and made to leave when Erestor spoke once again. "Then if that is not the case, may I assume that you approve of Alar? You both appear content in each other's company." He quirked his eyebrow, as if daring the Prince to defy him.

"Aye, Alar is very agreeable. He is a good choice." And with that, Legolas made his way out the door and into the hallway. Alar. Oh, ofcourse he knew that Alar was a flirt. Ofcourse he knew that Arwen was his objective. But only now did he feel that the charismatic elf was his rival. His rival in…in what? What did he feel? Attraction, ofcourse, but he'd felt attraction before. He'd had to smother it, making sure that, as heir to the throne, he did not behave in an irresponsible manner. Attraction – that was what Alar felt…could he hold that against him? No, came a small voice. No. And it spoke true. He liked Alar. He was unable to find fault with his intentions when they appeared to be so similar to his own.

He strolled further down the hall, elegant lanterns lighting his way. He ceased his journey upon reaching Arwen's door. Why was he there? Taking a step forwards, he extended his arm and stroked the smooth, shiny wood, listening. Was he inside? Inside he heard a muffled moan, and a short, breathless gasp. Frozen, he listened to these sounds with both growing dejection, and arousal. He could not prevent his pounding heart from quickening its pace, nor slow the passage of its throbbing scarlet to his other, lower regions. He closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself, but instead his mind harassed him, depicting vivid, tempting images. Another feminine moan issued from behind the door, sending another hot surge downwards. He stifled a moan, and stepped backwards, breathing deeply. Sending one last longing look towards the door, the blonde whisked down the hall in search of his own rooms, desperate for both the solace, and physical relief, that was to be found there upon his arrival.

X

Arwen woke the next morning to find that her blankets still lay discarded upon the floor, and her nightdress still hitched around her thighs. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply – 'twas a blessing that such a torturous night was finally at an end. Climbing out of her bed, she reached for her looking glass – her hair was tussled, her eyes slightly shadowed – she'd looked better.

After sufficient washing, Arwen dressed and made her way to breakfast. It was made known to her that Legolas was to be in the midst diplomatic councils this day, and Alar had ridden to the borders with his fellow soldiers. Secretly, she was glad of these absences, for she desired no male company this day. Treading the corridor to the Halls of Healing, she freshly anticipated the release of Herendil from his sickbed the following day. Indeed, she missed Oloriel terribly so, and a few visits did little to compensate for her loss.

Rapping upon the door, Arwen was greeted warmly by her friend. "Ah! It has been an age!" she exclaimed, drawing her arms around her. "How I have missed you!" She was eagerly led inside, and settled into a seat.

Arwen beamed at her friend's response. "As I have missed you. You've no notion of how much I depend on you."

"Or I you." Came the warm reply.

Herendil, whom had merely listened thus far, spoke. "My apologies, my Lady Arwen. If I had had my way, I'd have been free of this bed sooner, and your friend returned to you in a similar fashion – although she has been wonderfully attentive to me during my stay."

Both ellith protested that they did not hold him personally responsible for their separation, and that they harboured no ill feeling towards him in any way. After a good quarter of an hour had passed in this manner, Arwen departed for her naneth, and patient and carer were left alone once more.

"I truly am sorry." The blonde told her earnestly. "You may take your leave today, and spend some time with your friend. I shall be fine on my own."

Oloriel gave him a pointed look. "And leave you here alone and unattended? Must you need reminding that I am a healer, and you are a patient, and therefore you are my responsibility?" She clucked her tongue. "Reckless wood-elves, they never think things through."

Herendil smiled at her, reclining against the bedhead. "Maybe so. But I have heard that you are not so level-headed as you are when present in my company. I hear of a fiery elleth whom duels with swords and daggers, gives the sharp side of her tongue and aspires to explore all the lands she can. But here I have known a kindly but firm healer whom is dutiful and motherly."

She arched a doubtful eyebrow. "'tis this so?"

"Aye. She feeds me broth, changes my bandages and washes me everyday." Herendil paused for a moment. "Which brings me to suggest…another bath? I'm terribly dirty." His lively eyes, ridden of sickness, darted suggestively to the thin sheet which covered his body, and back again to his carer. "What say you?"

Oloriel, still for a moment, pondered his request. He was not terribly dirty. But he had not been cleaned this day. She could not deny his logic. What she doubted was his motives. He sought to make her uncomfortable, this she knew. Though she'd seen his body more times than she could count, he knew, as well as her, that he was now patient in nought but name. And that made everything different.

"Very well." She replied. After readying hot water and a soft cloth, she began to rub his skin slowly, starting with his face, travelling to his neck, and broad shoulders. Further down she slid her cloth, wiping his hard chest, accidentally touching a pebbled nipple with her thumb. Hearing a small intake of breath, Oloriel's body grew warm. After applying the sponge to the flat planes of his stomach, she hesitantly withdrew the sheet, and then stared at what she had revealed. It was now fully evident the affect that the wash had brought upon Herendil. He gazed down steadily at the chestnut head which continued to appraise him. Placing his hands around the sides of her handsome face, he tilted it upwards, locking her eyes with his. Within her eyes he saw curiosity, and temptation. And lurking somewhere underneath was desire – and that he understood. He felt it in his own eyes. Softly, he brushed his lips over hers, letting them slide over her cheek, and to her ear. As warm breath caressed the tips of her ears, Oloriel felt all responsible notions begin to flee her mind. There was only one thing she longed to do at this moment. She glanced downwards, and then up again through thick lashes.

Herendil looked on curiously as lust and sensibility fought for dominance on his carer's face. A tentative hand ran up a well-muscled thigh before resting near his arousal; fingers flexed curiously as she contemplated her next move. Oloriel gasped with delight as she swiftly touched heated flesh, feeling the pulsing throb underneath velvet skin. Moving her fingers slowly up the swollen shaft, the healer fondled the weeping tip, eliciting a throaty moan from Herendil. His self-control began to wane.

Slowly, she began to pump the hardened length, from base to tip. Again and again she repeated these actions, each stroke more confident than the last. Resting his head on the carven bedhead, Herendil closed his eyes, feeling nought but bliss as the skilful hand continued its agonisingly sweet employment. Moments later, surprised eyes flew open. A warm, slick tongue darted from Oloriel's mouth, and began teasing his rosy tip. Moaning, the warrior began to gently buck his hips as his entire length became lost in the depths of his beautiful elleth's exquisite mouth. He tangled his calloused fingers in her wavy hair, enjoying its silky texture.

Panting, his thrusts increased, forcing Oloriel to place her hands upon his hips in order to stay him. He tasted so deliciously musky. Further moans heightened her want, and her tongue caressed him increasingly thoroughly. A ragged breath and a jerk of the hips indicated his release, and a warm spurt of his creamy essence was eagerly swallowed by the lusty elleth. Licking her lips, she looked up at his satiated face and saw utter contentment. An unexpected rush of adoration swept through her, and then, almost as instantly, a wave of remorse. "Oh dear…" she shook her head. "No, no, no. Oh, what have I done?" Leaping off the bed, Oloriel ran for the door, leaving a confounded Herendil behind her.

XXX

A/N: As always, reviews are greatly desired :)