"𝙋𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙇𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙮." ༄ 𝘖𝘳𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥 │Illustrated by our Legolas Cosplay │ Sensual, detailed, romantic MEGA SPICY smut / lemon (some is skippable) ❤️ Ardalings has been over 4,000 hours in the making. Part 1 is COMPLE...
Birdsong filtered into Faeriel's awareness. As she shifted in the blankets, the second thing she noticed was that they were strangely soft. She did not possess blankets so velvety...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The young elleth opened her eyes. Directly ahead of where she faced in the bed was an ornate balcony bound in thick, sun dappled ivy.
She tensed as the terror and wonder of the last few days filtered into her awareness. The orcs... the eight legged demons... the fact that she had almost perished, twice. Legolas comforting her, offering her refuge... the heartache of leaving Rada and her friends and home. Rusco leading Legolas to save her. The kindness of Talishaya, and Legolas again, so caring and attentive on the long way to the fortress... The wonder of communicating with her parents and the revelation that she possessed untold powers that she must cultivate. Legolas' eyes flashing with panic in her root shield and his ongoing guilt which her own heart echoed. Her worry for the little hurt hedgehog, the ominous reality that someone with a knife had cut them... and the intimidating throne room. And Legolas... his pure, ineffably beautiful spirit, his sparkling crystal eyes, his soft smile, magical hands, and firm, muscular warmth... Her body tensed in a different, altogether pleasing way at these thoughts.
Oh! He is coming this morning to give me a tour! The sun was well up. Hastily Faeriel sat up in bed, casting off the unbelievably soft satin and velvet comforters. She shivered. A spring chill permeated the air, raising minuscule bumps all over her.
Her eyes fell on a pile of crumbs on one of the pillows. Faeriel smiled, seeking Rusco's aura. She sensed him nearby, enjoying a morning climb on the cliff outside.
She skipped across the floor toward a soft rug quickly, her bare feet disliking the chill of the stone. She marveled at the hot bath she had taken last night. The water and stone and magma beneath had together revitalized her magical spirit and her physical form. She could hear the hot spring trickling merrily in the other chamber. What luxury!
She had stashed the traveling sack that Legolas had borne for her on the long journey by a large armoire. When she opened its ornate door, she was taken aback by the sudden appearance of her reflection in the tall looking glass within.
Faeriel had never beheld a mirror image of herself. Only in a still pool of water or in polished metalwares had she ever caught sight of her visage, and never had she seen one so clear as this nor all the way from head to toe.
Faeriel examined herself up and down. Overnight, her wavy hair had settled into deep ringlets as it dried from the bath. Her eyes meandered her own image and she frowned. Her appearance differed from the other elves. Her ears were longer, and her hips and bosom flared wider than any she had seen. Am I odd looking? She wondered.
