MATURE ✨
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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔 - 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚. '𝑻𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍.
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Recap of last two chapters:
In Chapter 31, "The Deceiver," Sauron told Tysaun that he knew the Changeling was near and he even sensed another possible "prize" approaching. He demanded it was brought to him at once or he would eradicate Tysaun. Tysaun has other plans, wanting the Changeling for himself, as well as whatever realm of pain he had sensed in the strange whirlpool phenomenon.
In Chapter 32, "His Soothing Star," Legolas had a horrific nightmare which he feared might be a portent. In it, he saw flashbacks of the last time he saw his mother and of the spiders capturing Faeriel, and at the end of the nightmare, whatever Melorion had become stole Faeriel away. Faeriel instinctively sensed Legolas' anguish and hurried upstairs to comfort him. Sexy snuggly fluff ensued. She awoke later in his arms, he braided her hair, and they went off toward her first self defense lesson.
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Faeriel stared hungrily as Legolas' long, shapely fingers glided over the length of his bow, flexing. A hot, melting tension gathered in the core of her body as she imagined them gliding over her instead. Shivery tingles raced over her skin, every part of her begging to be touched by those deft hands.
Faeriel and Legolas had stopped by the armory for a set of bark hewn vanguards. Arm in arm, they strolled out through the garden paths, feet splashing in puddles left by the night's rain, admiring the mantle of rainbow droplets spread across the earth and stone. Dewy persimmons from the orchards made for an energizing breakfast. Presently, they stood in a long courtyard arranged with a target before a wide, high span of stone.
To their immediate left stood a grove of tall fruit trees, shielding them from view of the cliff fortress. This served Legolas perfectly, for it meant he could bestow his affections openly, and this thrilled him to no end.
The storms of night had abated and a cool wind stirred the boughs like a soft chorus. Layers of lacy clouds stretched above the valley, each delicate swath differently patterned with flecks or streaks or speckles. Golden sunlight gilded the highest formations, whereas the closer dapples of cloud were a muted blue gray.
Sunlight kissing her hair with gold, emerald eyes glistening, Faeriel made an enchanting sight. With the light streaming in, her lashes were like a fringe of bronze around those vivid verdant orbs. And her form... Aii! Legolas found himself struggling to keep his eyes upon her face instead of tracing the delicate line of her neck down to her sumptuous cleavage. But Legolas persevered, smiling at his sweet Faeriel as his heart seemed to thud in his throat.
"Be you ready, Faeriel?" Legolas asked in that warm, dulcet voice.
Faeriel bit her lip. Legolas moved to her side, smoothing a calming hand down her back.
"Yes," she breathed, insides swooping.
"'*Istanno o chaded *bilin annin.' It means... 'Teach me how to shoot arrows.'" Legolas explained, his thumb stroking the small of her back.
Faeriel found herself focusing solely on that stroking thumb. Hot, pleasurable pressure welled up inside her, her loins whirring with the same anxious want she had felt in every waking hour of their night and morn together. Indeed, in every moment she spent with him, or even merely dreamed of him, did this molten tension storm her keep.
"*Istanno o..." The corners of her mouth curved up as she attempted to repeat the Elvish. She felt giddy from his touches and the tender way he was gazing at her, his lashes soft around his eyes.
"'*Istanno o chaded *bilin annin.'" Legolas repeated softly, running his hand up the length of her spine, then back down to the small of her back. As ever it was a heady feeling, touching her. He felt her shiver, felt her energy curl ecstatically into him, making his loins throb. A warm, bubbly glow swathed his heart as he listened to Faeriel repeat the words slowly but beautifully in her sweet, soft voice.
Resisting his heart's call to sweep her up into his arms, the prince stepped back, drawing forth his bow and one long bark-fletched arrow. When he noted that Faeriel's gaze was settled upon him, he notched the arrow with exaggerated slowness, delivering his first instructions.
The graceful flow of Legolas' lithe form captivated Faeriel. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful being she had ever seen or would ever see. She licked her lips, that odd, intense yearning thrumming through her every fiber. Her fingertips hummed with the need to touch him and her pulse descended, throbbing in low, swelling places.
Legolas turned to her. "Be you ready?"
A flutter of anticipation teased her stomach as his eyes met hers. Startled from her hypnotic fascination, Faeriel blushed, nodding.
Legolas extended his bow to her. Faeriel clasped the curve of it in both hands, admiring the smooth, brown surface adorned with golden leaves.
Legolas found himself growing envious of his bow as he watched her trace its gilded ivy patterns. His thirsty eyes roved over her until she tipped her gaze back up.
His sweet forest scent flowed about her as Legolas moved closer. He pointed at a distinctive line in the stone parallel to the front of her feet, beckoning her to step up to it. "We shall use this as the practice line," Legolas instructed.
Faeriel peered up at him, nodding. His eyes held hers for a long, breathless moment, their bright blue regard utterly deep and brimming with emotion. His lips and brows were lightly pursed and he appeared frozen for a time. His beauty was as startling as ever. Faeriel could feel the spiral of heat curl low in her belly, thrilling her.
Legolas shook himself mentally. 'Tis not the time to become mesmerized, he thought. And then, he reached out to help her position the bow correctly, and the lesson commenced with a shower of tiny, invisible sparks.
"Your back and bow arm must be straight, aligned thus... Your shoulder blades, pulled together..." Legolas felt her heady aura scintillate into him as he coaxed each part of her into place.
"Your string-side foot stands to the fore of the bow-side foot." Legolas uttered, curling warm fingers around her hips, adjusting slightly. His heartbeat thrummed hard in his chest and even harder in his unrelenting stiffness.
Legolas' hands on her hips did wild, wondrous things to Faeriel. Heat welled inside and throbbed between her thighs with renewed intensity. As Legolas guided her into an open stance perpendicular to the target, Faeriel's knees wobbled unhelpfully.
Her breath caught as Legolas flowed down to his knees before her. Canting his handsome chin up, he gazed at her, his flawless pale complexion and crystalline eyes glowing in the light from the sky above the valley. Those gorgeous lips curved in a smile that made her even more breathless. Legolas then dropped his regard to her feet, reaching out to gently grasp her ankles over her soft, socklike elven boots. He guided her feet a little further apart and nudged her toes slightly outward.
"Keep your feet even with each other in relation to the target," Legolas murmured before meeting her eyes once again.
Ohh... Faeriel stared down, marveling at the elegant proportions of his eyes, nose, lips, and jaw. Legolas' beauty was an endless well, one that she could drink from forever. She continued to lap up the intoxicating sight of him as Legolas rose in one graceful, fluid motion. Tilting his radiant visage, he reached out and cupped her face, pillowy palm cradling her chin and long fingers gently stroking her cheekbone, which swelled into a smile.
Heat hammered through Faeriel, dazzling her nerve endings. That melting feeling gathered in the center of her body, while intense, tingly thrills shot up and down and all around. Like arrows they raced both atop her skin and within, unrelenting volleys that arced erratically through her corporeal form, fizzing through great swathes of nerves and stealing her breath away. Faeriel struggled to focus as Legolas went on to guide her through the drawing of the bow.
Faeriel was surprised at the strength required to draw it. Her arms soon began to ache and shudder as she strove to hold the position. Legolas must be much stronger than I, she thought.
"Very good," Legolas uttered. "Now relax. It shall take time for your muscles to grow accustomed," he explained, his hands gently caressing her biceps as if apologizing for the ache in them.
Legolas took the bow from her. Standing close before her, he notched an arrow and drew it, anchoring to his jaw and holding steadily in place. Faeriel licked her lips, trying to focus as the sight of his well muscled hands and strong forearms sheathed in their bark hewn vanguards beset her with a fresh volley of heat.
Oh, Legolas, she thought. Do you know the spells you cast in me?
"I shall show you how to release," Legolas murmured. "Watch me closely."
Faeriel did not have to be told, she was already devouring every detail of him with her eyes. Bow drawn, he froze in his stance. Her gaze roved over him, memorizing.
"Your hand should slide straight back without leaving your face. 'Tis a crisp, clean break. Like pulling on a string that is suddenly severed," Legolas instructed, before flawlessly letting the arrow fly.
Smoothly he notched another, pausing again with it drawn back to his jaw. "One cannot open one's fingers fast enough to avoid the bowstring, but simply opening one's fingers will not release the arrow smoothly. Instead, simply relax your fingers so the bowstring pushes them out of its way. The less resistance, the smoother the release."
Legolas flowed through a few more shots before pressing the bow into Faeriel's hand. He guided her to hold the bow out in front of her side-turned body just as he had. Gentle, warm hands reached out to adjust her grips. His strong fingers lightly brushed her hands first, curving each of her digits correctly, his touch gentle and lingering. His fingers dragged each time he slowly withdrew, sending tingles flowing into her that ignited her nerves even more powerfully and left her yearning for more.
"Draw, keeping your arm straight, but do not lock at the elbow," Legolas murmured, curving her fingers correctly.
Faeriel drew the string back. Legolas moved around behind her, causing her whole body to prick and tingle with heady awareness and heat. Legolas glided his hands up her biceps, leaving a trail of fluttery warmth in his wake, a rain of shimmering stars cascading ever downward.
The stars cascaded just as brilliantly into Legolas as her aura danced into him.
"Align your shoulders with your bow arm," Legolas tugged her shoulders with warm hands that were perfectly gentle and firm all at once.
Then he circled around in front of her again. Faeriel watched his beautiful eyes glisten in the sunlight until the warm pads of his fingertips merged with her jaw and cheek to gently coax her face in the direction of her arrow.
"Your hand anchors to your jaw, here," Legolas said. His beautiful voice, husky as ever, made her brain and lower half into a veritable puddle. Faeriel's arms were starting to ache again, but she was too exhilarated to care.
Legolas continued to arrange her, blood heating his cheeks and filling low aches. As his gaze dipped, he felt a fresh flush spread through him. Her chest barred the posture he normally used.
"Bend your neck forward only as much as is necessary," Legolas instructed, his hands softly guiding her head forward until the string cleared her ample chest.
"Perfect," Legolas breathed, satisfied with her position.
His velvet voice sounded so close, she felt her knees trembling as much as her straining arms.
Legolas felt her arms quiver in the enduring draw. A thought of tending to her sore muscles flitted through his mind ever so briefly before he spoke again. "Now relax, allow your arms to rest. It shall grow easier with time. Once you are rested, we shall try your first arrow."
Faeriel tried to focus as he had her pull the shaft back again and described how to aim. "Well done," Legolas said when her posture was correct. "You may let the arrow fly when ready. Remember, allow the departing arrow to simply push aside your fingers."
Faeriel firmed her jaw. She tried to hold the posture he wrought. But at the last moment, just as the arrow twanged loose, her alignment slipped. Faeriel stared as the arrow soared far to the left of the target.
Legolas could see what had gone wrong. Excess tension in her hand, forearm and bicep had caused her hand to leave her face, foiling the shot... Quite normal for a beginner.
Faeriel's head immediately drooped, her cheeks flushing scarlet. She was heartmeltingly endearing with that little pout upon her full mouth. His heart a puddle, Legolas erased the distance between them, hands finding the tender indent of her waist and her cheek. He tilted his head to the side, tracing small circles upon her effervescent form, sapphires searching her emeralds keenly.
"What is the matter?" Legolas asked softly.
Faeriel's eyes fell as she played with the designs on the bow. Legolas allowed himself a brief glimpse of her goddess-like figure. He swiped his tongue along his upper lip, trying to ignore the twitching in his swollen shaft and the tingling in his fingers, ears and mouth begging him to scoop her up and kiss her fervently.
"I am dreadful at this," she whispered.
"Faeriel." Legolas said, gently but firmly tugging her chin until she raised her gaze back up to his. "All is as it should be." Legolas watched her brows furrow, her big green eyes glossy and bright.
"It... is?" Faeriel asked.
"Aye. 'Tis your first day. 'Tis your first shot. Do you not know? Learning takes time. Be not discouraged. Patience." Legolas soothed the young elleth.
"Oh...yes," Faeriel agreed, feeling silly.
"Come. I shall guide you again." Legolas encouraged, handing her another arrow. "Resume your stance."
Faeriel regained her position, staring stoically ahead whilst her insides quivered in anticipation of his gentle touch. But he didn't guide her as she expected. He did something far more exhilarating.
Legolas eased up behind her, his warmth flowing across her back like heat radiating from a hearth. Faeriel felt her core clench and flare. Legolas slid his hands down her biceps and along her forearms as he settled around her, sealing his chest to her back.
She felt the rise of his chest, and the soft puff of his breath upon her ear sent sparks of pleasure skittering down her body. Her heart thumped hard in her breast as she closed her eyes in bliss.
Legolas recalled the other time he had encircled her from behind, barely two weeks before when he sensed many-legged enemies stalking through the forest and needed to stifle her quickly. The emotions and sensations besieging him now were equally intense, yet entirely different. This time, it was the thrills of desire, not dread, that arrowed through him, igniting every nerve in his body.
All of the pent up sexual frustration that had assailed him over the past two weeks had returned, with reinforcements. Legolas asked himself if this was a bad idea. Perhaps I should have Talishaya teach her instead... Nay... She can teach her as well. We both can.
I shall take a moment to comfort her... and then we shall concentrate on the task. Holding Faeriel felt distractingly divine but Legolas resolved to focus and provide her with the best instruction. This was about her safety. He could bask in her loveliness later.
As he moved with her, he uttered his instructions that Faeriel caught only parts of. At the very center of her worldly form that tingling ache bloomed ever keener, ever hotter, unraveling into a pleasurable cacophony of flutters, squeezes, undulations, and the flow of her mysterious dew. The uncontrollable sensations melted down her limbs, all the way to her fingers and toes, making her quiver.
Legolas guided her into position, then stepped back for her to shoot another off. Again, her upper body muscles were too tense and her alignment slipped.
I ought to embrace her for the shots, for now, Legolas mused. The thought of staying wrapped around her for the entirety of the lesson made him feel he might burst.
Legolas crooned soothing words of encouragement as he eased against her back again. Sweet aches tightened inside at that whispery voice and that hard strong body pressing in around her. Flutters throughout her body flickered like candles in the wind, filling her to the brim and leaving very little room to breathe in air.
Legolas was whispering something in her ear, and his hands were moving around her body. Faeriel's mind all but shut down. She found herself fiercely desiring for his lips to touch her ear. But despite wanting more, she luxuriated in him, holding her lower lip firmly between her teeth to stave off the noises threatening to tumble forth.
By now, Faeriel possessed a fair inkling what all this was...and she didn't want it to stop. Swathed in the magical bliss of his touch, she struggled to follow what he was saying about the art of archery.
Legolas drew another arrow from his back and helped her prepare the shot. Before she drew, he engulfed her hand in his, massaging her palm and fingers. His kneading was slow and sumptuous. Faeriel bit her lip, leaning back into him. It felt so achingly wondrous. She could scarcely stand, scarcely breathe. Her body felt like molten, scintillating stars.
Legolas fought to focus as the exhilarating feel of her whittled away his wits, and that curious glow shimmered from her. "You must relax your fingers to release. 'Tis far simpler to relax your fingers if you first relax the muscles in your hand... your wrist..." Legolas rubbed these parts of her as he spoke. Dimly, in the back of his mind, the intimacy of it all registered.
Legolas uttered his words slowly in his most whispery tones, hot breath tantalizing the shell and tip of her hypersensitive ear. Faeriel released a shaky breath. She wanted him to kiss her ear so badly she felt she might leap out of her skin.
"Your forearm... and your bicep...." Legolas slowly caressed along each part of her as he spoke, kneading gently as if he could somehow erase their tension. "Loosening all those taut muscles shall employ instead the superior might of your back to support the bow's draw weight. And without the tension, the bowstring shall smoothly push aside your fingers as you release."
"Oh," Faeriel whispered breathlessly. "I... think I understand."
"I shall help you as many times as you need," Legolas uttered, hot breath and husky vibrations fanning deliciously upon her ear.
Faeriel's eyes rolled back and she let out a shaky exhale. His every touch trailed a pleasurable ache across her skin, sensation swirling into her like potent tea leaves scattered into a vessel of hot water.
His contact felt sublime, yet every touch made her increasingly anxious for another. Faeriel found herself trembling and craving more, all over her aching, quaking body. She especially found herself inexplicably wanting Legolas' magical hands to explore her further, deeper... Lower.
Legolas helped her draw again, holding her closely throughout as he guided her fully through the aim and release. With his expert hands for guidance, the arrow flew true.
A thread of her emotions wove into his own, a phenomenon which had been occurring more and more often. The entwining of mind and fëa would be so much stronger when they were bonded—a hope that seemed to be fast blossoming toward fruition. It was remarkable to Legolas that already their mental connection flourished. Another sign of hope and promise.
"Your thoughts are yet troubled." Legolas murmured softly. "Was that not a perfect shot? You hit the center."
"But... that was you, not I..." Faeriel whispered.
"Mm, but you are learning with me," he breathed softly.
Faeriel appreciated his sweetness, but felt a nagging fear that she would not be ready if more demons attacked soon. "I must learn to defend..." she said in a small voice.
"Fear not, Faeriel. For you shall succeed," Legolas murmured. "We shall learn many methods of defense, and whichever suit you best we shall hone to perfection."
As he spoke, Legolas caught hold of her waist and did something very bold indeed. Ever so slowly, ever so softly, he slid his warm, strong palms and long, nimble fingers around from her sides to her stomach. He wandered gently, waiting to see if she would tense, but she did not. Instead he felt her collapse back against him... and there was no mistaking the shaky hitch in her breath, laced with the barest hint of a whimper.
Legolas' hands felt they were tingling to pieces at the surge of her energy saturating him even through her tunic. Her stomach felt soft yet strong, and perfect, and Legolas clenched his jaw, nearly groaning with the effort of keeping his hips back from her tempting bottom. Aii!
Legolas' every massaging motion sent a flaming arrow to crackle and billow through dewy depths. Faeriel bit her lip, holding in her breath lest she gasp. For every pass of his warm hands across the sensitive plane of her abdomen, her sensual delight seemed to mount tenfold.
"Take a moment to breathe with me," Legolas instructed.
In truth he needed a moment to collect himself. Corporeal fantasies flooded his thoughts ere he touched her, especially so near to her most secret places. Desire raced through his veins as he thought of the sheathe he knew lay between her soft, strong thighs... He ached to know what it would feel like to part her legs and bury his *'wî within the embrace of her *buch.
Would she sigh with ecstasy? Surely I would...
Thus swooped Legolas' thoughts. Every ounce of his blood was screaming at him to submit to the want pounding in his leggings.
Each dip of Legolas' hands down on her stomach nearly tore a gusting sound from her throat, so Faeriel stoppered her breath. And he wishes for me now to... to breathe with him?! That shall be a trying task.
Slowly, carefully, Faeriel sucked in a shaky breath, and focused on letting it out just as evenly. The tingling whirlwinds within her wanted to gust out of her mouth like the moaning of a tempest. Breathing normally felt impossible, but Faeriel focused and tried her best.
But Legolas kept passing his warm, glorious hands across her waist and stomach, every motion making that place inside clench tighter. Then Legolas swept lower, caressing gently just above her belt, and the pleasure became utterly dizzying. A wild gust expanded in her lungs. Faeriel felt it rise, swelling up her throat until it lingered behind her lips, dangerously close to shuddering past them in some unseemly sound.
Her core ached with tension, both wondrous and maddening. Faeriel wanted to wriggle anxiously. She felt like she might jump out of her skin if she did not have more, if Legolas did not lower those hands to explore further. The pressure sizzling inside was much too much and yet not enough. Legolas stroked little circles low on her midriff, making the sensations intensify even more. The pleasure storm gusted everywhere, forcing more air up from her chest, and then at last, utterly unstoppable, a breathy little mewl whimpered from her throat.
Faeriel froze. Oh no, she thought, blushing furiously. No hope is there that he heard me not!
"Faeriel?" Legolas' soft, low, whispery voice penetrated her dazed mind, vibrating yet more thrills into her aching ear and down her spine.
"Yes?" She gasped breathlessly. Her throat felt strangely constricted.
"You must breathe." Legolas reminded in a thick voice, low and raspy, that earthy voice that made her tremble even harder with wanting him.
"Am I not?" She said in a strangled voice. She cleared her throat self consciously.
She felt him pause again, hands still lightly caressing her stomach. "Just breathe," Legolas instructed, and he demonstrated a few deep, emphatic inhales, his chest swelling against her. Faeriel joined him, focusing hard. Shaky breaths began to emerge.
"Serenity is key. Breathe... Six counts on the inhale, hold for three, then six on the exhale." Legolas breathed near her pleasure-stricken ear, the vibrations resounding all the way to her wildly tingling toes.
"I shall try," Faeriel choked out.
"Do not feel anxious, do not feel pressure. You need not make the target, for I shall gladly show you again, as many times as you need."
Faeriel felt thrills in her belly and a warmth in her heart at his kind words and the prospect of more closeness to him.
In time, Legolas relinquished her abdomen and provided her with another arrow. He began to wend his way along the length of her arms, helping her to notch and grip it properly. Tender fingers made small revisions to the position of her shoulders, neck, and jaw.
The feel of him pressing in around her was divine. They fit so perfectly, their heights almost matched, Legolas standing only a fraction taller.
Legolas murmured various explanations for the placements he was making. The soft waves of his melodic voice vibrated against her ear.
They fired off several more shots in this intoxicating manner. Faeriel sought to focus, and was not entirely successful.
"Eventually, your muscles shall memorize everything," Legolas murmured reassuringly as he went to collect the arrows. They emptied the quiver several more times, alternating the shots between those guided fully by Legolas surrounding her from behind, and attempts on her own. The latter were far less accurate but the prince praised her profusely, insisting that her progress showed great promise.
Secretly, Legolas was eager for each time he was able to press himself around her. For all his thousands of years, patience now eluded him. Faeriel's form felt so achingly perfect imbedded against his chest, with her delicate vanilla aroma wafting through his lungs and her midriff so very strokable.
Each time he flowed around her that familiar aching tingle coursed along his nerves and pooled eagerly into his hardening shaft. Against his screaming instincts, he steadfastly kept that part of him away from the tempting roundness of her bottom. Those curves were so near that he could feel their heat on his groin. He longed to know what she felt like fully pressed against him. Holding her like this was a sweet torture.
Legolas pressed his chest closer, bending his mouth toward the adorable, pinked tip of her elongated ear. He smirked slightly as he heard her breath hitch and felt the energy brimming from her surge, nurturing his hope. Faeriel tilted her ear closer, heartening him yet more. Aye... the longing I bear for her... I think it is returned... Legolas mused joyously.
He swallowed, struggling to keep at bay the tidal waves of excitement crashing in him. Ever was he one stone short of an avalanche when touching her. Soon, he promised himself. Soon I shall pledge myself to her, in a place of light and beauty to befit her radiance. And then...
"Your hands are nimble, your back strong. Already you impress me," Legolas uttered aloud to divert his sensual thoughts.
The words were softer than a breeze, but the way his velvet voice vibrated into Faeriel's ear was almost too pleasurable to endure. "Thank you," said she, and was surprised by the hoarseness of her voice.
Faeriel turned her head. He was closer than she realized, and she nearly whimpered as her ear rubbed along his jaw, which magnified the heat and tension in her core a hundredfold. She felt him smile against her cheek before he drew back slightly, but not far.
Legolas caught a glimpse of Faeriel's profile then. Her eyes were closed and her jaw slack, her full lips fallen agape. If only he could tilt her head back to lay upon his shoulder, and bend down, and kiss those sweet lips... Mesmerized, Legolas raised his knuckles to caress her cheek, and she leaned into his touch.
The elf prince thought about her plush curves and enthralling emerald eyes as he allowed his hands to trail over her with deliberate tenderness. Very thankful was he that the thick hedge of trees obscured the courtyard from his Adar's vantage point high in the cliff. But what would obscure his naughty thoughts? Not, it seemed, his dwindling self control.
Legolas let his hands linger in each place longer than was necessary as he gave his whispered instructions, careful not to let his lips brush her ear, but hovering close. Her shaky breaths and sweet vanilla fragrance bathed his senses, making his resolve so much harder to maintain. Legolas' now steel erection strained against his clothes, and it was all he could do to stay his hips and hands from straying where they ought not.
Faeriel powerfully perceived every second of his hands' slow journey, and it drove her wild. She caught only fragments of instructions, and loosed each shot he prepared for her in a daze. They thunked into the target only due to his steady embrace.
She became keenly aware of what she desired... For his lips to close the gap between them... to press a kiss to her aching ear, then another, and another...for his hands to grip her tighter, as desperately as she wished to grip him...for him to turn her around and lock eyes with her for an enduring moment before leaning in to claim her with a kiss, just as she had seen the other day in the garden.
Time seemed to suspend. Legolas had stopped moving and simply stood with Faeriel imbedded in his embrace. "Breathe with me," he instructed again, his voice a whispery song. He needed another moment to calm himself.
Faeriel tried to breathe. Legolas' upper body molded around hers so perfectly. Each of his steady, warm breaths feathered over her ear in the cool air, penetrating her with tendrils of delight over and over again, and oh, she was melting. Melting, melting, melting, in Legolas' cocoon. The pleasurable sensations intensified until she was all but drowning in them.
The corners of Legolas' lips curved up. Faeriel was trembling again, and her breath, her aura, her scent, everything about her was all too enticing. Legolas did not wish to stop holding her thus, but he decided to draw back, sensing he was distracting her too much with his touch for their lesson to progress. He could embrace her more later. But he took a moment to caress her waist softly, cherishing her wild, cracking aura and her half stifled, breathy little sighs, all the while aware that he was being quite naughty to so provoke them.
Legolas' caresses about her middle seemed to be heightening some ache in her, some need... Bursts of energy rolled through her as her entire body tensed tightly. The tingles raced along her spine, roared through her core, and melted down her thighs with his every touch, but she wanted more, she needed more. She was desperate for the caresses to continue...
But alas, Legolas stopped and drew back. "You may continue on your own for a time. I shall be here beside you," he husked out.
Faeriel felt a loss, but her mind cleared slightly. She maintained the stance he had so tenderly guided her into and made note of it in her mind. She stood, breathing in, breathing out.
As the lesson went on, Faeriel intuited that it was for the best. She did wish to learn to defend, and she had not been learning much when his touches were stacking the anxious ache within her like kindling for a blaze. Luckily though, a little muscle memory had begun to form.
Dutifully, Faeriel listened to Legolas' rich and textured voice describe the art of archery. His every touch bestowed a fresh jolt of desire, but she renewed her focus with determination, thinking of her friends, and of her Legolas. She could not lose them. She had to know how to defend those she cherished.
"Well done. Just turn a bit..." Hands gently gripping her at the waist, Legolas applied pressure to shift her body until she was facing the target with proper form.
An hour passed in which Faeriel successfully struck the target about one out of every four times. A few times, her arrow neared the very center, but she knew that was not enough accuracy to stop monsters. As Legolas took the bow from her, her eyes were downcast and a little frown tugged at her face.
"Do not doubt yourself." Legolas uttered, laying the weapon aside before wrapping his arms around her and giving her a squeeze that made his body heat and harden.
"Shall we try a blade now?" Legolas asked hoarsely, reminding himself to stay focused on the lesson.
"Yes," Faeriel nodded, her eyes wide as he drew his twin blades.
"It is much like dancing," Legolas smiled down at her. Then he began to move.
Faeriel watched Legolas move, smooth as water streaming over stones, each motion flowing into the next. Long and lean, his form seemed to float around the courtyard as his blades gleamed in the light. Watching his sleek, magnificent body flow in the lethal dance became hypnotic.
Minutes later found him before her, sheathing one of his blades, offering her the other to hold.
Legolas moved around her and again pressed his chest flush to her back and slid his hands down her arms to fit his hand around hers where she gripped the knife hilt. He wrapped his other softly around her stomach, trying not to groan.
"Let me show you how to move with them," he murmured in her ear.
Dizzy breathless waves burst in her chest, her aching core squeezing and weeping with fresh arousal as Legolas guided her through the motions of parrying and attacking, soon adding a second knife. Faeriel's knees felt wobbly as Legolas moved her in slow motion, murmuring explanations in her ear.
Each step and turn created friction in the swollen sea between her thighs, building the pleasurable, anxious pressure rippling in her geyser. Occasionally, part of him grazed her bottom, which felt... ohh. The shifting presses of his body and the warm vibrations of his voice made her brain fuzzy.
When Legolas couldn't take another accidental brush with her bottom without losing all control, he let go and curved around gracefully to her front. He held her at arms length, taking a deep breath to calm himself.
Then he spoke her name in that low, whispery voice that never failed to stir warm flutters in her. "Faeriel... I think 'tis time to try some sparring."
Still dazed, Faeriel watched him, heavy lidded, as he took one of the knives from her and stepped back. Her eyes fell to the lethal knife in her hands, widening.
"What is wrong, Faeriel?" Legolas questioned.
Her heart hammered. "What if I hurt you?"
"You shan't. Do not fear. I have many centuries of experience," he reminded her gently.
Faeriel nodded, trying to trust him on this. Violence scared her and the thought of having to clash knives with him was frightening.
Legolas took his knife from her and set both upon the bench. He gathered her into his embrace. "Avaro naeth. Estelio nin," he soothed, rubbing little circles across her back. "It means, 'Do not worry. Trust me.'"
"I... I fear I cannot be a strong, fearless warrior like you," Faeriel confided. "I fear... I fear I am weak."
"Faeriel..." Legolas uttered her name so softly, so soothingly, letting it flow upon her tingling ear. "You need not change yourself at all. Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness. I shall keep you safe here. You need only learn the keys of defense, just in case, Arda forbid, trouble e'er befalls you."
When he released her and handed her the knives again, she was less nervous, but her knees were weak and her pulse throbbed hard in her chest and the juncture of her thighs.
"We shall go very slowly at first, then we shall proceed at your pace. We shall repeat over the weeks until your body remembers, so do not be anxious."
He moved forward, telling her which parry she ought to use. His knives arced in slow motion toward hers, and she parried as he had just taught her.
"Very good," he praised after a gentle clang ran between their knives. He pirouetted and came at her again in slow motion. Their knives clanged once more. His bright, attentive eyes and handsome visage were terribly distracting.
They proceeded in this fashion, over and over. The simple patterns grew easier as they increased their speed in slight increments, though still they moved far slower than a real life battle. After an hour, Legolas halted and took the knife from her.
"Well done, Faeriel," he praised her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a smiling kiss to her temple.
"Ci fael, Legolas," Faeriel beamed.
Legolas beamed back.
A flash of russet fur blurred past from the grove of cherries, and a moment later Rusco stood upon Faeriel's shoulder, chattering.
Faeriel smiled at her friend, so happy to see him. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a horrible memory tore her mind asunder. All of a sudden she was there, in the cruel ropes of the orcs, helpless as her friends of fur and feather were hurled down and sliced up by the monsters. She watched Rusco bravely leap into the fray, only to be hurled by the unholy brute, slamming into a tree, dying...
~ Faeriel! Stop thinking of that! ~ Rusco cried in her mind. Sometimes her strong thoughts could be heard by her best friend.
"Faeriel! What is the matter?" Legolas spoke urgently before her.
Faeriel stared at Legolas, and raised a hand to embrace Rusco on her shoulder, pulling him down to her heart to hug him. She felt raw, injured by the wave of memories that had overwhelmed her so suddenly.
"I—I... was just remembering... the orcs... they were so cruel, so unfeeling. My friends were in such peril. I do not understand the monsters. I do not understand why anyone would hurt another for greed of wealth or power..."
"Faeriel," Legolas soothed, cupping her cheek. "I too have felt baffled. Your goodness is without bounds, but so is the evil that lurks out in the shadows."
Legolas wished he could smooth the worry away from her sweet face. "Alas, some things in this world are the embodiment of greed and other wickedness. You would not have known them in your wizard's peaceful dwelling. "
"I did not know..." Faeriel agreed sadly.
It was plain to Legolas that her heart was hurting. "Evil exists, aye, but we resist, we fight. Our very existence, with eyes unclouded and hearts unwavering, ensures it can never overcome us." he added softly, caressing her cheek.
Her eyes were so beautiful, so innocent. He wanted to protect her forever. Emotion overwhelmed Legolas and he drew her into a fierce hug, running his hands up and down her back.
When she leaned into his touch, gripping him back, a little mewl escaped her throat. Legolas' jaw tightened as did his lower regions. Ai...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After a snack picked from the trees, Rusco and Sasha settled in a nearby tree to nap. Legolas and Faeriel had spent the better part of the hour on a few more slow motion blade exercises, learning a series of both parries and strikes that Faeriel felt sure she would not remember without more practice. Legolas' shimmering sapphires were all too distracting.
"May we commence the study of another form of defense? 'Tis perhaps the most important."
"Oh, ah, yes, of course," Faeriel agreed, wondering what was in store.
"One of the most useful skills is the breaking of holds. For the first line of defense must always be escape. Flight shall ever be the preferable course." Legolas uttered these words with urgency, reiterating them, his bright eyes intent on hers. "Always choose to flee whenever chance allows."
Faeriel nodded solemnly, her eyes wide.
"You do not need superior strength, only superior wit. I shall teach you to use the momentum of your foes against them."
Faeriel stared at him, intrigued.
"If a foe seizes you by the wrists, there is a way to escape, no matter what their might. I shall take hold of your wrists, and I shall instruct you on how to break free."
Legolas took hold of her wrists and mentally ran over what this must entail. His stomach clenched. Though he hated to cause discomfort, he knew he must squeeze very tightly for Faeriel to learn this move. "I am sorry, Faeriel, but my grip shall perhaps hurt. I pray only a little. A real foe would be unrelenting, thus it must be so for you to learn. Tell me if you wish to stop, at any time, and we shall stop."
Faeriel nodded. She did not appear bothered by this. Determination and trust graced her soft, sweet face.
Legolas closed his hands, walking her through what she must do without squeezing the first several times, until she had the motion memorized. Then, heart twisting miserably, he tightened his grip, needing to know she could escape such a hold for real. After a few struggling errors, in which Legolas' aching heart nearly made him let go, Faeriel was able to wrench free of his iron fists in the way he had taught her.
"Well done," Legolas murmured. "Then you must whirl away and flee, or fight if you must."
Faeriel nodded, resisting the urge to rub her wrists, for they did hurt, but she did not wish Legolas to know.
But his eyes descended to her wrists anyway, and Legolas appeared sorrowful. His handsome brow and jaw were taut as he gracefully lowered to one knee before her. He took one of her hands, cradling her palm in his, and brought her wrist before his lips. He watched her as he kissed her wrist, slowly, tenderly...
Faeriel trembled as the pain there turned to immediate, powerfully buzzing pleasure. Legolas drifted his soft, supple mouth around the side of her wrist before turning her palm up. His lips brushed an exquisitely gossamer kiss there as he regarded her.
Faeriel sucked in a shaky breath. The heady fizz of pleasure erupted where he kissed her, mirrored in her core where her pulsing flesh felt so desperately hot and wet and sparkly. Faeriel watched his beautiful lashes descend as he pillowed his lips upon her inner wrist once more, enchanting her tender flesh with the sweetest of thrills.
Legolas' heart felt it was glowing and soaring straight into the sky. Her aura cascaded into him with every touch, every kiss, filling him with raptures of mind, body and spirit alike... And quite certain was he that he glimpsed joy upon her face... and that it was joy he felt in her effervescent aura.
Still caressing the first wrist, Legolas lifted her other wrist to his lips, bestowing the same treatment. The feel of her skin upon his was beyond heavenly. Oh, how he would love to lavish her in kisses all day, all night, and for all time...
Faeriel's heart was swelling and her body was melting when suddenly, her friend's thoughts interrupted her flustered delight.
~ See? ~ Rusco chirped mentally from his perch in the trees. ~ He nuzzles you. Believe me now? He so obviously adores you. ~
Faeriel blushed heartily and bit her lip. Her heart soared, daring to hope her friend was right.
Legolas continued around the second wrist, too spellbound in the pleasure tingling into him from her bare skin to notice anything else.
But when Legolas pulled back, he heard someone. He glanced abruptly toward the entry to the courtyard. His eyes widened and he stood, releasing Faeriel's hands slowly.
Faeriel followed his gaze. An ellon stood in the entry to the courtyard. She looked back at Legolas, who appeared disconcerted, his stunning face drawn in a frown.
It was one of his Adar's attendants. How odd, Legolas thought. How much had he seen? If he had seen me kneeling before Faeriel, bathing her wrists in such kisses, such adoring, tender kisses... Legolas hoped his father would not hear word of it.
"King Thranduil requests your assistance, my lord," the attendant bowed.
Legolas turned to Faeriel, many emotions flitting at once over his fair face. "I regret that I must attend to my obligations, but we shall practice again soon, and I shall show you more with bow, blade, and weaponless defense alike. Your progress is admirable," Legolas praised, his bright eyes smiling down at her.
Faeriel blushed, staring down at their feet. She had a strong urge to wrap her arms around his shoulders and bury her face in his satin hair, but it was obvious that Legolas had stiffened in the presence of another.
"Do you need your bow back?" Faeriel whispered.
"You may borrow it. I have another." Legolas smiled down at her, though Faeriel could sense he still felt uneasy.
"Thank you," Faeriel murmured. "I think I shall just practice a bit more."
Legolas squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. "Do not toil too long," he murmured. He gave her shoulder an all too brief caress, then bowed with hand on heart, and after a long, soft look into her eyes, departed for his duties.
Faeriel watched him stride gracefully away. He paused at the exit to the courtyard, turning back. Emotion swam in his blue gaze. Then Legolas turned and disappeared beyond the trees, and Faeriel felt the presence of him grow faint until he became too far away to sense easily. She still could, if she concentrated very hard on his beautiful fëa.
After his abrupt departure, Faeriel stood a long moment, still feeling incredibly hot and tingly all over from his sweet kisses. She was now accustomed to the swollen heat betwixt her legs pulsing of its own accord, the sensations pleasurable but achy all at once. Hope filled Faeriel, hope that Legolas wanted to be her mate, her love, just as she wanted to be his...
Rusco and Sasha, who had properly slept off their midday meal, greeted Faeriel before they hopped off. Faeriel's heart was warmed watching their joyous, playful interactions. They reminded her again of the importance of defending those she loved, so she went back to the practice line.
She continued sending arrows toward the target, but still, three of every four clattered off the stone wall instead. How will I ever be able to defend those I love... She thought to herself. Legolas' heart was kind and gentle, and it was clear that he wished her not to worry. But worry she must. For it seemed to her that the attacks of demon monsters came at the least expected times. She had to be ready.
She wondered when she would see Rada, Nalie, Arastor, and all her other friends again. Oh, how she dearly missed them.
I shall just practice a little longer, Faeriel thought. Until I can hit the target every time.
Her body bore obvious signs of the mess Legolas had made of her as Faeriel continued trying to hit the mark. Wetness drenched the swollen flesh betwixt her legs and still wobbly were her knees, but this eventually faded as she rigorously trained her mind to her task.
~ Still doing that? You should rest! ~ Rusco told her after another hour when he returned again.
~ Just a little more, ~ Faeriel replied. ~ 'Tis important. ~
Faeriel emptied her quiver, filled it again, and repeated, practicing on and on as the noon sun waned and shadow claimed the valley. With each quiver full, at best a few of her shots, if she was fortunate, thunked anywhere near the center of the target. Many shots missed the target entirely. Her arms, shoulders, and torso began to ache and tremble with the unusual strain of pulling the heavy bowstring hour after hour, but still she sought for progress. She needed to be able to defend the innocent from evil.
It was with this same stubborness that Talishaya and Rusco found her late in the afternoon.
Faeriel smiled at her new and old friends, momentarily distracted from her frustration at her lack of skill.
"Faeriel," Tali said in her warm, rich voice.
"Tali! Rusco!" Faeriel said, straightening despite the aches burgeoning in her arms and shoulders.
~ You are still tiring yourself out? ~ Rusco queried in her mind with the mental equivalent of a frown.
~ I do not have to worry about that, ~ she responded. ~ I heal quickly. Do not worry about me. ~
~ Still... ~ Rusco replied. ~ It seems like madness to me. ~
Faeriel could not bring herself to agree. This was important.
"I saw you going hither this morn with Legolas," Tali said. "Have you been practicing ever since?"
"Well, yes," Faeriel blushed.
"You are determined I see. But... great archers are not made overnight." Tali offered sagely.
"Oh..." Faeriel shrugged. "But I dearly wish to make some progress."
"Hmmm... Your braids are beautiful."
"Oh, thank you," Faeriel said, smiling at the memory. "Legolas wove them this morning."
Talishaya smiled, a mysterious glimmer in her gold-hazel eyes.
Talishaya stayed for a time, helping Faeriel with a few points she forgot, or missed due to her earlier distractions. By the time Tali left, Faeriel had hit the target a dozen times. Tali had acted most impressed, but Faeriel could only see the two dozen misses.
What if orcs attack my friends tomorrow? She thought. I must be more accurate in order to defend them! So on she practiced, sending the quiver of arrows toward the target again and again. Soreness built and built in her arms and shoulders, but she always ignored it in favor of trying yet again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas smiled to himself as he went about his tasks. He was fairly certain Faeriel had become quite... breathless... today at practice.
Pangs of longing filled him as he thought of everything he had perceived with his keen elven senses. The sweet vanilla scent of her had deepened to a heady, sultry essence. With shaking little breaths her body had trembled and gravitated towards him. Effervescent energy had dripped off her in waves and when he had graced her waist with his gentle caresses, the most maddeningly alluring little noise had escaped her sumptuous mouth. And afterwards when she had looked at him, he had not missed the charming flush upon her cheeks nor the darkness of her pupils, wide as saucers.
Had she felt as he felt? Those delicious thundering, throbbing, swollen sensations? He had carefully, painfully kept his hips away so the alluring curves of her bottom would not be subject to the pulsing monolith in his mossy leggings.
Legolas hauled in a long, deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He thought of Faeriel's beautiful, enchanting spirit. His heart bubbled warmly at the memory of her endearing first attempts with self defense. He had not lied, he knew she could do it. She seemed brighter and more hopeful and determined at the end of their lesson, albeit flustered. He would ask Talishaya to give her lessons also; perhaps then she would be less flustered and learn more, he thought wryly.
Legolas closed his eyes, his mind wandering to the next time he would see her. Tomorrow his obligations would again be many, but he would find time to go see how she was faring again. Or perhaps this evening I can go to her... if I am spared the time. He sighed, the mountain of extra tasks weighing heavily upon him.
Just then, Talishaya strolled up. "Legolas," she greeted him. As close friends, there were seldom any formalities between them except when both were on duty. "How fare you?"
"Talishaya," Legolas smiled at her. "I fare busily, it seems. My Adar has laid much upon my shoulders of late."
"Ah... Much has he upon his mind." Talishaya nodded sympathetically.
Legolas nodded, before lowering his voice to a whisper. "I wished to inquire about a nightmare." His cheeks colored faintly as he remembered the start of the dream, where after glimpsing that mysterious horse, he had seen Faeriel dance nude among a cloud of butterflies. But then his throat tightened as the next scene arrowed painfully through his mind.
"I saw our treacherous imposter steal away our newest, youngest elleth." Legolas forced this out even though his voice shook. "You possess some foresight. Might it have been a portent? Have you seen anything?" Legolas could not keep the haunted worry from his eyes.
Talishaya regarded him, her expression kind and calm. "Little faith can be put into portents and prophecy, mellon. For if a fate deemed ill should come to pass, who is to say the outcome? Any course may be a blessing. What may seem a misfortune may lead to the ultimate victory. Good, bad, who is to say?"
Brows furrowing, Legolas tilted his head. His old friend tended to speak in riddles. But, always she was right. Never had she steered him wrong before. Still, on this, he needed more clarification. "But could my nightmare have been a vision of the future? I must protect Faeriel. She... she..." Legolas trailed off.
"I know." Talishaya nodded, her golden gaze steady, mouth curved in a smile, and in that moment Legolas could plainly see that she knew who Faeriel was to him. And in her next words, Legolas found great solace.
"In her future I see radiance, I see harmony... and I see love." Talishaya radiated serene joy as she spoke.
Legolas' heart wobbled in relief at the inspiriting words and smile his friend offered. He knew Talishaya would not say anything she did not feel in her heart was true. And Legolas had nothing but the deepest respect and trust in her judgement.
"I met with young Faeriel an hour ago." Talishaya said. "Still she practices bowcraft."
"She what?!" Legolas exclaimed, aghast.
"Aye, she is determined," Talishaya replied as serenely as ever. "Her braids are beautiful. She said you wove them." Tali's lips curved into a knowing smile.
Legolas could stop the smile that crept across his face. "Aye." His grin faded quickly though as he thought of sweet, vulnerable Faeriel still practicing as twilight fell. "Someone must go halt her and escort her back to her rooms." He gave Tali a significant look, wordlessly referencing the odd thing masquerading as Maelorion. "Would you do this for me?" He entreated.
Tali smiled. "Nay. I shall take on your tasks, and complete them for you. You go to her. I daresay she shall have need of your help."
Talishaya's wise eyes belied a hint of mirth. Legolas nodded, a warmth of gratitude billowing up and spreading as a smile across his face. He bowed extravagantly, insisting that he was indebted to her. She waved his profuse thanks away.
"Go to her," she said simply, smiling as she made a tranquil shooing motion with one elegant hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas was so very grateful to Tali. He needed more time with Faeriel. His fëa ached to be with her. His Adar was giving him a frightful number of tasks of late.
Legolas remembered his talk with his father... the silence that had followed after he had told him he needed time the next day to teach Faeriel defense. Something was bothering his Adar, he could tell. He could sense it in his energy and see it in his eyes, even when no one else could. Legolas hated to see him so obviously upset.
The prince strode swiftly away to the verdant valley behind the halls, anxious to find Faeriel safe and spend his free evening in her company.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Faeriel practiced, making no progress, waves of fear and sorrow crested in her. When the worry became unbearable, a miracle transpired.
A warm glow burgeoned in her chest. Faeriel realized it was originating from the necklace she wore. She stood very still, listening and watching for any sign from her parents.
The balmy spring air around her began to move, gently lifting tendrils of her hair. It drifted around her in a circle as if embracing her. The breeze bore words in its wake, soft words, imbued with emotions and sensations beyond the spectrum of hearing.
"Faeriel..." the breeze whispered, swirling around her face, emanating unbounded wisdom and serenity.
"Mother? Father?" Faeriel breathed. A sense of calm draped over her like a blanket.
"Our dear child..." the wind whispered. "So long you toil... You fear you will not be enough. Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished. Fear not... You will learn to be powerful. Your time is coming."
"When?" Faeriel asked. "How will I know?"
"Soon, dear one," the breeze blew to her. "Soon."
Faeriel stared around, embracing her pendant in her palm.
"Your prince approaches," the breeze whispered, and Faeriel felt the hint of her mother's smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas spied the small figure with the bow from afar at the top of the tiered paths leading into the valley.
Ai, poor Faeriel is still there, practicing! Legolas hastened to the courtyard, leaping down the switchbacks rather than walking around the path. He stopped at the courtyard's archway entrance, leaning his cheek upon the ivy, watching as Faeriel notched an arrow to the bow. Her movements were stiff, and it was obvious the repetitive motions had torn up previously unused muscles. Legolas' heart ached with an urgent need to care for her.
A burst of excitement spread warmth through Faeriel's entire body as Legolas appeared at her side and took the bow and quiver from her hands, laying them aside.
His brow was furrowed as he spoke. "Faeriel... Whatever possesses you to practice so long? Only a few hours a day, at most, is wise."
"Oh," Faeriel said, drooping. "I am sorry..."
Legolas watched her with soft eyes. "Hush. Be not sorry," Legolas soothed, moving forward to hug her gently, breathing in her sweet scent. "I can only see that your body hurts, and I do not want you to hurt yourself. For what reason did you continue to train so long?"
She did not answer immediately, so Legolas drew back to eye her. Worry strained her brow and her eyes appeared harrowed.
"I must be able to defend my friends...from the orcs and other monsters," she said at last in a hushed voice.
Legolas' heart panged for her. "Fear not, Faeriel. You shall be able to. I shall see to it. Slowly, steadily, you shall improve. Time and repetition shall commit it to memory. Like the coming of the spring, you shall not hurry. You shall bloom in perfect time."
Faeriel peered up at him and smiled, her heart wobbling with wonder at the amazing similarity between his words and those of her parents. "Thank you, Legolas."
Inwardly, Legolas vowed to do all he could to prevent her even facing any foes in battle. But he knew she must be capable of defense, and this he would ensure. He rubbed her arm encouragingly, and Faeriel winced.
Legolas frowned. "You are hurt."
"Yes, a little," Faeriel diminished.
Legolas rested a hand where her neck and shoulder met, massaging the muscles there. Though she was sore, it felt wondrous, both there, and in low places.
Legolas frowned as he felt the knotted tension in her battered muscles, obvious even through the leaping rush of her beautiful aura.
Legolas drifted his hand up and back, kneading her neck. Beset by the heat of longing, Faeriel's breathing quickened, her breasts rising and falling as she gazed at him through her lashes. She bit her lip against the flood of wondrous sensations brimming in her.
Legolas was quiet as his hand worked the muscles. Finally he spoke. "May I ease your aches?" He asked softly.
He watched her blink up at him with those vivid green eyes. Legolas smiled, his heart giving a little lurch. Perhaps she knew not of the art of massage. He went on to explain.
"I have some knowledge of healing... I can tend to you, massage you, wherever you are sore." The whispery words were out of his mouth before he could think. His own breath grew shallow and quick as his fingers tingled with a longing that swiftly spread, swelling in his loins.
Faeriel could feel a flush move over her face and down through her body, culminating in her core with rippling clenches of muscle. The sublime sensation made her even more breathless. "Oh... You... do not have duties this eve?"
"Nay, I am free, with gratitude to Talishaya. I wish to tend to your aches, if you will allow me," Legolas assured her, warmth in his voice.
When Faeriel paused, just peering up at him from under her long lashes with those lush pink lips deliciously parted, Legolas leaned closer to whisper his next words directly into her ear. "Did you not say you love for me to pet you?"
Legolas felt her shiver and drew back to visually take in her reaction. The deeper, duskier smile his words had wrought upon her fair cheeks pleased him to no end. Anticipation flared hot in his hardening shaft.
But for a fleeting moment then, a sharp, unpleasant lash flicked its way through his chest. Shock at the boldness of his teasing... But... It felt right... Yes, it felt right. For after all, he would be pledging to her soon.
"Oh, yes, please." Faeriel breathed, her eyes shining bright under her lowered lashes.
Legolas' heart backflipped. Her alluring innocence would surely be the end of him. He bit his lip, warm, fluttery excitement blooming all throughout his body, the ache in his shaft mounting.
Though Faeriel knew she would heal shortly without any help, she so treasured every opportunity to be touched by him. His tone when he murmured those last words into her ear had been... Well, she did not know what, but those whispered words had made her sweetly aching hollow into a pulsing, rushing geyser.
"In your chambers?" He asked huskily, feeling his own blush blaze brighter. He watched her nod, those perfect lips still smiling. By Elbereth she was radiant. His head swam with the sudden realization that this likely meant he would be touching the bare, glorious skin of her shoulders and back. Will I be able to handle myself? His heart began to thud hard in his chest as he led the way toward Faeriel's quarters.
___________________
AN: Thanks for waiting through my birthday hiatus! ♡ I know, this is fluffy. I didn't have much time to polish but it's good enough. I know 'tis a cliffhanger but I didn't want to go over 10k words. I shall write the next chapter ASAP 😊 If you wish to look up the useful form of self defense I touched on in this chapter, the closest modern technique is called aikido!