IMPORTANT PLOT NOTICE: On January 29th I made important changes to the Prologue! When publishing each chapter of a complex novel as it is written, it is inevitable there will be changes. 😊 Here's the new plot additions explained:
Ellavan and Arassawë, who by now you have gathered are Faeriel and Faelas' parents, not only hid their children in separate locations and shrouded their magical signatures from detection during the attack in the Prologue. They also wove most of their very own fae power into each shroud, which would absorb into their children when they were ready.
"As Arassawë ran she wove a shroud over her son's magic, and threaded much of her own into it, nearly emptying her well of power. It would be there, ready to absorb, when her child was ready... And the dark enemy would not have it if Arassawë was slain that day."
"Up the mountainside the two [Ellavan and Arassawë] raced. Each time they glanced back, the smog fumed closer, denser, darker. They did not have enough power left to shift forms. Almost all had been passed to their children."
This act ensured the unknown enemy would not obtain much of their power, but it also lessened their ability to fight. But to Arassawë and Ellavan, saving their children and keeping power away from those who would harm Arda is far more important than their lives.
We will see what this doubled fae magic means for the twins' powers soon, and how their parents may still be able to help guide them from their place in the ether. 🤍
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Chapter 34 ~ 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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As they strode the paths up to the keep, Legolas witnessed Faeriel's soreness in each stiff step. He felt grateful he had found her and stayed her from further harm, as well as relieved that no one had sent her to the healers. The prince had confidence in his knowledge and ability, indeed he had some subtle healing magic of his own, as most elves did.
If truth be told, he wanted to be the one to ease her body. He had not failed to notice the eyes of many lingering on her since she had arrived. A burning coal lodged in the pit of his stomach and his breath turned coarse at the thought of another laying hands on her.
At the branching of passageways that led to her chambers, Legolas halted, uttering, "Faeriel, go and rest now. Await my return. I shan't be long."
Legolas made his way swiftly to the rooms of healing, taking care to not be seen or heard. It would not do to be apprehended on such an odd errand for a prince.
He found the rooms currently empty. Ducking into the storeroom at the back, his keen eyes soon descried the ointment he sought. He paused at a particular barrel of herbs on the way out, fingers tracing the elvish script on the label.
It was the herb an elleth and an ellon both must drink as tea before bonding to prevent child. It was popular among all elves in that age, as most had lost the yearning to procreate, given that their time in Middle-earth was unknown and full of peril. As he and Faeriel had spoken on the subject, Legolas knew that she mirrored his decision to be child free. He could not recall whether the draught of the herb must commence one moon or three prior to lovemaking, as he had never had occasion to know. Regardless, he and Faeriel could fetch it together when... hopefully... the time came.
Exiting the storeroom, he heard footsteps and hastened to hide the jar of salve behind his back. He saw one of his father's personal attendants turn the corner ahead.
Before the ellon could speak, Legolas nodded curtly and hurried past him, using a nimble sleight of hand to maneuver the salve to the fore of his chest and out of sight. He nipped into the wine cellar next, which he knew would not seem unusual to the guards stationed there. He stashed a bottle of a sweet vintage into a satchel along with the salve. His heart seemed to thud in his throat as he headed to Faeriel's chambers.
Waiting in her room, shaky excitement overcame Faeriel. Legolas would be touching her more, massaging her. The thought made her pulse flutter hard and sent shocks of heat rippling through her. Indeed, several points on her body bore their now familiar ache unrelated to archery soreness.
Faeriel squeezed her thighs together instinctively. A sweet, rich, sharp sensation bolted through her. She did it again, and again, making the wondrous feeling build until a soft moan leapt from her lips. Suddenly hearing footsteps in the hall, Faeriel stopped abruptly, panting lightly as the sweet pulses endured.
At his knock, Faeriel bade Legolas enter, voice catching in her throat.
Legolas swung the door open. There Faeriel was sitting up on her chaise, appearing stiff. Legolas smiled warmly as he strode toward her and she visibly brightened. His heart felt it might burst.
"Faeriel," Legolas intoned in that low, whispery voice that forever imbued her with heat.
A current of heady sensations whirled through Faeriel at the sight of his sublime beauty. Her eyes lowered to the strong, seductive hands resting at his sides, one clutching a satchel. Anticipation ignited her every nerve with intense awareness; the moment he would touch her skin with those hands approached.
Glancing to the bathing entryway as he passed it, it occurred to Legolas that this venture would be all the more enjoyable in the bath. He hesitated only a moment before asking, "Hot water would help ease you. Would you... may we now bathe together, as we spoke of some days past?"
Legolas blushed, watching as her eyes widened a fraction, then she nodded, a smile spreading upon her face.
"Yes," Faeriel whispered, her voice unusually throaty. She hopped to her feet, excitement quivering through her every fiber.
Legolas smiled and gestured to the bathing room. "You may go in first... I shall prepare food and drink and then join you," he husked out. He watched her nod and walk rather stiffly into the bath chamber. The thousandth thrill coursed through him as he anticipated tending her, easing her, putting his hands on her sweet, scintillating form.
Legolas ventured out to the balcony, listening. He could tell his Adar was not yet in his chambers. The King had meetings late this night. Good... Legolas thought in satisfaction as he headed back inside to assemble a tray.
In the chamber of the hot pool, Faeriel shimmied out of her leggings then unbuttoned her tunic. As she pulled it back over her shoulders, her muscles screamed.
Aye, maybe she had overdone her practice, she conceded as she slipped into the bath wearing only her thin shift and scanty bottoms. She left these on because she had glimpsed elves still wearing light raiment as they shared their baths. She sighed as she felt some of the ache slide out of her sore muscles and dissipate in the hot water.
The sounds of wind stirring ivy out on the cliff and the distant, slow chirp of crickets joined the steady trickle of the magma heated water as it flowed in through the wall and out over the precipice. Breezes drifted in the cave mouth, rustling ferns around the pool. These soothing sounds mingled with soft clinks of glass and padding footsteps from the other room. Faeriel's heart cantered and her mind wheeled giddily. Legolas would be, presumably, removing clothing too, and would surely sink into the water to enjoy the bath with her...
"May I enter?" Legolas called from just beyond the entrance. He held a tray filled with candles, fruit, a bottle of wine, and a crystal goblet.
His thoughts spun with intense curiosity of how much garb Faeriel had removed for the bath. A second later, shock fizzled in his chest as he suddenly wondered if Faeriel even knew to leave on any garb at all. How would he handle it if... Legolas swallowed thickly and his *'wî panged, reminding him of his own imminent divestment. He quickly reached down and ensured his monolith was stowed safely in the small clothes he would be retaining. He let out a muffled groan at the contact as Faeriel responded.
"Come in," came her gentle voice.
Legolas rounded the bend into the bathing cavern. His breath caught as his gaze alighted upon her. Her hands were caressing the light blue flowers growing beside the bath as she raised her eyes to his. Shaped like little bells, they were cultivated in shade gardens throughout the caverns, for elves needed growing things to flourish. But never had Legolas known them to bloom so lushly. This clump had multiplied profusely in breadth and blossom, and seemed to be turning their faces into her touch as if she were a soft sunbeam.
Between her thick auburn cascades, Legolas glimpsed only thin, wet straps of gauzy fabric hugging her fair shoulders, and as she sat upright in the water, the upper swells of her breasts emerged. Legolas tried to swallow but his mouth felt suddenly dry. Her opulent breasts appeared almost bare. With the gossamer, pale pink fabric so wet, it was rather transparent. Legolas swallowed as deliciously his *'wî stiffened further.
Inside, his heart was thudding hard, but outwardly he portrayed an air of confidence as he stepped forth and laid the tray upon a flat rock by the poolside, then straightened to undress.
Faeriel stared openly as Legolas stripped off his weapons and drew his jerkin over his head. His nimble hands removed his bracers then unclasped his silver under tunic at the chest. Tingling warmth spread through her and her breaths came faster as this too was drawn upward over his torso.
Faeriel gaped as Legolas' sleek, toned abdomen emerged from the silvery material. His slender waist was sultrily curved yet muscular, widening below into slightly rounded hips and powerful thighs clad in grey, and above, broadening into his shapely chest and shoulders. His fair skin, pure and smooth as moonlight, was kissed by the pink sheen of sunset, highlighting the tautening contours of his strength.
A huge, long bulge in his high waisted gray pants captured her attention... His...masculine part, Faeriel thought. The part that would... would go... where I tingle so... Pleasure panged there, twitching at some focused point at the apex of her thighs and seizing tight inside in those wondrous, erratic convulsions.
As the seconds passed, Faeriel stared at Legolas' bulge, surprised at the largeness of it compared with his otherwise sleek, lithe form. It was like a branch, a long, thick branch currently laying parallel to his pelvis, sloping upward unto one hip.
An image flitted through her mind of herself on all fours and Legolas behind her, pressing his masculine branch in between her legs and thrusting his hips, mating her in the manner she had accidentally glimpsed from afar among other forest Ardalings. Is that how elves mate too? Faeriel wondered amid a fresh flood of heat.
But she could only see his bulge for a few moments, because Legolas soon spun upon his heel. His long fair locks seemed to float as he turned before settling between the rounded columns of lean, rippling muscle that rose on either side of his graceful spine.
Once his face and other parts were safely averted, Legolas' lips curved up at the corners. He had noticed the direction of Faeriel's stare, as well as the fascination in her eyes. Heart leaping as much as his *'wî, Legolas wondered how soon he might be able to share that part of him with Faeriel as he loosened the lacings at his waist with almost trembling fingers.
Faeriel's gaze dragged down to his gray leggings. Usually she could not see the contours of his bottom with the hems of his tunics draped almost to mid thigh, but now his silhouette was unshrouded. His leggings were tight, hugging his perfectly round, plush buttocks. As before, for some reason, this pleased her eyes to no end.
Faeriel watched breathlessly, that melting pleasure sliding low in her abdomen as Legolas peeled his pants off, leaving him in only the little velvet shorts that clung even more delightfully to the globes of his bottom. They were accentuated suddenly as he bent to arrange his removed raiment, though Faeriel took no notice of anything but those globes. Then without straightening, Legolas gracefully flowed backward to the pool's edge, and without turning toward her, slipped gracefully into the water's embrace.
Once in the water he circled around to kneel facing her at the other side, regarding her with those alluring crystal eyes. The water swallowed him almost to his chest. His sapphires softened and his mouth curved in that tender way she so loved. As ever when he smiled at her, her heart ached with an overabundance of happiness.
The whole scene appeared so invitingly comforting and enchanting and Faeriel wanted so badly to be against Legolas in the water. So she stood gracefully, feeling the cool evening air hit her skin and chill her thin, drenched garments. She watched as Legolas' gaze dipped down her body, his eyes alight with a strange glow that felt like a physical touch in hot, swollen places.
Legolas' heart stammered as heat far more intense and delightful than that of the bath flooded his groin. His throat went oddly dry and he had to lock his jaw so it wouldn't fall open. Faeriel wore naught but her gauzy under chemise upon her torso. Upon her lower half she wore only a tiny scrap of a garment. Thin, sheer fabric clung to her every curve.
Legolas forced his eyes back upward to steadfastly stare at Faeriel's face as she moved towards him. But in his keen peripheral vision he could still descry all that the wet, translucent fabric of her little top revealed, every luscious swell and valley.
Her approach left him frozen while every part of him burned. Clenching his jaw tighter, Legolas seized fistfuls of the smooth pebbles below him and squeezed, fighting to keep his face neutral and fearing his heavy shaft would burst out of his small clothes. Aiii, aiii! This is too much...
As Faeriel glanced down to select her next step over the pebbles towards him, Legolas permitted his eyes to descend once more to her beloved, maddening body, barely shrouded in the thin pink cloth. The evening light kissed the magnificent, round swells of her breasts crowned with dusky jutting jewels. As he dropped his gaze lower, he could see the little hollow of her belly button.
And lower still, set deep between the generous curve of her hips, gloriously level with his kneeling line of sight, lay her flower, her virgin well. Two soft petals cast in wet velvet were just visible crowning the juncture of her comely thighs. The fore cleft of her blossom was more beautiful and perfect than he ever could have imagined, and Legolas ached to see more. He devoured the sight of her for but a moment before his breath caught audibly and he forced his eyes back upward, latching them to her own.
Faeriel was not quite sure how to interpret the way his jaw was working as their gazes met and clung. Legolas' thick fringe of lashes lowered halfway, gaze brimming with emotions she could not name. But they were unmistakably joyous, drawing her to him, quickening her zeal.
She reached him and lowered to her knees at his side, gazing up as the water embraced her.
The luminous light of dusk slanted through the cavern mouth, casting a rosy glow over his chiseled features. His shimmering mane shone like a halo, and fern fronds floated in the air about him like an amber gilded crown.
His regard was so complete, so intense. The strange smoldering gleam in his eyes seemed to deepen now more than ever. Entranced, Faeriel slid herself nearer, bare thighs brushing his. She reached out to caress his smooth jaw.
Tingles cascaded from her touch and rushed down Legolas' spine. The feeling spread across his lower back and wrapped around him to engulf his steely *'wî in pulsing delight.
Legolas hardly dared to breathe. Faeriel was too voluptuous... a goddess. His mind whirled, already dizzy from her near bare curves so close in their cloying, wet, see-through coverings.
He felt like his body had become a bowstring and if he was pulled any tighter he would snap. What was I thinking, arranging this? This dewy, glorious goddess shall tear me asunder...
His mind strained to process thought as the cherished island of red hair, round curves and gentle innocence petted his face. Is now the right time? I have not prepared anything truly special, and she is sore... Nay... tonight I must tend to her. Legolas' dazed musings were accompanied by a fleeting image of Faeriel's guardian Aiwendel. But soon, surely soon. Weeks or perhaps days away, I can reveal my feelings and pledge to her.
Yet Legolas was already second guessing this aim as he caught her waist and brushed his fingers lightly down her sides. His path ventured under the water unto the curves of her hips, flattening her floating fabric before ascending back up. He felt Faeriel shudder and lean closer, arms slipping around his shoulders and soft chest pillowing into his hard one.
Legolas clung to his threadbare stoicism as he felt her firm nipples slide against him in stark contrast to the puffy pillows. He slipped his hands around to trace patterns on her back with the tingling pads of his fingers.
Excited energy surged from her into him through every little touch, filling him, compounding his want. This force radiated more powerfully than ever now, and he knew not how he would endure. But along with the tension of desire, warm waves of elation crashed through him, and he felt utterly at home.
As ever, Legolas' touch seemed to stroke every nerve in her body, most of all in her nether flower that had bloomed ere first they met. Now it was more like a ripe fruit, dripping nectar and desperate to be devoured. When he touched her, her sheathe squeezed tight with tension and heat, tingly and riotously sweet.
Legolas could feel her nuzzle into his neck. The braids he had woven that morn brushed his sensitive earlobe, sending a rough bolt of need straight to his groin. Biting back a groan, Legolas wrapped an arm securely around her, then after a moment locked his other around her as well, as if anchoring himself against the current of desire that threatened to bear his will away. His breathing was strange, fast and shallow.
The heat of the water seeped into Faeriel's weary bones, but never in the bath, even in her wildest daydreams, had the place between her thighs scintillated as hot as it did now.
She canted her face up to drink him in. Legolas' fair hair was limned with the last light of day from the archway leading to the cliff balcony beside the pool. Faeriel stared at his breathtakingly handsome face. His eyes were bright and his cheeks pink as he smiled encouragingly. Faeriel smiled back, feeling her tight core pulse and throb.
"Does the heat ease your aches?" Legolas asked, his voice warm and husky.
"Yes," Faeriel managed to whisper. All but one...
Legolas slid a hand up to where her neck and shoulder met, digging the ball of his thumb gently into a knot of muscle.
It felt utterly exquisite. Faeriel let out a little sighing whimper and he paused.
"May I..." Legolas breathed out on a low gust, brushing her neck gently. Outwardly, he maintained his composure but everything inside him was tumbling wildly in sensory overload.
His lyrical voice was low and raspy, floating around her like a physical caress just as he stroked her neck with soft fingers. The heat suffusing her core continued to intensify, feeling ever more decadent and breathtaking. It rushed along her nether nerves like heady geysers, intensely sharp and rich and sweet. Ohh... He is going to massage me...
"Yes," she breathed. "Please..."
Legolas spread her thick hair aside, glancing at her luxurious, glossy cleavage before forcing his eyes to stay upon her face. But her visage was no less seductive.
Her heavily lashed eyes watched him with what he imagined and hoped was a hunger to match his own. Their enchanting green hue glowed even in the dim space. Her lush lips parted way for little puffing breaths, their stain rosy and beckoning. They appeared so soft, and he desperately wanted to feel them pressed against his own. Each time he thought of kissing her, he felt a fierce tingling in his lips.
The pointy tips of her ears were islands in the sea of her red hair, her long waves creating a fan of temptation around her shapely shoulders. Legolas ached to sink his fingers into the strands, to pull her into his lap, cup the nape of her neck, and kiss her. But he also longed to ease her aches. Little did he know then that her foremost ache indeed matched his, and that both could be sated as one.
"Tell me if it hurts unduly," Legolas uttered hoarsely. "As I massage you, the soreness shall feel prominent yet assuaged all at once, yet ought not truly pain you."
Legolas focused on evening his breaths as his hand worked the muscles of her shoulders. His cheeks blazed, as did his ears and loins. Every part of him felt hot. Legolas licked his lips. She knelt so close, her legs and chest brushing his. Her thickly lashed, verdant eyes were lidded as she watched him.
"It is perfect," Faeriel breathed. "Thank you... ci fael."
Faeriel thought for a second about telling Legolas that she would be entirely healed by morning, especially when steeping in the magma charged waters of Arda. But that would raise questions she was forbidden to answer, and moreover, she dearly wanted to bask in every affection he would bestow.
Legolas worked his way along her upper arms, thumbs rubbing gently into her soreness. His eyes flickered alternately between his ministrations and her own. Faeriel's gaze moved too, between his breathtaking visage and his bare chest and arms. Muscles rippled everywhere as he moved.
His chest was formed of two slightly raised plateaus accented by small mauve nipples. She knew his chest was firm yet yielding enough to lay upon in bliss. The silhouette of his shoulders was beautifully muscular yet willowy like the rest of him, interrupted on each side by his cascade of glistening wheaten locks, the ends of which floated in the water.
A narrow blue line ran along the fore of each lean, sculpted upper arm. A vein, Faeriel realized. His shapely forearms were contoured with many bands of sinew and veins. Every part of Legolas was long, lissome and strong. Well, except that bulge she had glimpsed... that was long but not lissome.
Legolas cradled one of her hands in both of his, thumbs rubbing down her palm in long, delectable strokes that made her damp flesh ache with pleasure both there and elsewhere.
After thoroughly attending both her hands, Legolas reached around to knead into the columns of tight muscle lining her back. Faeriel melted against him, burying her nose in the crook of his neck and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
Legolas' lashes fluttered closed as he breathed in the scent atop her head. She felt so ineffably right in his arms. Every so often, Faeriel let out a sweet little sigh of obvious contentment, but he also heeded that she held her breath sometimes too.
His eyes drifted closed as he kneaded and stroked her until an orange light flickered through his lids. He lifted them and cast about for the source. He had not long to find it. The candles on the tray had been lit. Legolas extended his senses, but none other than they were present, he was sure of it. How odd.... did Faeriel light them... by magic? Whatever might be her gift, I wonder?
Legolas peered down at her where she snuggled against him, face buried in his neck. He did not wish to disturb her, so he said nothing, and continued to massage her back as he alternately mused on what gifts she might have and strained to keep calm in the currents of pleasure.
Eventually, Legolas realized that she would have to change positions for him to more fully knead her back and arms.
"Perhaps you should lay down," he suggested aloud.
"Oh, yes," Faeriel murmured.
She did not peel away from him, however, and a low chuckle husked from Legolas' throat. He leaned back to smile at her and she tipped her face up.
"Would you care for a glass of wine?" Legolas inquired throatily.
Keeping one hand pressed low upon her back, Legolas reached for the tray beside the pool. Plucking up the mysteriously lit candles one by one, he nestled them in among the large rocks lining the pool's edge nearby, alternating his hand on her back halfway through. Legolas glanced at her face in between each placement. Her eyes were rapt upon his visage, and she did not pay the mysteriously lit candles any mind.
"Never have I had wine before," Faeriel mused softly as he took up the bottle and the chalice from the tray.
"Never?" Legolas asked, admiring the way the candlelight danced upon her sweet face. Filling the crystal goblet with a pool of glowing rose, he held it between them.
Faeriel leaned over it and sniffed. Legolas watched her intently, a smile hovering on his lips, a storm of heat inside him. Faeriel's gaze lifted from the beverage. Her pink tongue darted out and slid along her full upper lip. Beneath heavy lids, Legolas followed the motion, jaw slack. A fresh volley of heat arrowed through him, blood pulsing in his steely length.
"It smells lovely," Faeriel smiled.
"Please, try it," Legolas uttered, and as ever when in such an intimate position with Faeriel, his voice sounded breathless and husky, soft like air and rough like bark all at once.
Faeriel disentangled one hand from his hair, and with an air of curiosity, accepted the chalice and tilted it to her lips. Before Legolas could suggest taking only a small sip, she slurped a hearty gulp as if it were only juice or water.
He watched her eyes widen. A moment later, her face scrunched up and she emitted a garbled little squeak. Legolas was torn between emotions, both charmed by her latest display of innocence and dismayed by her plight.
"Ai, Faeriel... I am sorry. One ought to sip wine, not swallow a great mouthful," Legolas explained, eyebrows furrowing. The endearing scrunch of her face did not abate but rather grew more adorable, and Legolas forced down the quirk rising at the corner of his mouth.
"I shall show you," he retrieved the cup from her and demonstrated. He saw the lines smooth out of her face as her eyes focused on his mouth. The sweet, sharp liquid danced brightly upon his tongue, and when finished swallowing he took another sip, eying her over the crystal rim, savoring her far more deliciously than the fine wine.
Faeriel was watching him attentively, clearly recovered from her shock. "Ohh," she said, taking the cup again as he offered it. "It is... not like the nectar of fruit."
Legolas chuckled softly. "Nay... it is fermented. This vintage was laid down nearly 1,000 years ago. It can be of harm to mortals, but not to us."
Faeriel's eyes widened and her mouth formed a little o of awe. "Is that... is that usual, for wine, to be so old?"
"Aye," Legolas nodded. "Among elves, it is." Legolas did not tell her how rare this particular vintage was. Despite being royalty, he did not much care about fineries, but he had selected a fine one for her.
Her next small sip proved more pleasant, though her face still scrunched at the burning tang.
"Perhaps it shall grow on you," Legolas smiled as he took his turn again. He played his fingers lightly upon her lower back beneath the water as he sipped, and again he wondered if he might pledge to her that very night.
Faeriel bit her lip against the sweet ache his touch wrought in her. "Nay... 'Tis good, truly. 'Tis... a fascinating flavor. Layered, and intense." Like what you have wrought in me, she thought.
Her next sip went slightly more smoothly. Once the searing effect of swallowing it had passed, she felt a curious calm drape over her like a light cloak, not quelling her exhilaration, but rather clearing away rumination to make way for more sensory awareness.
Faeriel offered him back the goblet, her pink tongue flicking across her lower lip to capture a stray drop. Heat coursed through Legolas and pooled into that singular ache. To know how that tongue would feel, would taste...
Back and forth they passed the cup, Legolas having a good deal more than Faeriel. A whole bottle would be needed, even of this potent Dorwinion vintage, for him to grow drunk, so all that he felt was more of the same warm glow that he already enjoyed in Faeriel's company.
Faeriel was kneeling comfortably very close before Legolas, her eyes fixed upon his face. Various details highlighted under her wandering gaze with a peculiar intensity. The soaring swells of that voluptuous upper lip, those thick eyelashes, elegant brows, round cheekbones, and the cleft upon his chin each in turn seemed to stand prominently in the foreground. And his eyes, oh his eyes were luminous, their blue depths scintillating with tiny celestial sparkles... The clearest eyes she had ever seen.
A new layer of that curious calm seemed to swathe Faeriel with each little sip, dimpling her cheeks with a languid smile. Neither of them yet knew that Faeriel was not a usual elf and that her fae elven constitution did not process alcohol as effortlessly as did an elf such as Legolas.
"Faeriel," he murmured, loving the taste of her name on his lips far more than the wine. He would gladly sip of her name... and of her... As Legolas partook in a second glass, his fingers kept swirling languidly down her back beneath the water. With a jolt of pleasure he realized they had ventured beneath the floating hem of her shirt and were sliding along her bare skin.
Faeriel squirmed happily, a heady pleasure far richer than the wine building in her frenetic core with his ongoing touch. "I so love it when you pet me," she murmured, cheeks dimpling again.
Legolas watched her hungrily. Her bewitching eyes gleamed in the flickering candlelight, her pupils wide as saucers, their green rims seeming to glow from within.
"Do you," he uttered, unable to stay the lilting purr that husked from his throat nor halt the teasing smirk that tugged at his mouth. "I knew not..."
Faeriel giggled. Legolas tilted his head in amazement. The lazy grin spreading over her face told him she was tipsy. How odd, he thought. I shan't let her have much more then. And... He thought with a little pang of disappointment. I cannot pledge to her thus.
As soon as this had registered, he saw her grin turn mischievous. Cupping her palm in the pool, she sent forth a dancing arc of water, catching him in the face.
Legolas held the goblet aside, huffing water from his lips. He placed it on the tray and wiped his eyes before narrowing them in mock chastening. "Do you know what awaits those who splash the prince?" He teased.
Faeriel was laughing even harder now, and Legolas wanted to catch the sound with his mouth. Suddenly she splashed him again, and he too laughed, casting his own wave of water up onto her face. Kneeling in the pool's center, they swapped splashes several more times, their laughter echoing off the cavern walls.
Legolas seized Faeriel around the middle and squeezed her against him, flattening her arms to her sides. He sucked in a sharp breath as he felt her wriggling abdomen brush his erection. His eyes squeezed shut and he pressed his mouth to her shoulder to smother a groan. Gasping amid her laughter, Faeriel stopped wriggling, but for a long moment Legolas could not move or speak.
Finally he lifted his head, bringing his mouth very near her ear. "'Tis time for your massage," he purred huskily.
Faeriel's laughter ended in a soft, breathy gasp as waves of pleasure rippled through her ear, echoed in her loins.
Legolas forced himself back from temptation, holding her biceps gently, searching her face. Her eyes were half draped in her lashes and she appeared dazed. Faeriel laughed suddenly.
"What amuses you?" His mouth curved as if prepared to smile at her answer.
His sweetness and the ease between them made her heart hiccup. Cresting waves of exhilaration streaked along her nerves. When she spoke, her tone was teasing. "Is that what awaits those who splash the prince? A massage?"
Legolas blinked. Then his eyes grew utterly soft. "Nay. That is only for you."
"Oh," Faeriel whispered. She felt her heart thud faster.
"Would you... lay upon the stone for me?" Legolas inquired rather hoarsely. "So I may tend you more deeply?"
Thrills gusting everywhere inside her, Faeriel lowered her front onto the biggest sloping rock that she usually lay back on in the bath. Laying on her front proved just as comfortable. She sighed and relaxed as the steaming waters embraced her. Her damp curls splayed across her face to cascade into the water.
That wondrous flame flickered hotter between her thighs as she sensed Legolas approach through the water, even before he touched her.
She felt the front of his thighs press to her hip. And then his hands were on her, spreading aside her hair and caressing softly down her back on either side of her spine.
Her cacophony of sensation was once again making her breathe oddly. She was glad for the various water sounds around them, but she wished there were another downpour of rain to better dull the sound of her already shaky breath. Still, she felt quite relaxed, and these thoughts dwindled as Legolas stroked her.
Starlit sensitivity tingled under the soft strum of his fingertips, twanging in the tender hollow of her thighs. Every nerve ending came alive. He had barely yet touched her, and already a storm of exhilaration claimed her thoughts, her fëa, her earthly form.
Thrills gusted up and down the latter like wind through high mountains. The heated, swollen point betwixt her thighs throbbed with intensifying thunder. Pleasure streaked within her feminine hollow, rippling like lightning as her newfound muscles clenched. The heat, the ache, the tension mounted with every flashing undulation.
"Relax your every muscle..." Legolas instructed, his low voice soothing and ethereal as he gently draped the rest of her tresses over her shoulder. The way his eyes and hands were free to roam the lovely curves of her back left him reeling with want.
Faeriel was not sure if she could, for her secret sheathe was contracting wildly of its own accord. But it felt heady and euphoric, so much so she had to stopper her breath at times lest she let out an odd noise. As it was her breath was rushing audibly in and out.
The back of her garment scooped low, providing easy access to most of her upper back and shoulders. As Legolas spread his fingers over bare skin, it tingled with unbelievable sensitivity. Faeriel bit her lip as that flickering flame burned hotter, the clenching more intense.
Legolas took his time to explore the expanses of her shoulders, back, and arms, traversing every inch with a slow, circular caress. After much tender thoroughness, Legolas spoke, stirring her mind from the haze his caresses cast. "The balm shall feel cool." His voice sounded so warm and throaty.
Legolas remembered receiving this balm when he overstrained as a green, juvenile trainee. He had perhaps been 30 at the time. At age 50, like all elves, his body had fully matured into its current, unchanging state and his muscles had grown unerringly accustomed to the motions of battle. Thus, he had never needed it again. But he remembered the minty scent.
Yet this experience was worlds different. The endearing elleth who had won his heart laid prone and nearly nude under his touch. The auburn waves of her hair, her enticing curves, and moreover her gentleness and wide eyed innocence...it all tantalized him. Legolas found himself biting his lip and fighting to concentrate as his swollen *wi throbbed.
Legolas took a deep breath and began to smooth the ointment across her bare shoulders. He applied a thick coat of it first on her shoulders, then her upper back, neck and arms, nearly moaning at the exhilarating sensations feeding into his tingling fingers with each motion.
It was obvious she had strained herself badly, for all her muscles were bound tightly in knots. Legolas worked his strong thumbs in experimental circles over the knots on each side. Truth be told he had only seen this done, and had never tried it himself, until now.
When salve was laid upon every plane of her arms, neck and shoulders, it was time to massage her. Legolas settled his hands around the curves of her shoulders and began a kneading motion.
"How does this feel? Does it hurt?" Legolas asked.
"Mm...no, it—feels wonderful," Faeriel responded breathily.
"Good," the prince soothed. He bit his lip. By the Star of Eärendil, she was so endearing and lovely, inside and out. To touch her like this, feel her soft skin, hear her breathy voice, freely gaze upon her curves... and best of all, to be able to ease her, and please her in whatever small way he could... It all made his head swim and his loins ache.
Her body seemed to melt under his ministrations, and Faeriel wondered if she would become one with the bath. Very thankful her hair masked her expressions, she lay, trying to breathe, to relax, to silently enjoy the magic of his touch. It was a nearly impossible task; both the relief to her sore muscles and the pleasure coursing within left her in constant danger of moaning.
The massage did ache somewhat, but in a very good way that brought relief to her soreness. In the past, her forest friends of moderate size would at times kindly walk upon her back to loosen her muscles if she had toiled hard. But this was different. This massage was very thorough...and of course, left her burning for Legolas more with every moment.
Legolas moved onward to knead her arms again. His every touch was tender and nimble and perfect.
Pleasurable pressure kept building low in her abdomen. Her body vibrated with tension and her breathing was out of control, puffing in and out in short gasps. It was too much sensation, and yet not enough at the same time. But she loved it, basking in every torturously sweet second.
Legolas returned to her shoulders, kneading, over and over, the pressure somehow always ideal. Then his fingertips trailed onto her neck.
Legolas brushed her wispy hairs aside and gently smoothed more salve there. He engulfed her neck in his hand before commencing a rolling, squeezing motion around her taut muscles.
"You are so tense here. Let go," he murmured.
Faeriel focused on letting go of the tension in her neck. It was not easy but Legolas was patient, and slowly her neck felt more and more at ease.
Legolas moved down her back, paying close attention in all the right places. Somehow he was able to discover all the knots and rub them just right. His hands were breathtakingly capable, and as he progressed outward and downward to her more sensitive sides and lower back, she became ever more thankful that her hair hid her face from view, for she was now moaning silently as rapturous pleasure seized in her core. Each knead and squeeze quickened the hot cascade within her. Faeriel fought to keep her breathing relatively quiet and even.
When Legolas reached her lower back, he slid under the floating hem of her little chemise and glided up and down her bare, underwater skin. Her aura channeled into him here so potently he felt that both his finger pads and his loins might burst. The wanton need within his blood was screaming for release.
Faeriel's breaths quickened as her flesh fizzed deliciously with his every low sweeping pass, her center hot and pulsing with growing bliss. Those magnificent hands were stroking and kneading her, again and again. It was consuming, intoxicating, and she would savor every second.
After withdrawing a moment, Faeriel felt Legolas press salve along her lower back. The soothing layer of mint clung to her even under the water.
As Legolas traced little circles lower, her eyes squeezed shut and her lips formed a small, silent o shape under her curtain of curls. Faeriel tugged her thick mane a little more fully over the side of her face.
Gusting moans threatened to overflow her chest. Tingly zings of heat tensed so ecstatically in her center that she was certain if Legolas continued much longer, she would absolutely not be able to stay quiet.
Faeriel always felt more excited when Legolas touched anywhere closer to her bottom. As he kept dipping low, alternately kneading firmly and stroking lightly with nimble fingers, that tight pressure continued to build, making her restless.
Her hair eddying around her tantalizing body ratcheted up the visceral frenzy surging through Legolas' veins. The inexorable direction of the blood oft required him to reach down and adjust his straining shaft, gritting his teeth against the near explosive pleasure of contact.
Every one of Faeriel's fibers resonated with pleasure. Shuddery warmth licked her everywhere. A dull ache in her core grew sharper with each second, swelling and tightening... The mass of sensation whirling low was like the hot flicker of flame, the melting flow of liquid, and the floaty flutter of air.
Legolas set about kneading the indent of her waist... a place that made his need feel more feral, that bowstring so close to snapping. He longed to trace down the line of her hips, to feel the round globes of her bottom, and to slide his fingertips down between...
At Legolas' first rolling squeeze around her sensitive waist, Faeriel nearly gasped as everything swooped harder. As the caresses upon her waist took on a rhythm, something new began to grow.
The tight pressure that had been building inside her seemed to eddy within a peculiar, growing spaciousness. That anxious sense of anticipation, of needing more, became extremely intense.
Legolas' rhythm went on, fingers nimbly kneading into her sides. Faeriel trembled as anxious want whirred within. That waiting cavern grew more spacious, dancing around her fluttery tension like a cloud of mist. Faeriel pictured Legolas' shapely hands, his beautiful eyes...
Then, utterly without warning, that airy cavern imploded. A long, languid wave of pure delight swooped inward, then at once soared back outward in an equally scintillating rush... Faeriel trembled harder as it all repeated. Her mouth was clamped shut but a muffled whimper resounded in her throat.
Her breath went ragged through her nose as Legolas squeezed just above her hips again, and again the pleasure contracted and expanded through a space inside her. It felt much like every blissful sensation he wrought, but it moved through her slower, further, and deeper. Tingles rained down her thighs, down her calves, all the way to her toes which curled convulsively.
"How do you feel?" Legolas asked softly, hands halting on her waist.
Faeriel opened her mouth to speak but all that emerged was a breathy mewl.
"Have I hurt you?" Legolas asked, his hoarse voice tinged with a bit more urgency.
"Nay, nay," Faeriel gasped quickly. "Nay, it feels... good. V-very good."
This was an understatement. She felt the power of the cosmos glimmering all around her, waiting to be let in. Faeriel was not aware of how to safely let this in, especially when she was so dazedly exhilarated by Legolas' touch, so she just allowed the lights to shimmer around her.
Legolas began kneading her waist again, and the pleasure deepened once more. She felt it all the way to her toes. Then it zinged all the way back up to her hips and she could not stop another whimper. Oh! It felt exquisite.
Legolas loved the sounds she was making, loved that he was making her feel good. He could tell Faeriel was holding her breath again though, and he suspected he knew why. He leaned over her, bending until his breath flowed upon the tip of her long ear.
"Breathe, Faeriel," he murmured, his beautiful voice low and incredibly husky. "Do not worry about making noise. None are now in this branch of the fortress. We are alone."
Faeriel drew in a shuddering gasp, then let out an exhale laced with a little moan. Legolas rolled his fingers around her waist again, and the molten dance intensified. Faeriel could feel some part inside her melting, could feel some liquid sluicing out...
"Breathe deeper, Faeriel," Legolas whispered again, his voice vibrating into her pleasure-stricken ear, his fingers rolling again into her muscles just above her hips.
The pulsing waves grew sharper, richer, and deeper as she felt herself clench over and over. The pleasure overflowed, melting down her thighs to her toes and flurrying through her belly and chest up to her the tips of her breasts, ears, and fingers.
The cacophony of liquid flame inside her was too much, much much too much, and as Legolas rubbed her waist again, her core squeezed just a little tighter, and then again, and a fiercer liquid seemed to rush inside her, swift and bright and sparkly. A long, breathy moan was wrung inexorably from her throat.
Faeriel shut her eyes, seeing stars. Legolas paused again in his ministrations. She opened her eyes. A burst of white stars still flowed around the edges of her vision.
"Where did these flowers come from?" Legolas murmured.
Faeriel saw his hand pass before her eyes to touch one of the white stars. Expanding her field of view, she saw they were a massive shrub of flowers that had not been there before, each tiny bloom singularly beautiful.
"I..." Faeriel whispered nervously. She knew she could make flowers bloom with her emotions, but never had she summoned so many forth so swiftly.
Legolas gazed at her, surmising correctly that she had been told not to speak of such magic. "Do not worry... wherever they came from, they are beautiful... you are beautiful." Legolas paused, smiling at her. "And please... do not stifle yourself. My heart is glad to know you sigh with... joy."
Secretly, Legolas hoped, and surmised, it was more than mere joy. The whimpers and moans that had escaped her excited him like naught else, and he redoubled his efforts to tease more such sounds from her. Boldly, Legolas slid his hands further around her waist to rub her fore abdominals.
Faeriel gasped as Legolas caressed her stomach, kneading gently. Tingly heat wobbled through her, both thrumming harder and melting softer in the juncture of her thighs and spreading everywhere.
A satisfied smile caught at Legolas' lips, and eagerly he anticipated another gasp. The bowstring of his body was strained so tight he felt it a miracle he had not yet snapped.
Slowly, Legolas slid a little further around to the front of her waist, finding plenty of space where her rock bed sloped away. He dug the balls of his fingers gently into her taut muscles, following the sinew left and right, up and down.
It was on the progress down that his fingertips caught at the fore hem of her small pants. Legolas' loins felt they might burst as he thought of how close he was to her *buch. Careful not to dip under the hem, he began to massage the area where her belt usually sat, feeling intensely ardent and slightly indecent.
Her heart thudding in double time, tingles once again turned to bursts and then to fireworks, that inner space opening more swiftly, flooding with rebounding tidal waves of sensation, their potency mounting.
That distinct desire arose in her again. For Legolas to touch her... there... between. The young elleth clenched hard at the thought, her desire shooting higher. Faeriel began to imagine his touch lowering, sliding under the velvet of her little pants, and her core began to clench harder. It swiftly tightened, and tightened, and tightened. It just kept tightening, a hot, tingly vice inside her. Faeriel bit her lip.
Legolas continued delving his strong fingers into her belly muscles, seeming to pay them extra mind, so near to where Faeriel's center kept tightening. She bit her lip, overwhelmed. She wanted his hands everywhere at once. And his lips.... she wanted his lips everywhere too.
And then it happened again, even more powerfully. Her loins exploded in a cacophony, a myriad of nature's rhythms... the flutter of wings, the crash of ocean waves, the hot eruption of geysers, the quake of the earth, the pulse of her heart, the crack of lightning, the boom of thunder... all were felt echoed upon her mysterious inner horizon.
Somewhere through the haze of gushing loins and curling toes, she realized she was emitting noises halfway between sighs and moans. Embarrassment sliced through her euphoria, tugging her back down to Arda. She could feel her cheeks burning as much as the rest of her. What on Arda had just happened in her body?
Legolas wondered what exactly had inspired such breathy sounds to shudder forth. His heart pounded rapidly as he considered the likelihood that they were borne of desire... desire for him. Hope glowed in his chest and want throbbed in his 'wî. But though he craved desperately to explore her further, he knew he must be patient a little longer and pledge himself to her before pleasuring her to that degree.
Legolas slid his hands from her waist and returned to her upper back then, tenderly stroking and kneading her muscles. This was beneficial to Faeriel's breathing even as she yearned for more of those unbelievable molten gushes. Yet, she could not have felt more grateful.
"Whatever did I do to deserve this," she whispered. Despite being powerfully aroused, she also felt languid with a dreamy sort of bliss.
"You are deserving by your very nature." Legolas whispered slowly. "It is an honor to tend to you."
Minutes later, Legolas paused, overwhelmed by his arousal, which every touch to her flesh seemed to intensify tenfold. "You shall need to drink water now," he breathed.
"I am quite thirsty," she admitted. She had been nursing a sudden, mighty thirst for the last several minutes.
"That makes sense," Legolas said. "You shall need to dilute what has been kneaded out of your muscles."
Before Faeriel could inquire as to what this meant, she felt his fingers caress just below the nape of her neck. Legolas glided them lightly down the length of her spine. He was whispering something in Elvish. His voice seemed to resonate through every part of her.
He let his palm caress her lower back for several moments. Faeriel shivered as an unexpected rush of fresh heat burrowed deep into her.
Then Legolas removed his hand and she heard the water slosh slightly as he stood. Faeriel slowly rose to a seated position. "Thank you," she called huskily after him, wondering where he was going. Clearing her throat, she added, "Ci fael."
Legolas returned then from the balcony with a large pitcher of water from her little fresh waterfall. Faeriel's eyes skidded thirstily over his breathtaking face, muscular shoulders, trim waist and shapely legs. The massage had infinitely heightened her desire, and every facet of his magnificence moving towards her caused her ache to clench anew. Faeriel noticed he held the pitcher in front of his crotch, so she could only see the edges of his bulge as he stepped back into the pool and sank into the water at her side.
He placed his hand on his chest and bowed his head. "It is my honor."
He raised his eyes, so alive, so bright, so intent upon her face. His lips curved in an adorable little smile as his eyes flitted back and forth between her own. Faeriel almost forgot to breathe under his gaze, her body in an absolute tumult.
Legolas filled the crystal chalice with water and held it out to her. Only her extreme thirst broke her from her trance. "Oh thank you—I am so thirsty," Faeriel said shakily.
"'Aníron nên' means, I want water," Legolas offered.
As she drank deeply, savoring the cool freshness, Legolas graced her with another smile. His eyes held hers a long moment before he shifted their focus to a bowl of fruit upon the tray. Nimbly he fetched it and placed it upon a rock beside them. It held cherries, and he scooped up a few in his palm and offered one to Faeriel. It was absolutely mouthwatering and sweet.
They ate quietly at first. Faeriel chanced a sidelong glance at Legolas. Oh, how could anyone be so angelic?
He caught her eye and flashed her a dazzling smile. "Faeriel," Legolas began.
Faeriel's fluttery heart jumped at the way he enunciated her name in that husky voice, so warm, so rich, so textured...
"You are not a subject under my command, so I cannot order it..." Legolas grinned teasingly, "But I implore you to rest, and to try to release your worries. We shall make you master of the bow, or whatever weapons you desire to know, in good time."
Faeriel turned to him properly. She felt the heat still on her cheeks and fluttering in other parts of her, but she could not let the unfathomable depths of his kindness go unthanked. "Ci fael, Legolas," she whispered. She watched his face light up.
"So... do I have your word that you shall rest?" He smiled, his tone lighthearted.
"Yes, Legolas," she smiled. "So much you have helped me. I know not how I can return the favor."
Legolas' brow tightened and his gaze dropped down. He reached for her hand and held it between his own. His brow relaxed as his eyes flitted up to hers. Even in the dim candlelight, they glowed brightly under their thick eyelashes and dark brows. "The greatest gift of all is the opportunity to give expecting nothing in return, and you have already given it."
Faeriel blinked up at him, blushing as a heady glow filled her to the brim and beyond. Then without hesitation she lowered her cheek to his bare shoulder and nuzzled him.
Legolas' composure was threadbare, dangerously close to being snipped by the slightest seduction. He swallowed thickly, clinging with all his might as he let one arm surround her back and stroke her.
Faeriel leaned against Legolas' intoxicating body, the weight and warmth of his hand upon her lower back making her tight with longing.
Just then Legolas discerned the distant footsteps of his Adar returning to his chambers two floors above.
"Let us converse quietly now," Legolas whispered. "I just heard my father's chamber door, I believe he is now retiring for the night."
"Oh. Would he... think ill of our conversation? Or of... our soak?" Faeriel whispered.
Legolas sighed. "In truth, I know not. He is an ellon of few words. Loss has made him cold and distant as the peak of Erebor in winter."
"Loss?"
Legolas paused, idly stroking her waist as a crease appeared betwixt his brows. "My mother."
"Oh, Legolas," Faeriel whispered. "I am so sorry..."
She reached for his cheek, drifting a delicate touch there. She felt his sorrow, and tears sprang to her eyes.
"Do not cry," Legolas soothed, bending over her to stroke her cheek. "It was... a long time ago. I was very young." He did not wish to tell her about the orcs' torture that made her spirit flee her body. He was certain empathic Faeriel would break if she even knew of such horrors. "Her spirit is in Valinor. Perhaps someday she and Thranduil will be reunited. But for now... melancholy has claimed him. As such I have... I have not felt close to anyone for so long..."
Faeriel made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a consoling hum. Then without warning, she slipped one leg over his, climbing straight into Legolas' lap and throwing her arms around him.
He sucked in a breath as she straddled him. Swiftly he gripped her hips over the fabric of her small clothes, but it was too late, her inner thigh bumped the crown of his 'wî.
Legolas felt it in his groin, in his toes, in the very tips of his ears. His breath shuddered in for one disorienting moment. When he managed to secure her hips just far enough away, he felt her love pouring into him. He felt held, connected, treasured, and safe. Protectiveness welled up in him, mingling with his arousal, making him clutch her hips tighter.
Legolas caught her gaze. In the flickering candlelight, her hair was a rich mahogany with a sheen of bronze. A soft glow warmed her skin and her eyes shone as she regarded him with such powerful empathy, a thousand words contained in a single tender glance.
"But now I feel close to you," he whispered, gazing at her with equally tender eyes.
Her lips parted, and she felt his words resonate through her entire fëa. As she stared at him, her handsome, wonderful, lovable Legolas, she felt a warm luminous glow spread throughout her chest just as potent pleasure danced betwixt her parted thighs. Her muscles within billowed upon molten waves, flexing and leaping in elation as if her fëa and her body were very near to where she yearned to be.
Faeriel reached for her reservoir of magic intending to pour some into Legolas. Little did she know it was already spilling forth, and that she was giving even more.
As her aura embraced him deeply, pooling into the long hidden, anguished cracks of his fëa, an elixir of peace, Legolas felt increasingly whole in spirit, and increasingly aroused in body.
He tried not to think about the delicate hollow of her thighs spread wide so close to his need, so close that all he would need do would be to slide her slightly forward in his lap and their loins would meld exquisitely. His trembling hands stroked along her ribs, the tips of his fingers almost brushing the sides of her breasts. His heart beat so fast it was more of a vibration rising in his throat, filling the space and making his breath catch.
One pass swept lower than before and dipped under the floating hem of Faeriel's chemise, running up the length of her spine, then back down to the small of her back.
That buzzing feeling raced under her skin. Her heart glowed and her loins ached deliciously. Her nipples grazed his chest, making her pleasure leap with each breath.
Her breasts were so lush and plump, seeming to call for his touch, each graze of her hard peaks upon his bare chest stoking his fire, fanning the flames, whittling down his composure. When her hands flattened so she could stroke the planes of his back, his breathing turned rough.
He felt her fingers burrow into the satiny curtain there, playing with the flowing strands. Lifting her hand to the back of his head, she pressed a kiss to the tendon that stood out in stark relief below his jawline. Legolas closed his eyes and blew out a shuddering breath.
When Faeriel drew back, she saw his eyes were closed, his entire face relaxed as if he embraced rapture.
Legolas was indeed playing at the edge of an ecstasy he still denied himself. Soon, he thought desperately. Maybe even tomorrow. Or... now? Should I tell her? Why not...
His palm cupped her neck, his thumb brushing a sensitive spot under her jaw. Legolas nuzzled her other cheek with his nose. He felt her shiver, and then a beautiful sound escaped her, a breathy little moan. His breath came shorter as he contemplated telling her right that very moment...what he would say, and where he would press his lips if she said yes. Legolas could not yet form the words, so he brushed a soft kiss to her jaw, just in front of her earlobe.
If Faeriel thought she felt heat between her legs before, the scale had to be revised entirely. Her ear fizzed, her loins writhed. Her body felt like it was pulsing in time with her heart, an ache too exquisite to describe thrumming between her thighs.
Desperately she wanted to press her hips forward, to feel Legolas flush between her thighs, but she knew not how that would be received. She did not want to assume that was what he wanted, despite all his obvious tenderness and everything Rusco had been telling her...
Legolas' face was still so close, his breath puffing upon the base of her ear. She was too sensitive, too full of everything, she could barely think.
Her nipples were hardened buds, while her center was hot and pulsing with anxious want, the bud of her flower twitching ecstatically. Her breaths were coming fast, laced with little noises she could not entirely force back.
Every sound further hardened his 'wî, driving him wild, making his heart race as if it would burst from his chest.
I ache for you, Faeriel, Legolas wanted to say. I love you... Gi melin.
"Faeriel..." he rasped.
There was a wealth of feeling in that one word. The rough, vibrating tenor of his voice seemed to stroke between her parted thighs, making her muscles tense and burst and melt in an intricate molten dance. Every inhale was quick, and every exhale shuddered.
Legolas drew back to gaze at her, his clear, deep eyes sliding softly between her own and often dipping to her mouth.
Faeriel let her attention flow over his face in the same manner, drinking in every striking feature in awe. His fingers still stroked her, circling low on her back, making hot pressure twang within. Bursts of energy rolled everywhere as her entire body tensed tightly. Faeriel's senses were euphorically torn between the handsome wonders of his face, the magic of his touch, the sweet cherry scent of his breath and the thrilling way her core splayed open so near to him...
Is he going to kiss me?
Faeriel's heart was thumping so rapidly that the beats seemed to merge into each other. Legolas' fingers were swirling on her bare back over and over, his bright yet dark eyes dipping to her mouth again and again. The tingles roared through her core and melted down her thighs with his every touch, making her shiver.
His other hand slid up her back, his fingers disappearing in her fiery hair to cradle the back of her head.
"Faeriel," he started again, his melodic voice stroking her.
A sudden rapping split their solitude.
Legolas canted his face toward the noise, brows tautening. Faeriel stared dazedly at his handsome profile for a second before her heart lurched in dismay. Someone was at the door. Does that mean Legolas must leave?
"I shall answer it. You rest." Legolas barely recognized his own voice, so hoarse and full of need.
He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, running his eyes over her face again. Faeriel thought those sapphires held the same plaintiveness she felt. She sighed.
Legolas kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger with a sigh of his own, before easing her off his lap. He guided her gently onto the sloping rock, pushing on her shoulders, urging her to lay upon her back.
"Wait here and rest," he urged, smiling gently.
He stepped out of the pool and dressed swiftly facing the balcony. Faeriel watched, desire coursing through her, barely hearing the additional knocks at the door.
The night had cooled, and as Legolas shot a longing glance at her, his breath created a plume of mist that lingered in the air after he had slipped from the room.
Legolas paused by the looking glass, frowning at the damp ends of his hair. He quickly tucked them into the back of his tunic before striding to the door. Whoever could be knocking? They had better have a good reason, and they had better not be that predatory imposter, he thought. Legolas released a breath, summoning calm, before dragging the door open.
"My lord," the waiting guard bowed. "The King wishes to meet."
Legolas frowned. How did the guard know where to find us? Had our whispers been too loud?
He told the guard he would be there shortly and sent him on his way before barring the door and hastening back to the bath to bid Faeriel farewell.
When Legolas reentered the bathing chamber and his gaze alighted upon her, there was no mistaking the strong emotion there.
Faeriel had turned about and leaned over a boulder at the poolside, peering up at him. Legolas knelt and cupped her shoulders to kiss the top of her head, lingering to inhale a lungful of her sweet vanilla scent. "Forgive me for departing, Faeriel. But I shall see you on the morrow."
Legolas paused, before adding, "You ought to wear your knife your Rada gave you. Even if you have not fully learned the ways of it, it could still aid you in an attack."
"I should wear it even here, in the halls?"
Legolas thought of the thing he believed was masquerading as Maelorion. "Aye. Please wear it."
He felt her stiffen, and he cupped her jaw softly, adding, "You need not be scared... Only prepared." Legolas leaned lower, catching her upturned cheek with his lips, feeling it dimple as he tarried. He smiled back at her as he pulled away.
Then there was naught else for it. He must respect the King, at least in this. That same wistful feeling he always felt when parting from her slid through Legolas as he slipped from her rooms using the balcony so that her door remained locked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Faeriel sat staring at the place first Legolas and then the swirling vapor of his breath had vanished. To say she was utterly enchanted and bewildered by all that had just transpired would have been a vast understatement.
Now that she was alone, she was able to fully survey herself. Hot, fluttery thrills still wobbled through her pleasure wracked body.
Tentatively, Faeriel parted her thighs, curious to explore again. Her loins twanged and a gasp tumbled forth. For a few wonder filled moments she felt herself, thinking of Legolas doing so instead, but when moans loomed in her throat, she did not continue. With the balcony just beyond, anyone above or below in the fortress anywhere near the cliff openings would be able to hear.
Faeriel took a deep breath, feeling a bit mystified by it all. She sighed and leaned back in the bath to let the hot water relax her. One thing she knew for certain was that Legolas wrought joy in her every dimension.
As she thought of Legolas, of his alluring gaze and all the places he had touched her, more twinges of pleasure made her gasp softly. Faeriel smiled happily as she thought of him, pondering what delights would come next in his company. She imagined the weeks and years ahead and all the wondrous cuddles and pettings they could share.
But then, quite suddenly, fear tore into her mind. What if... what if Legolas had to marry a princess someday, what would happen to our cuddles? We would have to stop; I could never snuggle up to him again, she thought miserably. Is not the Prince far, far above me? He is one of the most important individuals in the land, and I am just... nobody. An odd looking elleth. A sudden chill spread through her despite the heat of the bath as this new host of fears crowded into her mind.
But what if... maybe... maybe I am good enough for him. Maybe his standing does not require a Princess.
Legolas' words resonated in her fëa, 'Now I feel close to you.'
The way he gazed at me as he spoke those words...
So Faeriel dared to hope, and tried her best to relax. Eventually she managed to meditate, absorbing the water and fire energy of the magma heated water.
And then, in the breath of the wind, she heard her mother's whisper. "Never doubt your worth..."
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Legolas left the chambers of his Adar, expression tight, stomach knotted. Something was bothering Thranduil and making him unusually bossy. He was typically so serene and equitable... But now he seemed almost... frightened, and Legolas knew not why.
The prince stood upon his balcony, thoughtful and silent as a young tree on a windless night. Legolas wished he could hold Faeriel as she slept. Soon... Yes, soon. If she wished it, he would be hers in every way. And it would be heaven.
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AN: Don't worry dear readers we are getting there. I know, 'tis very sappy. Feel free to comment or DM me with any questions 🤍 Also, a note on alcohol. I haven't drank in ten years, it is not needed for a good time, and I never miss it! Please drink responsibly. 🤗