~ The elves find a more traditional use for Wynne's liquor and she tries to seduce the Elvenking. o_O ~
7. Drinking With Elves
With a steady hand and nimble fingers Legolas made three neat stitches. He did it so swiftly that Wynne hardly had time to feel the sting of the needle.
For once the elf was being nice, a refreshing change, but of course it didn't last for long; as usual he couldn't resist a joke. "I hope your nausea is better. We get lembas for dinner, your favorite!"
"Are you ever serious?" she retorted.
"It happens." He grinned. "Once every decade or so. But I am afraid there are still a few more years to go until the next time." He cut the thread short with his knife and carefully wiped the blood off with a clean cloth before tying it with linen.
His hands were big, yet soft and careful. Having him touch her thigh felt forbidden even though the reason was legitimate. If he moved only a little bit higher he would reach a very personal area.
Her mouth went dry at the thought.
Did he realize that too? She peeked at him, noticing a faint reddening of his bent neck. Maybe he did.
"There, fit to go. But I hope you brought extra clothes for your hose are a mess." He took the soiled, torn stocking and inspected it critically.
"Give that back."
He held it teasingly out of her reach, then laughed and threw it into her lap, dodging a kick from her good leg.
Bothersome elf! Every time she started to think better of him he did something childish and ruined everything.
oOo
The company gathered around a slightly bigger campfire that night, as if to let the light and warmth of it repel their distress and pain.
During the meal they discussed the skirmish. Thranduil said they wouldn't usually let orcs get the better of them, at least not such a small band. They had been taken by surprise today, distracted and troubled by the cruelty that had befallen the poor elks.
"Something like this will not happen again," he assured her. "The next time we combat orcs you shall witness some true elf capacity."
Wynne had to hide a smile. Was Thranduil embarrassed? It certainly appeared so. He had allowed orcs to ambush his company and even got hurt himself, and as proud as he was he must hate to seem vulnerable.
Maybe this was an opportunity to try her female influence on him? If she soothed his damaged ego and flattered him it might make him like her...
But doing that would take more bravery than she could muster. She still had the waterskin with distilled spirits; a few drops would calm her nerves.
She took a mouthful, wincing as she swallowed it down. It burned her throat and the taste was none too good.
Then she passed the skin to Nodir, figuring she might as well try it on the elves as well. He smelled it suspiciously, but shrugged and drank before passing it on.
None of the elves seemed to mind the taste, quite the contrary. The atmosphere went from gloomy to festive in hardly any time and soon the waterskin was merely half full. Only Galion was obliged to abstain; he had been assigned the first watch that night, much to his apparent regret.
Bronedir and Nodir began to sing a cheerful song and were joined by Legolas. Galion accompanied them on his flute and Thranduil stamped a beat with one leather clad foot.
Wynne felt the opposite of jolly. No matter how hard she struggled to enjoy herself, she kept seeing images from the battle in her mind.
A frightful orc face with long, yellowing fangs, ready to bury themself in her flesh. A feathered arrow protruding from its cheek. A bent sword, coming down against her. Her foot cracking the orc nose, hot blood spraying her face. A cut-off head in the grass, oozing dark liquid into a puddle.
She must give herself something else to focus on, something that would make her forget the disturbing images for a while. It was time to take advantage of the effect the liquor had had on the elves before it was too late and they fell asleep.
Drawing a deep breath she forced herself to go and sit close to Thranduil.
He wore his shirt and tunic again but the bandage was visible through them. She decided not to mention it and try the flattery she had planned.
"I was really impressed how fast you beat the orcs."
He had seemed a bit surprised when she sat down but now he relaxed and beamed at her. "We did, did we not?"
Wynne wouldn't have thought it possible for him to look more self-satisfied than he normally did, but apparently it was.
"Yes, the fight was over in no time. They didn't stand a chance against you."
"Elvish battle skills are uncex... unexcelled. It comes from centuries of practicing."
Had he stumbled on the words? He must really be affected by the liquor then.
Biting back her smile, she remembered Legolas bragging yesterday about how he had beat a dwarf in a drinking contest and how elves hardly ever became drunk. Well, obviously they did. Perhaps Rohan spirits were stronger than dwarven ale.
"I wish I could fight orcs like you," she lied; if she never saw another orc in her life she wouldn't complain.
"Oh, we would not want you to do that. It is the males' duty to protect the weaker sex and the females' duty to brighten their days. You do us more service with your pleasant company and charm."
His foot had stopped its thrumming despite the song that still went on as lively as ever in the background. His full attention was on her, his piercing, blue gaze trapping hers.
She didn't appreciate his belittling words at all – as if women were nothing more than an amusement to men! – but despite that, she felt his charisma work on her and her knees started to tremble. This was not the first time he frightened her.
"You find me charming now, sire?" She tried to sound bold but couldn't hide the tremor in her voice. "You didn't seem happy when I joined your company."
"Nay, I did not. However, you proved your worth today by keeping calm and defending yourself as best you could. That did not pass me unnoticed. And I find you refreshing." He smiled slightly. "You are certainly very different from an elleth."
"What is an elleth?"
"A female elf."
"Have you known many elleth, s-sire?" She wanted to break eye contact but it was impossible. As if she was a hare hypnotized by the stare of a fox.
Would he devour her like a predator?
"Nay. There was only ever one." His penetrating gaze wavered and his eyes suddenly became deeply sad. "My wife, Legolas' mother."
Wynne was finally able to look away and release her breath.
She wondered how long ago his wife had lived and what had happened to her but didn't dare to ask. Whoever that lady had been, she didn't envy her. It couldn't have been easy to be married to him.
A/N:
How can someone as scary as Thranduil also be so hot, I wonder? He carried the Hobbit movies almost on his own.
I know, I know, there were hot and broody dwarves who weren't too bad either, but still... :D