2. Chapter Two
She hummed as she puttered around the room, lighting the brazier and candles, arranging pillows. She had found a new oil to place in the lamps, something from Far Harad, patchouli. It was sensuous, dusky, dark, and was said to be an aphrodisiac. She had mixed it with another oil that she had discovered, vetiver. One complemented the other. The wine was from Thranduil's own cellars. When all was accomplished according to her plan, she laid herself upon their bed.
After a few moments, she frowned, stood up, and moved to the ladder. 'Should I go for him? Can something have happened?' She shook her head. She would wait. Had not she waited a century or two for him to notice her? At first, she had striven to gain his attention by her prowess with sword and bow, then she had tried to dress as the other Elleths did, attending the balls and such that King Thranduil held when diplomats came to his Hall.
She had fallen in love with him the moment she had seen him outside the Mirkwood King's gates. He had dismounted right in front of her. His thighs, his... She stopped herself. 'If I think any further on this, I will not need him!' She laughed softly. 'Ah, but the pleasure would be more than halved.' She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Lying back against the pillows, she calmed herself. She dabbed a little of the oil mixture on the back of her neck, behind her knees, between her breasts - all the places his tongue would touch.
His quick step wakened her. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, hurt that he had tarried. She heard his hands upon the rope, climbing up towards her. Her heart beat faster. 'Hurry, my love.'
"You are late," she said quietly as he entered their home; he heard the hurt in her voice. She lay still. He did not speak. There was nothing he could say.
He felt dizzy. The heavy scent in the air was intoxicating. He loved that she leaned towards the dusky, deep smells of the forest. Everything about her was deep. No light, airy, flowery scents. He ran his tongue over his upper lip, slowly. He would have to hold himself back, else he spill his seed before he even reached their bed.
She was more than beautiful. Some would say she had not the beauty of the Noldor. He cared not. She had a deeper beauty, like unto the night that framed the stars. He preferred it. Though her hair was as light as Legolas'... He hesitated and he noted she saw.
Walking to the low basin, he stopped and laved his face and hands. Releasing the cords around his breeches, he lowered them. Then he removed his tunic. He could feel her behind him, watching. And he knew she was aroused. He could smell the passion upon her. He wiped himself and then turned.
She gasped and he smiled. She always gasped. His eyes lit, fire and passion battling sanity. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking that moment to clear his head so that he could walk. When he opened them, he saw that she had extinguished a few of the candles so that the room was darker, more sensuous. Taking another breath, he walked towards their bed.
She offered the wine. He took one sip, then put the glass down. He lay next to her. He took her glass and put it next to his. She leaned back into the pillows and he leaned towards her. Her eyes closed in anticipation.
Her hair was still plaited. He smiled; she wanted him to undo it. Lying on his left side, he faced her, slid his left hand under her body, pulled her close and leaned into her. She - ever so slightly - moved closer to him. His right hand moved towards her neck. She stilled. He touched it, then moved his hand towards her ear. She held her breath. Running a finger from the tip to the bottom, his tongue followed the path. She shivered. He continued the caress across her jaw and then between her breasts. Again, she drew in her breath. Leaning down, he kissed the deep vale between them.
His eyes lit; he had tasted the oil. She smiled. He shivered as the patchouli ran through him. Lifting his eyes to meet hers, he laughed. "You would undo me before we even begin?"
She pursed her lips in mock indignation. He pulled her closer and kissed her. This first kiss was gentle. It lasted but a moment. He turned her head to the left and laved her other ear, then worked down her neck and again to the cleavage of her breasts. Another lick and he gasped. He was profoundly hard. Blood rushed through his veins, deafening him.
Pulling on the plaited hair, he drew her closer. She made no sound. His lips trembled as he took hers again and again. Finally, the moment she had waited for. His tongue pushed forward. She opened her mouth. He entered. She tasted the oil from her breasts upon his tongue and her body turned into flame.
'How can it be this perfect?' he wondered. Time and time again, they had made love and every time, he was drawn into realms of deepening passion. He knew tonight would be no different.
He drew himself away; she tried to hold him close, but he would not allow it. He pushed himself up, took his hand from under her, and touched her hair. Gently, he unwound the plait, smelling the sweet scent of her as he did. Holding some strands in his hand, he kissed them, then, still semi-sitting, he drew her towards his chest.
She smiled, understanding, and kissed his left nipple. She let her tongue glide around it, then over its tip. It was hardened and raised before she had even begun. After a moment, she drew it into her mouth and sucked. She reveled at the feel of his great body shivering. Letting the one nipple go, she moved towards the right. Again, she circled it with her tongue, laved over it, and then sucked. Her own body now trembled.
He willed himself to go slowly as the heat of lust filled him. He ran his hand down her stomach, past her navel, and to the top of her hip. The delicious curve of it almost undid him. He took a breath and moved his hand to her thigh. She still trembled. Caressing the outer thigh from top to knee, he moved. His head bent down; he kissed her stomach, then the tip of her hip, then her outer thigh.
His hand moved inward. The heat of her was incredible. His head followed. Her legs parted. He kissed her inner left thigh, then the other. Her trembling increased and he took pity on her. He put his hands on either side of her hips and held her tightly.
Lifting his head, his eyes met hers. Her eyes were wide and beautifully full. Passion shone in them. He moved forward and took her mouth in his. He loved her so desperately.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.