Mirkwood and Beyond
|Chapter 25 / ?|
|Authors:||Mary A and Malinornë|
|Warnings:||ADULT sexual situations, various stages of undress including nudity, three naughty elflords and two women who love to be at their mercy, you figure it out, bring a towel, seek privacy.|
|Disclaimer:||Written for fun, not for profit, with characters and setting borrowed from JRR Tolkien.|
|Chapter summary:||Lord Elrond comes up with a diagnosis and prescribes the required treatment for Mal's ailment, Thranduil shows Mary something, other elves make their appearances.|
The area for medical treatment was located on the first floor, but facing the mountainous side of the valley, rather than the terraced gardens. That made sense, of course, as the sick and wounded could be taken there without much transport inside the enormous house, and the windows provided a calm and pleasant view to the convalescents, which would also be undisturbed by outdoor activities.
I had half expected to find Lord Elrond in a white frock and with a stethoscope around his neck, so professional looking was the examination room I was taken to. The jars and bottles on the shelves reminded me of an old style pharmacy, and there was a desk with neatly stacked parchment.
A table the shape and size of a narrow bed dominated the room. It was located in the centre and surrounded by lamps on high stands. There was also a huge wrought iron lamp in the ceiling, but this day the natural light coming from the large windows was sufficient for even a mortal to see clearly.
Thaladir and I stood waiting for perhaps half a minute, during which I almost behaved. The new surroundings occupied my mind, but my body still found it necessary to press itself up against the seneschal, despite his attempts to prevent this by stepping backwards. Soon Elrond appeared through a door in the far wall, worried-looking and wringing his hands. The latter was from just having washed them, I realized as he picked up a cloth and wiped his fingers, then threw it in a nearby basket.
"Dear, dear, Mal," he said as he approached us. "While I had hoped to spend more time with you, I certainly did not wish it to be under these conditions. How may I help you?"
Finally someone sensible. Instead of answering at once, I took some time studying him and imagining precisely how he would help me. That raven hair would soothe my naked skin well, I decided, and his lips looked like they would fit perfectly around my nipples, and his hands.... long-fingered hands and strong arms... what a pity he was wearing a long robe that hid the rest of him from my sight. But I would tell him.
"I want," I said, and there Thaladir was again with his hand in the wrong place, over my mouth.
"The lady is overly excited," uttered the seneschal curtly. "She cannot speak for herself."
Elrond lifted an eyebrow and took my hand in his. He felt my pulse with his wonderful fingers, and then lifted mine towards his face. I thought he was going to begin the treatment with placing a kiss there, but instead he brought it up to his nose and sniffed it. Once more, and his other eyebrow went up, very high, before both of them settled and the worry in his face changed to an expression of relief. Still holding my hand, he patted it reassuringly.
"Do not worry," he said mildly. "It appears that the soap you used has a far stronger aphrodisiacal influence on humans than on elves, but you are in little danger of lasting harm. Follow me."
My hopes rose as he led me to the bed, I mean the examination table, and in my thoughts I cursed the stony-faced elf who, with his firm grip around my other arm, hindered me from showing the Imladris lord how eager I was to be cured by him. At least I was free to speak, but I decided not to. Elrond had already proven that he understood the language of my body.
His strong arms felt promising as he lifted me onto the table, and he straightened my gown in a delicious way. Then he asked me if I was comfortable. I parted my legs a bit. I think Thaladir grew a shade paler, but I did not want to look at him. Instead I turned my head towards Elrond and gave him a sultry look through half-lidded eyes. I licked my lips, too, and writhed, just a little.
He put his cool hand on my forehead and whispered something too faint for me to hear. Suddenly I felt clearer, as if a part of my mind was able to look at me from outside. The blood was still rushing hot through my veins, and I knew I would surely die from the itch between my legs if someone wouldn't bed me soon, but the physical urge to pull Elrond down upon me was duller. For now, I could control it, at least until Thaladir would leave the room. The two elves took a few steps away from me. I closed my eyes and waited.
"It will wear off, eventually," I heard Elrond say. "But it may take days, and keeping the patient in that heightened condition for long will be stressful as well as cause her considerable discomfort." Thaladir agreed, and I opened my eyes just in time to see his curt little bow.
"So," Elrond continued, "I prescribe a dose of intimate contact, preferably to be distributed without delay. I have reason to believe that another mortal would prove the more efficient instrument, and thus would call for one of the men of the North currently visiting Imladris to do this service."
I thought back to the first evening, and rangers in the Hall of Fire. There had been a few good-looking men among them, and particularly the one with the piercing gaze and the long legs. He could cure me in an instant, and I would love it.
'No rangers!' The voice was inside my head, but Elrond must have heard it, too. At least he looked very surprised and a little shaken. "Ahem," he said, again to Thaladir, "on a second thought, someone the patient is well acquainted with might be more suitable. So, if you, in the absence of your liege lord, would like to perform the act..."
Thaladir bowed again, deeper now, like he usually does when accepting an order. Ha! So he would have to f... make love to me after all. The burning itch became more intense as I thought about it, and I moaned out loud.
"My lord," I heard the tall elf reply, "as I was instructed to deliver the lady into your care, I believe I shall have to decline, no matter how regrettably. My own research on the anatomy of humans is much inferior to yours and I doubt not that a healer's touch will benefit her more than that of my humble self. Furthermore, your mortal inheritance may indeed add to the effectiveness of the cure." He bowed again, and then left the room rapidly.
Instead of sitting to eat breakfast with the twins in the common dining room, I went directly to the kitchen. It was a cheerful scene within. The bustling cooking-elves were in full swing as they prepared their usual sumptuous delights for the denizens of the Last Homely House.
Before anyone could pause long enough to find out what I was seeking, I was handed a cup of coffee by a perceptive elf, and the bracing aroma alone was as rejuvenating as an hour of lost sleep. Rivendell hospitality in a ceramic cup. It was comforting to be around elves that were used to providing for humans without judging our tastes.
One of the best parts of visiting Imladris is the amount of elves that speak the common language instead of just Sindarin. In the Mirkwood caves, I had become quite proficient in the use of sign language supplemented with a few key phrases. In the Last Homely House, however, I could communicate with everyone, except perhaps those elves who were visiting from other regions that were not used to encountering, let alone accommodating, humans.
After explaining what I needed, I was directed to a stool that was placed far enough out of the way that I would not be an obstacle but close enough that I could enjoy watching the preparations. The kitchen was a colorful blur of delicious smelling activity, with the sounds of chopping, slicing, dicing, pot and pan clattering, dishware clinking, and glassware tinkling all combining to provide unique background music.
It was a pleasure to sit in Elrond's kitchen and I felt the most comfortable I had felt since we left Lórien. If the elves there had been ordered to keep their distance from me, or had been frightened by tales from the twins about the consequences of such action, there was no way to tell. Everyone was too busy to act aloof.
While I drank my coffee, and watched the tray being prepared for me to carry back to my room, I envisioned climbing back into bed with the handsome Ithilien ranger. Perhaps I would feed him by hand. When I imagined what we could do after our breakfast was finished, I felt warm all over. That man was very manly and yet good-tempered, if a bit bewildered, and I was looking forward to spending more time with him.
As they picked out delicacies to add to our breakfast, the kitchen-elves handed me samples to taste. Sometimes, I would need two or three tastes before I could make up my mind, and I ended up choosing some of everything. I was pretty much stuffed by the time the tray was ready, which turned out to be a good thing.
A fresh pot of tea had just been added to the tray, the finishing touch, when the entire busy, clattering, cheerful kitchen suddenly hushed. Only the sounds of boiling water bubbling, or the sizzle of filets of fresh fish being sauteed, could be heard. The elves froze in place and many bowed, or curtseyed, and it was not because they had just realized that Princess Fang was there amongst them. I whirled to look around me.
"Hi king, uh, majesty," I hopped down from my perch and dipped in a hasty almost-a-curtsey, in case Thaladir was lurking in some nearby shadows, before I said, "What is she doing here?"
Standing beside Thranduil, who stood right behind me, was that hussy, Glorchiniel. She was lucky she is an elf, or I might have... well, I do not know what I might have done, but if she was a human, I would have at least been able to push her off my king. Not that she was touching him, yet, but she was really close. The smug smile on her face was begging to be slapped off, too, if I had the nerve. Or the comparable height, strength, and reflexes.
"Have you had enough to eat?" Thranduil asked as he waved off a plate full of fresh berry tarts. A silly question, since he knew quite well the state of my physical well-being, but perhaps it was said more for effect in front of the kitchen staff. By the no-nonsense look in the king's eyes, I could tell that he was not in the mood to hang out and nibble on pastry, even smothered in cream.
"Yes, Sire, but, I was going to take..." I began while pointing at Anborn's breakfast and, before I could finish, Thranduil turned to Glorchiniel, gestured toward the tray, and nodded curtly. To my distress, the simpering elleth took it and left the kitchen. For a moment, I was tempted to fly after her and stop her before she could reach the ranger, whom I considered my personal property, but how could I leave the king? "Never mind," I said to Thranduil. "I'm glad she's gone."
"No you are not, you wish to scratch her eyes out," whispered my king as he led me out of the kitchen by a swinging back door that led into a long corridor.
"That too," I admitted. "I don't like the way she looks at you with them." We encountered elves from the kitchen who were both coming and going through open archways that led to zigzagging staircases. Some went down. "Where are you taking me? Does Elrond have dungeons?"
For some reason, perhaps the fact that the king had not even smiled yet, I was convinced that I was in trouble. Maybe for bedding a human without permission. Not that I had ever been given such a restriction but I was never good at reading the fine print in contracts. The funny thing was, I did not care, my night had been worth any penalty.
"Forbidden fruit?" asked Thranduil, after we had gone through a door that led to a staircase and began to climb. Okay, no dungeon, at least not an underground one. Perhaps he was on to something. With Anborn, I had felt as if I was stealing something that did not belong to me, more than I felt I was defying the throne by breaking an unwritten rule about sharing royal property with others, and that had added to the pleasure.
"And what would a king know about the allure of forbidden things?" I replied. "What is forbidden to a king?"
"Peace of mind," he replied.
With the seneschal finally gone, I was alone with the raven-haired lord of Imladris. He approached me a lot more hesitantly than I wished for, and then even turned and walked to the desk. I heard him opening a drawer. He rummaged there, as if having difficulty finding what he was looking for, but when he returned to my side he was holding a pen and a piece of parchment. I moved a little to the side, making room for him to sit, which he did not. Instead, he left once more, but soon came back with a footstool. He sat, scribbled something on the parchment, and then began questioning me in a very dry, professional manner.
"What ails you?" The coolness of his voice startled me and I found, to my surprise, that I could actually talk with him, even if I had to concentrate hard not to watch him, and his fingers, and imagine what they would do soon, very soon now.
"I am hot all over," I told him, "and itchy, especially here, and here." I accompanied my words with gestures to my chest and lower abdomen. The elf didn't look very closely, but scribbled some more. I rubbed the area between my legs a little, to show him better what I meant. It felt almost as good as it would if he did it. "Here," I whispered throatily, "feel here." More scribbling.
"Perchance," he said slowly, finally looking up, and lifting an eyebrow at the sight of what my hand was doing, "you ought rather to consult my sons. Elladan, especially, has quite a hand for healing." I suddenly felt embarrassed and straightened my dressing-gown.
"I already have," I told him, "in the past, both of them. They examined me thoroughly, doing their best with that, and the treatment, but this time I know their powers would not be enough." I knew no such thing, but an elf almost in one's bed is better than two that could be anywhere on a large property.
"Ah. Then again comes true the old wisdom of warrior hands being slower in healing. Long now I have abstained from violence, and whether or not my gift is stronger, it runs unimpeded in me."
"I am confident the famous hands of Elrond will ease my pain."
He wrote a last note, and then rose to his feet. The pen and parchment were put down on the stool, and soon his outer robe joined them. Then he proceeded to roll up the sleeves of the inner one, and only then did he begin. He ran his hands all over my body, now and then interrupting my lustful whimpering with a short question. Was the itch more pronounced here, or here? Did the tingling sensation become different if he put his fingers there? As if I cared.
I tried to steer his hands to where I'd rather feel them, but it proved pointless, and I began to think that this kind of examination was just as frustrating as the problem itself, if not worse. But it got a little better when he wanted to feel my pulse. At first he only put his fingers to my wrist, but then he told me that he needed to listen to my heart. He leaned his head to my chest, and I nearly swooned when he parted the material there and put his ear against my bare skin.
Whatever he heard seemed to be in order, because he didn't listen too long. But he let his hand linger cupped over my breast and he must have felt the nipple straining against his palm. And, he even left it there when he began to feel his way under the gown with his other hand, beginning at my calves. He stopped much too soon, already at my knees, and removed his fingers from my breast, too. A deep wrinkle had formed in his forehead.
"Perhaps," he said, "for this part of the examination, I should call for a witness. Thranduil might want to see for himself that all is in good order." He stared long into my eyes, searching for something he apparently didn't find. I stifled a giggle at the thought of the Elvenking, who would for sure be most happy to witness his concubine being caressed intimately. And then, perhaps they would both... no, that thought was too much and I had to try very hard to answer.
"I do not find that necessary," I replied, knowing that the king would have been here already if he wanted to. "We all know that Lord Elrond's intentions are nothing but honourable."
He watched me with an enigmatic expression, while setting his hands to work again under my gown. The material gathered in rich folds over his arms as he probed higher, up my thighs, but continued to hold his gaze on my face, or out the window, as if that helped him to concentrate. Finally he reached the inside of my thighs, that soft silky place near the junction. I knew I was moist there, and I could tell the second that Elrond noticed this. He did not flinch, or stop, just lifted an eyebrow and then proceeded to stroke the surface lightly with his fingertips. I sighed, breathing heavily.
"I take it," he said seriously, "that we have identified the central area affected by your ailment."
"Oh, yes," I whispered. "Only a little..." I writhed slightly, lifting myself closer to those fingers, but the elf was not swayed. He kept his hand at a tantalising distance from where I needed it to be. "Higher, my lady?" he said with a smile, and grinned at the effect of his words. I nodded like mad, eager to have him follow with action.
And he did. I cannot describe how it felt to finally have him there, if only resting his fingertips on my most sensitive place. He moved them; flicking, caressing, gliding, and I think he was still scientific about it, assessing my reactions to each form of touch.
"Is that it?" he asked. "Or, perhaps, we should apply the treatment… deeper?" I moaned and writhed, trying to take him in.
"Yes," I finally whispered, when he didn't seem to want to take my body language for an answer.
He probed, moving his fingers in and out with precision, exactly mirroring my now fervent bucking. "Please," I panted after a while, "I need more."
"Then I have the cure," he replied calmly, but his voice was strained. He removed those lovely hands from me and instead put them to quick work under his robe. Leggings were disposed with, but the long robe needed only to be opened. Then he climbed up on the table and positioned himself between my legs, which I eagerly spread to accommodate him. Resting on his elbows, he stroked my hair and whispered gently; "Is the patient prepared to receive treatment?"
After the hard, initial thrust that hit exactly where I needed it, he proceeded to treat me with long, slow movements, almost withdrawing entirely before he pushed back in. Then he varied his speed and angle, as if to make sure that whatever it was that would help the most, he would give it to me.
The gradual relief that came to me during the whole process made me helplessly vocal, and I can just hope that not everyone in the house were gathered outside the door. At least not if they considered shouts and moans of the type "Oh Elrond, oh yes, oh Elrond, oh yes," to be offensive.
Afterwards, when he had made us both presentable with cloths, warm water, and a soap that he swore brought no side effects, he asked me sincerely how I felt. The parchment was back in his hand, and although I guessed he might not write down a full record of the proceedings, he seemed eager to register the outcome.
"The itch is gone, thank you." I was honestly happy to feel nothing in particular when I looked at the elf. True, he was good-looking in the way all elves are, and I was grateful for his help, but I felt no need or wish to jump back into bed with him. "I just hope it will not come back..." I winked at him.
"No," he told me, "But, nevertheless, I fear that one session may not be enough to completely root out the problem. I think I will prescribe you at least two more doses of the same treatment, to be taken after a rest of one day and one night. If you describe the process to your king, I trust him to be suitably equipped for distributing the medicine."
"Has the house doctor ordered you to rest again?"
It was obvious by then that we were heading up to the royal guest chambers by some type of private stairway that went up in slow lazy spirals, but had no guardrails. For a while it had been too fascinating watching the floors below me fall away into smaller and smaller circles to really give thought to our destination.
His Majesty's mood was hard to read even when I could watch his face, the narrow steps demanded most of my attention, but he did not seem as exhausted as he had the first morning. I was sorry that I had not considered making him carry me, after filling up on all those pastries in the kitchen, before it was too late to make a difference.
"The exercise is good for you," said Thranduil, with the first smidgen of a smile crossing his face when he spoke.
"Good for me? I was already tired," I half-whined, "I think exercise like this should wait for when I have more energy." If chickens had raised me, then I would have said my tail feathers were dragging.
We had reached his chambers' door, if a veritable tree-fort can be called chambers, where two silent sentries now stood that I had not seen before when Thaladir brought me here, but then the king was not there either. They were not Mirkwood elves, but they looked very fierce and able. I could tell that they would probably not blink if I snapped my fingers in front of their noses.
It hit me when we walked in that Thranduil's guestroom actually resembled any one of the graceful gazebos that were in the gardens below us, mere roofs against the weather with no other protection against the elements, besides the slim arches of the wide windows, which provided a spectacular wraparound view. At least no one could walk past those windows and peek in at us this high up.
"Now, I believe you have something to show me," said Thranduil as he walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge. With a glad cry and all tiredness forgotten, I leapt to embrace him, but was stopped short mid-leap with my hands clasped securely within His Majesty's strong fingers like they were in steel handcuffs. I did not mind. It was kind of fun.
"First you must remove the stench of man flesh that is clinging to your body." He released my hands and gestured for me to lift my arms in order that he might be able to take my dress off. Sadly, this did not lead to any hanky-panky, but instead I was lifted and swiftly deposited in the bath, which had been freshly prepared. More of Glorchiniel's handiwork, I surmised, as I sat and washed all traces of Anborn from my skin and hair.
The evidence of a feminine touch was all around me in telltale signs. New towels were left out as well as fragrant soaps and shampoos, which I had not seen before, and candles were lit, even though it was broad daylight. I wondered if she thought she was going to be scrubbing Thranduil's back, too, and I giggled until I realized that she might be scrubbing a particular handsome hairy man instead.
"Didn't you get a good enough look at me and Anborn last night?" I asked as soon as I thought of the ranger and the fun I had with him. "You and whoever else was peeking in?"
"Yes, more than enough, in actual fact," answered the king, who now stood beside the tub stark naked. A splendid sight.
One look at His Majesty's perfect physique, and the way he seemed sculpted from marble by the hands of a master, made me forget all about the hairy bodies of mortal men. I happily made room for him by scooting forward and, after he stepped in to join me, I sat between his legs with my back to his smooth firm chest.
"I felt you there," I said and tapped my forehead, "watching us. I felt others, too, if I am not mistaken."
"Even so," said the king, after settling in, "I do believe someone else needs to see all of what happened, instead of being left with only a superficial impression."
"Who?" I caressed his thighs and tried to signal my willingness to do more than just pet him by pushing my behind against his groin. "Who didn't get a chance to see all of what happened?"
"You." Clasping me close to him, Thranduil stopped me from stroking his legs, folded my arms over my breasts, and added, "Close your eyes, be still."
It was easy enough to comply to this command what with having a full stomach, a soothing hot bath, and lack of sleep. Our bridge connection was almost immediate, and it felt like a mild jolt of electricity. The king released my hands and, as soon as I was quiet inside, he began touching me, and they were Anborn's hands.
Crude yet curious, clumsier than any elves' skillful fingers, and with the ranger's same tentative hesitations and sudden eager gropings, the king showed me what the man's hands had felt, although I already was aware of the effect that I had on him.
It had been an invigorating experience at the time to know that I was letting Anborn touch me in places he had only dreamed about touching a woman. He had been quite vocal with both his gratitude and his satisfaction with the results of his surveying.
With the ranger, I had felt like virgin territory being explored by a meticulous investigator and that was the closest to feeling like a virgin that I have come in a long time. And now that I was shown his point of view, which was very flattering, I enjoyed the memory even that much more. At first, anyway.
When I had calmed down some more, Elrond accompanied me to the next room, where an inviting bed had been prepared for me. The subdued light that filtered through closed, but half opaque, curtains added to the cosiness of the room, and I felt that it would not be difficult at all to spend the rest of the day, and the coming night, there. I would be well taken care of, said the Imladris lord, and he would personally check on my recovery.
Two female elves in practical-looking grey attire came in as he left. One of them offered me something to drink, and I gratefully accepted the glass from her. It was just water, but wonderfully refreshing. The other carried a nightgown, which she swiftly helped me change into. It could not yet be noon, but I felt sleepy as soon as I climbed in between the sheets.
The last thing I saw before my eyes closed was a serene elf-lady, and my first sight after waking up was a slightly worried-looking elf-lord. Celeborn was sitting on a chair on the opposite side of the small room, but it was impossible to tell for how long he had been there.
He rose to full height before speaking, gravely; "It appears that I have forfeited my alleged reputation of wisdom."
"You did not mean to cause me discomfort," I told him, "and to me you are still Celeborn the Wise." He chuckled, apparently relieved, but there was still a tinge of guiltiness to his voice as he continued.
"I do admit that I was not entirely unselfish when suggesting the soap in question for your use, but neither had I anticipated its effects on a mortal. Typically, all it does is to slightly enhance whatever mood or attraction may already be present between the person using it and the one he or she lays their eyes upon."
"So you were curious?"
"Ah, yes. And it seemed to be the perfect moment to find out whether you still remember my mirror."
"You wanted to see if I'd come to you for more," I told him frankly. He did not deny it, but looked at me almost pleadingly. It made me want to hug him, in a perfectly chaste and seemly way, of course. "Believe me," I whispered, looking deep into his eyes, "I will never forget the night I looked into your mirror. Not ever."
Reliving my night with Anborn under Thranduil's skillful magic touch was an education. Mixed in with feeling again those lusty discoveries of the mysteries of womanly flesh that the ranger had made the night before was something else, something new. With a rush that startled me I knew what it was I was feeling; his emotional reaction to being alone with me. I opened my eyes.
"Oh, dear, I didn't figure he would take it so seriously. But, be fair, I warned him beforehand that I was raised by wolves. "
"Wolves are not man-eaters. You should have said wargs."
"I'm a man-eater?" I kind of liked the way it sounded.
"We are not finished, now close your eyes again."
"There's more?" I was not sure I wanted to see any more. "Can't I at least have a kiss first, from you, I mean?"
After lifting me up and turning me on his lap so I straddled him, Thranduil's mouth crushed mine more than kissed it, leaving me breathless, with bruised lips, and wanting more.
There was no more time for smooching, even Elfking style, as he was inside of me, and I was riding Anborn again. The sudden change of sensations took a moment of adjustment, and then I felt the passion of the ranger's experience crash over me like an avalanche, or lava.
Again, I opened my eyes and this time I tried to escape, but the king kissed me again, holding me by the hair, and, again, not very gently. There was no way out. I had to confront the consequences of my behavior. With much more effort than Anborn had shown at the time, I finally surrendered to the situation, and saw through his human eyes what I represented to him. The ultimate trophy. And a potential wife.
More than a potential, Anborn actually felt beholden. He was in love with me, or thought he was, the poor thing.
"I'm sorry," I said, when it was all over and I could finally talk. "I am so sorry. I will never go near him again, I swear." I was still on top of the king, with my head on his shoulder, but now I sat up to look in his eyes as another thought occurred to me.
"Why didn't you stop me?" I asked him "You had to know that would happen." I vaguely remembered Thranduil telling me about Renk, the filthy pig of a merchant from the Long Lake, and his wanting to bed me because I had been with elves. It had made me a valuable commodity for humans. I had only half believed him at the time.
"It needed testing," said the king. "Up until now there was only a theory..."
"Another test?" I should have known, no wonder we had such a large audience. Both Anborn and I were just guinea-pigs to these elves. Once thing for sure, I was not going to let Thranduil make me feel guilty.
"How was I supposed to know how a Middle-earth man was going to react to an elf-trained specimen?"
"The test was a success." He smiled when he said it. And that was all the king would say on the subject while he made love to me again, as himself this time. It felt like a reward to me.
To be continued...
Chapter posted: November 30, 2005
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"Long live Thranduil, great Elf-king of Greenwood!"