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My Night and Next Day with Thranduil

Part 1 / 4
Author: Mary Aseltyne
Beta and Collaborator: Malinorne
Pairing: King Thranduil/OFC
Disclaimer: Just playing with Tolkien characters, for fun and not profit, do not claim to have created them.
Warnings: NC-17, sexual situations/ nudity/ some mild S&M
Summary: Mary goes to an online virtual party and meets Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, and decides she wants to get to know him better. Purely for research, you understand, for a story she wants to write about him.
Author's notes: This story, now heavily revised, was originally written for a fan fiction challenge: "24 Hours Guardianship of Elf of Your Choice, First Person Narrative". No such online party as one with Elf-muse swapping has ever taken place as far as I know, that is purely a figment of my imagination.
This story is a sequel, of sorts, to "Musing Around"
Feedback: Yes, please. Sign our guestbook or write to: thaladir@yahoo.com

I was not looking for a new muse when I was invited to an online Muse-Swapping Party. I had two perfectly good ones at my constant disposal. As a new writer on the scene, the Imladris twins, Elladan and Elrohir, had taken me into their care, providing me with inspiration and support through my first tricky fan fiction challenges. They traveled along with me as I visited Isengard to fulfill the requirement of a writing contest and had rescued me from Grima's slimy clutches in the tower of Orthanc.

My virtual travels with the twins were enjoyable, and educational. We visited many different locales and met many different characters from Tolkien's imaginative world. My favorite stops along the way were the ones we made in Rivendell, Lothlorien and Rohan. I met some famous Elves and Men, such as Elrond, Galadriel, Haldir, Eomer and Faramir, during my little adventure. However, despite all the glamorous characters I may have met, I was happy to come home with the twins afterwards.

But, when a friend and fellow member of a Haldir Fan Fiction Group, announced this on-line party at her lovely virtual home in Texas for all fan fiction writers old and new, and their muses, the twins insisted we attend. They felt I needed to get out more. They thought I should become better acquainted with other writers, other muses, and maybe get some ideas for a new story. The "swap-a-muse-for-24-hours" theme had me worried. I could share the twins without effort, but did I really want any other Elf muse in my life if even only for one day? I agreed to go, but reluctanctly so at first.

Although all the writers were requested to bring their own muses, our hostess had also invited scads of lovely free Elf-muses to attend. They were there to entertain us, to wait on us, and just to generally help provide an Elf-laden atmosphere for our partying pleasure. The best part was that all the muses had to dress in full costume. The twins wore their ranger gear, the Galadhrim were wrapped in their mysterious gray cloaks, and the Rivendell Elves were a riot of colorful velvets and satin.

Immediately after we arrived, my muse-twins were surrounded by several fellow writers who had read about my travels and wanted to get to know these bad boys better. Elladan and Elrohir may not have been feature characters in the movies, but that made them no less attractive. These were Elves with human blood, which made them a little bit more rowdy and rambunctious than your average Elf, and they were rangers who carried swords instead of bows. They were a hot commodity that night. I was proud of them, and myself, for having given them a starring role in my stories.

They immediately took control of their little crowd of admirers and it made me happy to see them entertain my fellow fan fiction writers with their sunny dispositions and lusty appeal. I wondered who they would end up with that night. And I wondered if I would be satisfied with any other Elf in attendance.

Food and drinks were served, and new couples paired off to sit and get to know each other, but I found it hard to be still and relax. I cast about for one of the free Elves to simply converse with, but saw none who appealed to me. That is when I noticed an interesting character slip through the front entry way and disappear quickly into the back.

At that moment our hostess came flouncing up to me, in a cute little pirate wench outfit, with a rather lickably clean-looking Captain Jack Sparrow draped decoratively on one shoulder. I was a bit surprised to see a pirate at the party, but as it was our hostess's right to invite whomever she chose, I kept my thoughts about him to myself. He is awfully cute in a loopy sort of way. But I was more interested in the handsome fellow I had seen slip through the crowd.

"Who," I asked her, "was that gorgeous GQ-y looking Elf who just melted into the crowd over there? He was all dressed in black. His hair was loose, I think. He moved so fast it was hard to tell."

She giggled and said, "That was the legendary reclusive king of Mirkwood, Thranoodle, oops, I mean, Thranduil." She melted into even more giggles as Jack nibbled at her exposed neck. Then the two of them took the stairs to the upstairs bedrooms and were never seen again, that night, by me. Because I wanted another look at that Jack guy, but I never got one.

However, I was definitely going to get a look at this Mirkwood king. I had not seen much of him in the fan fiction stories being written at my group but he had been a favorite of mine from Tolkien's first book, The Hobbit. As I slipped through the crowds of Elves and writers, I wondered if any one else had tried to follow him.

He was remarkably slithery prey as I kept getting distracted by various and sundry Elves asking me to sit and talk with them because they had heard about me from one or another of the twins, or so they said, and I had a heck of a time tracking the Elfking down. And every fellow writer who I asked for assistance was either puzzled or horrified at my interest in Thranduil.

"He is a jerk," said one knowledgably. "A real monster," she added with a shudder. "He hates humans. I don't know why he was invited here tonight."

"It's only because," explained another, "Legolas is his son and one of the most popular muses in the virtual world! Otherwise he should have just stayed at home with his spiders as far as I am concerned"

"Thranny should be at a slash muse-swapping party," sneered yet a third writer who had joined the conversation. "He only likes boys, at least from what I have read about him."

"That's not true, he likes girls, too," I was informed. "But he only wants to throw them into his dungeons to enslave and torture them."

"Stay away from him," was the general agreed upon consensus. But I was not deterred. If anything, I was even more curious.

Finally a timid, but friendly, lurker told me he was in one of the back rooms, alone. So I decided to ignore all the well-meaning advice I had been given to avoid this shady character, and went to find him.

It was impossible for me to believe that an Elf dubbed "the greatest Elf-king" by sweet old Bilbo was as despicable a character as Thranduil was now being made out to be. And the idea that the charmingly humble Legolas could have such a wicked-sounding creature for a Dad did not make sense. I had met a few Elves during my travels and they all seemed to enjoy female companionship. There had to be more to the story, and I was going to do some research now that I had the chance.

The guestroom door was slightly open and from within I could hear the sound of soft music playing in the background and could see that only flickering candlelight illuminated the room. I hesitated. Now, I am no coward. I faced down Grima in the tower of Orthanc, remember? I could certainly enter a room occupied by an Elf, who, after all, was not known to pose a danger to mankind previous to this night. I took a deep breath and stepped in.

He sat absolutely still in one of those big armchairs, with the high back and wings, looking every inch a proud but stern royal monarch. He was holding a snifter of brandy in one of his large hands, upon which he wore a large ring set with a glittering stone.

He had removed the black tunic he had on upon arrival and now wore a forest green robe which parted just enough to reveal smooth alabaster skin over taut rippling chest muscles. Black, skin-tight leggings appeared to have been painted on him. He wore a cunningly shaped crown, that hugged his scalp instead of standing up from it, fashioned of tiny silvery leaves which picked up little glints from the flickering candle flames, reflecting them softly.

The King's hair was not in the usual Elf-braids but fell loosely to his shoulders in thick golden waves. But he could have been wearing it in a ponytail, with jeans and a tee-shirt on, and I think I would have been just as riveted to the spot when he looked at me with his steady gaze and slowly curled his lips into a dazzlingly wicked grin.

"Well, what have we here?" he asked. "A curious mortal coming to take a look at the villainous beast?"

Thranduil's deep, musical voice made Legolas's soft honeyed tones sound like the screeching of sick seagulls. I was immediately captivated even though all of my rational senses told me to retreat. It helped that the door was still partially ajar because, that way, the twins would hear me, if I screamed, and would come and rescue me.

He suddenly stood up, which startled me, but I stayed still while he walked over to a small bar and lifted the bottle of brandy. I could not take my eyes off of him.

"Will you join me?" he asked, but did not really stop for an answer before pouring some into a glass and offering it to me. He was a lot taller than I expected, as tall as the twins, and, when he approached with the brandy, I started to feel a bit nervous around my knee area.

As he drew close, I detected a kind of musky, woodsy, spicy scent about him that made me feel hungry. I took the proffered glass shakily into my hands and sipped at it as daintily as possible while trying not to make a bad face as the nasty tasting liquor burned down my throat. Like I drank it every day.

"You are very quiet, for a human," he said as he drew even nearer and now his delicious scent seemed to envelop me. He smelled so good, my stomach almost growled. "What is your name?" he asked.

"M-m-m-Mary, it's just, you know, Mary..." I said lamely while wishing I had a prettier, daintier, or more exotic name to introduce myself with to a king.

"Not the Mary?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow, "The one who traveled through Middle Earth recently to visit with Wormtongue at Orthanc?"

"You heard about that?" He knew about me. That was somewhat unnerving. I wondered exactly what he knew, how he knew it, and darn it, I was the one who wanted to know about him first. "What did you hear?" I asked. "Was it good or bad?"

"It was," he said with a slight smirk, "interesting."

"Interesting in a good way or a bad way?" I asked. His deep green eyes were mesmerizing and seemed to flicker with an inner fire that warmed me from the inside. I felt my heart begin to beat a little faster although I was determined to keep my distance. At least until I got to know him a little better.

And I could not figure out how he kept getting closer to me without seeming to move his feet, but I sort of leaned away a little as he came within a few inches of my face and whispered, "Both."

I took a step back. And then another. I forgot what I had asked him. I forgot why I was there.

"Congratulations," he said finally. "I think you set a record for the longest time anyone has remained in this room with me since I have arrived." He smiled, revealing sparkling white, even teeth and asked, "Do you want to know what your prize is?"

I had the sudden vision of him devouring me whole and it made me a little dizzy to think of it. My knees wobbled harder making me feel unsteady and I sipped some more of the brandy as I considered my options. I could either let them buckle, and fall, or sit down on the floor gracefully. If I really needed to sit. But I did not have time to choose.

The twins are quick in action, but Thranduil left them both in the dust as I found myself suddenly backed up against the door with his chest pressed against me and those glittering green eyes staring straight into mine. It did not hurt, but I was not prepared for it and I gasped. He held the door shut with one hand and used the other to grab the hair at the back of my head to turn my face up to his. It did not scare me, he was incredibly gentle but firm, and it more or less felt like an attempt to get my undivided attention. I think.

But just then there was a knock on the door and Thranduil stepped away gracefully, bowing in defeat of whatever his plan might have been. I had to take a few deep breaths to calm myself before I could remember how to operate the door knob. Elladan poked his head in.

"Oh, there you are," he said as if surprised. "I thought I heard something, um," he looked over at Thranduil, "unnecessary."

He had heard us! I was relieved and happy and kind of annoyed all at the same time. The Elf-king appeared unconcerned as he sat back in the chair and sipped his brandy silently.

"You're supposed to be paying attention to your adoring fans right now, aren't you?" I asked as pleasantly as possible with my teeth clenched and jaw gripped tight. Elladan grinned down at me before returning his attention back to Thranduil.

"That does not mean I do not keep my ear out for you, sweetness," my muse-twin explained as he stared at the Elf-king. "And if I were to hear any more suspicious noises," he paused meaningfully while placing his hand at the hilt of his sword; "and did not arrive in time to prevent any harm from coming to you, I would be very, very unhappy. Would I not?"

I had no clue he was keeping track of me the whole time and it made me feel surveilled. Not in an unpleasant way, mind you. But at that moment I decided that I was not afraid to be alone with this lordly Elf, who sat now at perfect ease in the elegant armchair. I just knew he was not going to hurt me no matter what all the others thought of him.

"Go. Away." I closed the door. I stood there for a few heartbeats because I just knew what Elladan was doing at that very moment. He was standing on the other side of the door with his arms crossed, his legs spread, and that stern look he gets when he gives someone a warning. Which is rare. To even get a warning. I could not relax for the knowing of it.

I swung the door back open and there he stood, his chin in the air while looking down at me with disapproval in his eyes. Any minute now, Elrohir was going to sense something was amiss and come trotting over to investigate. And I just knew either of them would love to have a good excuse to draw first blood at the party. I should have made them leave their swords at home.

"The other writers need you worse than I do! Go on, I know what I'm doing," I whispered. "I promise I will scream if I really need you." I added. Elladan cast a final baleful glare across the room; then turned and left us. Probably to find his twin and round up a rescue party.

I left the door slightly ajar again as I turned back to make my apologies and get out of there before I died from embarrassment. But Thranduil no longer sat in the chair. Instead, he was right behind me now, so close that I ran into him when I turned to face where I thought he was seated across the room. There we were again, the door shut, but very quietly this time, my back against the door, but softly, and his hand in my hair, only he was using a little bit firmer grip this time.

"Hmmmm," I thought, as his handsome face drew near, "I guess this means he doesn't care that Elladan will probably kill him if..." but my thinking stopped there for a moment as his mouth covered mine. Just like that. His hand behind my head held me tight as he leaned me back while his other hand slid under my shirt to support my back.

'Great,' I thought, when I finally could think again, 'we are going to crash on the floor and the twins are going to hear us and try to end this kiss way too soon with their swords.' But we did not fall over. Thranduil stood back up, drawing me with him, and broke away. I had to cover my mouth because I just knew I was going to say something really stupid, like "glerp," and I needed to really not feel stupid for a moment.

"Let's get out of here," he whispered hoarsely. His hand had traveled down my back and his large, firm fingers swept inside the waist of my jeans above my hip so I certainly can not be blamed for not thinking very straight when I answered him.

"Like, ten minutes ago," I replied.

To be continued......

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Revised: April 4, 2004

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"Long live Thranduil, great Elf-king of Greenwood!"