leaf background (c) freefoto.com

My Reward

Starring: Malinornë and the Elvenking
Beta and support system: Mary Aseltyne
Pairing: King Thranduil/OFC
Warnings: NC-17, Mild S&M
Disclaimer: The king of Mirkwood,as well as his kingdom, are the creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. I’m only borrowing them for fun and make no financial gain from this.
Summary: Thranduil pays a visit to Malinornë, to thank her personally for her dedication to the perfection of the story about Mary’s adventure with him. His idea of a "thank you" is somewhat peculiar...
Author's notes: This is a companion piece to Mary’s "My Night and Next Day with Thranduil". Please read it first, or much of this will make little sense.
Very special thanks: To Mary, for coaxing me into doing this. It was fun!!!
Feedback: Please let me know what you think: thaladir@yahoo.com

It was a sunny Saturday morning in early September and my husband had just left to visit his grandmother over the weekend. I had stayed in bed since I didn't have to go to work that day, and was contemplating getting up and having breakfast, when I heard the doorbell ring. In a hurry I just threw on the nearest clothes I could find; a short chemise and a kimono-style dressing gown that barely reached my knees. Not very appropriate perhaps, but I wasn't expecting an audience either.

Thud! I was crushed against the far wall of the hall before I realized what hit me and I couldn’t even vocalize my shock as my mouth was being devoured by the creature who had rang the bell and jumped at me as soon as I opened the door. It was left clattering in the wind, so, theoretically, someone could have heard me… but it was unlikely that others than my cat would pass by.

Instinctively I buried my hands in his long hair and pulled; hard, only resulting in the same treatment. My head was jerked back by a tight grip in my hair that forced me to let go of his, but his mouth continued to ravish mine and there was nothing I could do about it. His free hand roamed over my body, feeling its way over the silky garment as he held me pinned to the wall with his hips alone and I wanted to scream when I felt the hard bulge in his leather breeches pressing demandingly against my stomach.

When he finally allowed me to catch my breath, he opened his eyes and gave me a look that can't be described as anything but conquering: And it was only now that I saw that this was Thranduil. His eyes were dark and at the same time glittered and burned like sea-fire on slow waves or the reflections of stars in a deep forest mere. What I saw in them made all logical reasoning brain functions shut down momentarily and I was reduced to a totally emotional being, abandoned to my senses, to the sensation created by his large hand over my body, his cruel and lovely mouth, but, most of all, the eyes, the way they looked at me. I don’t know if this was elven magic, if this was a trick or just the natural way the human brain reacts to pure and utter raw elven desire. It was overwhelming. And it was incredibly arousing to be the target, perhaps even the source, of that lust.

The Elvenking must have been satisfied by what he saw in my gaze, because he finally let go of my hair and I raised a hand to rub my sore scalp. It was not easy to do so, as he now used both his hands to explore my body, running them up and down my sides and front, groping my breasts far too forcefully for it to be an entirely pleasant experience, but I still felt my nipples grow taut under his thumbs and when he reached under the chemise to grab my bottom I couldn't help letting out a load moan.

His other hand must have untied the lacings of his leggings, because the next thing I felt was the rock hard evidence of his desire entering me as I was being lifted slightly by a muscular arm under one of my thighs. The toes of my other foot still touched the ground and I wanted to steady myself against my assailant to keep my balance, but, as I grabbed at him, he quickly caught my wrists in a tight grip and pinned them to the wall above my head. I couldn't move an inch. It was uncomfortable and I was not ready for this intrusion. "Please, stop!" I wanted to say, in a firm voice, but somehow it came out just as a whimpered "please" and he would hardly have listened anyway, because he was grunting loudly now as he continued to bury his thick rod deep into me. And my treacherous body was responding. The friction, and the pain, lessened as my juices eased the way, my moans soon matched his and I was undone the moment he caught my gaze again. The combination of his violent thrusts and lustful gaze made me breathless and I came without a sound, my contractions squeezing him to fulfilment.

Then, afterwards, it was as if my brain functions powered up again and I could almost hear the humming of the little wheels and engines of my mind start working, producing one reasonable objection after the other to why I should do my best to a) scream b) run c) fight. I did none of these, just demonstratively tied the sash of the kimono and moved a little to the side to put at least some space between this elf, and myself.

"Did you like it?" he asked. Well, what do you answer when your wanton body is screaming, "Oh, yes, sir, can I have some more, please!" but your emancipated brain is shouting, "Fucking male chauvinist pig!" which would not be a very logical thing to say in the situation. So I said nothing.

"I know that you like it rough. You would make a fine concubine", he continued in a superior tone that made me furious.

"I am not that sort of woman!"

"Yes you are," he said, now in a low voice that was incredibly irritating. "I saw that dream of yours. You mortals know so little! We can easily pick up your dreams about us, especially when the dream is of a certain character. It tingles. The feeling is quite delicious, at times irresistible, I would say."

A broad grin spread on his face when he saw my embarrassment and he reached out a ring-adorned hand to caress my cheek briefly with his knuckles.

It was only then that I calmed down enough to really look at him. Thranduil was wearing a fascinating combination of modern and Middle Earth clothes. Black leather boots with a metal, probably mithril, clasp. The infamous buckskin leggings hugged the lower half of his body tightly and left nothing to the imagination, just as Mary had described them. A short dark-green tunic with an ornamental decoration of oak leaves and acorns showed under the black leather jacket that made him look exactly the really bad boy that he was. He wore his flaxen hair loose over his shoulders and the only outward indication of his status was the huge ring on the middle finger of his right hand.

The faceted green gem glittered in the sunlight that came through the still open door and made it glow with an almost magical light.

My eyes were locked at this jewel and I wondered if it was the very one Mary had told me about. "No", he chuckled, "it is not the same. I picked another one for you. Emerald. Do you like it?"

"It is very beautiful," I said, swallowing hard and trying not to notice the rather sharp edges.

"You may kiss it", he said.

"What?!" I exclaimed in disbelief.

"My ring. Kiss it."

I refused. History was never my best subject, but I did know, that kissing the ring of a king would equal an oath of fealty to him. The moment my lips would touch the jewel I would be bound to serve him, to do his every bidding and be completely at his mercy. So I refused.

A dangerous spark flickered in his eyes and I quickly crossed my arms tight over my chest. There was going to be no pinching here! It almost looked as if he was going to slap me, but he didn't. He just stated very matter-of-factly: "You will, before I'm finished with you".

"That name of yours is ridiculous", said the king. "Malinornë". You don’t expect me to call you that, do you? Mallorn? What kind of name is that? You’re not an ent, after all… and way too tall for a hobbit."

His eyes narrowed to slits as he read the answer from my thoughts. "So. It's the March Warden again. Mallorn. Lórien. Haldir."

I nodded insecurely. My brilliant screen name suddenly didn’t seem a good choice. Not only did it reveal my infatuation with another elf, it was also in High-Elven.

"Not a word in that traitorous tongue is going to come over my lips!" Thranduil snorted.

'Great,' I thought to myself. 'It’s about twenty minutes since you saw an elf for the first time in your life and you are already sucked into the age-old conflict you read about in "The Silmarillion". No Quenya then.

"Le suilannon. Mal i eneth nín." [I greet thee. My name is Mal.], I said in Sindarin, in an attempt to make a fresh beginning of this conversation, but wincing at the awkward sound the simple greeting made. Damn! What is the use of learning Elvish if you’re not going to speak it?

"And?" he enquired. "There is something missing from that expression. Address me properly."

I thought for a second. "Hîr nín?" [My lord]. He couldn’t seriously mean that he expected a 21st century woman to call him that!

"Yes. Just say it. I know that you want to." Thranduil was right, of course. I had longed for an elf, any elf would have been fine, really, but this one in particular, to sweep me off my feet, literally as well as mentally, and make me forget the petty disturbances of "real life". I was just embarrassed to admit it.

"Le suilannon, hîr nín." I said it quickly and not too loud, but obviously it was enough for now. Why on earth have you come here? I thought to myself.

"Chen suilannon, Mal. You know that I am here because of a certain story and, so far, you meet my expectations well. You think you know so much about me. What wine I prefer, what clothes I wear; you even put words into my mouth. I would have spanked you for less than half of your cocksure remarks, but, so far, your boldness amuses me."

"I have also come to thank you for the patience you had with Mary. I saw your dreams and I know it wasn't easy for you to do this. But you have coped well; not let jealousy take over."

Ha, I thought. Now you're wrong. I had been so jealous I could have strangled Mary for having the guts to do what I had dreamt of for months!

"Why did you think Mary chose you?" he continued. "She doesn’t know you. I do. I know you have been thinking about me for a long time. And by keeping you patient and waiting I have prepared you".

At that Thranduil grinned wickedly, but, before I could think of something to say, his mood seemed to change completely and he was calm when he continued; "I want you to show me your favourite places."

Okay. That was something I could do. My rational mind took over and I asked the king to sit down in the living room while I took a quick shower and put on some more clothes. He declined to have breakfast, but graciously agreed to drink some tea and I was beginning to feel excited about his visit, now that the initial shock was over.

When I was finished with my morning preparations, the king was admiring my collection of rocks and minerals, seemingly especially taken with a needle-sharp and glittery specimen of astrophyllite, a star-shaped mineral of coppery colour. I smiled, knowing beforehand that neither the books or CD:s on the shelves that covered the walls in the room would interest him.

I quickly packed a blanket, matches, a knife, two wooden drinking vessels, three apples and ingredients for making bread over the fire. If he wanted to see my favourite spots we were going to spend the whole day outside! Some more food would have been good, but somehow I didn't think Thranduil would appreciate the freeze-dried army rations that go as staple camping food in my home. I did pack some raspberry jam, for the bread, and, maybe, remembering how Mary had used it, for other purposes as well.

It was not far, but I had decided to take the car anyway, because I would not have the whole village gossip for weeks about my visitor. It did feel strange, at least, to drive a king in a tiny Toyota, but I think he approved of the colour of it; it is green metallic and I originally chose it because it reminded me of the shiny wing sheaths of a beetle. Now it makes me think of emeralds.

Our first stop was the small harbour. The water in the north end of the Baltic Sea isn't salt enough to smell like the sea should; fresh but with a sickly-sweet tinge of rotting kelp, and the water isn't completely clear, but it is the nearest thing we have up here and I love it. The king offered me his arm and I took it, which felt a little strange and old-fashioned, since we were just walking on a pier made of rocks and dirt, and his gesture would have fitted better in a royal hall, but it felt romantic. We stopped at the edge of the pier and watched the waves roll in lazily, until a gull flew by with a shrill cry, causing the king to tense for a moment.

I held my breath. The sea. How could I be so stupid as to show the sea to the father of an elf who was totally taken by sea-longing? "Do not fear," the king said dryly. "Legolas finds it fairly easy to resist the call of the sea as long as there are countless fair maidens dying for his attentions."

"My son is not as innocent as many writers portray him," he added, glowing with fatherly pride. "And I am going nowhere. My realm needs to be ruled and protected, and it is my home."

I was relieved, but still felt that it would be safer to go back to the car and continue to the other place I wanted to show the king. He became more relaxed when we drove off the highway and onto a small gravel road through the woods and when we got out of the car he almost looked happy. I think I may have dared to take his hand, but it would not have been possible to get through the thick vegetation that way, so I had to settle with just knowing that he was watching me as I led him through a small bog and then up the wooded hillside. Now and then he reached out his hand to pat my bottom, which made it difficult for me to keep up the tempo, but when I turned to look at him he just grinned and gestured for me to go on.

Finally, we reached the summit. He put down the backpack with our provisions and sat on a large boulder. "Come over here". I did as he asked, guessing he wanted us to admire the view together. I was just going to start pointing out landmarks when he wrapped his arms around me, pulled me closer and took a firm grip around my bottom. "I've been admiring this sight long enough", he said with a wicked smile, and gave me a good grope, before he added, "and I am going to have a closer look now. Bend over."

The king must have looked at me like that again, with that commanding glance that made me melt. That is the only way I can explain why I complied without questioning. He placed me lying over his knees with the object of his attention easily accessible and he didn't even have to restrain my arms since I needed them to keep me from banging my head into the rock as I squirmed to find a less uncomfortable position.

I was not afraid. I knew that Thranduil had played games with Mary and pretended he was going to spank her, so I was convinced I was in for a repeat performance. I shivered with delight when his left hand reached down to caress my neck and shoulders, while the right one found its way under my soft plush pants and slowly pulled them down. He ran his fingers teasingly over my lace underwear, letting them dip down between my thighs before he removed the final hindrance to his sight.

"Magnificent" he said, and then his open hand connected with my cheeks in a swift blow that shocked me more than it hurt. He hit me once again, before I had collected myself enough to ask why.

"I have decided that you need it after all. You assume far too much." His voice was not angry, but he continued to lecture me on the hazards of playing with kings, now and then accenting his point with a slap on my bottom.

I bit my lip hard, determined not to cry. I don’t know what was most embarrassing; the fact that I was undergoing this humiliating treatment, or that I was quickly becoming aroused by it.

"Do not deny your feelings", he said, for the first time serious, without mocking or teasing. "There is nothing shameful in lust". After a while his voice became thick and his breathing irregular and I could feel his interest awaken and push against my thigh. He stopped talking and his hand became tender and caressing again, softly stroking my reddened backside and making me moan as it circled over my heated flesh.

I protested when the king finally raised me up, but became silent when I saw him undress. That creamy skin! That marble chest! And oh, that marble-hard, long, thick thing that had been hidden under his leggings! My practical side awoke again and I hurriedly pulled out the blanket from the backpack and spread it over a mossy spot that looked soft enough. It was rather awkward to do this with my pants halfway down, so I quickly got rid of my clothes before I turned to face Thranduil.

He was looking at me appreciatively, but I didn't give him much time to look, as I was overtaken by a need to glue myself to his delicious, regal body as soon as possible. It turned out that he was satisfied with postponing the looking, because he immediately lowered me onto the blanket and settled between my legs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he leaned down to kiss and lick my neck and the sensitive area under my collar-bones. I tried to angle my hips to take him in, as I was becoming quite desperate, and when his rod found me I cried out with pleasure. The king seemed determined to take it slow, to make it last longer, but I couldn't wait and this time he listened to my pleas and gave it to me, hard, fast, without mercy, and I exploded long before he found his release.

Thranduil claimed me twice more that afternoon, on the blanket and on top of a boulder, slowly, lovingly, giving as much pleasure as he took.

At last we made a fire, but didn't feel like fussing with the bread, or getting sticky, so the jar of jam was left unused, and we dined on just the apples, and water from the brook that trickles down the hill.

I sat with my back against a pine tree and the king lay with his magnificent head in my lap, eyes closed, resting. I let the silk of his hair run through my fingers, never tiring to feel it against my skin. I stroked the proud face, traced the nose, felt his soft cheeks, and followed his eyebrows with my fingers. Thranduil purred, like a big cat, I swear he did. And even when I touched his beautiful, sensitive ears, trying my best to be gentle as a butterfly, he didn’t move, but his low growls took on a deeper note, allowing me to understand that he enjoyed it.

I felt very privileged at that moment. The voracious king was known for sharing his wild lusts voluptuously, and many had felt the storm of his passions, but I thought that perhaps this stillness was a precious gift that was given less freely. He was an excellent lover, the most experienced one can ever wish for, and was capable of the most tender caresses as well as violent conquering, and he seemed to know what I needed at any particular moment. He cheated; of course, mind reading, but that did not diminish the experience. Still I felt that sex, however wonderful, was not the reward; that was just a part of his nature. The true gift, the true reward for my patience, was to share this time of stillness, to see the explosive Thranduil completely peaceful.

Darkness fell and the stars became visible, and I learnt that there is one constellation that is shared between our two worlds; Menelvagor, the swordsman of the sky, the one that is called Orion here. We watched it together, in silence, until the Northern Lights put on a magical show, a slow dance of green and yellow veils, rays of light flowing across the night sky.

The fire had died out and it was time to go back. The king carried me. It was only practical, since he could easily make out the way, while I would have stumbled and slipped and fallen a hundred times until we reached the car, if I hadn’t managed to drown myself in the bog on the way. It was practical, but it felt heavenly. I am tall; have always been, and not easily carried around, so this was entirely new to me and I felt safe and secure and calm, nestled against his warm chest, with his soft hair brushing against my face.

The short drive home was difficult; I was sleepy and overwhelmed by emotions and it was only thanks to the king's vigilance that we didn't hit the moose that crossed the road. I managed to lock the car, and then he swept me off of my feet again and he must have carried me into the bedroom and he must have undressed me, but I have no memories of that; only of waking up in the middle of the night, naked under the sheets and feeling his strong arm across my waist, and then dozing off again, floating on waves of pure happiness that this wondrous creature had come into my life, if only for a brief moment.

Later that night I lay on the side facing away from him, floating, dreaming, felt lightness, happiness and a gentle hand stroking my hip, my stomach, my breasts, my lips, my cheek, shoulder, side, hip again, bottom…and something incredibly hard and yet velvety pushing from behind. Then the hand moved in between my thighs, stroking the silky smooth way up towards my heated centre, brushing against my clitoris…oh, again, please…yesss… then down, backside of hand rubbing sweetly, then fingers sliding along slickened folds, then finding their way between them. A strong muscular leg between mine, lifting my upper leg slightly, spreading me open for exploration, fingers dipping in, entering…ah… thumb pressing on nub…torture…

Then an arm pulls me up to lie on my back, prostrate on top of him. Two hands available for exploration now. One around my waist, balancing, holding me steady, very necessary, and I clasp my hands around that strong arm as I feel his other hand between my legs again, fingers stroking again…mm… and something sharp! hard! cold! against my sensitive, sensitive core. "Emerald", he whispers huskily in my ear and clutches me harder to his chest as it dawns upon me that he has turned the ring with the stone facing inward, permitting him to press it tight against me, grinding it into the tender flesh while curving his long fingers to glide up and down my folds, now and then dipping into my warmth.

It hurts! It burns! It feels like ice-cold fire! It slowly drives me crazy and I moan loud as the sweet torture continues. I can almost feel the grin on his face as I writhe and squirm, to get closer, or further away, from the jewel causing these sensations. I am close now, oh so close, and then he stops. I whimper as I am tipped off of that delicious mattress and onto the bed, lying on the side again. His leg between mine, lifting the upper one again and then his hard iron entering me from behind. I whimper again, from impatience, as he doesn’t start moving until I press back against him, trying to take in more of that thick rod. Then he steadies my hips and starts pushing into me, steadily, and I feel passion building again. Soon now…and then he stops again and flips me over onto my stomach.

He settles between my thighs, enters again, leaning forward to run his tongue over my neck, sucking an earlobe into his mouth, holding it between his teeth, not biting, yet, just holding very firmly. Then he moves back, raising me unto my hands and knees. I sit back against him, impaling myself on his length, a few times before he takes charge again. I feel the hand again, the gem again pressing against my now very tender clitoris and I start moving, rocking back and forth, desperately, to evade it, or to feel it better, I don’t know. I hear the king chuckle low as my moans become louder and I start screaming as the sensation of his deep thrusts and the accursed ring become unbearable and I come, collapsing flat onto the bed, pressing the hand under me and I scream and he thrusts harder, deeper, jerks the hand from under me to allow him to pound into me with greater force and he moans and with a roar he spills his seed within me and lies still… purring like a big, satisfied cat.

"Good morning" he whispers at last. When I open my eyes I see his triumphant grin as he runs a finger over the green jewel of his ring. "Good morning, my concubine".

I do not remember how or when he left, though it must have been sometime close to morning, as the birds were singing. In fact now, afterwards, it seems most of all like a dream, and I would be questioning my sanity if it hadn’t been for the soreness in various body parts, and what he left for me on the bedside table; these incredibly beautiful earrings of gold with emeralds.

And I do recall the last thing the Elvenking said before I fell asleep again.

"I have other matters to attend to now, though you are indeed a most tempting sight, one that I would lay my eyes, and hands, upon again. You may co-ordinate your visit to Mirkwood with Mary, for it would please me greatly to see the two of you together."

I did *not* answer that last remark. After all, I am not that kind of woman.

Previous Home Next

Like what you read? Have suggestions for us? Please write to thaladir@yahoo.com. Thank you!

First posted: September 14 - 20, 2003

This site is in no way affiliated with the Tolkien Estate.
No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

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