Of Pleasure and Peril

Of Pleasure and Peril
Chapter Eleven/?
By: Tasmia Gaylord
Beta: Novelin
Rating: Hard NC 17
Warning: graphic S&M type situations but not too
harsh, explicit sex
Disclaimer: The Tolkein characters are borrowed for
private use in this story, I do not claim to own them
and have no intentions of profiting from them
Summary: King Thranduil meets his match in his
private punishment chamber with amazing consequences
for all parties involved
Pairings: Thranduil/OFC, Legolas/OFC, Elrond/OFC
Haldir/OFC and perhaps some others, who knows?
Feedback: Post it here or you can send me an email
"Tasmia7@yahoo.com"

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Tulare lay still upon the thin blanket that covered her little part of the hard, cold ground at their campsite. Over her was spread a cloak leant to her from one of the many elves who had rescued her and Averfad from the riverlet. The first rays of the day's sunrise were touching the treetops around the clearing they had halted in the night before, not very far from where they had been found, and the clamor of birdsong filled the morning air.


She had not slept at all, that first night out of her underground home, but had lain and listened to the night sounds around her and marveled at the stars up above. She had only seen them a few memorable times in her life. She so rarely was allowed to venture far from her parent's sight, and neither one showed much interest in the night skies, that the rare occasions were imprinted on her youthful mind. But to have the opportunity to stare upwards into the glittering overhead firmament uninterruptedly was almost too overwhelming for her. It seemed to her they spoke a language and their many glittering voices were attempting to convey to her a message of a timeless age before time was measured. She strained through the night to understand and to learn. Averfad had rested beside her and had shifted and muttered to herself for hours until the sky lightened to a dull, misty gray. She had risen then and slipped off silently into the nearby forest. Tulare wondered dully where the wood elf was wandering off to and why, but she found it hard to care. She missed the stars.


Her back was turned to the small group of elves who now accompanied them to Lorien and she could hear them stir and gather wood for a morning fire behind her. She wondered what they knew about her and what they thought. Did they know about her disgraceful behaviour? Had Averfad told them how low she had been held in the king's regard? So low that he planned to use her for his personal pleasure and then toss her aside, or, perhaps...but she could go no further with her miserable thoughts as fresh, hot tears sprang into her eyes and blurred her vision. She hoped they did not think badly of her but she was afraid that they must. They were Thranuil's most loyal soldiers, according to Averfad, and they owed him their fealty and undying respect. They owed nothing to her and of this she was acutely aware.

Averfad had warned her about the gossip that had swirled through the realm yesterday and the danger it foretold. "You are nothing to him, nothing but a temporary diversion to dabble with until he tires of you, it is common knowledge about the king, how he uses an elleth for a short while before tossing her aside like a used napkin." Tulare knew nothing about the king's personal habits and her unlikely rescuer used that to her advantage as she futher speculated over Tulare's eventual fate, "There is even talk about how his pride would never allow another elf to enjoy what he claims for himself; elleths in your position have been known to disappear after his lust has finally been appeased; never to be seen again in the realm. Perhaps they are banished, although no one dares to investigate, or, perhaps they suffer a more final form of permanent expulsion from his kingdom."


And so, Tulare had followed Averfad out of the king's chambers and down narrow, hidden passages to the docking area of the underground river, where they crept silently into the small boat which took them swiftly under the portcullis that remained opened for longer periods of time recently as the barges from the Long Lake, laden with the fruits of the bountiful harvests from the lands of Esgaroth, delivered their cargo into the bowels of Mirkwood proper. Tulare had never been in a water craft before and the sensation of the floating motion unnerved her as she clutched to the sif thf the tiny boat. Averfad allowed it to drift with the current for a while and she warned Tulare to crouch low and remain hidden. "If they find us with this boat they will throw us both in the dungeons for thievery, and, as you are the daughter of my employer, your parents will have to pay a hefty fine to release you." Tulare had no difficulty keeping her self out of sight for the sight of the swiftly moving landscape dizzied her whenever she peeked over the side of the boat.


Averfad had brought a large woven sack along with them and had previously hidden it beneath the small hatch at the back of the tiny boat. It contained some foodstuffs, blankets, cooking instruments and a small flint for sparking flames. When they became caught in the accumulated brush and branches in the riverlet, the wood elf had dug through the sack quickly and passed a small metal pot to Tulare and sh her her how to bail out the water which sloshed into the boat as she tried, in vain, to extricate the craft. She herself took a large cooking knife from its sheath and began hacking at the tangle of branches and limbs from the half submerged tree trunk that had them trapped.


When Legolas had appeared, with his small army of elves, to rescue them, Tulare's heart dipped and swerved with both dread and relief. Legolas stepped out on the tree and was at her side in moments, one hand at her waist as her took her hand and helped her up on the trunk beside him. At first, she thought he had been sent to find her, and return her to Mirkwood, and she let Averfad do all the talking while she shivered with fear beside her. She knew that stealing from the king was forbidden, and she was sure that leaving his chamber without his permission would not be easily overlooked. But it soon became clear that Legolas was unaware of her fugitive status and she fell into an uneasy gloom but was, at least, no longer afraid of being returned to disgrace. She avoided his eyes as she was sure that, even with her own eyes veiled by the deep shadows of the night, he would detect her guilt within them and become suspicious. And, as the gray morning slowly gave way to the bright autumn sun, which slowly crept over the trees, she wondered how she could keep up her deception in the clear light of day.


The breakfasting elves called to her to join them at the campfire but she did not reply. She curled herself tighter under the cloak and wished that Averfad would return soon. She had always felt uneasy when near the wild elf but now she felt alone and abandoned without her. Legolas was not nearby, either, which added to her gloom. At first, the night before, she had thought that his resemblance to his father was what led her to glance over at him, again and again, when she knew he was not looking in her direction. But it was not only that, she realized this misty gray morning, there was something about him that made her heart feel lighter each time she saw him. Not lustful, as she had felt for Thranduil, but comforted. If either Legolas or Averfad returned to the camp, she might join the breakfasting group, but, until then she hugged herself and longed for Thranduil's touch. And hated herself for longing.


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Legolas had stood at a little distance from the grat tat the opposite side of the clearing from where Tulare and her servant were lying. He had been shaken from his rest by a sudden image that came clearly into his mind when the day began to lighten. A vision of his father, on horseback, with a set, determined look on his face that was quite familiar to him. He was hunting, hunting something...Legolas felt his mind stretch to his father but could not perceive anything beyond that...he was hunting something and he was angry. The image disappated into mist when he caught sight of the wood elf slipping off into the forest. He slowly circled just inside the forest as his ears tracked her movements by the signals of the chattering birds and squirrels calling out their warnings of the stranger wandering in their midst. He found her plucking some purplish berries from a low lying bush beneath the trees and she started with a gasp when he softly stepped up behind her and called her name.


"Lord Legolas," she hissed. "You should not creep up on one so unused to this forest; my heart is a'hammering and I need my wits about me." She resumed her berry plucking as if he were only a minor annoyance to a more important task at hand.


Legolas was not sure he fully trusted the wood elf and her sly, quick smirking glances.
"What are you about, Averfad, why do you pluck those berries, they are not edible."


"To make a potion, Sire, a healing potion for my poor mistress, she is in serious danger and it is all I can think to do." She held out to him a small leather pouch and spread the opening apart so that he could look inside of it and see the small clippings of plants, leaves or small bits of moss that she had gathered that morning. He nodded with some small measure of relief. He was no great healer but he did recognize many of the herbs and medicinal plants within her pouch and he approved of her desire to bring some measure of comfort to the ailing elleth. "We will have to stay here for the day, Sire, as this potion will take time to work its way through her and she will need to be closely watched for a time after I give it to her." She went on to explain that Tulare ailed mostly from exhaustion and fear; a good deep sleep would do much to restore her flagging spirits.


Legolas agreed as he could see no reason to hurry. If his father needed him then his father would find him soon enough. The group of elves he had sent on ahead, with their orc captive, would be reaching the Mirkwood realm either that evening or the next day, if he reckoned aright, and it was no secret where he was headed. Back to Lorien to deliver the frightened, abused elleth to her family there. It was some surprise to learn that Arthame's wife had close relations in the Golden Wood, she seemed so dim and dull-eyed the few times he had conversed with her at some grand function or festival where the treasurer was beholden to appear with his family. Most of the elves in Lorien were Sindar, as he was himself, and they glowed with the incandesence of Valinor and their eyes shone with an extra brilliance; those who were born across the sea. But he had no reason to doubt the tale. However, he knew how suspicious the fiercely protective border guards of Lorien were, almost as suspicious as his own father; and there could be an impact on the closely growing alliance he was forming with his distant kin if the proper introductions were not made for the elleth when she crossed the borders of Galadriel's realm. He felt it a duty to escort the elleth, and her maid. through the possible thicket of white feathered arrows barring their entry. As a prince of Mirkwood, and as the son of his father, he felt duty bound to serve all the subjects of the woodland realm. He certainly felt no compulsion to seek his father's permission to do so.


He left Averfad to her gathering and proceeded back to the camp, where his elves had breakfast prepared, and stood next to the crackling fire as it merrily dispelled the morning damp. He looked over to Tulare and called her name. When she turned to look at him he could tell her inner light was not quite as dim with despair as it had been the previous night when he first he had helped her, all a-shudder with the wet and cold and fear, from the trapped boat and led her to the fire to warm herself. She had shied away from him and would not look at his face directly, as if it pained her to see him. But this morning, as she favored him with the smallest of smiles at the sound of her name, she seemed to brighten. He approached her as warily as if she were a wounded animal liable to dart away in fright at his slightest move.


"Did you rest well? Will you join us for breakfast? You must be hungry." He kept his voice as gentle as he knew how and her smile widened in response. She looked over to the fire and then back at him and shook her head slightly.


"No, I am not hungry," she whispered, "thank you. As for my rest, I am not used to being out in the open, under the stars, at nightfall..." Her voice trailed off and she turned her face from his as her eyes filled with tears.


"You have never seen the stars?" Legolas was incredulous. He could not understand how an elf could live in Middle Earth without the occasional reassurance from the Valar who had placed each star in the sky to guide the elves to the Undying Lands. He had no chance to explore this question any further for Averfad reappeared with her little pouch and shooed him away.


"Please, Sire, could you find some water for my empty skin?" She handed the elf her small waterbag which he took with a nod and a smile for them both before turning to leave. But not before he saw a flicker of remorse cross the lovely face of the sorrowful elleth, Tulare.


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Tulare sipped the bitter brew that Afervad had concocted for her with her nose wrinkled in disgust at the pungent odor from the cup. She felt like retching it up as soon as she the foul, thick liquid slid down her throat. The tiny wood elf coaxed her gently which was a new experience for Tulare who was more used to being bullied by the hissing house elf. She had been promised relief from her grief and fear. She swallowed the disgusting mixture and willed herself to keep it down. Averfad praised her and patted her back while repeating her promises of Tulare's anticipated recovery. There was a warm sensation that seemed to radiate outward from the center of her chest as it spread up into her neck, head and shoulders and down to her belly. Her head began to feel noticeably groggy and she found it hard to combat the warmth that seemed to settle in her eyelids, making them feel heavy; too heavy to hold open.

Her head nodded. Averfad's suddenly gentle hands guided her down to her blanket before the deep darkness of sleep overtook her small body completely.