The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Maethor nín – my warrior
Amin lava – I yield


Chapter 12

We did not make it to the waterfall that afternoon. Indeed we did not even leave her rooms until it was time for dinner. Instead, we lay wrapped around each other in her bed, savoring the closeness after such a long separation.

“What did my father want to talk to you about?” Arwen asked me.

“My eventual return to Mirkwood,” I told her. That was at least partially true.

“Surely he is not sending you back immediately. The healers have only released you today,” she exclaimed.

“No, no,” I reassured her. “Not immediately. He wants me to train with the guards here for a while, to build back up my strength. I will stay at least until your birthday.” That was five weeks away still, but nothing was going to make me miss it this year since I was already here.

“Good. I have not waited fifty years to see you, only to have you disappear before we have a chance to get reacquainted.” Her hand ran possessively down my side as she spoke. I decided getting reacquainted was much safer than the current line of conversation so I took the caress as an invitation.

We made love again, but tenderly before bathing and dressing for dinner. Thus it was that I found myself once more at Elrond’s table with lover’s braids in my hair. He did not mention them and the arch look he gave his sons kept Elladan and Elrohir from mentioning them either.

After dinner, Lindir agreed to play for us. I was the only guest at the table, so the atmosphere was light, familial, and Lindir had soon convinced Arwen and the twins to join him. I saw yet another new facet rwenrwen’s personality that night. She had studied music in the time we had been apart and played the flute now. We spent the evening in song, a luxury I had almost forgotten in Mirkwood.

Arwen and I retired together for the night, a dream I had never expected to have fulfilled. I wanted to love her again, but my body had other ideas. I fell deep into a healing sleep while waiting for her to join me.

When I rose and bathed the next morning, I noticed that even the scar had begun to fade from my thigh. It had been still raised, but now it was barely visible against my pale skin. It seemed that Elrond was right. Loving Arwen healed me.

I reported to Glorfindel after breakfast. Trying to spar with him after my bout of passion with Arwen the previous day would have been ludicrous.

“Lord Elrond mentioned you would be joining us,” Glorfindel told me when I arrived. “I rather expected you yesterday.”

My blush probably explained everything, for he had seen the lover’s braids at dinner the night before as well, but I stammered an excuse nonetheless. “He did not tell me when to come, my Lord, only that I should.”

Glorfindel accepted my explanation, though his smirk implied that he had seen through it. “There are not lords or princes here, Legolas. Only soldiers. If you cannot call me by my name, call me Captain, though I would think that our ranks would be equal. You have led King Thranduil’s troops, have you not?”

“I have, my… Glorfindel, but that does not compare to…”

“Do not say it. It is not about what deeds we have done in the past. It is about what we are doing now. So, we are to strengthen your leg again, I understand.”

“Yes.” I hesitated to ask now that Glorfindel had made it clear that he did not want to talk about his past. “I am rarely surpassed at archery, Glorfindel,” I said finally, “but even Arwen can best me with a sword.”

Glorfindel laughed. “Do not say it that way. Arwen can best most of the soldiers here. Only her father and I can still take her. Others do occasionally, but never consistently.”

“Would you help me, Glorfindel? Arrows are fine when you have some distance, but that distance cannot always be maintained.”

“As you like, Legolas. It will give your leg a workout as well, but you are not to overdo.” Having examined my leg that morning, I doubted it would slow me down, but I agreed to Glorfindel’s terms. He did not need to know more about my situation than he already knew. He passed me a practice sword, long and wickedly curved, though the edge was dull to prevent injury. Then, he led me through a series of forms, warming up muscles that had not worked hard in months. Form time to time, he would stop me, pointing out a weakness in my form before having me begin again. In many ways, it was like my first lessons in swordplay, except that this time my teacher was Glorfindel of Gondolin, one of the greatest warriors ever to live, even if he did not want me reminding him of it. We had been training for perhaps half an hour when Arwen joined us. She fell in silently, just on the edge of my vision, flowing through the exercises with the grace of long familiarity. I paused to watch her, captivated by the deadly beauty of her movements. Glorfindel called my name sharply, bringing my attention back to what I was supposed to be doing. When he was more satisfied with my form, he had me square off with Arwen. I was not sure how I felt about sparring with her again, especially out of practice as I was, but she smiled as if sensing my hesitation. “It is just practice, maethor nín. Spar with me.”

So we sparred. Each time one of us presented the other with an opening, Glorfindel would stop us, pointing it out, correcting it, having us practice a particular move again and again until he was satisfied. It became a competition, not between Arwen and me, but between us and Glorfindel. Could he catch a mistake before we corrected it? He missed not a one. If either of us ever had to face Glorfindel in battle, we would surely lose. The lessons he gave us that day, and every time we worked with him, ensured that we survived every foe we ever faced – orc, man, troll, even Nazgûl, though it was Arwen’s invoking of Vilya’s power that truly stopped the Wraiths when she faced them.

I tired long before Arwen did. Glorfindel called a halt when he saw me falter. I tried to protest, but he was implacable, especially when Arwen seconded him. I gave in, though with ill grace, until Arwen whispered a suggestion that wthe the at the waterfall. Suddenly I could not leave the training ground quickly enough.

We raced up the hill to the waterfall, as fast as my tired legs would carry me. Laughing, we helped each other shed our clothes. I wanted Arwen then, but I was covered in sweat from my workout with Glorfindel, so I dove into the pool at the base of the waterfall. Sex could come after we were clean.

I really had intended only to enter the water as quickly as possible when I dove into the pool, but the look on Arwen’s face when I surfaced suggested I had a far greater effect than I had intended. I lay back and floated lazily, watching Arwen on the rocks.

“Enjoying the view?” I asked.

“The view is quite spectacular,” Arwen admitted, leering at me from above.

“It is even better from down here,” I replied in the same tone, for Arien was shining straight down on her, giving her skin a golden glow. She looked good enough to eat. Just as soon as we were clean.
paddpaddled lazily over to the rocks, splashing water up onto them and her with my feet. “Tolo,” I prompted, “the water feels good.”

Laughing at me and my flirting, she dove into the pool over my head, surfacing next to me. I turned immediately and ran my hands over her skin. “It does indeed feel good,” she all but purred. “In fact, I can never remember it feeling better.”

The expression on her face dared me to make something of her comment. I debated for a moment and then decided that sparring with her verbalouldould be as much fun as sparring with her physically. “Neither can I,” I replied, my hands making it obvious that I was not speaking of the water.

She laughed again and splashed water in my face. I retaliated immediately and we descended into an all-out water war. The playfulness continued even when our enthusiasm for water games ended. We left the pool refreshed, lying down together on the grass. For a while, I just held her in my arms. I sensed movement in the trees, but whoever it was came no closer and I let it go. I did not want reality to intrude. I wanted to stay right there, Arwen in my arms, in this moment in time when we could be together. She did not sense my introspection, for which I was grateful. I could not have explained what I was feeling if she had asked. I pushed those dreary thoughts away, refg tog to let them spoil our time together. Actively retrieving the playfulness from earlier, I ran light, questing fingers over Arwen’s sides. Much to my delight, she convulsed under my fingers, the light contact tickling her mercilessly. She tried to turn the tables on me, but I was not nearly as sensitive as she was. Her touches, aided by her squirming as she sought to avoid my tickling, served only to inflame my senses. She must have realized that trying to tickle me d nod not help her so she resorted to stronger measures. One hand reached down and stroked my burgeoning erection, the other tweaked one of my nipples, and her lips went to my ear. In one fell swoop, she had hit every erogenous zone on my body, and tickling was the last thing on my mind.

“Not fair,” I panted.

“And tickling me is fair?” she asked.

I did not reply, could not, in fact, for she redoubled her efforts. “Amin lava,” I gasped.

“Good,” she said. She released me and leaned over to kiss me. I kissed her back, nibbling on her lower lip, caressing her instead of tickling her. Still, I kept the caresses light. I was not in the mood for a repeat of the previous day’s encounter, though it had been intense. I wanted something lighter, sweeter, there by the waterfall where she had first kissed me. She seemed in the same mood, for, once she had stopped my tickling, her touches were as light and soft as mine.

When I finally rolled her beneath me and slipped inside her tight body, it felt like coming home. We sighed together, then laughed at the sound. She pulled my head to her neck. “You never did give me the mark you promised,” she whispered. “Give it to me now.”

So I did. I fastened teeth and lips to her neck and bit as I thrust into her. She arched beneath me and we moved as one toward our climax.

“Nornin,” she cried as she convulsed about me, sending me over the edge as I bit hard enough to draw blood.

We snuggled together again, afterwards. I showered gentle kisses on the bruise I had made. I started to apologize, but she was no more willing to accept my apologies than I had been to accept hers fifty years ago. That observation sent us both into fits of laughter again.

It had felt so good to laugh, to be completely free of worry. I did not think of any of the things that usually troubled me as we played in the water and made love. The darkness in Mirkwood was as a dream. I could ignore the painful future that faced me. I did not have to wrestle with the conflict in my soul between duty and love. I could focus entirely on my beloved for a few short hours. For a few short hours, we could be young and in love, even if only in my dreams.