Scenes from a Life

Warnings: violence (just a slap, but still...)

Beta: Rachel Yudell, Mary Aseltyne

Timeline: September, TA 3018, about a month before the Council of Elr

Author's notes: My take on Legolas might be different from how you see him... and the King of Mirkwood is somewhat wild... Hopefully you'll still enjoy this as much as Eadhild does :)

*** *** ***

The past and present lovers of the Elvenking were uncountable; what else was to be expected of a despot with an insatiable appetite for the pleasures of the flesh? His subjects feared him and, naturally, none of the chosen Elf maids had rejected his advances. But they had all been satisfied... Thranduil was a ruler who truly loved his people.

He hadn't told the woman at the inn his name up to then, and she hadn't asked. It had been a silent agreement between them that no questions should be asked and little conversation required. It was a strange relationship, but one he had been very pleased with, up till now. Much as he hated to admit it, he had gotten used to the mortal and wanted her at a more convenient distance. So he had sent his son to bring her to Mirkwood.

Eadhild had been thrilled by the young Elf from first sight; she could no more resist his delicate but undeniably very masculine beauty than anybody else. There had been much talk among the servants when the prince and his attending guards had arrived. Never before had the inn been visited by a royal party! She knew that though she was still beautiful, she was no longer young and could not compete with her fellow maids in that area. She would not be chosen by this Elf. But one could always dream...

Legolas knew his value, knew perfectly well what effect his blue eyes with their false innocence had on those around him. His physical appearances had always served him well in his dealings with both Elves and Men and the wenches of this inn were no different. He had been here before, some years ago, but hadn't met anyone who fitted the description of the woman his father had sent him to fetch.

It was indeed odd that the king had been so determined to have this particular female. A mortal lover! Surely, the company of humans could be very satisfying, but, knowing his father's disdain for the Followers, Legolas still found it odd. But he would complete this mission quickly and efficiently, as he knew that a much more important one waited. He would be the emissary of Mirkwood to Rivendell, to a secret council called by its lord, Elrond. Now that was a honourable deed, much more worthy than retrieving another royal consort! At least there was no risk that this one would stay till the end of Arda...

Eager to be on his way, the prince ate quickly, scrutinized every serving wench he could lay his eyes upon, and soon found what he had been told to look for. A necklace with dozens of pearls of Mirkwood malachite. As the woman wearing it rushed past him, he motioned for one of the guards to catch her. "You will come with me in the morning," he said when she was led back to the table in the corner where he was finishing his meal. "My father has decided that he wants you."

"My lord, there must be a misunderstanding," she replied in astonishment. "I assure you, my lord, that I do not have the honour of being acquainted with your sire." He frowned. Was it really possible that Thranduil had said nothing of his identity? Or was this not the one? "How did you come by this?" Legolas asked, stretching out a hand to touch the jewellery around her neck. "Green stone pearls. Malachite. Were you not given these for your services... one for each time he had his way with you? Judging from the amount, you should be well acquainted by now."

***

The journey from Ninglorost was uneventful. The young prince was caught up in thoughts about his coming quest and the woman was trying to grasp that the Elf who had shared his violent passion with her so many times was a king.

Eadhild was flattered that her powerful lover had sent for her, but was at a loss of whether he just wanted to sate his desires with her for a few nights, or if he had a more long-term arrangement in mind. Secretly she hoped for the latter. Though the dear Rúmil had helped her through her ordeal a year ago, she still did not feel entirely safe at the inn and would welcome some time away from the town. All Elven realms were said to be well guarded, and Mirkwood more than most, so she wouldn't have to see a single human male during her stay there, she thought with satisfaction.

When the small party arrived at their destination, Eadhild was immediately brought to the heart of the royal palace, the throne room. She would have preferred to at least wash herself, but was never given the chance as she was led into the lofty hall almost as soon as her feet touched the ground when she sat down from her horse. She didn't know what to expect when she entered through the oak gates, but the sight that met her would have surpassed anything her imagination could have dreamed up.

She was stunned. Never had she seen her lover like this. His hair, golden like the birch leaves in September, lay like silk over his shoulders. Green eyes like the velvet of the moss that covered the grey boulders in the ancient woods she had just travelled through. Green, deep, shining as if with the lost light of the noblest of Trees. They were calm now, but the hint of a dangerous glitter flickered now and then, giving away the nature of the predator. Smooth, yet deadly, ready to go from rest to fierce attack in seconds...

His head was adorned by a low crown with an intricate pattern of intertwined leaves of gold and mithril, and at the base of each leaf was a large emerald that matched perfectly the colour of his eyes, giving the impression of a band of liquid green gold from which rose a forest of precious trees.

He wore a ceremonial robe of thick dark green velvet, richly embroidered with an ornamental pattern of fern leaves, with long sleeves that widened at the end. Open at the front, the robe showed the black silk tunic underneath, unadorned as if to enhance, rather than compete with, the handsome features of the bearer. Her eyes followed the garment downwards, and she felt her cheeks heat when it stopped much too soon, offering a perfect view of the significant bulge the snug leather pants could not seriously have been designed to hide. She wanted to let her gaze linger, but the amused chuckle from the owner of this sight made her remember who he was. And who she was. Blushing furiously, Eadhild sank to the floor in reverence.

This was the king of Mirkwood! And she had known him for years, and yet, not known him at all. Silently and trembling with emotion she awaited his move. She could feel, rather than hear, him approaching and she held her breath when he stopped before her. Eyes downcast, she saw only the strong legs encased in soft leather and the elegant boots that emphasized his feline grace.

Heavy hands grasped her shoulders as Thranduil pulled her to her feet. He put his arms around her, clutching her tight against his body in an embrace that took her breath away, and then he kissed her. Hungrily, like a drowning soul desperate for air, he ravished her mouth with his, forced his tongue deep between her soft lips and made her forget all about courtly manners.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, he loosened his grip around her. She backed away and looked at him again. He was grinning, eyes glittering like the emeralds of his crown. The wide sleeve of his robe fell back to reveal a lean, yet muscular arm as he lifted his hand to gently caress her cheek. "Welcome to Mirkwood," he spoke in a husky voice. "I am Thranduil. What is your name, precious?"

***

As the weeks passed, the new consort slowly got accustomed to the unfamiliar surroundings. The deep forests, so different from the plains of Rohan where she had spent most of her life, had frightened her at first, and she did not find it difficult to obey the king's command of not straying too far from the more tended park landscape surrounding the hill that housed his royal halls.

She enjoyed walking in the gardens and had found a favourite spot by a small pond under an ancient oak, where she would often seek refuge when she was tired of attentive servants or just wanted to escape the curious glances from the court officials. Eadhild knew that they whispered about her, the braver ones secretly laughing at their king's unusual infatuation. Most of them were disapproving and failed to understand what he saw in her. Even she found it a mystery, but preferred not to press the subject. It was enough for her that she could be close to this magical creature and that he cared about her.

The king sat on his throne, pondering his next move in the never-ending negotiations with the neighbouring areas, but as there were no urgent matters at hand, he soon let his thoughts roam freely as he sipped ruby wine from the crystal goblet in his hand. Dominating a human added a political dimension that thrilled him, he thought; every time he had the woman he was in fact conquering the whole race of Aftercomers; an enactment of a sweet revenge that he knew would never be for real. The Firstborn were doomed and the grand plan of Ilúvatar could not be changed, however absurd it seemed to leave the world to be ruled by inferiors. But he would enjoy what pleasure it would give for as long as it lasted. And he was going to enjoy the mortal woman right now!

"Find her!" he barked to the guards posted at the gates of the lofty throne-room, as he rose to pace impatiently to and fro. Why was she never here when he needed her! When he wanted her, he corrected himself. The king didn't need anybody, and certainly not a whore from some wretched inn!

His harsh thoughts were betrayed by the quick flicker of insecurity in his eyes when the guards didn't come back within the next few minutes. Dawdling, were they? Or had something befallen the female? The usual stern expression settled firmly in place only when the king heard the approaching steps of two silent Elves and one very noisy mortal. He sat on his throne for a moment, but then stood erect to receive the party of three. "Leave us," he snarled at the guards as soon as they had came into the room and they knew better than to linger when their king was in this mood.

The Elvenking turned his attention to the woman standing at the gates and nodded approvingly at her defiant gaze. "Lie. Down. Now," he uttered as he pointed to the thick rug in the middle of the floor. "My lord?" Eadhild had made a deep curtsey, but did otherwise not acknowledge that he had spoken, much less move to fulfil his wish. Though already excited by what she knew would follow, she couldn't help flinching as he began to circle her slowly, like a predator closing in on its prey.

He stopped right in front of her, so close that she could feel his breath against her forehead. A finger with a thick gold ring caressed her jaw and then the whole hand swiftly moved to settle firmly in her hair, as he pulled her up against him. "I will have you," he whispered hoarsely before pushing her down onto the rug. "Oh, no, please no, my lord," came her pleading reply as she pretended to struggle to get up. She smiled to herself when her words caused the expected response from the king.

"I will take you," he continued, pushing her onto her back and leaning forward to plunder her mouth with a hungry kiss. He didn't waste a second as he let his hands find their way under her dress, tweaking a nipple, rubbing her folds, making her squirm. "No, oh, no, please, no," she moaned when he allowed her to speak again and the hand between her thighs continued its explorations. "No...no...oh..." she continued, her voice no longer a protest as he took her swiftly, groaning deep in his throat as he spilled his seed deep within her.

Eadhild had long ago realized that this was the way he wanted it; he needed to dominate, needed the excitement of the hunt and the struggle, physical or psychological, of his partner. The first times, long ago now, she had been scared of him, but he had never hurt her, never actually forced her. She knew the game well now and she would play it. She would let this Elf subdue her and have her own pleasure in the process.

***

"Run!" he yelled to her one day, with a mixture of lust and fury in his gaze that frightened her for a moment. Eadhild knew that she had nothing to fear, but the Elvenking's temper was highly volatile and she knew better than to question his commands when he was like this. She ran towards the small brook that marked the outer border of the wild gardens of the palace. Beyond that was the real wilderness, the murky forest with its dark secrets, but this bright September day it did not scare her. Not at first.

She ran as quickly as she could, well convinced that she would not stand a chance should he come after her. She heard a twig crack... was that him, or something else? Was the hissing sound just the whisper of the wind? Was something watching her from behind that grove of aspen, whose leaves were trembling as if in imitation of her? As she ran she was soon only aware of her own breath, her racing pulse, her honest attempt to get away from there!

Thranduil waited some minutes, wanting to give the woman a chance to get ahead of him and hoping to install in her a feeling that she could escape. A feeling he would love to break. She would be his! Again! She could never flee from him! With a toss of his golden mane he set out after her. Her tracks were too easy to follow, he thought, but he smiled to himself when he could feel the telltale smell of fear lingering in the air, sweet to his nostrils. Oh, he would enjoy this!

The hunt went on through the forest, but the beauty of its autumn shroud with the colourful leaves was lost on the hunter and his prey, both of them blind to all but their own emotions.

He caught up on her in a small glade when she was still unaware of his presence. With a roar he flung himself at her and felled her to the ground, landing on her and pinning her, face down, to the soft moss. She screamed in shock, the agony in her voice real, he thought with approval. She squirmed but could not get away from him; his strong hands had captured hers and held them closely to the ground. He shifted, pressing his arousal against the softness of her backside, letting her feel its hardness and realize the eventual outcome of this adventure.

Eadhild was still panting with exhaustion from the run. She knew that her pursuer was silent and that she had never had any real chance, but the adrenalin flowed through her veins and she struggled when his strong body landed on hers. She thrashed wildly on the forest floor, which only resulted to arouse him further, and she could feel the twitching of his pulsating member against her. Finally it dawned on her that all resistance was futile and with a deep sigh she yielded to the inevitability of the situation, suddenly still beneath him.

She felt his rock-hard length as he started to grind his hips against her while licking at her left ear. Against her will, her own desires were awakening and she bit her under lip hard in an attempt to hide her arousal that was building fast.

"Mmrrr... " Thranduil purred contentedly, high on the delicious scent of fear and arousal now emanating from the female crushed beneath him. He began to nibble at her neck and finally sank his teeth into a soft earlobe, delighted when she cried out in sudden pain. Letting go of her left arm, he moved his hand to her thigh and began to tug her skirt upwards, as he breathed heavily into her ear. He shifted slightly to push the clothing over her bottom in a last, energetic jerk before reaching for the lacing of his breeches. With a low growl he pushed her thighs further apart and slid smoothly into her awaiting heat.

Eadhild could do nothing but whimper as the king filled her and began to pump hard, rising to his hands and knees to be able to slam into her with yet greater force. Her whimpers grew to moans and then desperate shrieks as he continued his rhythmic motion with an overwhelming fierceness that made her plead for more, wishing him to go on forever. Delirious with lust and urged on by her vocalisations, the king went faster and faster, harder still, until he could feel the contractions shaking her as she came with a final cry. Suddenly grabbing her hair in a hard grip, he cried out in triumph as his last thrust pressed her deeply into the moss.

Panting heavily, he rolled off of her body and stretched out lazily on the forest floor, looking up into the dark green canopies of his realm, taking in the wilderness that sang in his veins. He was the true master of this forest!

With a sigh of satisfaction he stood to tie the lacings of his breeches and help the woman rid herself of the moss and twigs that clung to her crumpled dress. A new wave of desire hit him as he stood back and took in the picture of her hair adorned with the yellow and red leaves that had settled in the unruly locks as if they belonged there. His siren of the woods...

"That was wonderful, my dear," he said in a smooth voice that made her totally unsuspecting of what happened next, and she cried out, as much in astonishment as in pain when his flat hand hit her cheek in a quick and smarting blow. "Just never, ever cross the border to the forest alone again."

"Do you understand me?" he continued, his voice cold and sharp as he lifted her chin to force her to look at him. He hated himself that moment, hated the weakness that had channelled his fear for the woman's life into violence unworthy of an elf. And she had run at his command, eager to please him, he thought with regret, before he could brush the unpleasant emotion away. He had every right to protect all that was his, by any means necessary, and this might at least teach her to be more careful!

Eadhild tried to blink away the tears that welled up in her eyes; the burning ache nothing against that cold piercing glance directed at her. "Yes, my lord," she whispered as she lowered her head in surrender. She couldn't bear to look at him when he sounded cold like that, the more when her offence had not been grave. Despite her words, she did not understand, and she felt a sudden urge to leave these woods with their rigid rules that did not make sense.

And then he surprised her again as he swept her off her feet and began to carry her back to the palace, now and then muttering, to himself as much as to her, "My jewels are mine and nobody will take a single one from me. I will not lose anything to the spiders again. Never. A king protects his treasures. Mine."

And Eadhild suddenly realized that there was a reason for his uncontrolled outburst; someone dear to him had perished in this beautiful forest. She shuddered at the thought of the hairy spiders with their poisonous bite and held on to the king's powerful neck, calmed by his lips occasionally brushing against her forehead.

When they come back to the palace he carried her straight to his bedroom, not seeing the astonished looks of the guards and servants positioned at each door and gate, and made love to her again, slowly now and very gently, for the first time allowing her to truly experience the fullness of his affection for her.

She revelled in the tender kisses he bestowed on her body, in the gentle caresses of his fingers that brought her to fulfilment again and again, for the sake of her pleasure more than his. There was much more to the Elvenking than she had ever imagined, she thought afterwards, smiling at how peaceful he looked where he rested beside her.

"Stay in my bed tonight," he said when she stirred, preparing to leave him as usual, since the king would not share his sleep with any of his lovers. "I have in fact decided to keep you. Do you comply?"

Smiling to herself at his not very successful attempt to sound unconcerned of the answer, she gave him a smouldering glance and whispered in mock submissiveness: "I do."