Little Elf (Prequel to Warrior Elf)

Pairings: Thranduil/OFC
Rating: NC 17
Warnings: Het scene. AU.
Summary: The story that started it all. The beginning of a timeless love story.
Characters: Thranduil (King), Queen (unnamed. Couldn’t be bothered :P), Iruven (first son), Amras (second son), Teril, (third son), Daughter (fourth child), Annariel (relation of Galadriel), Rumil and Orophin.

Disclaimer: Only the Queen, her four children and Annariel are mine. The rest belong Tol Tolkein.
Notes: This is an attempt to trace Legolas's back ground. It is by no means accurate and some of the facts are based on assumptions/ speculations. This is AU.


Little Elf Part 1: Birth of a Star

The King sat upon his throne, silent and brooding. On his head he wore a crown of green leaves and berries; the treasures that the forest had provided, and in his hand, he held a staff of ornate carving. He sat with a predatory air of a cat awaiting its prey, and on his face was a look so stern that it would make a mere mortal stammer at the sight of such regal and dangerous beauty.

His name ThraThranduil son of Oropher, King of all Elves in Mirkwood, and he was fair of hair with blue eyes. He was larger and more beautifully formed than the common Silvan folks of Mirkwood for he fought in many wars tghoughout the ages and time had been kind to him, enhancing his ethereal splendour instead of lining his features with a

But the King was no longer the Elf that he once was. Gone was the smile that once played readily upon his lips and he looked as if he could neither remember the feeling of joy nor the sound of laughter. His eyes had become cold and unfeeling for he had borne the burden of many losses and terrible sadness in all the centuries that he had walked the earth.

It all began during the Siege of Barad-dur. The beginning of the end for the fair King. It should have been a moment of great joy the day that the DLordLord was defeated. It should have been a moment where he could look upon his accomplishments with pride and satisfaction. But he could not even bear to think upon that distant past; for it was during the War that he had lost both his father and his first born, Iruven. They had fallen before the Black Gates of Mordor and his son had died in his arms. It was a painful memory, and it haunts him still when he chanced to reme tho those eyes, so much like his, staring up unseeingly into his face. It was an agony so extreme that for the first time in a lifetime, he contemplated the release that he could get from Death.

Many, many years have gone by and the King retreated further still into the shadows of his mind and a darkness seemed to settle in every nook and cranny of his Kingdom. It was then that his Queen decided to leave Mirkwood. “We cannot stay here anymore. Your grief will overwhelm us. We cannot bear to livee the this,” she had said, her voice choked with tears, as they lay side by side on their bed, not touching and not seeking comfort from one another. It was as if a huge physical barrier that had been erected between them. Thranduil did not know how it came to be but he realized that he no longer cared. Nothing mattered ever since Iruven died.

So the Queen left, sailing to the West with their youngest child, a beautiful Elf maiden with smiles like sunshine. And with that, the sun seemed to go out for the King as he remained in his underground palace, alone and embittered. She had broken their bond, freeing them both from their marriage and had walked away without looking back. It should have hurt him. He should have wept for what he had lost; his beautiful Elf Queen and their daughter with smiles like sunshine. But he did not. He no longer remembered how to feel. He could not bear to think of his loss.

The doors to the hall swung open and three figures walked in, flanked closely by his guards. The King’s eyes narrowed at the grey garments that they wore. From the colours of their garb, he could tell that they were from the Woods of Lothlorien, the very woods that his father had lived in and was driven away from by the intrusion the Lady Galadriel and her Lord Celeborn into the Golden Woods.

The Kind tilted his head in mockery as he assessed the three stiff forms before him. Out of the three, there were two mElveElves, broad shouldered and strong. The third was slender, obviously female and her face was covered with her hood. They bowed slightly with the respect that a King rightly deserved. And Thranduil continued to look down upon them from the dais upon which he sat on; looking down upon them with his eyebrow cocked and his lips curling with a sneer.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of having the Elves from Lothlorien standing before me?” he asked, his voice that was deceivingly soft was also dripping with sarcasm. A murmur broke out amongst his attendants and they too looked upon their unwelcomed guests with suspicions. Mirkwood and Lothlorien were never on friendly terms and their relations had grown worse ever since the incident at the Black Gates of Mordor.

One of the male Elves forced a smile. “Forgive me my lord. Perhaps it will be wise if we were to introduce ourselves,” he said, his voice shaking with barely concealed anger. Thuil uil said nothing but continued to look at them, silently baiting them. Their accents were thick, originating from the Woodland realm and their anger served only to make them trip over their own words. The King could almost smile. Almost.

“We are Rumil and Orophin, my liege. And we came from the fair land of Lothlorien with the hope that we could put aside our differences in the light of the current disturbance that besiege our lands,” said the one called Orophin. And the King laughed then, a harsh sound that reverberated from the w.
.

“And so the Lady Galadriel sent you, two Elflings, who have barely passed their majority to serve as a messenger for their ‘fair’ land?” Thranduil said, his eyes glinting dangerously. “So tell me, children. What offer would you make to salvage the ties between Mirkwood and Lothlorien?”

“Mirkwood, Lothlorien and Rivendell, my liege,” corrected Rumil, his expression guarded but his eyes were bright with irritation. “Long have you held grudges against the Lord Elrond of Rivendell, blaming him for the death of your father and son. Thus it is their wish, both the Lady of Lothlorien’s and the Lord of Rivendell’s, to appease your anger in the hope that you will once more look upon them favourably.”

A muscle clenched in the King’s jaw at the mention of his kin. But otherwise, his face betrayed no emotion as he pondered over their words. Mirkwood’s sovereignty was always threatenercs rcs had settled at the Misty Mountains and they had steadily drove Thranduil’s people deeper and deeper into the forest. The King’s people had always fought back. And they had always won. But for how long? How many more of his people must die before the threat is finally vanquished? With Rivendell and Lothlorien as allies, it would be easier to repel the onslaught of the attacks.

“And what will you give me?” the King said finally, “Treasures? There is no need for I have plenty within these walls. Archers? We do not need them either for the skills of Mirkwood bypass that of Rivendell or Lothlorien put together.” There was a pause as the King smirked and the look that he placed upon the two brothers was nothing short of condensation. His eyes lingered upon the third, which had been silent throughout the entire conversation. Her head was covered still and was bowed so that the King could not see her face.

“We have brought you a gift, my liege. A rare jewel indeed from our land for she is related to both the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien and the Lady Celebrain of Rivendell. We leave her here under your protection, in hope that she would bind the three Great Cities together. Perhaps you will take her for your Queen for we have heard whispers in the wind of your wife’s departure,” said Orophin, his voice quiet and almost sad. And with that, the third Elf slowly drew back her hood.

She was beautiful – even more so with her long golden hair cascading down her slender back like that of the Lady Galadriel’s. Even her skin seemed to glow in a similar manner. And when she raised her eyes to meet his, Thranduil could see that they were green… as green as the leaves in the forests of Mirkwood. It was in those eyes that he saw pride and strength and he thought that he had never seen such wonder before. The Lady was indeed a rare jewel… and it was his for taking.

Slowly and deliberately, the King stood and descended from his throne. He moved towards the Lady, eyes never taking off hers and he then walked around her, his insolent eyes raking down the length of that delicate body, lingering for a moment at her full breasts. The Lady said nothing but stood tall, her back impossibly straight. Thranduil continued to pace around her, sometimes leaning so close that he could almost smell the fragrance of her hair. When he looked into her eyes once more, he saw that they were emotionless. He smiled then. The first real smile he had had in centuries.

“The Gift pleases me. Tell your Lady and Lord that I have accepted their offer,” he said and lifted a hand to beckon his attendants.

“So you will take her for your Queen,” said Orophin, beginning to smile too; an honest smile of relief. But he should have known that there was nothing honest about Thranduil’s smile. The King raised his eyebrow again.

“I have no need for a Queen. But as I have said, your Gift pleases me. You may leave now,” he said, his smile never leaving his face as his eyes slid towards the Lady. It was as if she were carved out of ice. So cold was the look upon her face, and her eyes flashed with green sparks. But the King knew she would not forfeit their agreement. He understood pride when he saw it. And the Lady would rather die than to return to her people having failed to achieve what she was sent out to accomplish.

Rumil started to step forward towards the Lady, his face lined with fury. But thed wed was done. There was no turning back. And the look in his Lady’s eyes stopped him in his tracks. Fist clenched, the two brothers watched helplessly as the attendants started to lead her away towards the door at the far end of the hall. With a last parting glance at her kinsmen, she disappeared behind the curtains.

“Leave. No harm will come to her while she is under my protection. From now on, consider Mirkwood a friend of both Rivendell and Lothlorien,” said the King, his face solemn now as he peered into the distressed faces of the brothers. Without another word, they bowed stiffly and left.

And that night, the Lady Annariel did not become Queen as was planned. Instead, she became the King’s consort.

**********

They bathed her in water that had been scattered with fresh petals of the wild flowers from the forest. She was treated gently, almost with reverence and after she was dried they had rubbed scented oil into her smooth skin. It was as if they were attending to their own Queen. But the clothes that she wore proved otherwise.

Thranduil entered her sleeping chamber and saw her sitting upon the edge of the bed, her head bowed once more. Her clothes were so sheer he could almost see the dusky outline of her nipples. The soft fabric clung to every contours of her body and the river of golden hair was left loose and rippling down her back. She was silent and did not look up when the King approached her.

He stood before the regal beauty and tilted her chin up, devouring her features with his eyes. Annariel. It was a beautiful name for one so fair as her. Her green eyes were glazed with unshed tears and her lips were compressed. He held her by her elbows and slowly but firmly pulled her up to stand before him. And she shut her eyes tightly.

Thranduil smiled softly. The Lady was afraid, this he knew. But she should not be for he did not intend to hurt her. By the end of the night, she would no longer dread his caresses. This he would personally make sure of. And he bent his head down, claiming her lips for his very own.

Her mouth was unyielding and she clenched her teeth to prevent the invasion of his tongue into her mo But But the King knew that it would not be long before she succumbed to him. He knew what the Lady did not, and that was, no one could ever refuse the King if he wanted something. And Thranduil wanted Annariel. The state of arousal that he was in was evidence enough of his desire for her although he was careful not to grind into her for fear that she might recoil from him. No. When he made the Lady his, it would be because she begged him to take her, not because she was forced to endure his touch.

He sighed then, cupping her soft cheek and took her lips in different angles. The Lady trembled and tried to shiver from his assault but he was persistent, holding the back of her head with one hand, the other moving to stroke the tender skin of her neck while he deepened the kiss. It went on for a long time; the tasting, the tiny licks and nips he placed upon her full lips. He scarcely allowed her time to breathe and when she parted her lips to take in a shuddering breath, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her sweet mouth.

Annariel gave a soft sound of protest and strove to push away the foreign invasion with her own tongue but it only sought to further inflame the King’s already heightened passions and he groaned in rapture, suckling fervently upon its tip.

Then he began to brand her body with his kisses. He slid his hot lips down to the column of her white neck; hands cupping her bottom, pulling her against his hardness. Not caring that she was shivering in fear. Not registering the fact that her face was turned away. He kissed the tops of her breasts, his tongue dipping into the tendallealley between the soft mounds and his hands reached up to undo the laces that held her robe together.

The cloth fell apart in a whisper and the Lady covered her face to hide her shame. But Thranduil ignored her because he knew that it would not be long that she would be wet and eager beneath him. So, he slid her robe down her shoulders, gently returning her arms to her side and freeing her arms from the sleeves of her clothes. The robe pooled around her waist but he made no move to remove it from her trembling body. There was time enough later for that.

He rained kisses upon the slope of her shoulders, biting delicately at the tender flesh and he bent down to blow cool air across her nipples, smiling as they stiffened. He circled them with his fingers, watching her eyes carefully for any emotions. Annariel steadfastly looked away from him, her face red with humiliation. And he smiled even more.

Her eyes flew to his when he took one tender nipple into his mouth, licking it and drawing it deeply into his mouth. There was no pretence of seduction as he suckled hungrily as if he were seeking nourishment from her breast. Her eyes closed and her hands clenched into fists.

He lapped at the taut peak, circling it with his tongue only to cover it with his hot mouth once more, lips sweetly tugging and nibbling. Annariel’s throat worked convulsively and an audible click was heard. Her lips parted and her head was thrown back. His hands and lips were everywhere. Claming her. Possessing her. And he moved lower still.

Swiftly he tugged at her clothes and the robe fell unceremoniously to the floor. Blue eyes met green and held. Annariel did not look away when Thranduil knelt before her. She held her breath in apprehension, her body tensed as if waiting for something to happen…

He did not look away either as his tongue dart out to slide between her soft folds at the junction of her thighs. Her hjerkjerked away from the assault but Thranduil held her hips captive. And his tongue plundered her, running insistently over the source of her desire and she could not help but cry out… a sound of passion, dismay and surrender. It was then that she knew she belonged to him And only him. There was no escape. She did not think she would have the strength to run away from the wonderful sensations that her lover evoked from her body.

His mouth was hungry, always hungry. It was as if he were devouring her; the wet, sucking sounds he made drove her crazy and she wantonly spread her legs to give him further access to the treasures between her legs. She was wet but she did not care because Thranduil’s tongue was licking her dry, sucking away the wetness… drinking in the honey from her womb. It was too much but still not enough as her hips twisted and bucked, rubbing itself against the pink lips of her lover. She did not understand what was happening to her. She did not understand how one could make her drop her defences in so short a period of time.

With a low growl, he pushed her down firmly onto the bed, causing her to tumble into the soft sheets. He tore his clothes off his back, knelt between her legs and licked his moist lips, eyes boring into hers. Annariel lay beneath him, trembling with a mixture of fear and desire, her eyes staring helplessly at the wild beauty of Thranduil. She longed to run her hands down the hard chest and stroke soft pillows of his lips. But she dared not to touch him. She did not think that he would allow her to. She could not touch him because he did not belong to her. So she did not.

“Open yourself to me,” he said, his voice husky with thinly veiled passion and he showed her how to. He made her part the flesh of her mound, exposing the hard bud of her femininity to his perusal and when she did so, his eyes seemed to darken at the sight. He grabbed her round bottom, lifter ter to him and proceeded to torture her with his tongue. He was relentless in his sensual assault, his tongue stabbing into her body, humming his appreciation when his lips closed around the tight nub between her thighs.

Annariel twisted and writhed beneath him, all the while, her hands spread herself for him. But he was not satisfied. He wanted her to come undone. He wanted her to beg. He wanted her to know that she was no longer a Lady. He wanted her to know that she belonged to him. His consort. His night lover. Annariel understood and she gave all of herself to him. And so he rewarded her.

He raised himself above her and kissed her, muffling her cries when he thrust himself into her. He paused, allowing her body to be accustomed to his shaft in her body, his breathing ragged as he sought to reign in his mounting desire. Annariel’s eyes were glazed with pain and pleasure. Then slowly, he rocked himself to and fro, back and forth, sending their pleasures to a new high. Their bodies moved as one and Thranduil allowed her to wrap her legs around his waist, bringing him closer to her.

They strained to attain their release and Thranduil unselfishly moved in ways that would give her the most pleasure. It was too much and yet not enough. Even though she cried out with her release and Thranduil reached his climax, his seed bursting into her… it was not enough. There was something missing. But she did not know what it was.

She lay upon the bed, dazed and breathless. Her chest was still heaving with the aftermath of their love-making and her legs were still wrapped around those strong, slim hips. Thranduil rested his head upon her breast, eyes closed as he waited for his heart to stop pounding in his chest and return to normal. They were silent for a long while.

Then, without another word, the King pressed a kiss upon her sweaty brow, blessed hith ith a small smile, picked up his clothes and left the room. The click of the door as it closed seemed to echo in the empty room. And that was exactly how she felt. Empty.

Time seemed to crawl by. It was always such when one could not find comfort from their surrounding. Annariel became restless and after putting on her robes, she crept to the door and stepped outside into the hallway. Slowly and stealthily, she crept towards another door at the far end of the hall, opened it and stepped outside into a splendid gardet wat was the King’s own garden and no one was allowed to enter it safe for the King himself and his consort.

It was still dark but dawn was not too far away. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying desperately to rid this terrible sadness and loneliness in her heart. She looked up at the stars as she always did in her land at Lothlorien. She knew all the names of the stars. She knew how each one looked like and where precisely they are located in the skies. But there it was, one lone Star – a star that she had never seen before until tonight, twinkling brightly in the night sky. And hope flared in her chest with such a force that it almost hurt.

She smiled as she looked upon it. It shone brighter than the others, its light winking teasingly at first and then steadied, making its presence known amongst the other stars. Her head tossed back and she reached out a hand as if to stretch out to the heavens and touch it. It winked again and Annariel realized that she was crying. She was smiling but crying at the same time.

“Soon, Little Elf. Soon,” she promised and she turned to head back to her room. A cool breeze caused the leaves in the trees to stir and one tumbled gently down from its branch and latched itself onto her hair. She plucked the green leaf from her golden tresses and looked upon it in wonder. She smiled.

Suddenly, she did not seem so lonely after all.

to be continued