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Scenes from a Life
folder
-Multi-Age › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
5,770
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
5,770
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Scenes from a Life
Title: Offence (Scenes from a life I / XI)
Pairing: OFC/Thranduil, Rumil, Orophin, Haldir and others
Warnings: Implied slash, semi non-con, maid-slapping (only once), rape (nothing too descriptive); and the whole thing is PWP-ish... lots of gratuitous sex, and no salvation of Middle-Earth in sight ;-)
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I gain nothing financially from this. My OFC is mine.
Beta: Rachel Yudell
Feedback: Please...
Timeline: September 19th, TA 3013 (this chapter); sort of AU
Author's notes: Middle-Earth is Middle Age-ish to me; underwear hasn't been invented yet ;)
Thanks to Donna for letting me borrow her inn, and to all members of the Haldir fan-fic group for creating the friendly atmosphere that encouraged me to write this story.
***
"Thy beauty hath ensnared thee to this night,
Where thou with patience must my will abide;
My will that marks thee for my earth's delight,
Which I to conquer sought with all my might;"
William Shakespeare (The Rape of Lucrece)
***
Ninglorost was a small human settlement situated at the foot of the Misty Mountains, not far from the Gladden River and about one hundred miles north of Lothlórien. Its inhabitants usually referred to it as "the Town", an epithet it would hardly have deserved in a less sparsely populated area. The name, simply meaning "Gladden-town" was in Elvish as was the custom of the Men of Gondor who had founded it some centuries ago.
Little else remained of the somewhat refined culture of these pioneers, who had sought to establish a base within convenient distance from all the main Elven realms in Middle-Earth. The "Town" had gradually deteriorated as it began to attract the usual rabble of villains, whores and merchants of disputable honour that was characteristic for settlements with a large number of travellers passing through.
The heart of Ninglorost was its inn, a modest establishment whose main assets were the maidservants, always willing to do everything in their power to make the guests stay as enjoyable as possible in every respect - especially if the guest happened to be an Elf.
***
Eadhild had frowned at first, when she was told that all servants were supposed to wash their bodies every week, something unheard of in her village, where it was customary to take a bath before the winter festival. And if the weather was warm, perhaps have a quick dip in a river, but only in the middle of the day when the water-sprite was dozing and never in deep water. Too many a maiden had been taken to his underwater palace and never been seen again, except sometimes as still white bodies caught between stones in the rapids, discarded when he had tired of them. Water was not something to take easily!
The strange bathing habit seemed to have something to do with the most honoured customers of the inn - these Elves. There weren't any in the main hall now, but she had caught a glimpse of them earlier that day. Two of them had been flaxen-haired and good-humoured, jesting with each other as they ate their evening meal and she had tried not to seem too obvious as she passed their table again and again to get a good peek at their ears. Their hairless chins made them seem very young, almost boyish, but surely they had lived longer than her own twenty-six summers and were probably even much older than her great-grandfather who had died the other spring. It was so odd, and impossible to grasp fully.
Then, later in the evening, when the heavy rain of the first autumn storm had hit with full power, the other party had arrived, a different kind altogether. Grim faces, dark mantles, huge knives protruding from under their quivers. Warrior-Elves from the dark forest, Thilia, the kitchen maid, had said, and added that they should be treated with caution. Their kind was seldom seen here, and Eadhild couldn't say she was sorry about that. They were ethereally beautiful with their fair manes and green eyes, but there was something lurking beneath the calm surface, something that made them seem like fire-mountains ready to erupt. The leader was the worst of them all; seemingly enraged, he had taken the few steps to the staircase in wide strides, not condescending to even glance at the innkeeper who had approached the group himself, rather than sending one of the maids. The poor man had had to run to the second floor, panting as he unlocked the best room.
Eadhild had followed the hurried stranger with her gaze and had then turned away, shuddering. The black leather he was wearing had made him seem almost evil... or at least very, very dangerous. She was happy that it was not him she was on her way to now. As a friendly gesture to a new maid, the innkeeper had assigned her the simple task of taking fresh towels to the room, which the nice, boyish Elves shared. Never having spoken to an Elf, she was a bit nervous, but excited as well. One of them had smiled very kindly at her when he ordered his ale and perhaps she might get a chance to see that smile again.
She felt pretty in the clothes her employer had given her. The linen skirt was un-dyed and had retained its natural grey brown colour, but the fabric was nice and the weft of fairly good quality. Her thin white blouse was cut a little too low for her to feel entirely comfortable, but that was obviously the way it was supposed to be. The short apron she wore over her skirt was almost clean despite the late hour and the only thing she wasn't entirely happy with were the heavy clogs on her feet that were going to be replaced by leather shoes as soon as she could afford it.
She was proud of herself for being able to settle in so quickly to her new role and felt very professional as she walked down the corridor, the clogs making a distinct sound against the wooden floor.
***
Thranduil couldn't believe it! To be stuck in this filthy inn in this miserable rat-hole of a village and not even a decent bottle of wine in sight! The humans could keep their bloody ale!
He wondered if this was perhaps even the very same inn where his son once had disgraced himself with that whore, lured here by the most depraved of the notorious Lorien March Wardens. The mere thought was disgusting! As if there weren't enough maidens in Mirkwood, much more worthy of his graces than any sluttish mortal!
He heard someone walking in the corridor, their shoes making a loud clicking noise. The footsteps were approaching his room. In his agitated state the mere sound was most irritating to listen to and he flung open the door to scold whoever had dared to disturb his musings. Seeing the woman outside, he changed his mind instantly and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling here inside and slamming the door shut behind them.
It had happened so fast that she didn't even realize what was happening until it was too late. This man, this ...Elf, she corrected herself, had dragged her into the room and pushed her up against the door, pinning her hands above her head with a tight grip around her wrists.
Eadhild was not used to being treated roughly, but this creature who stood just inches away was so intimidating that she couldn't even word her complaint. Trembling, she realized that this wasn't just any Elf, but the terrible leader of the dark party, and this time the merciless expression on his handsome face was directed at her. The combined effect of his blond mane, piercing eyes and regal posture was too much. "My lord?" was all she could whisper.
He didn't bother to answer. Instead he let his free hand roam over her body, feeling her breasts and wide hips, so unlike those of the females of his own race. She squirmed a little under the unexpected attention, but was obviously not going to put up a fight. Not that humans needed much persuasion anyway, he thought to himself. The wanton creatures would usually tremble with delight at the mere sight of one of the Firstborn. Weak and inferior as they were!
She held her breath when she felt his hand on her body, first gliding over her breasts, then down her side to pause briefly at her hip, then sliding up again to cup a breast, the large thumb rubbing at her nipple, which soon hardened under the thin fabric, despite the alarm the situation raised in her. This just couldn't be happening to her! But it was, and his fingers became more eager and forceful as he continued to grope her. She wriggled from side to side in a futile attempt to evade further exploration of her body, but stilled soon enough as her resistance didn't lead to anything else than a yet harder grip around her aching wrists.
His other hand trailed lower again, down her side, over her thigh and towards the mound between her legs. It rested there for a while, before he began moving his fingers again, pressing and rubbing the fabric of her skirt against her sensitive nub in a way that made her whimper.
Eadhild couldn't think straight; she felt helpless and betrayed by her body and the way it was reacting to the Elf's ministrations, and at the same time his touch felt so good that she wished it never would end. Blushing furiously, she pressed herself against his hand and parted her legs slightly. She groaned with disappointment when he removed his fingers, but soon let out a loud moan at the sensation created by the pressure from the hard bulge in his breeches as he moved up tight against her.
He pressed his body against hers, pleased that the crude wooden shoes made her almost as tall as he. She wasn't looking at him, but had, instead, turned her head away; possibly feeling ashamed of her own lack of dignity. However, her moans and the way she now rubbed herself against him made it more than obvious that she was ready.
Good. Though not known for his considerate manner, the Elven king would never take a female unwilling. Quickly he turned her around, let go of her wrists and unlaced his breeches. She was now using her hands to support herself against the door, not even realizing that she could easily have escaped had she but wanted to... Instead, she instinctively leaned forward when she felt him shoving the skirt up over her hips and holding it there with one hand while using the other to guide his rigid member to its aim deep between her thighs. With no intent of any soft lovemaking he entered her in one swift movement, hearing her gasp at the sudden, but not unwelcome, assault. He took her hard and fast from the very start and it wasn't long until he found his release. Judging from the way she was panting and leaning heavily against the door the experience had been pleasant for her as well. As if he cared!
Suddenly Eadhild found herself on the other side of that same door, with a surprised albeit contented expression on her face. She looked at the small stone in her hand. It was probably just a semi-precious one; not exactly a gem, but she would keep it as a memory of her first encounter with these strange but fascinating men... Elves.
She put it in the pocket of her apron, picked up the towels she had dropped just minutes ago and continued her interrupted walk down the corridor, hoping that the two youngish Elves in the adjacent room would not scold her for keeping them waiting.
Pairing: OFC/Thranduil, Rumil, Orophin, Haldir and others
Warnings: Implied slash, semi non-con, maid-slapping (only once), rape (nothing too descriptive); and the whole thing is PWP-ish... lots of gratuitous sex, and no salvation of Middle-Earth in sight ;-)
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I gain nothing financially from this. My OFC is mine.
Beta: Rachel Yudell
Feedback:
Timeline: September 19th, TA 3013 (this chapter); sort of AU
Author's notes: Middle-Earth is Middle Age-ish to me; underwear hasn't been invented yet ;)
Thanks to Donna for letting me borrow her inn, and to all members of the Haldir fan-fic group for creating the friendly atmosphere that encouraged me to write this story.
***
"Thy beauty hath ensnared thee to this night,
Where thou with patience must my will abide;
My will that marks thee for my earth's delight,
Which I to conquer sought with all my might;"
William Shakespeare (The Rape of Lucrece)
***
Ninglorost was a small human settlement situated at the foot of the Misty Mountains, not far from the Gladden River and about one hundred miles north of Lothlórien. Its inhabitants usually referred to it as "the Town", an epithet it would hardly have deserved in a less sparsely populated area. The name, simply meaning "Gladden-town" was in Elvish as was the custom of the Men of Gondor who had founded it some centuries ago.
Little else remained of the somewhat refined culture of these pioneers, who had sought to establish a base within convenient distance from all the main Elven realms in Middle-Earth. The "Town" had gradually deteriorated as it began to attract the usual rabble of villains, whores and merchants of disputable honour that was characteristic for settlements with a large number of travellers passing through.
The heart of Ninglorost was its inn, a modest establishment whose main assets were the maidservants, always willing to do everything in their power to make the guests stay as enjoyable as possible in every respect - especially if the guest happened to be an Elf.
***
Eadhild had frowned at first, when she was told that all servants were supposed to wash their bodies every week, something unheard of in her village, where it was customary to take a bath before the winter festival. And if the weather was warm, perhaps have a quick dip in a river, but only in the middle of the day when the water-sprite was dozing and never in deep water. Too many a maiden had been taken to his underwater palace and never been seen again, except sometimes as still white bodies caught between stones in the rapids, discarded when he had tired of them. Water was not something to take easily!
The strange bathing habit seemed to have something to do with the most honoured customers of the inn - these Elves. There weren't any in the main hall now, but she had caught a glimpse of them earlier that day. Two of them had been flaxen-haired and good-humoured, jesting with each other as they ate their evening meal and she had tried not to seem too obvious as she passed their table again and again to get a good peek at their ears. Their hairless chins made them seem very young, almost boyish, but surely they had lived longer than her own twenty-six summers and were probably even much older than her great-grandfather who had died the other spring. It was so odd, and impossible to grasp fully.
Then, later in the evening, when the heavy rain of the first autumn storm had hit with full power, the other party had arrived, a different kind altogether. Grim faces, dark mantles, huge knives protruding from under their quivers. Warrior-Elves from the dark forest, Thilia, the kitchen maid, had said, and added that they should be treated with caution. Their kind was seldom seen here, and Eadhild couldn't say she was sorry about that. They were ethereally beautiful with their fair manes and green eyes, but there was something lurking beneath the calm surface, something that made them seem like fire-mountains ready to erupt. The leader was the worst of them all; seemingly enraged, he had taken the few steps to the staircase in wide strides, not condescending to even glance at the innkeeper who had approached the group himself, rather than sending one of the maids. The poor man had had to run to the second floor, panting as he unlocked the best room.
Eadhild had followed the hurried stranger with her gaze and had then turned away, shuddering. The black leather he was wearing had made him seem almost evil... or at least very, very dangerous. She was happy that it was not him she was on her way to now. As a friendly gesture to a new maid, the innkeeper had assigned her the simple task of taking fresh towels to the room, which the nice, boyish Elves shared. Never having spoken to an Elf, she was a bit nervous, but excited as well. One of them had smiled very kindly at her when he ordered his ale and perhaps she might get a chance to see that smile again.
She felt pretty in the clothes her employer had given her. The linen skirt was un-dyed and had retained its natural grey brown colour, but the fabric was nice and the weft of fairly good quality. Her thin white blouse was cut a little too low for her to feel entirely comfortable, but that was obviously the way it was supposed to be. The short apron she wore over her skirt was almost clean despite the late hour and the only thing she wasn't entirely happy with were the heavy clogs on her feet that were going to be replaced by leather shoes as soon as she could afford it.
She was proud of herself for being able to settle in so quickly to her new role and felt very professional as she walked down the corridor, the clogs making a distinct sound against the wooden floor.
***
Thranduil couldn't believe it! To be stuck in this filthy inn in this miserable rat-hole of a village and not even a decent bottle of wine in sight! The humans could keep their bloody ale!
He wondered if this was perhaps even the very same inn where his son once had disgraced himself with that whore, lured here by the most depraved of the notorious Lorien March Wardens. The mere thought was disgusting! As if there weren't enough maidens in Mirkwood, much more worthy of his graces than any sluttish mortal!
He heard someone walking in the corridor, their shoes making a loud clicking noise. The footsteps were approaching his room. In his agitated state the mere sound was most irritating to listen to and he flung open the door to scold whoever had dared to disturb his musings. Seeing the woman outside, he changed his mind instantly and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling here inside and slamming the door shut behind them.
It had happened so fast that she didn't even realize what was happening until it was too late. This man, this ...Elf, she corrected herself, had dragged her into the room and pushed her up against the door, pinning her hands above her head with a tight grip around her wrists.
Eadhild was not used to being treated roughly, but this creature who stood just inches away was so intimidating that she couldn't even word her complaint. Trembling, she realized that this wasn't just any Elf, but the terrible leader of the dark party, and this time the merciless expression on his handsome face was directed at her. The combined effect of his blond mane, piercing eyes and regal posture was too much. "My lord?" was all she could whisper.
He didn't bother to answer. Instead he let his free hand roam over her body, feeling her breasts and wide hips, so unlike those of the females of his own race. She squirmed a little under the unexpected attention, but was obviously not going to put up a fight. Not that humans needed much persuasion anyway, he thought to himself. The wanton creatures would usually tremble with delight at the mere sight of one of the Firstborn. Weak and inferior as they were!
She held her breath when she felt his hand on her body, first gliding over her breasts, then down her side to pause briefly at her hip, then sliding up again to cup a breast, the large thumb rubbing at her nipple, which soon hardened under the thin fabric, despite the alarm the situation raised in her. This just couldn't be happening to her! But it was, and his fingers became more eager and forceful as he continued to grope her. She wriggled from side to side in a futile attempt to evade further exploration of her body, but stilled soon enough as her resistance didn't lead to anything else than a yet harder grip around her aching wrists.
His other hand trailed lower again, down her side, over her thigh and towards the mound between her legs. It rested there for a while, before he began moving his fingers again, pressing and rubbing the fabric of her skirt against her sensitive nub in a way that made her whimper.
Eadhild couldn't think straight; she felt helpless and betrayed by her body and the way it was reacting to the Elf's ministrations, and at the same time his touch felt so good that she wished it never would end. Blushing furiously, she pressed herself against his hand and parted her legs slightly. She groaned with disappointment when he removed his fingers, but soon let out a loud moan at the sensation created by the pressure from the hard bulge in his breeches as he moved up tight against her.
He pressed his body against hers, pleased that the crude wooden shoes made her almost as tall as he. She wasn't looking at him, but had, instead, turned her head away; possibly feeling ashamed of her own lack of dignity. However, her moans and the way she now rubbed herself against him made it more than obvious that she was ready.
Good. Though not known for his considerate manner, the Elven king would never take a female unwilling. Quickly he turned her around, let go of her wrists and unlaced his breeches. She was now using her hands to support herself against the door, not even realizing that she could easily have escaped had she but wanted to... Instead, she instinctively leaned forward when she felt him shoving the skirt up over her hips and holding it there with one hand while using the other to guide his rigid member to its aim deep between her thighs. With no intent of any soft lovemaking he entered her in one swift movement, hearing her gasp at the sudden, but not unwelcome, assault. He took her hard and fast from the very start and it wasn't long until he found his release. Judging from the way she was panting and leaning heavily against the door the experience had been pleasant for her as well. As if he cared!
Suddenly Eadhild found herself on the other side of that same door, with a surprised albeit contented expression on her face. She looked at the small stone in her hand. It was probably just a semi-precious one; not exactly a gem, but she would keep it as a memory of her first encounter with these strange but fascinating men... Elves.
She put it in the pocket of her apron, picked up the towels she had dropped just minutes ago and continued her interrupted walk down the corridor, hoping that the two youngish Elves in the adjacent room would not scold her for keeping them waiting.