Lessons

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Tolkien here; Not Arwen, nor Thranduil. I'm not making any money of this story, nor am I using it for any sort of personal gain.

More often that not, I despise Lady Arwen. I think that Tolkien meant her to be not much more than a pretty face. But what if she was more? I think I came to like her more as I wrote this, and she became more and more Liv Tyler-ish as it went along. Sadly, Thranduil devolved more and more into a cross between LaCroix from Forever Knight and David Bowie's Goblin King.... wait...why is that sad? That's dead sexy! Never mind!

Lessons

King Thranduil sat upon his throne, pleased with himself. It was a crisp autumn day, and his patrol had reported that not only had they utterly destroyed the unguls nest that had brought an interesting opportunity to his door, but also that they had captured an armed Noldor wandering in the woods. He sighed, pleased with the sort of day it was turning out to be. The main doors of his throne room swung open and two of his trusted captains entered, dragging between them a struggling Elf. Another followed them, a bundle in his arms. As they came before him, one of his captains pushed the fighting Elf to his knees and ordered him to kneel before the king.

The tunic and trouser clad Elf instantly stilled, head bowed in respect. Thranduil nodded approvingly at the demonstration of the Elf's understanding of their place in his Kingdom. One of his guards stepped forward and laid the bundle at his feet. "We took all these off her, my lord."

As he pulled back the blanket, exposing it's contents, Thranduil slowly registered his words even as he registered the armory below him. A finely carved bow, a full quiver of arrows, a long, slender Elven blade, three daggers; one with a short handle obviously designed for throwing, a slender boot knife, a leather sling with a small sack of round stones, and a wicked looking knuckle-guard for throwing punches all lay on the blanket.

"Hmmm." Thranduil thought for a minute. "Is this everything?"

"All we could find without ... bodily searching..." The guard dropped off, rather flushed, and Thranduil returned to the fact that he had said "she."

With a glare, Thranduil snarled, "I'm asking HER. Is this everything?"

Silently, refusing to look up at him, the slim Elf on the floor reached slowly down the small of her back and produced another slender throwing blade, then pulled back the edge of her sleeve, exposing a sheath of spare steel arrowheads encased in leather. One of the captains took the knife and unbuckled the arrowheads, as the Elf kept her head down, her black braids falling about her face.

"Stand." Thranduil barked, and she obeyed slowly. He ordered, "Tell me your name."

"Nin..nin..sewel." She lied. "I lost my horse and I was looking for it..."

"Stop." Thranduil held up his hand. "You lie poorly. What is your name?"

"Ninsewel!" She tried again, not daring to raise her eyes to his gaze.

"Ninsewel was my cousins mothers sister. She sailed 130 years ago." Thranduil snarled, quickly losing patience. "Now, tell me your name, and explain what you were doing trespassing in my wood?"

The elleth slowly raised her head. Her long raven hair was twisted into a dozen braids pinned to the back of her head by means of a brass comb, her eyes were grey like the storms that traced the winter skies with snow. Her mouth was soft and pink, her face perfectly heart shaped, and a long smear of mud ran from her forhead down to the corner of her jaw. Blood streaked her chin, and her left hand, and Thranduil noted it. She must have put up a good fight! Most of all, Thranduil noted that she was possibly the most beautiful Elleth that he had ever seen in his life. She glared at Thranduil. "Perhaps I am named for that Ninsewal."

"Nay." Thranduil rejected, "I say you are not. Enough of your lies or I will have you in the dungeons!"

"You wouldn't dare!" The elleth snapped, obviously forgetting to whom she was speaking.

Thranduil drew himself slowly from his throne, rising to his full height, his fingers tracing the handle of the sword at his waist as he glared down at her furiously. When he spoke, his voice was calm and deadly. "I most certainly would dare."

She swallowed, stepped back a pace, only to jump forward again when she bumped into one of his captains. "No you wouldn't." And she drew herself up, affecting a regal demeanor, "I am Arwen Undomiel, Daughter of Lord Elrond of Imladris, and you would not dare touch me!"

Thranduil stared for a moment and then burst into scoffing laughter, his captains joining him. "You are insane, elleth, if you think I am foolish enough to believe that! Enough. I've had enough of your lies! Although I must admit to being amused by your delusions of grandeur."

Her eyes widened, and for the first time, Thranduil saw a glint of fear in her eyes. Stepping from the throne, he grabbed her wrist unceremoniously and gestured for his captains to leave and take her mess of weaponry with them. Although she was strong, and obviously trained at fighting, she was no match for the king as he dragged her from the throne room down the back corridor to his private rooms.

"Where are you taking me?" She gasped out, even as she struggled futiley to remove herself from his grasp.

"Are you frightened?" He asked, almost mockingly, tugging her along easily.

"No." The elleth lied. Thranduil could smell her fear.

"You are a terrible liar, mistress." Thranduil replied as he opened a door and pushed her in before him. Slamming the door and locking it, he looked over the elleth before him. She was strong and fit and very lovely. There was something in her eyes that echoed her disbelief of the situation she had found herself in. He crossed his arms and watched her as she backed up a few steps, her eyes flickering from him to the doorway behind him. "Now. I care not how you come to be in my forest. I care only for why. You are obviously well armed and most likely mean some mischief against my kingdom."

She swallowed hard, doubt creasing her forehead in a most becoming manner. "Nay, my lord. I was...looking for my ...horse. And as I've not found it here, I shall be going. Thank you."

She gave a short bow and moved to pass him to reach the door but he caught her arm and stayed her, his green eyes glinting dangerously in the flickering lamplight. "Not until I've had the truth. Or perhaps I shall have to be more convincing."

Before she could begin to struggle, the king swept her into his strong arms, clasping the back of her neck and pulling her face to his for a kiss. He did not ask, did not hesitate, as he thrust his tongue against her closed mouth. When she did not open to him he tugged her hair, eliciting a little squeal that did exactly as he had hoped. He kissed her relentlessly, her taste of honeyed apples and sweet almonds exciting him almost as much as her small moans and motions to escape. As seconds slipped past, he felt her struggles cease, and her tongue move curiously against his own. Slowly, he ended the kiss and raised his head, looking down into her eyes. "You see, my lying mistress, you have entered my lands without leave. You have told outrageous lies, even claiming to be the Princess of Imladris! Though you were not one of my subjects before, your very nature has brought you to my mercy."

There was silence as tears welled in her beautiful grey eyes, and she bit down on her lower lip as a flush of fear, or perhaps excitement crept over her face. "Saes, my lord. Release me."

"Nay." Thranduil shook his head. "I will have recompense."

"Recompense? You shall have it! Release me and I shall see you rewarded!"

Thranduil smiled down at her, almost softly, "Your pleas are nothing to me now, child."

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice a whisper, her hands trembling slightly against his chest as she strove to push him back from her. He would not allow such a thing and kept her lithe body hard against his own.

"First?" He asked rhetorically, gesturing to the basin of water on the dressing table. "For you to wash your face and hands."

She looked at him in disbelief as he released her and pushed her towards the basin. He gestured again, and she moved to the dresser, picking up the cloth there and dipping it into the bowl. Funny, he mused as he watched her, her movements were almost delicate enough for her to actually be nobility. But claiming to be Arwen Undomiel? She must think him a dotard to believe that story! She leaned to the mirror and carefully wiped the smear of mud from her face and the blood from her chin and knuckles.

He saw her glance at him in the mirror and smirked. "You know that to strike one of my subjects is a punishable offense, I assume."

Fear flashed into her face again, quickly followed by indignance. "What would you have me do, my lord? They did not announce themselves, but surrounded and entrapped me. For all I knew I was fighting for my life."

"And you may yet be." Thranduil tossed out carelessly, more out of his own amusement than any actual threat. It worked and he watched her reflection in the mirror as her eyes widened and her mouth pursed. He let the threat sink in for a moment before moving to stand behind her, close enough that he could feel her body heat through the thin cloak she wore over brown tunic and trousers. Slowly, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror and holding her gaze, he brought his hands forward and placed them at her waist, squeezing lightly. She scooted forward until her hips were against the dresser, the cloth still in her hand. He scooted along with her, pinning her body against the dresser. "But I would much rather enjoy your company than have you executed."

"My lord?" Her expression was puzzled, her eyes dark, and she no longer met his gaze in the mirror.

"Oh come. Don't play the innocent." He lowered his head to murmur against her ear. "I would have the truth from you, but I will settle for a taste of your body, of your sweetness. If you please me, I will have you returned to the borders and sent on your way."

She tremored, although from fear or excitement he was uncertain. Her tone was as ambiguous as her body language, even if her words were not, "My liege, I am not a whore to be bandied about at your pleasure. Put me in your dungeons if you will, but I will not submit to you."

He looked down at her, smelling her fear, and beneath it, a current of anticipation. "I am the king of this land. Do you believe you have a choice in the matter?"

She shook her head. "You will not do this. I know of you. You are an honorable elf, and a fair king. If you do this...." The shudder that ran through her body was the first honesty that he had seen from her. She was afraid.

He tightened his clasp on her waist. "You fear that I will force you? That I will pin you down to my bed and force my way between those sleek thighs of yours? That I will hold you down and thrust myself into your unprepared body? That I will hurt you? Leave you bleeding and torn, and half-way to fading?"

She was truly shivering now, tears welling in her sweet grey eyes as she looked anywhere but at him. He tucked his arms around her waist and pulled her gently against him, lowering his head to caress her neck with his lips. She jerked her head away, not realizing that it exposed even more of her delicate skin to his lips.

"My mother..." She started to say, and he realized that truly was what she feared. That someone close to her had been torn from sweetness and light by such horror as he was describing. This vibrant young elleth did not want to fade slowly from grief, did not want to suffer the severing of spirit from body that she had witnessed in her own mother. He hid his grimace of regret against the fall of her braids.

"Shhh. Shhh." He soothed, kissing her neck gently, his lips vibrating warm against her skin. "I won't force you like that. I will not cause you such harm."

He felt her ease somewhat in his arms, and held her closely, his grip loose, but ready to tighten the moment she tried to flee. Gently, he turned her in his arms so that she faced him, her head bowed, her forehead against his chest, her back pressed to the dresser behind her. "But I will have you, my pretty mistress. I will have you, and I think you will enjoy it."

With that, he lifted her chin, tilting her face to his, seeing the uncertainty in her eyes. Softly he commanded, "Kiss me."

She shook her head, drawing back.

"Fair enough then, I shall kiss you." And with that, he lowered his mouth to hers once more. He felt her body tense, her arms tightened as she grasped the edge of the dresser with her fingers. He raised one hand to her cheek to steady her as he deepened the kiss, plunging once more into her sweet mouth. When he released her, she was gasping, her eyes widened with surprise instead of fear.

"You see, mistress, you will enjoy this, I am certain." And he drew back from her, reaching to clasp her hands in his and draw her towards him as he backed towards his bedchamber. She struggled slightly, trying to pull her hands free.

"My lord, please...I cannot...I don't want..."

"Ah. But you will, sweet mistress. You will." He said encouragingly, keeping his eyes on her face. He drew her through the doorway, and turned to close the door, releasing her hands. "Why don't you remove your cloak? It is warm enough here."

And it was. A fire roared in the grate, and the light from the oil lamps glimmered warmly against the tapestried walls. She made no move to remove her cloak, and so he did it for her, unbuckling the small silver buckle and pulling the cloak from her to toss it over a chair. Then he stood back and removed his own outer robe, easing the heavy fabric from his shoulders. Beneath, he wore a soft green undertunic and trousers, and he loosened the tie of his tunic as he advanced towards her once more. She stepped back, and he advanced, only for her to step back again.

He chuckled softly, "There is only so far back you can go, sweet mistress."

She glared at him and he laughed aloud before turning serious again. "Now. Come here. I will not harm you."

When she showed no sign of obeying, he lunged forward, capturing her in his arms once more. She gasped, surprised at his speed, and strength and he shook his head at her. "No more disobeying, mistress. I do not want to hurt you."

"Then let me go." She replied boldly, a courage flaring in her eyes.

"Nay." Thranduil shook his head slowly, "You have disobeyed the laws of my land. You have lied to me. And now you will submit to me." He kissed her again swiftly, then raised his head. With deliberate movements he reached for the laces of her tunic. When she reached up and grabbed his wrist with both hands, he raised his wrist, only to turn her hands to his lips and kiss them gently before taking them in his other hand and holding them down to her waist. He chided softly, "Be still."

She stilled, but trembled as he deliberately unlaced her tunic and pulled it free. Beneath, she wore a tight bodice and he began to unlace that as well. The elleth started struggling in earnest. "Saes, my lord, release me!"

He paused for a moment, tightening his grip on her hands as she pulled back as far from him as she could. He released her wrists, "Then do it yourself."

She nearly stumbled backwards at his sudden release, but caught her balance with the grace of a warrior.

"Go on. Open it." He ordered in a quiet tone, punctuating his order by pulling his own tunic over his head and tossing it over the chair where he had tossed his robes. He saw her eyes widen once more, and could not help the wry smile that curled his lips, knowing what she was seeing.

King Thranduil was told often enough that he was beautiful, but more often than not it came from his subjects, who would say anything to please him. It was reactions such as this that told him it was true. He was his own worst critic; the scar on his right chest from a war wound that marred his otherwise perfectly smooth skin; the fact that no matter how much sun he got, his skin only seemed grow whiter; the fact that whatever he did for exercise his shoulders and chest always seemed overdeveloped in comparison to his abdomen...all of these things King Thranduil thought of his own body. But when he saw it reflected in the awestruck and honestly lustful eyes of such an innocent as the elleth before him, he thought he must be quite lovely indeed in spite of all of those things. It never once occured to him that it was simply because of those things that women grew weak, and men could only sigh and envy the beauty that was their king.

"Your turn." He reminded her, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

She turned away from him, shyly, and he smiled at this gesture of innocence. There were a few movements and the bodice loosened. He stepped forward to take it from her as she slipped first one hand and then the other free of its casing. Her back was narrow, but the muscles were tight and close to the surface. The ripple of muscle across her shoulderblades told him that she was probably quite practiced at using the sword he had seen among her possessions. But the way her head bowed and her ams crossed over her slight breasts told him that she was also unsure and quite shy.

He slipped his arms around her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides and pulling her aganst him. "You see. That isn't so bad, is it?" One hand slipped over hers where it was cupped over her breast, keeping it from his view, but he curved his fingers around her hand, stroking slightly the flesh on either side. She stilled, panting, as he lowered his lips to her shoulder. Only a warriors instinct protected him from what came next.

Her body tensed and dropped as she relaxed her knees. Her other hand flashed out from her body as she slipped from his arms, bringing a small blade to bear towards his chest.

Thranduil caught the wrist bearing the blade at the last possible moment. Oh. She was good, very very good. But not good enough, he mused. Twisting her wrist slightly, he sought the pressure point with his thumb and with a swift movement, she crumpled to her knees, a gasp of pain releasing from her lips as she dropped the knife. "Congratulations." He said calmly as she dropped her head and pulled her arms in to cover her naked chest. "You may now add attempted assination to your list of charges."

"Self defense." She snarled, but her voice was unconvincing.

"I suppose you had that hidden in your bodice. Is there anything else?" Thranduil asked, swiftly kicking the knife across the room and beneath a heavy chest. She did not reply, her head hung to her knees as she huddled on the floor. He knelt and grasped the back of her neck. "I asked you a question. I promise things will go unpleasantly for you if I discover you should lie to me."

Slowly, her knees still tucked to her chest to hide her body from his view, she lifted her right hand to the brass comb that held her hair. As she withdrew the comb, it's long, shiney prongs came into view, polished and sharpened into deadly points that could puncture a throat or a stomach with effortlessness. He shook his head as he took it from her and admired it. "Hmmm... I think I have a use for this. Rise up. Onto the bed."

She didn't look at him as she curled her arms around her naked chest and made her way to the bed.

"It's all right." He said encouragingly, before directing, "Lie down on your stomach."

The elleth did as she was bidden, her braids falling about her body and face and like a curtain.

"Very good." He settled beside her, admiring her naked back as it slimmed into a fine waist and down to her shapely bottom encased in the tight soft trousers that she wore. She wrapped her arms around a pillow and muffled her face in it and he smiled lightly, knowing that she was expecting pain and punishment and was determined that he would not see it in her expression, or hear it in her cries.

He raised the sharp prongs above her skin and his voice was stern as he commanded, "Do not move, mistress. If you move you may be truly injured."

She was already tense, but if it were possible, she became even more so, her muscles trembling with strain. Very lightly, with the barest of pressures, King Thranduil slowly lowered the prongs until they rested at the back of her neck. It would only take one light push now and he would cause grievous injury, possibly even paralysis or death. Instead, he slid his hand slowly down the length of her back, the prongs dragging lightly down her spine, barely touching, leaving a line of chill-bumps in their wake as she struggled not to move beneath the ticklish assault.

With careless ease, he drew it down to where the fine line of her spine disappeared into her trousers and then returned to the top again. She shivered bodily as he drew it down once more.

"Don't move." He warned her again as he slide it crossways across her back, starting at the top of her ribs just below her armpit, tracing lines of shivers across her back. He continued running the tiny sharp prongs across, back and forth, up and down, occassionally dropping them at her sides almost enough to sting, but then leaving her gasping as he tickled along her rib cage, across her downy armpits. Her over-tense body was a mine of sensation, waiting to have each ticklish spot prized out and capitalized on. At at last she was squirming and gasping..

"Saes...my lord... Saes! No more!"

Thranduil had heard many pleas in his life. He had heard them on the battlefield. In his throne room. In his dungeons. None caused him such amusement as this one. If he didn't know better, he would swear the elleth was giggling. He drew the prongs down the small of her back, asking casually, "Why? Am I hurting you?"

"Nay." The trembling reply came. "It tickles! Aaai! I cannot bear it!"

She gave up all pretense of holding still, sliding away from him on the bed and tossing the pillow away from her face. There were tears on her cheeks, but they were not of sorrow, and Thranduil laughed as he tossed the pronged comb to where his clothes lay and placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving further away from him.

With patient lips, he kissed the tears that streaked her exposed cheek, tasting the salt of her. "Tickles, hmmm.. Does this tickle as well?"

And he slid his fingers into her armpit, to lightly brush at the sensitive skin there. Her sudden jump told him yes. "What about here?" And he tickled her ribs lower down. Giving up at tact, he began tickling her all over, ignoring her squeek of protest.

Now she was giggling and squealing as she struggled ineffectually against his spontaneous mode of attack. In her attempts to push him away she had turned towards him, trying to block his hands with her own, seemingly unaware that she was leaving her naked torso completely open to his view. He slowed his hands and caught her gaze, smiling down at her. He loved the way she suddenly realized her position, suddenly glanced up to see if he had noticed and then shyly glanced away when she realized that he had.

Taking her hands in his own, he leaned down and kissed her lips lightly. "You see, perhaps you can enjoy my company after all."

She fell silent, not looking at him. He thought for a moment and then reached to brush the loose braids back from her face. "Now, come, child. I will not toy with you. Do you not find me appealing?"

Her eyes closed at this question and her breath slipped past her lips. "Aye, my lord. I find you most appealing."

He kissed her forehead as a reward for her admission. "Is it your virginity that bothers you?"

She shook her head, her eyes still shut, a crimson blush running across her fair skin.

"Ah, my sweet mistress, you are still terrible liar." Thranduil tucked her close, feeling her naked skin against his own as he wrapped an arm around her to bring her close. "Your body tells me of your innocence and your fear. I will tell you a secret, one that you will come to learn in your own time, but that I wish someone had told me so long ago." He leaned to her ear and whispered softly, "Innocence is overrated."

She drew her head back and looked at him, confused.

"It is true, my sweet. The Valar do not reward innocence." He delicately stroked his hand down from her throat, between her breasts and rested it against her flat abdomen, just above the waistband of her trousers. "Courage, yes. Valor, yes. Honesty and loyalty, yes. But there is no value for innocence in their eyes. They gave us the pleasures of the flesh as a gift and expect us to use it accordingly."

She protested, her brow furrowing prettily, "They gave us life-mates. To wait until one is called to our heart is the highest of the virtues."

Thranduil kissed her deeply, pushing her head back until she tilted against the pillows. When he released her, gasping breathless beneath him, he smiled into her confused eyes. "They gave us the potential for the highest love. When that love is not before us, they gave the ability for great pleasure."

Before she could protest again, he bent his lips to her mouth and slid the hand that rested against her stomach into the waistband of her trousers, swiftly pushing down until he felt her cleft beneath his fingers and then curving his fingers into her, finding her already moist as he found her secret flesh and rubbed it as gently as he could in the tight confines of her clothing. She yelped into his mouth and tried to close her legs but he threw one leg over her thigh, seperating them. He slid his hand free and held his glistening fingers before his eyes before raising his head from her mouth and slipping out his tongue to lick her flavor from his hand.

Storm grey eyes turned the color of shaded dawn as he reached down again and began to unlace her trousers. "My lord, wait...please..."

He did not wait, but responded,"Wait for what, pretty mistress? You seem to be quite ready to enjoy what I am about to do to you."

"NO!" She cried out, her voice more bluster than truth, "I can't...I don't..."

It was too late. He had her trousers unlaced and sat up slightly to tug them from her body. "Do you remember what I told you, mistress? That I would have you?"

She closed her eyes, turning her face from him. Thranduil moved back up and took her face in his hands, amused at how she now turned her body, closing her legs and trying to hide her nakedness from him. "Now, my sweet child. Don't be so shy. Don't be frightened." He murmured as he kissed her lips and then her throat, and then the hallows beneath her collarbone. When he reached her breasts, she tensed and made a whimpering sound. "Shhh...Hush now. It doesn't hurt... you see?"

And he lightly caressed one nipple with his tongue, feeling it peak beneath his ministrations as she squirmed lightly. Raising his head, he looked at her. "Answer me now. Did that hurt?"

Her head tossed back and forth and he sighed. "This won't hurt, either." And he turned his attentions to her other breast. Deepening the contact, he sucked first her nipple and then the surrounding flesh into his mouth, humming slightly as her skin warmed his contact. He could feel her breath heaving, and raised his head again. "Good. Now that didn't hurt at all. Neither will this." And his hand pushed down her body again, his leg pushing over to lay flat against bed and nudging her thighs apart.

When she clamped her legs tighter and pushed at him slightly, he stopped and sighed. "Now, dear mistress, what have we talked about? You have broken the law and if you would like, I could have you lashed and thrown into my dungeons. But I rather think you will much prefer this, won't you?"

Her eyes opened and she looked at him uncertainly. He could see there all of her doubts, her fears. "I am Thranduil Oropherion, King f the Greenwood, child. Where else will you find someone so skilled, so reknowned to take your maidenhead and teach you such pleasure? And I will teach you pleasure, that I promise. You do not have to fear me. You are strong, obviously a skilled warrior, and you have nothing to lose in my bed except the burden of your innocence." He paused, "Why are you so reluctant?"

"You don't even know me." She whispered, something at last brutally honest confessing from her soul, "I always thought... I never thought I would..."

Thranduil sighed and raised her hand lightly to his lips. "You always thought it would happen on a spring day in a flowered glade, with a burbling brook and a handsome young ellon who would sweep you off your feet and you would bear great love for him and he for you forever-more?"

"Yes!" She paused, looked sheepishly at him, "I mean..not exactly like that...I ... oh, it does sound rather silly when you say it that way, doesn't it?"

"We all have such dreams from time to time." He shrugged. "But I ask you, what is wrong with a warm firelit room on a cold autumn night, with a strong and noble Elf who would bring you such pleasure that when you finally meet that young ellon, he will bow to your feet, grateful for the lessons you've learned?"

When she did not answer, he shrugged again, turning his head away to hide his smile, "It is up to you what path you chose. Taken to the courtyard and flogged, or kept here in my chamber until morning?"

"That is extortion, my lord!" She exclaimed, reaching to still his hand upon her breast.

"My liege. I am a king and these are my lands. " He corrected, brushing his knuckles against her forehead, wishing he could sooth away the fears in her heart as easily as he could the worry creases upon her brow. "It is not an extortion. I am merely asking you which form of punishment you would prefer. When you were an elfling, were you never offered the choice of say.... going without supper, or cleaning the latrines?"

She giggled in spite of herself. "Nay...but my brothers often were."

He continued, although his pale green eyes danced in the lamplight. "So you understand. The choice is yours. Shall I continue? Or shall I call for my guards?"

"No, my lord." She bit her lip and looked away.

"My liege." He corrected once more, "and do you mean no, do not continue? Or no, call for my guards?"

She looked directly at him and he saw something sparkle in the depths of her eyes, a glimpse of the wisdom of one of the Eldar who had seen things beyond his knowing. Her voice was low, "You are not my liege lord. There is only one who will ever be so to me, if ever that future comes to pass." And then she swallowed softly, surrendering to the sudden emotion that flared in his expression, and a certain knowledge that rose in her heart, "Please, my lord. Do not call for the guards."

A smile ghosted across his face and although he longed to ask about the shadows in her eyes and the enigmatic statement she had made, he did not persue it now. "Then relax, sweet child, and allow my hands upon you."

Somehow, she managed to relax her tense thigh muscles, although she made no move to seperate them and the task fell to him too complete. He took his time, returning to gentle kisses and slow caresses. She made no move to touch him, but he soon noticed that she was moving into his hand and not away from it. When he eased his hand between her thighs and pushed, they made way for him, and he moved to suckle a pert nipple between his lips before sliding his fingers against her moist opening once more.

A sound like a whimper escaped from her pursed lips before she masked it, turning her head against the pillow. He kept his exploring fingers slow and steady, spreading her labia and searching out the hidden mound of flesh that warmed and swelled beneath his fingers. Another whimper escaped her and he soothed his fingers over it lightly, pleased when he felt her entire body quiver. "Look at me, mistress. Are you in pain?"

She turned surprised eyes to him and gasped, "No...no my lord. I ... it..."

"Yes, 'it' what?" He murmured against her breast.

"Feels good." She admitted at last, turning her face from his piercing gaze and closing her eyes as though by hiding that window to her soul, she could also hide the passion that flushed through her body.

As the confession breathed from her, Thranduil curved his fingers, sliding them into her slicked opening. She gasped, her body arching against him and he slid up to kiss her again, his mouth claiming hers as his fingers claimed the heart of her passion. Sliding against her, he rubbed his hard erection along the side of her thigh, letting her know of his own arousal.

Her eyes opened and she sought his gaze. Thranduil gazed into her grey eyes, reading there the questions she could not articulate. He took her hand from where it lay limply between them and wrapped her fingers around his heat, "Go on, mistress. Touch me. Become familiar with me, for where there is familiarity, there is comfort."

And he lowered his mouth to her breast, suckling the pink nipple between his lips as he pushed his fingers rythmically into her straining body. The convulsive tightening of her fingers around his length coupled with the sharp intake of breath pleased him as he felt the elleth respond to her passion.

King Thranduil was a patient elf. He had learned patience long ago, and now he taught it to the elleth beneath him, kissing her, stroking her, teasing and tantalizing her with lips, tongue, and hands. She had released her grip on his length and now clutched helplessly at him, her fingers at his sides, flexing in time to the movement of his fingers within her. He raised his head from her moist breast, blowing cool air across her nipple as he did, just to watch her squirm.

Then he gently slid his fingers from her and raised himself, edging upwards to kiss her lips once more as he moved between her thighs. Her eyes widened for a moment, and her uncertainty washed over him. He soothed her raven braids back from her face and stroked her cheek. "Don't be afraid, my sweet mistress. No fear."

She shook her head, her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she murmured back to him, "No fear, my lord."

He sighed then, and took himself in hand to guide his entry into her untried body. He whispered softly, "There may be pain. I'll go slowly."

She nodded, her arms tightening around him even as her teeth closed over her lower lip.

"Look at me, mistress. Look at me, trust me." He murmured encouragingly, holding her gaze as he pushed forward into her tight heat. She moaned and he lowered his head to capture the moan with a kiss, his tongue slipping past her lips and thrusting deep even as he thrust his erection into her.

There was a moment of tension, her voice crying into his mouth, her body tensing against the invasion. He was hurting her, he knew, and he stilled, kissing her more gently, accepting her tiny sounds of pain and allowing her to come to terms with the discomfort, with the confusion, and with the passion that still waxed within her.

Slowly, he raised his head, feeling her relax minutely. "Ahhh," He sighed his own enjoyment, feeling her tight muscles relax, her passage opening to accept him. "That's the way. Just relax."

In tiny movements he slid forward and back, miniscule plunges that slowly lengthened as she began to writhe against him, her cries turning from pain to passion.

"My lord...my lord...my lord..." Her voice was a plea, a challenge, a prayer...

"Yes, my beautiful mistress." And Thranduil answered her with his entire being, opening his mind, his fea, spreading his power around them like a blanket to close out the rest of the world. Her prayer faded in wonder as she, in turn, accepted the white heat that filled her, surrounded her, overwhelmed her.

"My lord!" She gave a last cry as Thranduil increased the power and depths of his thrusts, losing himself in her body entirely until she shuddered and groaned, her eyes closing as her climax swept her deeper and closer to him.

Thranduil held her face in his hands as she came, watching the beauty of her passion flush her cheeks and darken her eyes. As she came down and her breathing calmed, he nodded to her, holding her gaze as he thrust hard and deep, the ancient rhythm bringing him to his own climax, and he buried his own cry of satisfaction in the soft flesh of her neck, feeling her arms hold him close as he trembled and finally relaxed, slumped against her.

"My lord?" She asked at last, and he raised himself up with an apologetic smile, gently withdrawing from her body.

"You see. There is nothing to fear." He murmured to her. "Will you allow me to teach you further this night? There is much for you to learn."

There was no hesitation in her answer, "Yes, my lord. Will you teach me?"

Her innocence stripped away, he was stunned to see how eager she became for his knowledge and he spent the long hours of that autumn night teaching her much of what he knew of the ways of the flesh. Briefly, he considered that he should try asking her again her name, but in the end, with her eager mouth enclosed around his shaft and his fingers and voice busy instructing her on the best ways to bring to pleasure, he simply forgot.

It was not until morning, when he left her sleeping and went to the kitchens to retrieve food that he passed through the healing wing and remembered his other guests. He paused to check on them, but heard the voice of his son through the door. As King, eavesdropping was often a necessary privelege and he stopped and listened before knocking.

Legolas' voice drifted through the doorway, "Well, Elladan, you're quite lucky that spider sting wasn't higher up. If they hadn't stopped the poison you could have lost your arm."

"Ay, too true." Elladan's voice returned. "Fortunately, 'Roh was in the way, weren't you, brother."

The tenor voice of the other Imladris twin was full of laughter, "And lucky enough that I was, 'Dan. Perhaps one day you'll learn that you can't take on every enemy all alone."

Now Elladan laughed before his voice turned serious. "I just hope the healers release us today. Arwen is bound to be getting worried."

"We told her to wait for us, 'Dan, she'll wait."

Legolas replied, "Since when has your sister ever done what she's told? But surely she has more sense than to enter Mirkwood on her own."

"Oh, aye. She does." Elladan answered, "At least, she better have."

Outside the door, Thranduil gasped, and swiftly dropped his hand from where he had been about to knock. Arwen Undomiel? The sister of Elladan and Elrohir? The daughter of Lord Elrond Peredhal of Imladris? Thranduil staggered back a few steps. How could he have not seen it? How did he miss the truth when he had looked upon the fair raven heads of her brothers and looked into their steel grey eyes, so like hers?

Turning swiftly, he ran back to his bedchamber, grabbing her and shaking her awake. "Lady Arwen. Lady Arwen, you must wake!"

Bleary, she blinked tired eyes at him. "What is wrong, my lord?"

"No time for explanations. Get up, Arwen!" Thranduil gathered her clothes, forceing her bodice around her shoulders, barely tucking her arms through the sleeves before lacing it carelessly.

She allowed him to pull her tunic over her head and pull her upright in the bed before she was awake enough to grasp his words. Her eyes widened and she gasped, "You believe me?"

He shook his head sharply, alarm in his eyes. "Oh yes. I believe you! Please, lady, get dressed!"

Confusion and hurt washed over her features as she sank to the mattress, her fingers numbly straightening her trousers.

Realization dawned on Thranduil and he knelt before her, taking her hands in his own. "Please, do not misunderstand, Arwen. I am not casting you out..." Then he reconsidered and admitted, "Well.. yes, I am, but not for lack of affection for you."

She was even more confused now and refused to meet his gaze at all until he took her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. "What happened between us was special, and is a memory that I will hold dear all of my days, and I hope you will as well. I wish you had simply told me the truth in the beginning, alas, it is too late for that regret now."

Gently, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek chastely, "Because right now, your brothers are right down the hall in my healing wards, wondering whether or not you obeyed their command to stay where you were. If you are found here, I fear we will both be in trouble."

Arwen gasped. "Elladan and Elrohir are here?"

"Yes! Now do you understand? Relations between our realms are unstable enough as it is."

Arwen nodded as comprehension came to her. "I have to get out of here! Elladan will skin me alive! And then he'll most likely tell Adar!"

Thranduil helped her dress and retrieved her small dagger from beneath the chest for her. "I'll retrieve your other weapons from the armory." Turning, he slid back a hidden panel behind the bed. "This tunnel goes to the south end of the keep. You'll find your weapons waiting there, and one of my most trusted captains will see you out of the wood."

She nodded, taking a deep breath before turning towards the passage-way. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back for a light kiss, "Hannon le, Lady Arwen."

Her smile beamed at him, brightening the entire morning more than the rays of Anor through the forest leaves, "Hannon le, My Lord."

And then she was stepping into the darkness, and the panel slid closed behind her, hiding her from his sight. With a sigh, he rushed to find his captain, and recover her weaponry.

----------------------------------

Epilogue:

Arwen stood upon the steps of Minas Tirith, in the new spring. Her choice was made, and she was to marry Aragorn. Her heart beat wildly as he took her hand before their people, and Mithrandir stood before them to officiate their union and bless their marriage. It was suddenly as though all she had ever been, all she had seen, all she had done had pointed always to this day and to Aragorn. Her Estel.

As their people cheered, and her lips met Aragorn's with all of the passion of the long years that had been denied them, her heart swelled with the certain knowledge that however much grief might come later, however much she may mourn for her lost Immortality, she would never regret the love she felt for him.

Later, as the feasting slowed and the revelry died down, she turned to Aragorn and took his hand. There were no words to be said between them as he rose and bid the well-wishers goodnight. As they turned from the table, they were surprised to find Legolas, dressed in his finest robes, waiting for them. Aragorn gave him a bright smile and nodded to him, but it was to Arwen that Legolas' eyes turned.

His voice was apologetic and slightly bewildered. "My Lady, you look radiant this night."

"Thank you, Prince Legolas." Arwen replied formally, wondering what her husbands dearest friend seemed so nervous about.

"Lady, I have word from my father, King Thranduil."

Her eyes widened, and she tried to restrain the gasp of surprise that escaped from her lips.

"He asks that you accept this gift from him, and sends his best wishes for your happiness." Legolas paused as he held out the box, tied with a ribbon.

"What else, Legolas?" Aragorn knew his old friend too well to not recognize that he was hiding a secret.

"He also says, and this part I do not understand, " Legolas took a deep breath, his eyes narrowed, "He says that he hopes his lessons serve you well this night and that you will not find use for his gift any time soon."

Aragorn looked to Arwen in surprise, and was even more surprised at the blush that coloured her high cheekbones. She smiled mysteriously and only reached one fine hand to unlace the ribbon from the box. Carefully, she lifted the lid and her smile turned to a grin of mirth as she glimpsed what lay within.

"Thank you, Lord Legolas. You may give your father my thanks, and my gratitude... for everything." Arwen winked at her husband, and took the brass comb, its sharpened prongs gleaming in the torchlight, from the box. Sweeping back her long hair, she twisted it into a tight knot, held by the comb. It was clear to Aragorn that his wife had said her last words on the matter and his curiousity may never be appeased.

Legolas did not move from their path, and Aragorn met his gaze once more. "He also said something else most curious."

"Oh?" Arwen asked, her brow furrowing slightly,

"Yes." And Legolas looked to Aragorn, "My apologies in advance, Aragorn."

"I don't hold you accountable for your fathers words, mellon." Aragorn said warmly, trying to keep his rampant curiousity under control.

"He said, "Tell Lady Arwen that she is forgiven, for even though her liege lord is only a ranger of the north, he is most worthy of her love." Legolas muttered the words, a blush coming to his own cheeks.

Arwen laughed, her heart greatly lightened, and she leaned forward to kiss Legolas' cheek. "Thank you, friend, for bringing me those words. I long have hoped to hear them."

Then she took Aragorn's hand and led him up the steps and to their bedchamber, where both of them were most pleased to take advantage of long ago lessons.