One way or another (1/1)
|Characters:||Thorin/OFC, also Thranduil and the usual crowd of OCs from my stories with Mary A.|
|Rating:||R, I guess. I'm out of practice!|
|Genre:||FPH, based on ‘The Hobbit’|
|Disclaimer:||This story uses characters and settings from the works of J.R.R. Tolkien, for entertainment purposes only and with no financial gain in sight.|
|Summary:||Thorin Oakenshield and company were caught trespassing in Mirkwood forest and are imprisoned by the Elvenking, who is determined to find out their errand, any way it takes. Mal is eager to assist.|
|Author's note:||This story is mostly inspired by the book “The Hobbit”, but the dwarves are entirely movie-based. As much as I appreciate the book, Tolkien’s dwarves never appeared hot to me until the first movie came. I blame the existence of this fic on Richard A’s Thorin. I should also say that although the story uses characters and settings from Mary and Mal’s adventures in Mirkwood, it should be regarded as a stand-alone, as it does not fit into the storyline of those (they take part just after "Lord of the Rings"). It was started in late December 2012, the last time I talked to Mary, and intended mostly for her. As things turned out, she never heard of its existence and for many months I thought silly smutfics would never be fun to write again. Proven wrong, I opened the file again in January 2014 and finished the story, although it didn't get posted until January 2015. I enjoyed writing it and hope you will enjoy reading.|
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In spite of the late hour, all who lived in and near Thranduil’s caverns had been called to the throne room to witness the interrogation of the intruders who had disturbed the elves’ merrymaking earlier that night. The incident was deemed the more serious since it had occurred during the sensitive time of the autumnal equinox, when the wood’s magic was particularly strong. I had rushed there in my nightdress, a low-cut, semi-transparent thing that, although elegant in the way everything of elven make, was hardly proper for an official occasion. The Elvenking himself would not object ? on the contrary ? but in deference to his seneschal, who preached “seemliness” for every situation, I had also covered my shoulders with a shawl.
When I entered the room, Thranduil was already on his throne, seated in leisurely fashion with his legs crossed and arms loosely resting on the carved branches that formed its sides. He was wearing a crown of gaily coloured autumn leaves that contrasted with the stern expression on his face. His seneschal, Thaladir, standing by his side, had a similarly discontented air about him, although it had perhaps more to do with Mary’s eager impatience to see our unexpected guests than with his master’s mood. I quickly took my place, standing on the other side of the throne.
I knew Thranduil resented disturbances from the outside world, and that he found the incident with the dwarves particularly unsettling. Harmless as they seemed, and ill prepared for the perils of the forest, they must have had a pressing reason to venture the journey. Until their errand was known, they posed a threat to the woodland realm. To his people.
I leaned a little closer from my position on the other side of the throne and gently touched my lips to the Elvenking’s head, hoping to bring him a moment’s comfort. Instead, he waved me away and I stood up straight. Thaladir cleared his throat, and the next moment the gates of the throne room were swung open and the captain of the guard announced the arrival of twelve dwarves.
“Nameless so far, Sire,” he said apologetically before bowing and stepping to the side to allow his charges to enter.
I stared as a long line of men, each stranger looking than the next, filed into the room. Their weary faces, dirty clothes and the cobwebs in their hair spoke of hardships suffered before their arrival. Their stocky build and impressive beards marked them all unmistakably as dwarves, but other than that their company was more diverse than I had imagined. Some bore the grim, scarred looks of seasoned warriors, others looked more like ordinary townsfolk, merchants perhaps, or craftsmen. One appeared a beardless youth, with an honest, curious face that draw my gaze before it fell on their apparent leader ? a dwarf half a head taller than the rest, both physically and by how he bore himself.
The imposing dwarf’s eyes swept over the room, or as much of it as he could take in without turning his neck. He seemed to coldly assess the workmanship of the hall, the throne, the tapestries, not betraying what he really thought about them. He stared at the Elvenking with fearless animosity, lifting his chin ever so slightly, and then passed his gaze over the rest of us.
I held my breath. He was a very handsome man, and at the same time his looks were the opposite of what I had until then appreciated in male beauty. I stared at his heavy arms, his broad chest, his unkempt hair and beard. The grim look on his face as he trained his eyes on mine startled me, and I bit my lip and looked to the floor. I did not know what to make of this dwarf. When I lifted my gaze again to those blue eyes, better prepared this time, I saw something dark flicker there. Greed.
”Entice him,” the Elvenking said in a low voice, almost a whisper. From the corner of my eye I saw him smirk, ever so slightly, and there was a familiar shrewdness to his gaze.
He would recognize the dwarf’s expression, so close to the one that sometimes came over his fair face at the sight of sparkling white gems. The purest form of desire, as Thaladir had once called it in defence of his King’s less palatable character traits. Naked want, the urge to own, to possess for its own sake, without a conscious goal in mind. The slightest shiver passed through my body. Being on the receiving end of such an emotion thrilled me to no end. I wet my lips and straightened an invisible wrinkle on my bodice. I felt the dwarf’s burning gaze following my motions, and was suddenly overcome with a need to press my legs together.
The Elvenking lifted his hand, which just happened to brush against my side. Schooling his face to royal blankness, he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
“So, let us begin,” he said, addressing our involuntary guests in a tone of voice that commanded everyone’s attention. “What is a company of dwarves doing in the forest realm?” He looked more curious than angered, although displeasure was evident in his intonation.
I looked at the dwarves’ leader, hoping to catch his gaze again. His hands were at his sides now, fingers curling slightly as if gripping a weapon that wasn’t there. What would they feel like if he were to touch me? The surface would be rough, surely these were the hands of a worker, a warrior, possibly a smith as well. The ruggedness would tease my skin; make it tingle wherever such a finger would travel. Would his hands be bold, or shy and tentative in their touch? Was he a rough lover, as one might assume from his strong body and stern expression? Or was he capable of gentleness surpassing my imagination, one who would accomplish more with a whisper than other men did with a roar?
“…most inappropriate not to immediately deliver an answer, more so when the question is as simple as it is justified. Furthermore, allow me to inform you that unwillingness to conform in these matters will be regarded most severely.”
I was only vaguely aware of the seneschal’s droning voice, and neither did it seem to hold the attention of the object of my admiration. Rather, the leader of the group was staring at Thranduil, ready to assess the effect of the words of the next speaker.
“We are but travellers,” said an elderly-looking dwarf with snow-white hair and beard. “Of the Misty mountains, off to visit our cousins in the east.” He sounded friendly and honest, but the Elvenking waved his hand, unimpressed.
“Why did you attack my people?” His voice was sharper this time.
“We were lost and starving, my lord,” continued the dwarf, “and only searching to beg for food. We had wandered for days and were overcome with joy at the prospect of something to eat. We approached the fires in peace, although some of us with greater haste than common courtesy would dictate.” “As if the courtesy of elves leaves nothing to be desired,” whispered the sweet-faced dwarf to his companion, whose chuckle was stopped short by the elder’s annoyed hush.
The Elvenking pretended not to notice the interruption. “Let us assume for a moment,” he said slowly, “that you indeed disturbed our merrymaking in search of food. What errand do you have in Mirkwood in the first place?”
“We were lost, my lord,” repeated the snowy-haired elf with a respectful bow.
“You must have had some goal in aim, to be lost!” said Thranduil hotly. His fingers began an impatient dance on the armrest. “Where did you say those cousins of yours live? There have been no dwarves travelling the Old Forest Road since the dragon came to Erebor.”
“We are free folk and need not answer to you!” stated the leader, with a dark undertone of threat that impressed me. Few opposed the Elvenking when he started showing his temper. ”The road is free for all to use. For that matter, Thorin Oakenshield and company has more right to do so than most. ”
“That road has of late been travelled by nobody of good intent! In any case, your wanderings in the wood, Thorin Oakenshield, draw all kinds of foul creatures to my borders. I must protect my people.”
“And I mine.” The dwarf’s voice thundered through the hall. Thranduil glared at him and rose abruptly.
“Some say we ought to have left you in the forest as food for the spiders. Let it be a sign of my good will and mercy that you are not thrown out on your unlucky behinds!”
“Your hospitality is most commendable, my lord,” said the elderly dwarf humbly, drawing an appreciative nod from the seneschal. “We will not disturb you longer than necessary, and if you would just send someone to show us back to the road, we could be gone very soon.” He inclined his head towards the door.
“A tempting prospect, master dwarf,” replied Thranduil and then turned to their leader. “You will stay, until you are ready to tell me the true intent of your forage into the woodland realm!” He sat down on the throne again and demonstratively turned his head away in disgust. That was when Mary spoke.
“Your Majesty, are you finished with them?” she asked in a suspiciously innocent voice, loudly enough to overpower the seneschal’s feeble attempts to shush her without being obvious about it.
“For the next hundred years or so,” sneered the Elvenking and sighed.
“Then, can I please have that one?” Mary said and pointed to the youngish-looking dwarf with the pretty face. “And him, too,” she added, indicating the one standing beside him, who had chuckled earlier.
“My lady,” Thaladir said in his gravest voice, “the prisoners are to contemplate their crimes in an environment beneficiary to repentance, not be offered frivolous entertainment.”
“Oh, I will make them suffer,” Mary replied with a devilish grin. “I’ll have them delivered to my door in chains, and I will make them lick my toes, and their hands will be tied, so they can only use their mouths, and…”
I watched the chosen pair as Mary dreamily announced her plans for her prisoners. The pretty dwarf smiled with his entire face, and his eyes glittered in a way that made me instantly jealous of her. The look on the other dwarf’s face could only be described as utter astonishment, with a healthy dollop of fear.
“Lady Mary!” The seneschal’s sharp hiss echoed through the hall like a gun-shot, and had the desired effect. She interrupted her reciting of planned deprived pleasures in mid-sentence.
Thranduil waved his hand. The guards took their prisoners under their arms and calmly, but firmly led them out of the room. None looked back.
I watched the long row of proud backs and stiff necks leave. “They will die in your dungeons,” Mary told Thranduil with a pout as the last glimpse of the unexpected guests disappeared through the door-step. It didn’t seem likely they would give in any time soon.
“If they do, it is their own fault,” Thranduil said seriously and then chuckled, suddenly in a better mood, perhaps because Mary and I were both trying to get onto his lap. “They stand little risk of perishing here. They will spend a couple of days in the empty parts of the wine cellar, but soundly fed, and if they wish their stay with us to be extended, then work can be found for them and ordinary guest quarters as well. But stay they will, until their secret is told. I cannot risk my people’s safety by allowing unknown threats on my threshold.”
“You are as kind as you are wise,” I said and pressed my cheek against his hand. His gaze suddenly had a distant quality to it, as if he was deep in thought, then his eyes narrowed and he nodded to himself.
“My dears, if indeed our guests’ plights worry you so, you have my permission to care for them, in any way you see fit.” He ran his hand over my backside and gave it suggestive squeeze.
“Really?” I imagined the dwarf leader doing the same and felt a flutter in my belly.
“Indeed you may. Pick your choice, unless you already have.” He looked at Mary and me, and we both nodded. “And if a secret should spill from his lips in an uncontrolled moment…” He grinned.
“Yes!” Mary shouted, her face aglow again, and began to rain kisses over the Evenking’s face.
“I love you,” said I, pressing his hand, which was about all of him I could reach with Mary in the way.
“Enough,” he said and rose abruptly. “I do believe the effect would be greater, were you to leave our guests to their lonely thoughts for the night. Besides, I have decided to grant you both the opportunity to thank me properly for my kindness.”
The next evening, I made my way to the wine cellar, carrying a basket of food. I knew the dwarves hadn’t been left to starve, but my offerings were to be somewhat more luxurious than the fare they had been given earlier that day. The king’s butler, Galion, handed me a bottle of wine before he accompanied me to the part of the cellar that now served as prison.
There were rows of doors, each leading to a small store-room with a dwarf within. The corridor was loaded with boxes of straw, filled with winter supplies of edible roots. A guard was posted at the end of it, and two others were coming out from one of the cells, accompanying two dwarves. As they passed us, I recognized the pretty one and his companion. They both had their hands tied, but neither of them seemed to mind. Their eyes shone with excitement and they almost pushed the guard in front of them, rather than being led. Lucky Mary!
I counted myself fortunate as well, although less sure of the outcome. The dwarf I had chosen was not expecting me, nor was it likely to be easy to gain his trust, but his unrelenting attitude was part of what had attracted me to him. His gaze in the throne room had demanded much and promised nothing.
Galion stopped at the end of the row and pulled a bunch of keys from his belt.
“A nuisance to carry around, my lady,” he said and handed the keys to the guard. “The bath tub and water will be delivered shortly. “I will be in the main cellar if you need me.”
Sampling Thranduil’s stocks, no doubt. The butler was known for being even fonder of a good vintage than his employer was.
The guard on duty bowed and unlocked the door. “I have orders to lock it behind you, my lady,” he told me. “The door is not very thick and I will hear you if you call.” He patted the hilt of the sword at his side.
“Thank you.” According to the Elvenking, the dwarves were not likely to make any serious attempt to escape. The forest and its dwellers posed a greater threat to them than the elves, and they were unlikely even to find the way out of the caverns without assistance. Thaladir had said that dwarves were not aggressive under normal circumstances and I had also witnessed how they went with their gaolers without much of a fight.
Still, it was with trepidation in my heart I crossed the threshold and heard the door being shut and locked behind me. In the faint candle light I could just make out the man seated on a heap of pelts in the far corner. His face was hidden from my view by his hair, but I could hear that he was chewing on something.
“So, the real interrogation begins,” Thorin stated darkly, not condescending to give me a glance. He took another bite of the carrot in his hand, chewed it, swallowed and then said, “You can tell your king I will say nothing of my errand. This is a matter for dwarves only, although I advise him not to stand in the way of the rightful King under the Mountain.”
I winced. I was certainly not going to tell Thranduil that, whatever it meant. There had been no other kings than elves in the Mirkwood hills that I knew of. I had to ask the seneschal about that some time.
“Malinornë at your service, my lord,” I said with as much courage as my fluttering heart could muster. The dwarf jumped to his feet as if someone had struck him.
“A woman! By Aule’s beard! Has the elf not the balls to conduct his business himself?”
For a moment I lost myself to the delicious thought of said elf’s manly parts, and the vigorous use they had been put to the night before. Simply thinking about it made me tingly, just as when Thorin had looked at me in the throne room. I wanted him to look at me like that again.
I smiled at him and curtsied, all fears suddenly gone. Thorin stared at me in disbelief. I stared back and cleared my throat. “As I said, my lord,” – I pronounced this slowly, stressing every word – “I have come to offer you some comfort.” I held out the basket and lifted the towel covering it, just enough to allow the aroma of freshly cooked chicken to reach the dwarf’s nose. “His Majesty King Thranduil is a courteous host” – Thorin snorted at this – “and is concerned with your wellbeing. This is not truly a prison, after all.”
“I admit these quarters are more comfortable than expected,” he grunted, waving the half-eaten carrot towards the makeshift bed. The furnishing was completed by a barrel with a candle holder on top, and a smaller one that could be used as a chair. The walls were covered in shelves, empty but for one box and a small heap of something nondescript beside it.
“I am glad to hear it,” I replied and curtsied again. Thorin suddenly looked suspicious.
“Why you? I saw you by his side. Surely he could have sent a servant for this task.”
I smiled; I had expected this question. “In his wisdom, the Elvenking decided that this solution would be more agreeable to you, than sending an elf. And I was curious to meet you,” I added, willing my cheeks not to betray the depth of that curiosity. The room already felt warmer than expected.
“Curious? Alright, alright. Do whatever you will, then.” His interest shifted to the basket in my hand. “Is that supper? You’ll forgive my lack of manners. Carrots get tiresome after a while.” He took a last bite and flung the stump onto the shelf, where it joined the others. “I pity the one of my company who got turnips.”
“This is indeed dinner,” I said and put the basket on the barrel. “But before that, you will have a bath. Be offered the opportunity of taking a bath, I mean.”
“I don’t care much from being ordered around, but for the sake of your company I will endure it. Indeed I reek of something worse than simple travellers’ filth.” He frowned. “It’ll be good to wash it off.”
“It’s the spider venom,” I said. “Their webs are drenched in it. It’s not strong enough to do permanent harm to others than the small creatures they hunt, but I’m afraid it does stink.”
There was a knock on the door and it opened to let in two elves carrying a round wooden tub much like the lower half of a very wide barrel. They rolled it sideways through the door opening and placed it on the floor, just inside the door.
“Water will come in a moment,” said one of the elves. The door was locked and then unlocked again several times as hot and cold water was brought in buckets. Thorin stared at the slowly filling tub with obvious interest, and began to undress as soon as the elves had declared that the bath was ready, and the door had been locked for the last time.
“Can I help you?” I asked, mostly for politeness’ sake. The dwarf looked perfectly content to remove his clothes himself and was doing so, and fast at that.
“Nay, I’ll be done in a moment,” he replied as he handed me his cloak, which was soon followed by a heavy leather tunic and then a linen shirt that likely hadn’t seen hot water and soap in weeks. “If you’d scrub my back that would be welcome, and my hair could also use some gentle attention if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” I averted my eyes to allow him some modesty, and rein in my lusty thoughts, as he removed the last of his clothes and climbed into the bath. “I’ll have these washed,” I told him as I deposited the garments by the door.
“Thanks, but what am I to wear in the meantime? Is this some trick to get me out of my breeches?” He chuckled and gave me a pointed glance. If he only knew.
“You’ll get everything back tomorrow,” I said, now blushing. “In the meantime, towels and blankets will have to do. We haven’t had many guests of your size here lately. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. Ah, this is the most comfortable I’ve been in weeks.” He clearly enjoyed soaking in the warm water, with his eyes closed and his features relaxed in a peaceful expression. I enjoyed watching him, his noble nose, his muscular torso, those incredible, veined arms that looked able to lift a horse. And his hands, now resting peacefully on the rim of the tub. Again I wondered what his fingers would feel like against my skin.
“Here’s the soap,” I said, and placed it, and a sponge in his upturned palms. While Thorin washed, I knocked on the door to get the guard’s attention, then handed him the heap of well-used clothes. I smiled at his wrinkled nose, sure that he would hastily hand over the smelly garments to somebody else.
“My back, if you’d be so kind,” Thorin called as soon as the door was shut.
I pulled the wooden casket to the tub and sat on it to work at a comfortable height. The dwarf’s heavy shoulders seemed to relax even more as I scrubbed and stroked them with the soapy sponge. I kneaded his neck with my hands, which drew several contented grunts from his lips. I massaged his scalp as well, doing my best to clean his ample head of beautiful black hair, streaked with a grey at his temples. I wanted to rinse the soap off with a jug, but he shook his head. Instead he ducked under the surface and then emerged again, like a walrus. This he repeated several times, making me laugh and splashing much water in the process. He looked funny like that, a very large, very strong, wet kitten.
“Care to get in with me?” he asked with a chuckle and mirth in his eyes. The offer couldn’t be serious, as the tub was barely large enough for one, but tempting nevertheless.
“Would a dwarf woman climb in with you,” I asked as I handed him a towel.
“Ha! Only if she were my wife.” He grinned. “A dwarf lass would not even be alone in the room with an undressed man.” He stood up and fastened the towel around his waist with no particular hurry, while I tried to peek, without being too obvious.
“Dou you have a wife, then?”
“One day I will, if…” He furrowed his brows. “Dwarves are patient.”
“And humans are not, I know. We are probably ugly to you as well.”
His eyes travelled over my body intently and I felt my nipples stiffen. “I would need to see you with less clothes than that to make a judgement,” he stated with a good-natured laugh as he climbed out of the bath and continued to dry his body. “The truth is I lived long among Men in my younger days, and I have learned to appreciate many things my kin would deem unnatural.” He sat on the casket and I began to dry and comb his hair.
“Such as beardless women?”
“That, too. There were some offers.” I contemplated that in silence, trying to concentrate on the masses of wet, unruly hair, rather than its owner, which was becoming increasingly difficult. Hair done, I proceeded to knead his shoulders again, wanting to feel his warm skin under my hands.
“And did you… act upon them? The offers, I mean?”
“I was young. I was hot-blooded and hungry.” He turned around abruptly and shot me a heated glance.
“You ask too many questions. Besides, it is not honourable to covet another man’s possessions.”
While Thorin exchanged the towel around his waist for a thin blanket, and used another one for a cloak, I put his dinner on the barrel-table. The chicken stew smelled lovely and the bread and wine that accompanied it made a healthy meal.
“Thank you,” he said and sat down. He ate for a while, greedily and with much haste. The wine appeared not to be his first choice of drink, but he gulped it down, having me refill his cup twice before he seemed to have sated his hunger enough to speak again. “Are you hungry, lady? My manners desert me completely.”
“I have eaten,” I said, “but wouldn’t mind a bite. If you’re sure you’ve had enough?”
“We can share. You take the seat.” He rose.
“No, it’s yours.”
“Please. Be my guest.”
“No, thank you, I cannot. It’s for you.”
“We’ll have to share that as well, then.” He grabbed me around the waist and without apparent difficulty lifted me onto his lap. “There, now eat.”
I took the spoon and lifted it to my mouth. I chewed slowly, enjoying the warm spiciness of the food, and at the same time, the pleasant warmth against my thighs. His arm securely around my waist. My whole body tingled from being so close to him.
For a while we ate in silence. Thorin had given up on the stew, but ate every piece of bread until all that remained were the crumbs in his beard. Some wine still remained and we passed the cup between us, toasting each other, sharing glances that became longer and longer. I became increasingly aware of the growing hardness pressing against me, and pressed back a little. He put a hand on my thigh, then removed it.
“Thinking about honour again?” I asked quietly. ” I’m here of my free will, and with the Elvenking’s blessings.”
“Elves have no honour. You had better go now, before I scare you.”
“I’m staying,” I said and wiggled again, answered by a promising twitch.
“Lady, unless you intend to warm my bed, you should leave now.” His hand was back on my thigh, rubbing it slowly and inching down between my legs.
“I thought you said dwarves were patient.” I put my hand over his, caressing it gently.
“Unto a limit, woman. Our desires are not easily stirred. Once provoked, we are hard to stop.” There was that flash of greed again as his other hand closed around a breast.
“Don’t stop,” I said and leaned into his touch. He continued to caress my breast through the fabric, giving a gentle appreciating squeeze, and then delved under the bodice to find naked skin. My nipple puckered under his palm and I sighed contentedly when he pinched it and then enclosed the entire breast in his warm hand again. His fingers had a slight ruggedness to them, in a way that heightened the experience.
The hand on my thigh crept towards my centre, quickening its pace when I parted my thighs. Apt fingers stroked me, first in long caresses, then closing in on the spot I most longed for him to touch. His breath was hot against my neck and he gave deep rumble when I let out a moan. He continued to caress me like that, caught between his fingers and his groin, until his hand found its way underneath my skirt.
“So wet,” he whispered throatily in my ear. “So slick for me.”
“Let me straddle you,” I moaned. “Let me touch you.”
Face to face, I felt a strike of uncertainty again. Would I measure up to his eyes? I had barely sunk down on his thighs again, skirt bunched around my waist, when he nimbly unbuttoned my blouse and bared me to his gaze. For the blink of a moment he stared, then he buried his face in soft flesh, kissing and sucking, not allowing me a moment’s rest. I tugged at the blanket around his hips, finding it unrelentingly well fastened.
“Help me,” I hissed to the busy head. I tugged some more at the blanket, applying some pressure as well, which earned me a contented sigh, but no help.
“No, seriously, I mean it. Help me get this off!” Tugging at his ear seemed to do the trick and he looked up at me. It took me another try to get through to him, but once he understood, he put me to my feet and removed the blanket instantly. He shrugged off the cloak as well, and I tossed my dress and underwear aside.
His cock was beautiful, thick and proud, and as eager for its prize as its owner and I. Thorin sat back again, and I sank down upon him without hesitation. He filled me deliciously. His strong arms lifted me with ease, manipulated me to the exact angle that had us both sighing and panting and moaning for more, more, more.
“I want you under me,” he suddenly stated. I murmured something intelligible, perfectly content to remain where I was. “Now.”
Somewhat reluctantly, I rose on trembling legs and glanced at the makeshift bed. It did look more comfortable, yes. As long as I wouldn’t have to wait too long.
Thorin had been right. Once provoked, this dwarf tarried not. Again I received proof of his powerful strength, again he made me breathless with his ardour. I held on to his arms, his back as he buried himself between my thighs and pounded us both into sweet oblivion.
It was only afterwards that I got a really good look at him. We lay sated on the pelts, he on his back, I propped up on an elbow. I ran my fingers across his torso, tracing the scars and scratches that marred his skin where it was visible through dark curls. I enjoyed kissing him, too, and seeing how his muscles rippled under my tongue. He was ticklish at the hips, just where leg meets belly. Kissing him there made him pull me towards his face, meeting my lips with his. Our eyes locked.
“Why are you here?” I asked quietly as I ran a hand along his cheek.
He caught my wrist, holding me still as he spoke, suddenly dead serious.
“My lady, I greatly appreciate all you have done for me, and your presence the most.” He inclined his head. “I will be ever at your service, should we meet again under more beneficial circumstances. My errand, however, I am not at liberty to tell you. In it lies the fate of my people. I trust you will understand.” He placed a kiss in my palm and released my hand.
“I understand,” I said. “I have enjoyed our time together also.” I leaned in to kiss him a last time, trying to ignore both the new stirring between my thighs and his growing need.
“I will not meet you again like this, will I?” He gave my buttocks a good squeeze.
“Regrettably, no.” I’m not leaving immediately, I wanted to add, but didn’t.
“In that case, kneel.”
“Kneel for the King under the Mountain. You will not regret it.”
That odd phrase again. Puzzled, I did as he asked, complying when he instructed me to kneel on all fours, facing away from him. Aha. This was a game I knew, after all. I stuck my rump out and lowered my head, offering myself to him.
“Just so,” he said throatily as he gripped my hips and entered me. His thrusts were slow now; very slow and very thorough, as if he could go for any length of time. “I… have… dreamt… of this… since… the throne room.”
He came with a roar, we both did. Glistening with sweat, we collapsed on the mattress and lay still, he remaining inside me until I felt him grow hard once more. Yes! No, I thought, it’s too much.
“I know,” he grunted and rolled off me. “Dwarves are more blessed than Men in that regard.” He covered me with a blanket. “Sleep now.”
Waking up with a dwarf was not at all bad. I could even consider becoming fond of one, if my heart had not already been claimed. And even if I had failed to carry out the Elvenking’s mission, the night had been so much more than I had imagined. I had lusted after a body, but gotten to know a person.
Our farewell was short. After a quick rinse using a jug of cold water, and a breakfast of half a carrot, I was ready to leave.
I curtsied formally, and Thorin inclined his head, but then closed the distance between us and gave me a hug.
“I still know much too little about you, Thorin Oakenshield,” I said. “But wherever you are going, I wish you luck.”
Posted: January 6, 2015
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"Long live Thranduil, great Elf-king of Greenwood!"