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Twelve Days of Hrive 'Isia Ch. 01

By: RedHairedandFriendly



Author's Note: The following is the first chapter of a completed work. All other chapters will be submitted to Lit. on an every other day schedule. I know in the past I've had partially done stories, and left readers hanging, I'm hoping to end that habit, and begin a new one. I hope you enjoy the story of an elf princess who though not spoiled, became a little lost in herself, and a slightly humorous and overbearing elf Lord who only wishes to tease her, rescue her, and marry her. Have fun! ~ Red



Twelve Days of Hrive 'Isia Ch. 02



 On the third day of Hrive 'Isia

The sound of laughter, gaiety, and joy greeted Gilraen as she made her way through the village. Her thoughts were her own. She wove her way around couples, and families, as well as various merchants who tried to catch her eye. Gilraen had no reason to speak with any of them, her goal was not to strengthen friendships, or empty her father's coffers. She sought knowledge, knowledge that only one woman in the village could give her -- for a price. The weight of Gilraen's pursed slapped against her hip. Mistress Ireth would be paid handsomely for her silence.

The night before Gilraen had lain in bed, her body aroused from Turgon's attentions, her mind full of hostility from his words. The more she lay thinking about the way his fingers skated across her skin, and the tender kisses he'd trailed along her throat, the more she came to realize that her inexperience at seduction would cause her more harm than good. Her quest to begin looking for her own cluster of male admirers would fail if she did not learn how to properly seduce her intended targets. The idea of reaching out to Ireth had at first disgusted her, but the longer she mused, the more she convinced herself it was her only answer.

Mistress Ireth's cottage was set further back from the rest of the village. The path to her doorstep was worn, the rocks smooth from the countless many that had traveled across them. Gilraen bit her lip, looked around, caught a few villagers' eyes and glared back at them. Each one quickly turned away, some chuckling, others whispering to their companions and others scurrying away as if they had more important things to do than to worry about their Princess.

The young virgin woman shook her hair, squared her shoulders and lifted her fist to rap heavily on the door. A low curse and a high pitched giggle greeted Gilraen. Her cheeks grew flush; she thought of turning away, running back to the castle and hiding herself within the walls of her room. Seconds before her cowardly self gave in, the door to the cottage opened. Gilraen's cheeks grew a brighter shade of pink. Mistress Ireth stood before her, the opening of her dress had been pulled apart, two large breasts hung low, and gently swayed as the whore leaned against the door. It took the woman only a moment to realize who her guest was.

Gilraen watched with little satisfaction as Ireth hurried to cover herself. "Princess Gilraen," Ireth gasped, stepped back, and curtsied. Gilraen walked in, glanced around the room, and paused when her eyes rested on the man who had cursed at her intrusion.

"Father Huro?"

The old priest stuttered, as he reached down to grab his pants. "Uh -- Princess, I -- uh -- is something wrong?" Huro scurried to put on his shirt, tie his slacks, and grab his shoes. "I -- uh -- I was just..." Silence hung in the air. Gilraen frowned. Huro's shoulders grew slack and a deep sigh escaped his lungs. "I'm sorry. I shall pack my belongings and..."

"No!" Ireth cried. She closed the door behind the Princess and hurried to the Priest's side. "You should not have to leave. I will go. This is your home more than mine and..."

"Enough," Gilraen shouted, "I've not said one word since walking over the threshold. "Father Huro, please do not let this trouble you," her hand swept toward the rumpled bed. "I do not attempt to know the desires of a man and cannot find fault in something I don't understand."

Huro swallowed the lump in his throat, and looked questionably at Ireth. "Why are you here? And who told you where to find me?" he asked Gilraen.

This time it was the Princess's turn to blush. "I was not looking for you," she turned away; "I was looking for Mistress Ireth."

"Me?"

Huro stepped away, curious as to what the Princess needed from the village whore. "Yes, Mistress, I am curious -- I want to..." Gilraen took a deep calming breath, glanced at the Priest and then back to the floor. "I wish to please a man in bed so I have come seeking advice on how to properly seduce him, and then bed him."

Huro choked on the air in his lungs, bringing Gilraen's face to a brighter red. "Princess, surely you don't wish to seek advice from Ireth," he gasped.

Ireth turned to the Priest, her hands rested on her hips. "And why wouldn't she? Can you think of another who could better instruct our Lady?"

"Well, no -- but -- but -- you can't, she's the Princess and --"

"Enough!" Gilraen shouted again. She detached the bag of coins from her waist and handed them to Ireth. "Here, for your silence."

A slim hand, aged from time reached out and took the offering, noted the weight and grinned. "Your Highness, it will be a pleasure instructing you. What questions do you seek?"

Huro grumbled loudly, "Well, I will not be witness to this, it's disgraceful and..."

"Father Huro," Gilraen emphasized the man's profession, "please remain; you are someone I trust and perhaps you will have knowledge that Ireth doesn't. You are a man after all and it is obvious you enjoy the bedding ritual."

"But I can't -- I won't -- no. I shall take my leave and -"

"It is an order," Gilraen stated, her tone of voice left little room for disobedience. "Now, Mistress Ireth, please tell me the first step of seduction." The Princess of Lúinwë sat down on a nearby chair and looked intently up at the whore before her, and the Priest to her left.

A minute seemed to tick by as the three occupants waiting for something to happen. Gilraen said nothing more; instead just lifting a brow to Ireth, indicating her patience was waning. Ireth dropped the bag of coins on the table, and walked over to Huro. "Please sit down, Father." When Huro moved to take possession of another chair, Ireth stopped him, "no, on the bed." His brows shot up, as did Gilraen's.

"I am sure our young Princess will only be brave enough to come to me once, and so I must be thorough in my teaching. Princess, I ask only that you listen and remain in your seat. This will be awkward for all of us, but if you truly wish to please a man in bed, it is not by dining room flirtations or frolicking on the dance floor that will gain his favor, it is pleasuring him -- and if you are fortunate, he will pleasure you back."

Gilraen said nothing. Her pulse raced as her mind worked to understand what Ireth had in mind. She watched as the experienced woman, pushed Huro back. His knees buckled and his hands gripped the edge of the bed. "This is not right," he muttered; his gaze flew back and forth between the two women, both beautiful in their own way.

"It is what it is," Ireth purred. Her hand moved to caress Huro's wrinkled cheeks. Her nails scrapped gently across his unshaven beard. "A clean face, free of hair is delicious, but if you have a chance to feel the scratch of whiskers against your breasts, neck, and pussy..." Ireth moaned softly, "that is a treat too."

Gilraen trembled slightly. Her eyes blinked away the heady evidence of growing excitement. Her breath quickened when Ireth began to undress herself. Soon the woman stood before the Priest naked. Her full breasts were heavy from age, but still looked smooth and clean of blemishes and marks. Gilraen questioned the rumors of Ireth's diseased body. She watched as Ireth slipped onto the bed, settled behind Huro, rested on her knees and draped her arms around the man's shoulders. Her boobs pushed into his back. Her fingers teased the strings of his shirt; eventually loosening them enough so she could slide her hands against the warm flesh. "Does your Prince have hair on his chest?" she asked the Princess, not really expecting an answer. "If he does, than run your fingers through it make him remember that there is not a hair on his body you will leave untouched. While you explore him, be sure to mark him in other ways. A kiss, here," she pressed her lips to Huro's neck, "here," she kissed his ear, "and here," she tilted his head back and kissed his mouth. Her tongue slid in and merged with his.

The Princess watched. Her body shivered; she dismissed the reflex blaming the chilled winter air. Ireth's hands slid over Huro's skin, the shirt slowly become more and more loose. Eventually Huro shrugged out of it. Gilraen made little notice of his silent acceptance of the circumstances he was in; instead she allowed herself the luxury of looking at a man's body.

Huro's chest was not as firm as the warriors of her father's house. Ireth's fingers moved across the white hairs that lay scattered on the man's flesh. His muscles were not lean, but showed promise of strength in their youth. His stomach was not overly huge, but did show signs of eating with gusto. Gilraen glanced lower, curious as to what the rest of her Priest looked like.

Ireth chuckled; the laughter snapped the Princess's attentions back to the whore and her actions. She blushed, having been caught in her assessment of the holy man. A deep breath, raised shoulders, and a straightened back told Ireth to continue. The whore smirked. "Take note of what your lover likes. Does he shy away from tender kisses," she placed small delicate ones across Huro's shoulders, "or does he like them to be more of a vigorous nature." Huro winced, and then moaned softly when Ireth sealed a kiss with a small nip of her teeth. Gilraen noted the man's change in demeanor. Would Turgon want her to bite him? The idea, surprisingly held appeal to the virgin's thoughts.

"Don't forget these bits on a man," Ireth whispered, calling attention back to her and her partner. Long slim fingers pinched each one of Huro's nipples. He grunted low, the sound one of obvious approval. Ireth looked at the Princess as she twisted both of the hard beads, and suckled on Huro's neck. Her breasts continued to be pressed into the bare flesh of her lover. She moaned softly, before releasing her willing victim. "Our Priest -- he does enjoy a little kick in his fuckin'."

Gilraen blushed at the foul word.

"Yes, Your Highness, even language unfit for a royal can bring moisture to ones thighs, or hardness to a cock." Ireth reached down and stroked Huro's erection. Her lips continued to assault his skin. Gilraen watched with growing frustration. Her eyes were glued to Ireth's hand and she desperately wanted to see what the whore stroked. She licked her lips in anticipation.

Huro groaned. He pulled Ireth's hand away, undid his pants and allowed his cock to leap free. A gasp of surprise escaped Gilraen's parted lips. She stared at the man's penis. Her fingers curled into a tight fist. "Oh my," she whispered.

Ireth purred against her lover's neck. "Yes, our Priest is blessed with an awesome cock." Ireth played with the head. "But don't become over excited. I cannot promise your husband will be so greatly endowed. Some men are smaller than our lovely plaything, others are larger..."

"Not much," Hugo muttered.

Ireth laughed, "No my dear not much."

Gilraen inched closer off her seat. "What is that?" she asked.

Ireth winked, ran her finger across the clear liquid that had spilled free of Huro's dick. "That is a sure sign you have aroused your lover. Yes, his hardness is too, but this, this delicious nectar," Ireth licked her finger clean, "this is the first taste of a surprise more rewarding than many realize."

Huro groaned. "I think we've shown her enough," he hissed, yet made no movement to show he was drawing an end to their arrangement.

"No, no you haven't," Gilraen whispered.

Ireth winked at the woman, wrapped her hand around Huro's shaft and began to pump it up and down. Her eyes remained fixed on the Princess; her lips trailed kisses and nips along her lover's shoulders. A grunt of encouragement fell from the Priest's mouth. Ireth slipped from the bed, again holding Gilraen's attention. "His cock Princess -- deep inside there is a gift for you, it is eager to come out, it wants nothing more than to slide down your throat and settle into your belly. There will be times when you cannot take his cock into your pussy, and so during those times you should ease your man's suffering with your mouth."

Huro cursed and Gilraen watched as Ireth slid to her knees. "You can undress your partner, or wait for him to undress himself." Huro wasted no time in removing his clothing; he stood before his Princess and his whore fully engorged. Gilraen's lips were dry; her tongue darted out to moisten the soft pink petals. Her sex tightened in curiosity.

"If you were not our Princess, I would let you ease his suffering with me," Ireth whispered, before capturing the head of Huro's cock between her lips. Both the Priest and the Princess gasped. The sound however was muffled by the humming from Ireth's throat.

The show continued for Gilraen. She watched Ireth lift off Huro's cock head, then slide back over it. Her tongue darted out, licked the tip, played with the small hole and caressed the veins that were engorged with desire. Gilraen's lungs burned as she held her breath, eager to see what gift Ireth would coax from her lover.

Ireth moved her hands, cupped Huro's balls and massaged the twin spheres. She popped off the man's stiff tool, lapped at his tender sack and smiled over to the Princess. "These jewels you must cherish, for hidden behind the flesh will be the gift we seek. The juices that spring out will not only feed your belly, coat your throat, and cover your flesh, but will be what gives life to your womb. You must be kind, and gentle, but again some men like a little bit of pain applied here." Ireth squeezed one of Huro's balls, and then winced when his fingers pulled at her hair. She laughed hardheartedly, released the assaulted appendage and grinned. "He is not one of those men." Her mouth moved to cover the bruised marble, blanketing it in a warm bath of tongue, lips, and suckling motions. Soon Huro's hand was petting her, and his voice cooed his enjoyment.

Gilraen shifted nervously in her seat. Thoughts of Turgon pushing her head into his crotch, of his manhood sliding between her lips, and her tongue wrapping around him like a small snake, made her body sweat. A tingling sensation, between her thighs, seemed to beckon her toward some hidden goal. Images of her on her knees, suckling a man's shaft, rolling his precious jewels between her fingers brought a hiss of pleasure from her lips.

She glanced at Ireth and noted the woman was paying little attention to the Princess, too lost in pleasuring the Priest. Gilraen released the tight hold she had on her gown. Her fingers slipped over to her chest; she felt the hard aroused state of her right nipple. She pinched it, welcomed the pain, and wondered if a lesson where Huro pleased Ireth would be in order. What pain could a man give to a woman that would bring pleasure?

"Princess -- Princess..."

Gilraen's hand dropped; she cleared her throat and looked at the whore.

"He's going to cum Your Highness. Watch," Ireth demanded.

A virgin's gaze locked onto Huro's cock. It glistened from Ireth's saliva. Her hand pumped the swollen shaft with a speed unfathomable to Gilraen's imagination. A blur of activity seemed to erupt all at once. A stream of white liquid exploded from the slit in the Priest's cock. It splattered across Ireth and onto Huro's stomach. Just as quickly Ireth moved to cover the erupting dick. Gilraen watched as Huro pushed her into his crotch; he used both hands to hold her there as he pumped his way in and out of her. He controlled her head, cursing at her to take everything. Gilraen was shocked, amazed, and awed by the power in the man's words. He sounded as frightening in his demands to Ireth as he did condemning her people from the lectern.

When Ireth was allowed freedom from Huro's thrusting, she popped up and pushed him to his back. "His cock," her words came out breathless, "his cock can be hard again. Huro is a vigorous lover. With little effort," experienced fingers stroked the half mast shaft, "he will be up and ready again." Ireth wiped cum from her face, "and then Princess, then I will show you how to fuck a man."

Gilraen's body could take no more. She rose from her seat and hurried from the cottage. The image of her Priest, and the whore would be forever locked away, a private secret she would share with no one. Her steps carried her far away from the cottage and further from the village. Eventually her imagination forced her to stop and seek refuge. Taking note of her surroundings Gilraen realized that she'd made her way to a meadow where several young people of Lúinwë often spent the summer months fishing, swimming and enjoying the warm air. This day though, it was cool and the promise of a hard storm loomed in the air. It was only fitting, the winter season was upon them and the first real snowfall had not yet occurred.

Gilraen shivered slightly. She walked once around the pond, welcoming the cool air, allowing it to caress her skin, to tone down the brightness of her cheeks. The images of what had transpired earlier still weighed heavy on her mind; her breath would catch occasionally as she dared to imagine her and Turgon in such a heated exchange. During all her musings she never thought of another man in her fantasies. A frown formed, her forehead furrowed in annoyance. "It is only because no other man has been as close to me, as intimate with me. I am sure, if I were to lay my hands upon Círdan than I could imagine my fingers on his skin and my mouth on his..." she stopped talking aloud and cleared her head.

"So you'd have me take the life of my best friend, and most loyal soldier?"

Gilraen spun around. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened. "Lord Celebrindal, I wasn't aware of you being outside the castle walls."

Turgon moved casually toward the Princess. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "One of my men hurried back to me when they noted whose home you had opted to visit."

Her face grew red, a mixture of anger and embarrassment mingled together. "You are having me followed?" She stepped closer to him, temporarily forgetting the feelings he'd invoked the night before. "What rights have you to send your lackeys trailing after me?"

The man chuckled softly, allowed the Princess to close the distance between them and waited while her tirade of emotions simmered to a lesser boil. "Your Highness, you are my betrothed, soon to be my wife, in just nine short days. Your mother has shown a lack of care and concern toward your well being, I will not however be so negligent, not to mention your threat last night to bed every man you come across --."

"I said no such thing! I simply stated that I would bed whomever I pleased and -."

"- and that just so happens to be Círdan?" Turgon finished for her. "I will kill him where he stands if he was to bed you, I'll not share you with another." Turgon lifted his hand to caress her face. His fingers were gloved, but the heat of his touch still seemed to singe Gilraen.

"Yet, again you speak as if it is merely a formality. My being loyal and your sticking your wick into whatever hole presents itself."

"Such language," his hand trailed across her lips, "is that something the whore taught you. How to speak like a slut to your lover? What other things did you learn from Mistress Ireth?"

Gilraen's blush was a deep crimson; she stepped back and turned to leave. Her exit was cut short by the firm grasp of her betrothed's hand on her arm. He turned her, pulling her hard against him. His mouth captured hers, and his tongue dove forcefully between her chilled lips, forcing them to open to his ministrations. Gilraen whimpered, unaware of the sound her throat made as she leaned further into his kiss. He tilted her head, eased on up on his assault and waited for her to relax. When he sensed her desire to give him free will, Turgon slowly began to stroke the sides of her tongue with his, encouraging her to follow his lead. Their muscles moved together, each one touching and tasting the other as if they had hours to burn and the cold air was nothing more than a comfort to their heated skin.




Twelve Days of Hrive 'Isia Ch. 03



 On the fourth day of Hrive 'Isia

"I see what you are thinking and it will only end in sorrow."

Gilraen looked over to her sister, stuck out her tongue and told her to stay away from her thoughts. Madrician frowned, but did as was asked of her, choosing instead to remove herself from the library and seek out Huro so he could help her practice her skills. With her sister's nuptials so close, Madrician was finding it harder and harder to block out the images that Gilraen was projecting.

The Princess watched her sister leave, and felt once more the safe haven of having her thoughts be her own. She knew Madrician had seen what had transpired in the cabin with Ireth and Huro, and she knew her sister had felt the emotions that were stirring deep within her when she imagined Turgon and her reenacting what she'd witnessed. It was the youngest Princess's own undoing. She knew how to protect herself from others' private musings; she just dallied too much and was often rewarded with things she'd rather forget. Gilraen shook her head, cleared what little guilt she felt at Madrician's lost innocence and went back to focusing on the man who sat quietly reading from one of her father's books.

A half hour passed before Gilraen gained the courage needed to approach Círdan. She rose from her chair, shook out her long locks, squared her shoulders, thrust out her breasts and walked demurely toward her intended victim. Once she reached his side, she waited until he took notice of her. When he failed to do so in a timely manner, her body relaxed and her arms came up to cross in front of her bosom and she tapped her toe annoyingly.

"May I help you, Your Highness?" Círdan replied more casually than Gilraen expected. He almost sounded annoyed by her presence.

She cleared her throat. "I wish to take a turn about the garden and since you are obviously the man my betrothed put in charge to guard me, I expect you to escort me."

Círdan's brow arched. He looked up, and Gilraen answered back with a haughty expression. He sighed, rose, closed the book and offered his arm. "Thank you," she answered, in a tone that reeked of regality.

"But of course."

They moved together toward the double doors that opened into the garden. Each one paused long enough to accept the warm outerwear that was offered to them via the servants. "Your mother runs a tight household," Círdan commented after helping the Princess into her hooded cape.

"She does. She prides herself on it." Gilraen did not want to speak of her mother, she'd been fortunate enough not to be alone with her for the past several days and speaking of her would most likely jinx her luck.

Once outside Gilraen shivered against the shocking cold. The promising wind from the day before had indeed released a mountain of snow onto the Lúinwë keep as well as its surrounding lands. Gilraen burrowed herself deeper into the cape she wore, and huddled closer to her escort, in hopes to ward off the chill.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Círdan asked.

The Princess paused. "What, my being so close to you? Why do you feel something?" She blinked in a fashion she hoped was seductive.

Círdan turned his head to cough. "Um – I meant this walk. It is quite cold and the snow, though removed enough for your stroll is still thick."

"Oh," Gilraen's shoulders slumped, "I'll be fine, as will you. Besides perhaps we can think of a way to warm ourselves. A hear a good conversation can often lead to warm thoughts that ward off the chill."

The couple remained silent as Círdan escorted Gilraen on a tour of the snow capped bushes, trees, and hibernating flowers. They reached a bench, where Gilraen paused. Círdan sighed, looked around and shook his head. The Princess waited. Her escort brushed the snow away with his gloved hand and waited for his charge to take a seat. When she patted the empty space next to him, he claimed it. Gilraen ignored the sound of displeasure whispered from his lips. Once he was seated, she scooted closer, hoping to capture more of his heat, as well as put her plan into action.

"Turgon tells me you are his best mate."

"I feel the same way about him."

Gilraen smiled. "Have you known each other long?"

"Since we were babes; we've trained together, fought together, hell we've even fucked the --." Círdan shifted, "forgive me Your Highness."

"It's alright Círdan. I am not a fool. I know my future will be one that I share my husband with other women. I am not happy with the arrangement, but I will accept it." She noted Círdan's frown. "In fact that is why I wanted to walk with you."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Gilraen turned her body, so her gaze could hold Círdan's, "I wish," she pulled one glove off her hand and brought her fingers to Círdan's lips, "I wish to kiss you Círdan. To feel you pressed against me, to –."

"Your Highness!" Círdan grabbed her hand and pulled it away.

"What?" she purred, trying hard to display her feminine attributes through the thickness of the cape, "You already admitted that you shared the same women and am I not to be his woman. Can you not see anything," she thrust her breasts out further, "that appeals to you?"

She watched the lump in his throat and watched him swallow it. Inside her stomach churned, the idea of kissing the man in front of her caused a vile taste to spill into her throat; she refused to acknowledge it, and instead took one of his hands and placed it on her chest. "See, Círdan, I am a woman and I have needs like a man. Why should only one man fill my bed, when one woman is not enough for my Lord?"

Gilraen pushed her chest forward at the same time as she pressed his palm deeper into her firm globe. She watched his face grow warm, and knew he was fighting an inner war. She took advantage of the situation, quickly moving her hand to cup the back of his head and force her mouth onto his.

Círdan pulled away, and rose quickly from the bench. His face was red, and his mouth gaping in shock. Gilraen bit down on her lower lip, her own skin flush from embarrassment. She heard Círdan try to speak, to form words that seemed unable to be spoken. "Just go," she whispered, lifting her hand and dismissing him, "just leave me."

Her heart ached as she watched the elf scurry away, humiliated with herself and her actions, Gilraen waited several minutes in the cold before returning to the library. Once inside she removed the cape and gloves, handed them to the waiting attendant and sat down in the chair nearest the fire.

"Didn't work out the way you expected, did it?"

She spun around and stared at Turgon. Her jaw slacked and her eyes widened. He seemed to always catch her off guard and now, he had obviously witnessed her failed attempt at seduction. Her lower lip trembled, as she turned away and focused on the flames that licked the firewood. When she felt his presence behind her, she closed her eyes and hung her head.

"Why did you take Círdan's life into your hands? Are you so selfish that you would put your needs before another man's own heartbeat?"

A tear slipped from her eyes, she shook her head no. "I just wanted to know what it was like, if all kisses were like ours." She heard his chuckle, winced at the laughter and waited for more chastisement to fall from his smirking lips. When nothing came she looked up and saw his eyes gazing back at her.

"I am not unaffected by the moments we have shared together. I find myself contemplating a life with only one woman."

"And?" Gilraen's voice seemed laced with hope.

Turgon slid down to the floor, to lean against the edge of the chair "It is not a bad picture, after all my parents seem content with the arrangement."

Gilraen smiled. They sat there, each one lost in their own thoughts. Eventually the afternoon bell tolled and Turgon pulled himself up from his position on the floor, flexed the muscles in his back and took Gilraen's hand. "Princess, we can make this work. We have only to trust each other. If you swear to end this mission of seeking bed partners, then I will seriously consider the notion of only bedding you. I will however warn you that we Celebrindal men have a hefty appetite for mating and often need release, so in times when your body is unable to service me," his fingers caressed her lips, "there are other ways..."

"Oh Mistress Ireth showed me!"

Turgon's hand dropped as a throaty growl fell from his lips. Gilraen blushed. He took her hand, tucked it against him and together they left the library. "It is the fourth day of Hrive 'Isia and I do believe it is the day where we are to give each other one gift to mark the celebration of winter. I have something special for you."

Gilraen stopped short. "Turgon, I have nothing. I was up all night fretting about how to properly seduce," she looked down, "Círdan that I did not prepare a gift for you and it looks like even that practice was for naught, for it is obvious Círdan found nothing about me appealing."

"I highly doubt that. He just knew he'd be skewered had he been caught reacting to your charms."

Her soft giggle bounced gently off the walls. "I shall make it up to you, the lack of a gift, by deplorable behavior with Círdan. I do hope you know he does not need run through. He acted a gentleman, and I the whore."

"He acted as was instructed," Turgon announced matter-of-factly.

The couple was brought up short when Gilraen stopped walking. "He knew I was going to do that? But how? I -."

"He is the only man I trusted to deny you any leeway and so I told him of your plan to seduce him, if not someone else. Believe me Princess; no other man would have had the strength to deny themselves the taste of your lips, or the feel of your breasts beneath their palms."

Her face grew red. She allowed herself to be led back on the path Turgon had chosen. It wasn't until they began to ascend the stairs to one of the tower rooms that Gilraen again forced them to stop. "What are we doing here?" she whispered, her eyes grew worried. She glanced repeatedly behind them, leaned forward to try and peer around the next turn. "My mother," she turned to leave, pulling her betrothed with her, "she will slay me where I stand. We must go." Her features were pale and her pulse raced. "Have you no mercy for the treatment I will receive at her hands for defying her. I cannot be here."

"Enough," Turgon said, his voice echoing about them. "You are not to fear that woman ever again. She means nothing to me, nor should she to you. Though she may be the only capable parent, she is not the only one and I wish for you to visit with the man who sired you. That, Gilraen is my gift to you."

Gilraen's lips trembled. "But – but I've not seen him since -."

"I know. I'll be with you."

"She will -."

"Gilraen, she'll do nothing. She has already been handled and she knows better than to defy me. Our betrothal benefits her too much for her to do anything to hinder it. You do want to see him, don't you?" A trembling hand reached out and wiped at tears that had spilled from her eyes. She shook her head yes, and allowed Turgon to lead her toward her father's chambers.

Two guards stood by either side of the door. Gilraen barely recognized them as Turgon's men. Already he was taking steps to assure her of not only her safety, but the well being of her sister, and now her father. She squeezed his hand, and waited for the doors to be opened to her. When they were, Turgon ushered her in, then waited with the guards. She looked back, smiled, and closed the door, leaving her alone in a room she'd not stepped foot in for thirteen years.

Her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. She chewed nervously on her lip, and the inside of her cheek. Her gaze shifted from the left, to the right, not quite ready to focus on the massive bed in the center of the room. Instead she recalled the times her father would read to her when they sat on the bench under the window. A memory of them playing with toys in front of the fireplace beckoned her gaze there. She could almost hear his laughter and see the sparkle in his eyes when she would run out and scare him. Now as an adult, she knew he was never surprised, he always knew where she was, and how to find her. Even that night, when she had called out for him, he had come for her.

Gilraen reached the edge of the bed, and looked at the man lying there. His chest rose and fell, and his lids were closed. His lips were slightly parted, as his lungs drug in wisps of air. She sat down on a stool that had been placed there for her. Her hands suddenly cool, rested on one of his. She squeezed the frail bones and found her eyesight blinded by the torrential downpour of her tears.

The Princess sat there for what seemed like hours, stroking her father's hand, and pressing kisses to his temple. She found herself telling him stories about her life, as well as those of her sister, his other daughter Madrician - the girl he would never know. She spoke of the harvest, of Turgon and her growing desire for him. She spoke of how she also feared that same desire. She wished with all her heart that her father would awaken and grant her words of wisdom. When a knock broke into the haven of emotions and stories, Gilraen called out for whoever had knocked to enter. 

"Princess, it is time for your father's meal and bath."

Gilraen looked to find Turgon and another waiting for permission to enter. She smiled at them both, and rose from the stool. "Can I come back tomorrow?" she asked Turgon. He grinned, shook his head and held out his hand to her. "And – and may I bring Madrician?" Again he agreed and once more her heart drummed faster. She turned back to the weak, frail man and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "I will be back tomorrow papa, and we will talk more. I'm sorry I've been away for so long. I love you so very much." She squeezed his hand again, before leaving his side and returning to Turgon. 

"Thank you," she whispered before lifting her arms and wrapping them around his shoulders. Her lips found his and she kissed him deeply, not caring who witnessed her gratitude. When they parted, her gaze was full of devotion and desire. "I will never have a gift worthy of what you've given me, but I will strive to make you happy." Turgon stroked her cheek, kissed her brow and led her away from her father's rooms.

 On the fifth day of Hrive 'Isia

Gilraen held her sisters hand as they waited for the servant, feeding their father, to finish her task. They both watched with anxious eyes, each thankful for the others' presence. Gilraen was mesmerized by the process of a long tube being inserted into her father's throat and the broth, laced with herbs sliced so thin one could see through them, was slowly fed into a funnel. "So this is how he survives?" she asked. The woman, a faithful servant to Eáránë ignored the Princess, eased the tube from the King's throat, wiped the broth and fluids that coated his lips and turned to leave.

"Isa – I asked you a question." Gilraen stared at the woman's back.

Isa turned, and glanced back at the lifeless figure that stared at the ceiling above him, his eyes occasionally blinked. "Yes, Princess."

The Princess heard the annoyance in the woman's voice. "And are you the only one that cares for him?"

Gilraen felt ashamed and embarrassed for not knowing the ins and outs of her father's care. In fact, the more she thought on it, very few of her father's friends, and companions had ever been allowed into his chambers after the accident.

"I am the only one that feeds him. Dushanal takes care of his bath, and personal needs. Your father's body functions, he just cannot move, or speak, he is most likely not even aware we are here."

"Liar."

Isa and Gilraen both turned to the one that had whispered the word. "Madrician, what did you say?" Gilraen asked.

The young girl looked to her sister and then over to Isa. Her gaze fluttered down, her lids lowered submissively. "I was thinking to myself, sister, about a conversation I had with one of the boys from the village. I did not mean to speak out loud. He told me a falsehood and I just realized it."

Gilraen frowned; Isa rolled her eyes, muttered something about Madrician being soft in the head, then turned to go. "Dushanal will be here in twenty minutes, which is usually when your father's body expels what it must."

The Princess watched as Isa left the room, and then turned to face her sister. "You have less time than that to tell me why you called Isa a liar and why you lied to me about some boy in the village." Gilraen waited for her sister to answer.

"She lies. He's very much aware of what is going on around him," Madrician answered, pushed past her sister and moved to climb onto her father's bed. She leaned over him, stared into his eyes and studied his features.

Gilraen watched in awe and confusion as her sister reached out and stroked her father's hair, tucking strands of gray and white behind his ears. "You can hear him?" Gilraen whispered and found herself more jealous of her young sibling than she'd ever been before, even the love Madrician received from their mother was nothing compared to what she was unable to share with her father. Tears welled up in her eyes; she brushed them away and moved to sit next to their father, opposite of her sister.

"What does he say?" Gilraen asked. She licked her lips in anticipation and fear. Would her father demand she leave? Did he hate her? Blame her? What did he think as he lay in this bed for years, no one able to hear his words, because they were trapped inside his mind?

Madrician turned to her sister; her own tears had left stains on her pale cheeks. "He has missed you and he knows you were here yesterday, and wishes you did not feel guilty – it was not your fault."

Gilraen sobbed and more tears fell. "Sister there is more." The elder princess nodded her head, encouraging Madrician to continue. "It is mother – she – she poisons him."

Wide eyes full of shock and disbelief flew to Madrician's innocent features. "You are mistaken," Gilraen whispered, looking to see if by some slim chance someone had slipped into the room unnoticed.

"No, sister, our mother, with the help of Isa keeps him in this state. He fears her and has for years lost all hope of ever being heard."

"But how - why?"

"The broth. I knew Isa was doing it, I read her thoughts, but I could not stop her. He asked me not to," she nodded to their father. "I heard him too, as soon as we entered his chambers. I heard his weeping, his cries for freedom. He has been trapped, and now as he speaks to me, he worries that his mind is too far gone to lead his people, even if we are able to stop our mother."

"But I don't understand. She loves him, why poison him?" Gilraen leaned toward her father, and brushed his bangs away from his eyes. "Why father? Why poison you?" She glanced to her sister, urging her to share with her what her father was thinking.

Madrician swallowed, licked her lips and closed her eyes. "She was to be sent away – she had been with another – another man and –." Madrician turned her head away.

"Go on," Gilraen demanded.

"I am not his daughter."

The statement was but a whisper but Gilraen heard it. She looked down at her father, then back to her sister. "You – you are an offspring of an affair?"

The younger girl nodded her head, her lips trembled, and her fingers curled into tight fists. "Fath – the King – he found out and was going to have mother banished. But soldiers came and told him that the village children had been climbing on the rocks, and had left you there. So he left before he could give the order. He told her he would deal with her and her bastard daughter when he returned."

Gilraen heard the ache in her sister's voice. She reached out to caress her hair, and offer her comfort, but Madrician pulled away. "You need to keep Isa away from him, and Dushanal, she takes pleasure from your father – against his will."




Twelve Days of Hrive 'Isia Ch. 04



 The sixth day of Hrive 'Isia

"Your Highness – a pleasant surprise, please come in. I will admit I did not believe you were courageous enough to step over my threshold again."

Gilraen handed a bundle of coins over to Ireth's open palm. "I wasn't sure if I were brave enough either," the princess admitted.

"I do not have a companion at this moment, so I cannot demonstrate anything for you, so I am not sure what I can help you with."

The Princess took a seat that Ireth offered, and settled down into it. "I am to wed Turgon on the twelfth day of the celebration and then of course bed him that night and though you were kind enough to show me," she licked her lips nervously, "how to please him with my mouth – I do not know how to please him with my body and I do not want our first night to be - - awkward. I do not wish to be a disappointment to my husband, not after all he has given back to me."  

Ireth pursed her lips, and took the chair opposite of Gilraen. "It will be awkward no matter how many lessons you pay me for. Here take your coin. Your betrothed already knows you are here, for I saw his men outside just as I closed the door behind you."

Gilraen rolled her eyes. "I thought as much," she muttered.

"It is only wise of him to have you followed. Your mother has loyal people, even now that she's been banished and her sentence carried out."

She knew Ireth was right. Her mother had stood before the council and admitted to her wrong doings, she had not wept, only set looks of loathing and hate to both of her daughters. She had accepted her punishment, and most likely had prepared herself years ago for this day, because a wrong done to another is eventually paid. The council had allowed her enough coin to survive three days of travel. She was ordered to never return to the land of Lúinwë or Celebrindal, seeing that her eldest would reside at both throughout her life. Eáránë had made no move to embrace young Madrician, nor had she given pause to either of her cohorts, who had also been sentenced to banishment. They were however given no coin, for they were skilled laborers, who would most likely find jobs more quickly than their Lady.

"But what is it you wish to ask me?" Ireth asked, hoping to ease some of the tension from the room.

"Lord Turgon has kissed me and I have found myself enjoying it – which I know is a good and normal thing, but his hands – they move across my body and even though I am clothed it burns me."

Ireth smiled and patted the young girl's hand. "It is a good thing. It means you are most likely very compatible with your betrothed. Are you afraid of what you feel for him, when he touches you?"

"I am fearful of myself. I want to explode inside. I want to crawl out of my skin and into his. It cannot be normal. I feel that if he does not touch me, I will die."

"My dear Princess, you speak as if you have never reached a point in your life where you have exploded inside."

Gilraen lifted a brow, confusion easily read on her face. Ireth frowned. "Have you ever touched yourself Princess? I saw that when you were witnessed the Priest and I, your hand moved to your chest; have you never spent time exploring your own body?"

The young woman blinked rapidly, shrank back and her jaw slackened. "I have not done such a sinful act. Our Priest speaks of self pleasuring as a sin and one should not..."

Ireth lifted her hand and interrupted the young girl, "The same Priest that has frequented my bed many a year?"

"I see," Gilraen answered.

"Your Highness, to know your own body is to know where you want your lover to touch you. It will help him to truly mark you as his own. He will come to embrace your desires, and will strive to satisfy you in all ways."

"And you know this how?" Gilraen asked.

Ireth shrugged her shoulders. "He has bent over backward to care for you. If he did not find you favorable, and if he did not care for your needs he would have not allowed you so much leeway in your comings and goings, nor would he have allowed your mother's loyal subjects to live. He would have come into your kingdom demanding your hand without a thought as to others around you. Is it not true your sister benefits from your marriage, and becomes a member of Círdan's household? The fact he gives one such as her notice, proclaims his desire to please you sits high on his list of priorities."

Silence weighed heavily in the air as Gilraen thought of what Ireth said. "Princess, go back to your chambers," Ireth handed the coins back to the woman, "learn your body, explore yourself and find out where those special places are on you that make your insides explode."

Gilraen blushed, took the coins, and returned them to the village whore. "I have a feeling I will be back again before my wedding night, but if not then most likely afterward." She left the cottage, waved to the guards who had not done a very good job at hiding and made her way back to the castle. Would Turgon chastise her for visiting Ireth again, or would he tease her mercifully? Gilraen hoped neither, it had taken a lot of courage to approach the whore again, and she had to admit she was disappointed not to catch her in the act of earning more coins from the local gentry.

Each step Gilraen took out of the village was full of mixed feelings and worrisome concern. She found herself anxious over what her life with Turgon would be like, would she please him, would he remain faithful as he proclaimed he would? What would happen to Madrician? Círdan had already held firm to his commitment to her sister and her position in his household, but what of her heart. She'd lost a mother and a father and had no one. Perhaps she should seek out Turgon and suggest Madrician live with them. It was obvious from Madrician's speech with the King that she felt his hostility toward her and she knew he would not welcome her presence upon his house.  It was the shout from a guard and a hard shove off the path that brought Gilraen out of her musings. She fell to the ground, rocks dug into her gloves, the leather kept her palms free of cuts and bruises.

Gilraen turned, and saw one of Turgon's men dead. An arrow protruded from his throat. The villagers that had been milling about various vendors screamed and shouted. Some ran around haphazardly, others darted behind trees, and carts. Another arrow sailed through the air, striking the second guard. He pulled a knife from his boot thrust it toward Gilraen, who took it. "Run!" he shouted before an arrow penetrated his skull.

The Princess scrambled to her feet, her gown and cloak hindering her swiftness. She cursed, as fear coursed through her veins. She ran several feet before an arm wrapped tight around her waist and hauled her back. A screamed was ripped from her lungs, as she took the knife and stabbed it repeatedly into the arm. Its tip did little damage to the thick leather hide that covered the attacker's beefy muscles. He pulled her into the woods. Gilraen kicked and thrashed. She felt panic growing and knew that without a doubt her mother's loyal followers were still deep within her walls.

"Vile wench," the kidnapper cursed, before releasing the Princess and spinning her around. Before she could react, his fist came down and blackness consumed her frightened mind.

On the seventh day of Hrive 'Isia

The sound of their horses moving through the woods, crossing meadows, and their occasional grunt of displeasure were the only sounds that seemed to register in Gilraen's mind as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Her jaw ached, her head pounded, and her muscles felt weak and frail. She tried to open her eyes, only to lose what ground she gained when they closed on her again. Voices fluttered in and out of her subconscious. A jolt brought her back to the surface again, and once more she opened her eyes, this time able to see the shadowy figures of several men, as well as their mounts. Whoever had kept her pressed against him, now slid from behind her and as she began to fall, captured her within a vise-like grip. "Don't drop her, we're on strict orders from the Queen, she's not to be harmed."

"We'll make camp here, and then in the morning we'll meet up with our Lady."

"I'll be happy when all this is over. I don't like stealing away the Princess, that Lord Celebrindal he's not someone you want to trifle with."

A sound of indifference followed the statement.

Gilraen was dropped onto the ground. She landed hard against the dirt and rocks. Her rump rested uncomfortably against the roots of a Wallow tree. She shook her head, trying to clear her cloudy thoughts, and blurred vision. The same man that had deposited her, with little regard to her feminine state, moved toward her, rope in hand. "I have to," she swallowed, hoping to ease the dryness of her throat, "I need to relieve myself." Her words were a choked whisper. The man grunted his displeasure, pulled her up, and pushed her toward a cluster of bushes and trees.

She took several steps; each one brought a wave of dizziness. When the man continued to follow her, she stopped short, and slowly turned. "Am I to have no privacy?" she asked.

The man lifted a brow, smirked and then winked. "Not an ounce, Your Highness, Queen's order."

Gilraen's features grew bright pink as humiliation coursed through her veins. She moved behind the brushes, but knew those who wanted to see her take care of her personal needs could do so without little hindrance. When she was done, she was taken back to the tree and secured with ropes. Her hands were bound in front of her, while her waist was tethered tight against the hard bark.

She watched the men, most she recognized as soldiers in her father's army – her mother's really, since her father had been kept in a vegetated state for so long. Each man looked to have been seasoned warriors, and she wondered if all had at one time slept with their Queen. They moved quickly to ready the camp, two canvas tents were erected, firewood gathered, and two men disappeared into the woods to search out fresh game. While she took in their actions she found it odd that so many had been sent for her, wouldn't it be easy for Turgon to track their movements? Was her mother setting a trap for her betrothed? Gilraen hated not knowing the answers to all her burning questions, but mostly she hated the feeling of helplessness.

"Your bed is ready, Princess."

Gilraen shrank back, as two beefy hands reached out and cupped her face. The beard the man wore was covered in frozen spittle; she turned away just as his mouth tried to capture hers. His lips landed on her jaw, she shuddered in revolution. The man laughed, backed away and released her ropes, only to haul her up and tossed over his shoulder. He chuckled as she kicked and screamed. His hand came down hard on her backside. She stilled, fearful of what would come next if she fought her attacker. "Do not harm the girl."

The warning came from the one who had carried her through the woods. "It'll be the death of you."

A muttered curse left the mouth of the one who held her. He pushed his way into the tent and dropped Gilraen onto the furs that rested in a corner. "I don't know why the Queen wants you left pure. But perhaps there are other ways to make you worth all this trouble." His hands went to his pants. He lifted the edge of his coat and began to open the ties of his britches. The sound of a sword being pulled from its sheath, was the last the man heard as Gilraen witnessed a sharp blade protrude from the man's chest. She gasped, scrambled back and covered her mouth as bile threatened to be expelled. The sword was removed, the sucking sound slipped into the night air.

"You will come to no harm, Princess – at least not from us."

Again the man who seemed to be one of the few willing to obey her mother's orders had spoken to her. "Who are you?" she asked, admitting not for the first time that she had become too much of a recluse in her own household. There were so many of her own people she did not recognize.

"I am just a man, in love with a woman – who will one day see my value as more than just a soldier and a lover."

"So you are just another one of my mother's lackey's. A warming pad for her crotch?"

The man chuckled. "For now, yes, but I have warmed your mother's crotch many a time. She is a demanding woman, and I am loyal to her. I do not always agree with her methods, but she is a force to be reckoned with. She trusts me, and though I do not enjoy knowing she seeks others to warm her bed, in the end I know she will come back to mine."

"Your name?"

"Dmitri."

"I do not know you," Gilraen admitted.

He shrugged his shoulders, and tossed her another blanket. "It seems the clouds are moving in more quickly, and you will most likely need more of these to keep you warm, but this is all we can spare."

"I am to sleep in here alone?"

Dmitri smirked. "I will be just inside the tent, right here," he pointed to the opening. "And the reason you do not recognize me, is because you did not care to bother yourself with those not of your ilk."

Gilraen blushed. Had she been such a selfish girl? Yes, once her mother started the beatings she had tried to keep to herself, and remain nothing more than a speck on her mother's mind. In doing so, it seemed that she had lost the loyalty of many more than she'd realized. "This will change," she promised, more to herself than to the man who still remained within the tent with her. "I was a young girl frightened by all around her, the loss of a father, and the abuse of a mother. Were you ever loyal to him – my father – the king?"

"I was but a boy when he took ill. Your mother is all I know, and all I wish to know. I'll bring you wine and meat, after I dispose of this," Dmitri kicked at the dead elven warrior, "until then pray that whatever my Lady wishes for you –  is quick – though I don't believe that to be the case."

Gilraen watched him leave, the thumping of the dead man's body, thundered in her ears, as did Dmitri's parting words. She buried her face in her hands and fought the fear that tried to consume her. Turgon would find her, but would it be too late for her and did she deserve the happiness he promised?

When nightfall came, Gilraen found sleep easily and knew that the wine had tasted bitter for a reason. Her mind drifted to a dream that left her lips raised in a soft smile, and her features serene and locked in bliss.

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~ 

"Wake up!"

She was pulled roughly to her feet, and swung over Dmitri's back. Again she fought for freedom, but again was held tight within the warrior's strong grip. "What is happening?" she demanded.

"The trickery failed, and your betrothed has been spotted."

"What trickery?" she asked, as she was tossed onto the back of a horse, Dmitri followed right behind her.

"Various signs were left on mock exits from the woods, hoping one would steer your betrothed wrong, but they failed. Hold on, or the fall will most likely break your neck," he ordered as he turned his steed away, kicking it into a fast and hard run.

Gilraen barely had time to grasp the horn of the saddle. She turned her head and caught sight of several of Turgon's men breaking into the camp. Dmitri covered her mouth with one hand to keep her from screaming, and further abused his horse to keep it moving. Once he felt they were safe enough to allow Gilraen to voice her displeasure at his actions, he removed  his hand.

"Damn fools," he muttered, slowing the creature and taking stock of their situation. "I knew it was a useless plan, but I allowed my desire to reach my love, cloud my better judgment."

"If you but let me go, you can return to her and I will demand you are not harmed for your part in all of this."

Dmitri laughed, turned their mount to the West and pushed onward. "No, my Princess, Eáránë cares for me, but she cares more for the revenge she holds deep in her heart. Your fate is sealed, but do not worry – I do not believe she seeks your life – you are her daughter, after all."

The Princess laughed - the sound full of fear and dry humor. "There is no love for me in my mother's heart. If she wishes for my life to remain intact, it is only because it serves a greater purpose."

Dmitri shrugged, saying no more, and instead left Gilraen to her own thoughts, while he drove them further from the carnage that he was sure Lord Celebrindal had rained down on Queen Eáránë's men.


The eighth day of Hrive 'Isia

Her muscles screamed in agony, and joints that should have been full of life and youthfulness, seemed to groan from age. Gilraen dismounted as gracefully as she could, allowing Dmitri to assist her. They had ridden all night, and most of the day. Only pausing once to trade with a farmer for a fresh horse. Dmitri had warned the Princess that if she tried to communicate with the farmer or his family, he would be forced to take their lives. A part of her doubted her captor, but not enough that she put her life above those of the peasants. They were no longer on her father's land, but had crossed the borders into Lord Séregon, Eáránë's father – Gilraen's grandfather's domain.

Gilraen was familiar with nothing; her grandfather had, according to those inside the castle walls of Lúinwë, had taken what her father offered, deposited his daughter and returned to his home before the blessings from the Priest could be heard. She highly doubted aid would come from whomever lived in the small cottage that Dmitri had now halted in front of. He pulled her with him, only easing his gait when he felt her stumble. "Anxious to rid yourself of me?" Gilraen hissed, but quickened her step, hoping to ease the bruising he would certainly leave on her skin.

He rapped hard on the door and step in when it was pulled open. The two small lanterns that were lit,  and a small fire burned in the fireplace, giving just enough light for Gilraen to make out the room's furnishings. One lamp, to her left, slowly rose in brightness, as the occupant of the cottage turned the wick. "Where are the others?"

Gilraen's lips curled at the voice. "Hello, mother."

Eáránë moved back to the threshold, as Dmitri closed the door behind Gilraen and himself. "Daughter."
The Queen of Lúinwë reached out and grasped her daughter's chin. Gilraen pulled away. Her mother laughed. "The others Dmitri?"

He pushed Gilraen into a chair and worked to bind her to it. "Turgon's men most likely killed them all, save one – hoping to gain what knowledge he could from them – but don't worry, none knew that I would be stealing the Princess away and bringing her here. They will only speak of the ship and Turgon will make his way to the shore, in search of his Princess there."

"Good,"   Eáránë, "I hate to have lost so many loyal followers, but," she shrugged her shoulders, "that is the way of things."

"What do you want from me, mother?"

Gilraen watched as her mother tossed her head back and chuckled. "I want you to suffer. I have lost everything, and you – you have lost nothing – in fact you have gained a father. I don't even have that to go back to."

"What of this place? Are we not on my grandfather's lands?"

"This was my grandmother's cottage. It stands still, but has remained empty for years. After your father's untimely accident, I sent loyalist here to slowly begin making improvements. My father and his men do not guard these borders because I offered to see that it was protected with Lúinwë's soldiers."

"Your soldiers, you mean."

Her mother smiled, shrugged her shoulders and made her way back to her daughter's side. "Yes, my soldiers."

"What are your plans for me? My betrothed will come looking for me. Once he discovers I am not on the ship your lackey spoke of. He will search the four corners to find me."

"I've no doubt you're right,"  Eáránë, she turned toward Dmitri, "would you please serve our precious guest? There is stew in the pot, hanging over the fire."




Twelve Days of Hrive 'Isia Ch. 05



 On the ninth day of Hrive 'Isia

The sharp pain of her hair being yanked and her head being tilted back brought Gilraen awake. She cried out and tried to jerk free. A pair of eyes, black as night, stared down at her and hair that looked thin and oily created a veil around her face. She pulled away, as the elf's breath threatened to force the contents from last night's meal to be expelled. "She is the Princess," the elf muttered, pushed Gilraen's head back down then moved to cup her breasts. Again she jerked away, only to realize she was still trapped. A pinch was given to each nipple, and her chin was grasped, her face studied by means of being turned harshly one way than the other. "I had heard a rumor that the Princess had been kidnapped, and a part of me was curious if that was who you was bringing me. You put me in a bad place, giving me this chit and then taking off, leaving me holding her and you free from her father's arrow."

"Her father is still an invalid, and her betrothed is heading in the wrong direction. You've dealt with precious treasures before – she will be no different."

"I will bear no ill will toward you, if you but release me now – Turgon will only slay my mother and her companion, but you will have your freedom," Gilraen tried to reason with the merchant. His saliva landed in plops, marking her clothing. Her stomach rolled in disgust.

The elf's long fingers trailed down to the hem of Gilraen's gown. He grinned as she closed her legs, he pushed her knees apart and reached further up her dress. His hand pushed against her underclothes. Long nails dragged the material to the side. "She's got a nice cunt there, may have to taste that myself before putting her to work." She felt a long finger slide into the dry canal. Her lips quivered, and tears filled her eyes. The elf pulled his hand free, brought the digit up to his nose and breathed deep. "You didn't give me used wares did you? She smells slightly used."

Gilraen blushed as a tear slipped down her crimson features. She heard her mother laugh. "No, the little slut's pussy erupted last night while she watched her mother in the act."

The merchant chuckled, spittle flew and landed on Gilraen's face, she turned away. "I'll get a high bid for the first round of cocks. They'll be lining up once they learn they are going to be fuckin' a royal pussy."

"Let us be about this business. Dmitri is readying our horses and the quicker I rid myself of this," Eáránë waved to Gilraen, "the sooner I can work to bring the favored jewel to me."

"You got another for sell do you? I know she's got a sister, a young one like her – oh, but what a price she'd fetch."

Eáránë hissed, "The other is not for you to ever lay your hands upon. Take this one and be gone, do not ever step foot on my lands, or her father's. If I find out you have – you will not live to see the morning light."

The merchant only grinned, and moved to free Gilraen from her bindings. She felt the ropes loosen, and acted on whatever instincts she had been born with. The Princess dragged her nails across the merchant's face, kicked the chair back and spun around to face her mother. The jug that housed the wine she'd drank last night was soon in her grasp, she flung it at the Queen, then darted toward the door. Eáránë reached out, and grasped Gilraen's hair, she pulled her back, and moved to slap her face.

Gilraen screamed, and scratched at her mother. She kicked and hit her with a clenched fist. Eáránë was taken back, surprised by the fight in her daughter. Gilraen pressed onward, taking with her whatever advantage she held and tried to multiply it. She leaped on her mother, pummeled her repeatedly with her fist and clawed at her with her fingertips. A hand pulled her away, but she pushed it off, kicking at the woman who struggled to rise from the floor. The jug had broken, pieces of clay lay scattered on the ground. Gilraen grabbed a large jagged chunk, dragged it across her mother's face. She heard the scream and cry for help. Eáránë bucked at her daughter. The merchant again tried to pull the crazed Princess from the Queen's chest. Once more he was pushed off, thirteen years of controlled rage had been released.

The shard cut into Gilraen's hand as she swiped it again across her mother, this time into her throat. Blood spurted, coating her. From far away, Gilraen heard shouts and screams. Footsteps and cries of anguish bounced to and fro in her head. A grip, unlike any she'd felt before came down like a vise around her arms and chest. She was lifted and thrown away, discarded like nothing more than a pebble. She landed against the wall, crumbling onto the cottage floor. Her vision cleared, limp fingers wiped at the fluid that dripped down her face. She stared at her hands; they were covered in her mother's blood. Gilraen turned away, vomiting what little had not been digested through the night. A bellowing soulful cry reached into her chest and she turned to face Dmitri.

He held her mother in his arms. Her face buried into his chest. He shook violently and tears fell fast down his cheeks. The merchant stood still, his fingers fretting and his step uneasy. Gilraen looked at him, he stared back at her. She rose up, and moved closer. The old elf stepped back. The Princess curled her lips, and advanced. Again he retreated, Dmitri made no move to stop her as she willed her steps toward the door. The merchant seemed than to realize he was about to lose his prize. He moved to grab her, only to be stopped by Dmitri. Gilraen felt her pulse quicken. Would her mother's lover take revenge on her? "Run Princess – as fast as you can – as far as you can."

Gilraen did not need a second invitation. She opened the door and rushed out. The winter air bit into her skin, it went ignored. Gilraen rushed to the horses, they stomped back – the smell of her mother's blood filled their nostrils, they shied from the offensive odor. She grabbed the halter of one, cooed words of comfort into its ear, and then pulled herself up onto its back. Gilraen turned the horse toward the trees, and galloped as hard and as fast as she could down a narrow path that led into the woods.

After a short time Gilraen slowed her mount. She brushed at her face with her sleeve, and felt the caking of her mother's blood flake off. A shudder rolled through her. The horse stopped, reading its rider's needs. Gilraen's tears fell, her body shook in sorrow. In time she felt the knowing signs of a coming storm. "We're going," she muttered to the creature beneath her, as he showed his agitation in remaining in one spot. The trail she took slowly opened into a larger more used path. She prayed she would pass no one, that the turning whether would deter them from traveling.

It was an hour into her travels before Gilraen came across another cottage, this one bustled with activity. A pair of young elven girls threw balls of snow at each other, and a mother stood on the porch, holding a smaller elf child. Gilraen stopped her steed and waited to be noticed.

The children saw her first, they ran to their mother, who ushered them inside, passing the babe to the taller of the two girls. Gilraen dismounted, stumbled slightly, patted the horse's neck and pulled its reigns behind her as she timidly made her way to the woman. She knew her visage was horrific and understood the cautious nature of the elven female. "Mistress, I am Princess Gilraen Lúinwë, daughter to King Lúinwë and Queen Eáránë, grand-daughter to Lord Séregon, who owns these lands. Please I seek comfort."

The woman gasped, and hurried forward, taking the Princess's hand and shouting for someone named Ferandi. A boy appeared in the doorway of the house, he was the same height as the girl who had been given the baby. Gilraen gave over the reigns of the horse to the boy, and followed the mother into the home. She was greeted immediately to the warmth of the cozy home. Fragrant aromas of fresh baked breads, and sweet treats wafted into her nostrils. She closed her eyes embracing the comfort.

"Your Highness, this way." The woman urged her onward. Gilraen moved with her, glancing at the young faces that stared back at her. "Back to work," their mother said, as she took the Princess into a chamber, and closed the door behind them. "There is warm water over the fire, and fresh clothes hanging in that closet. They will be loose on you, but will do. I will have Ferandi send a message to Lord Séregon and another to the Queen, please don't..."

"No – the Queen is dead. This is her blood. I will explain all, but for now, send the message to my grandfather and to my kingdom."

"My husband will carry the other the one to your kingdom, he will return soon from his hunt."

Gilraen nodded her head in understanding, and waited for the woman to close the door behind her before she began to pull off her bloodied clothes and try to repair her molested state.

 ~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~ 

The Princess emerged from the woman and her husband's chambers to be greeted once again by the fresh aromas of a tempting meal. Her stomach growled, she pressed her palm against it. She paused when she saw a male elf standing next to the woman. "Your husband?" she asked, then smiled when the woman introduced him as such. "I am honored, and appreciate the use of your home as my refuge."

"I had heard rumor that you were stolen from the castle, but none thought you would end up here. And I heard the Queen was behind it all – I've not filled my wife in with all the details, but I know you have been through a great ordeal. You may rest here. My son has tended to your horse, and already runs swiftly to our Lord to give him news of your plight."

"Thank you," Gilraen whispered.

"I will be off as well. My lady wife wishes for me to see to the message for your betrothed. Remain within these walls and you will be safe. We are a quiet people." She watched the couple kiss, and hoped that he spoke true, and she would be safe within their humble home.

The husband left, and the Princess was urged to sit down. She took the offered seat and thanked the mother for the food and drink that was soon placed before her. In time she found herself relaxing and enjoying the sound of the two girls who would whisper amongst themselves. She could sense their curiosity with her, and their eagerness to stare upon her features. She blushed under their scrutiny, but did nothing to deter their continued awe.

"My girls are rude," the mother said, then sent the girls scurrying to do something more productive. Each one gathered needle and thread and bent quietly over their stitchery. "Your grandfather will be happy to finally meet you."

Gilraen laughed softly. "Will he? I was told he wanted nothing to do with me. After my mother was wed to the King, he abandoned her."

"Oh no, Princess. Our Lord loved your mother and his heart ached when she refused his audience. Your mother, the Queen," she lowered her head, "I should not speak ill of the dead."

"Please, tell me what you know. I only have heard the stories from her lips." Gilraen touched the other elf's hand. Had her mother lied about this as well? Did her grandfather truly want a relationship and her mother had denied it? Was there no end to the lives the woman had tormented? She closed her eyes – yes, it had ended by her hand. She sighed deep, opened her eyes and looked at the woman before her. "Please, tell me."

The woman smiled. "Your grandfather is a great leader, a fine man, but old from time and his body weak and weary from unrest. He loved your grandmother, and after her death he worked hard to arrange for someone to take care of his only daughter – Lady Eáránë. Your mother though, she was a selfish girl and though I do not yet know the circumstances of her death, I know in my heart, it was brought on by herself."

"My grandfather wanted to be in my life?"

"Oh yes, he was sent away, time and time again, until the second daughter was born, and then he was ordered to no longer step upon Lúinwë grounds, or a war would be fought, in which he would most assuredly lose."

Gilraen pushed her fingers through her hair. "There is so much I have lost, by keeping myself hidden from my mother and her followers. It is as if I live in a kingdom – in a world – where I know nothing and yet I am to be a leader among my people."

The woman clucked like a mother hen, and patted Gilraen's hand. "You will learn, and I am sure you are betrothed to a great leader, and your grandfather will be made of your presence, you will have much guidance in your future. Do not fret on the past Your Highness, but embrace your future."

Hours slipped by with Gilraen spending time playing with the two daughters, and tending – as best she could – the small baby girl. She helped their mother with mending as well as preparing an afternoon meal, which was eaten just as halfheartedly as the morning one had been. As the sun moved into position to signal the promise of another day being passed, several riders were heard reigning in their mounts outside of the elven home.

Gilraen chewed on her lip, as the Mistress of the house peered outside. She stepped back, curtsied, and remained slightly bent as an older elf gentleman crossed over the threshold. Gilraen rose from the floor, where she'd been playing with the girls. She knew without any doubt that the man before was her mother's father – her grandfather – Lord Séregon. Her gaze held his for what seemed like an eternity. When he opened his arms, she ran into them. He held her close, petted her hair and hugged her tight. Gilraen cried into his shoulder, her tears wet his outerwear. He stroked her back, and whispered her name. She sniffled, and wiped at her eyes, led him to a bench and sat down beside him. They held hands for a long time before either could speak. "You are as lovely as your grandmother. You have her eyes." He stroked her cheek, and kissed her forehead.

The Princess wiped her eyes. "Mother – mother is dead," she sniffed, lowered her gaze and whispered, "I killed her."

A heavy silence weighed down the room. "Tell me the story," her grandfather said, his hand still held hers.

She looked up, needing to read his expression – to see if the evil she often saw in her mother's gaze was held in her grandfather's. When she felt she was safe in the telling of her life, she released all that had transpired since the day her mother began to strike out at her with the canes.

After the story was told, Gilraen watched Lord Séregon rise, and make his way to the fire. He stared at the burning logs, lost in his own thoughts. A sharp rap on the door brought everyone's attentions back to the present. The door was thrust open, and Turgon entered, followed by the Master of the house. Gilraen's eyes locked with her betrothed's. She ran into his arms and buried her face into his neck. Again tears fell; she was amazed she still had some to spare. 

When she felt Turgon urging her to look at him, she did so. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, allowing her to softly melt back into him. "I'm sorry I was not there to protect you," he whispered once their mouths took a moment to cease feeding off the other. She only shook her head, and knew he hurt just as she did. She held his hand as she turned to introduce her to the family as well as her grandfather. The two men seemed to size each other up, each gauging the level of commitment the other shared toward Gilraen's safekeeping. Eventually, Lord Séregon reached out and embraced the young Lord, clapped him on the back and congratulated him on the betrothal. When he heard the wedding was to take place on the twelfth day of Hrive 'Isia, joy seemed to bubble up from his chest and explode in hearty laughter.

The evening progressed with more tears, smiles, joy, and some heartache as the various elven folk, from various walks of life, shared stories, food, and drink. That night as the moon claimed its place in the sky, their hosts slept soundly in their room, Gilraen slept in the bed of one of the girls, who had been sent to sleep with her sister. Lord Séregon slept in the bed of the young boy's and the other men, including Turgon stayed in the family's barn. 

On the tenth day of Hrive 'Isia

The large group of travelers left early the following morning. Lord Séregon and Lord Turgon both had laid a large amount of coin into the husband's hand, before taking their leave, and Princess Gilraen had embraced the children, kissed the boy and baby, and promised their parents that they would be welcomed upon the lands of Lúinwë and Celebrindal as special guests. Gilraen rode her steed, surrounded by over two dozen armed men, as well as a grandfather and a very protective husband-to-be. She felt safer than she had in a long time.

"Turgon, what of mother, Dmitri and the merchant?" she asked, as another hour passed by them on the pathway to home.

"I sent men to the cottage you spoke of, your mother's body was gone, but a fresh grave had been laid for her. Your father, decided to leave her where her lover had placed her. I am sure, in time he will mark her grave in a fashion befitting her station in life, but for now, he works to come to terms with not only her loss, but the knowledge of how little regard she had for everyone around her."

Gilraen glanced at her grandfather, and was surprised at how quickly her heart had accepted him into her life. Turgon continued. "Dmitri's tracks disappeared into the forest, and from what I suspect he is a skilled warrior; I don't think you have to fear him. He allowed you to leave, had he been set on seeking revenge on what happened with your mother, he would have run you through then. The merchant, he was cornered, questioned and threatened that if he were to ever visit the realms of any we are loyal to he would not survive the stay in our dungeons."

She took in his words, and kept her thoughts her own. "Princess –," Turgon called to her.

"Yes?"

"Do not feel guilt for what happened with your mother. You fought for your freedom, and from what you have told me, your sister's freedom as well."

"Will she forgive me? Madrician. Do you think she will see in my mind and know I was not myself, that I was a woman crazed? Will she fear me when she stands before me and enters my thoughts? Will I lose her too?"

Turgon reached over and touched her hand, their horses slowed. "You give your sister so little credit. She may read minds, but I believe she reads souls. She sees deep inside a person, and can tell if they are worthy of her love. Did you not say she saw such horrors from your mother's mind that she purposely sought out a way to protect herself – she will see inside you, and find what she has always found – love."

Gilraen smiled, and squeezed her betrothed's hand. No more words on the subject were spoken, instead Turgon took the time to address one of his men. When she asked about Círdan, he explained he had stayed with Madrician, in order to protect her from any attempts on her person. 

They made camp, Turgon and her grandfather stayed within the canvas walled protection of her shelter. She felt cocooned in their strength. Turgon slept at the opening of the tent, her grandfather slept toward the back. Each kept a hand on their sword.

She lay awake for many hours, contemplating on what would her betroth do if she were to go to him, and offer to do for him what Ireth had done for Huro, or what her mother had done with Dmitri. She closed her eyes and tried to not think about her mother and what had transpired with the elf warrior, but she could not help to be curious as to the emotions and feelings that had been involved, as well as the sensations. A long sigh escaped her parted lips.

"Go to sleep Gilraen," Lord Séregon's voice whispered into the night.

"Yes, grandfather." She heard Turgon chuckle, she rolled over and willed for the next day to come and go swiftly.



Twelve Days of Hrive 'Isia Ch. 06



 On the eleventh day of Hrive 'Isia

They arrived late in the evening. The celebration of Hrive 'Isia seemed to have stalled due to all the chaos of the Princess's abduction. She felt guilty over all the fuss that had been made over her. She was helped from her horse and quickly surrounded by the strong, feminine grip of Madrician. "Oh sister!" the young girl cried, and wept into her chest. Gilraen kissed the top of her head, and pulled her back. She stared into her sister's gaze and knew she was reading her thoughts.

Madrician paled, and tears slipped silently from her puffy eyes. When she hugged her sister again, Gilraen knew that she had no reason to worry. Her sister did love her and did not blame her for their mother's death. "Father asks for you," Madrician whispered, tugging on sister's arm.

"He speaks?" Gilraen asked, then turned to Turgon.

"I knew nothing of this," he promised.

Círdan appeared at Madrician's side. "He began to form sentences yesterday morning, and as of this morning has become quite demanding. Insisting on being in top form when he binds his daughter to her life-mate; he does wish to speak to Turgon before the ceremony."

"Of course," Turgon answered. "What other progress has he made?"

"Oh Lord Turgon," Madrician interjected, "He is walking with assistance, and is trying to feed himself. It is a miracle, a gift from the goddess that she has smiled down on him, found favor in him and he works to make her proud," the young girl turned her gaze upon Círdan, "with the goddesses steady hand leading him, Círdan has brought him back to us." 

Gilraen could not help but notice the way her sister's features changed when she spoke to Círdan. Her sister seemed to be developing a crush on the elven warrior. It would be several years before Madrician could act on those growing desires, but if she chose to Círdan would certainly be a worthy mate. She promised herself to think more on the possible binding between her sister and her betrothed's friend later, for now she needed to see for herself this "miracle" her sister spoke of. 

The small cluster moved together, leaving Lord Séregon to inform Turgon's parents, Priest Huro, and the council of the events that had transpired during Gilraen's abduction. Madrician insisted her sister rest, but Gilraen refused. She hurried to her father's chambers and when she heard a weakened "enter" a smile spread across her face. Her gaze held Turgon's as she opened the door and stepped into her father's room. "Papa?"

The old man, had been groomed. His face still showed age, and weakness from the drugged state he'd been kept in, but he wore clothes that had been sewn to fit his slender frame; his hair had been cut, and his beard freshly trimmed. He rose slowly from the bench in which he was sitting. A cane was gripped in his hand. Gilraen ran to him, and gently hugged him, before she pressed him back into his seat. She claimed the space beside him. "Oh papa!"

He reached out and caressed her face, pulled her close and kissed her forehead. He stroked her hair. "I have learned much from the little one. She holds you so high on a pedestal, I feared you weren't real."

Gilraen blushed. "She is so special father, so very much my sister, if not your daughter."

King Lúinwë squeezed Gilraen's hand. "She is my daughter. She is not her mother, I see that and will strive to clear her mind of the ugly thoughts I had when I found out who she was in the beginning."

"I am glad to hear this."

"Your betrothal is still firm? And he is the elf you wish to bind with?"

She lowered her head, and shook it gently. "Yes, father. He is. I want nothing but to lie with him and give you many, many grandchildren." 

Her sire laughed. The sound was music to Gilraen's ears. "I knew you would still feel this way," he said, "and though I have not been able to do much for you, I have ordered your wedding to be the grandest of all events. There is not much time – I wonder if I could convince you to wait another month before binding yourself to him?

Gilraen chewed her lip.

"I guessed not. Your sister shared with me that you were very much in love with this young elf Lord, even if you had not been ready to accept it."

"She is too wise for her age," Gilraen answered. "Father, her gift, mother spoke that Madrician's father had it."

King Lúinwë seemed to chew on the knowledge. "She most likely did. He was a magician, and his tricks seemed more real than those of other entertainers. I will need to guard her well. I was going to keep her here, but perhaps sending her to Círdan's keep is the best thing. Her gift will be a secret to those in that land."

"I would not rush though, father. Let you both bond with each other. I do not wish to leave too soon after my wedding either. I wish to remain here with you. Do you think Turgon will allow it?"

"He will have little say. His father has not yet relinquished control of Celebrindal to his son. His father can rule for another year before he gives all to Lord Turgon." King Lúinwë sighed, and stifled a yawn. "I must sleep daughter. Círdan's herbs have helped beyond any of us dared hope, but they also cause this once great leader to yearn a healing rest unlike any other."

"I understand, and tomorrow – tomorrow father you will lead me to my future and when I turn to gaze back at you, please know that you are in it and will always be the brightest spot." She rose, helped him to his bed, and kissed his cheek before taking her leave.

Once outside she was greeted by her sister, who took her to her chambers. "Madrician, I wish to see Turgon," Gilraen gently demanded.

"I know, and if it were up to me, I would allow it. But – well – she came and said you would have to ease your desires tomorrow night, after your binding ceremony."

"She?"

"That Mistress woman – the one you," Madrician leaned into her sister's ear, "learned to suckle a cock from."

Gilraen gasped and stepped back. "Ireth came to you?"

"Oh yes, and what a mind that woman has. She has so many lessons to give."

"You should not read her thoughts," Gilraen chastised.

Madrician laughed. "But I learned so much," she admitted. "But that is not here or there. She said you are to remain pure for your night of binding and if I were to allow you alone time with Lord Turgon than you would most certainly take his gift before your promises were given."

"I'm sure Lord Turgon searches for me as well."

"Yes, but she instructed Círdan that he is to keep him occupied, or she would present him with a creepy crawler for his bed. I did not seek her mind for that, for it sounded quite unpleasant."

Gilraen chuckled, but resigned herself to the fact that she would have to wait until the day of binding for her love to grace her with his "gift".

 On the twelfth day of Hrive 'Isia

The morning light filtered into Gilraen's chamber. She rolled over, and welcomed its rays. Her dreams had been full of Turgon and her body had awoke to a desire she had no name for. She thought back on the dream, images of his mouth pressed against her breast. Her gaze had held his, as his fingers slid across her hips, and down her thighs, only to skate back up the trembling muscle. A long sigh of pleasure poured from her lips, and as her mind cleared her fingers moved to where his dream kiss had last rested. 

Gilraen pressed her fingertips against her left nipple. She rolled the bead back and forth, her nightdress scratched its tender surface. She licked her lips, stilled her actions, trying to see if anyone moved near her doorway. Her wedding day was today, she would be bound forever to her life-mate, and in so doing she still had one more lesson that Ireth had commanded she learn. The whore had told her to explore herself, to know the depths and desires that her body wanted, so that she could show Turgon where to touch, and how to please her. Gilraen's pussy tightened in anticipation. It was as if it knew what was to come, long before Gilraen did. 

She blushed at her thoughts. Eventually, the small teasing caresses on her nipple were not enough and Gilraen pushed her coverings away. Two small fists reached down and pulled at her night clothes. She lifted the silky material over her head and dropped it to the floor. Her underclothes were soon discarded and she lay in the morning sunlight, naked and eager to explore herself. 

Timidly she touched her pussy, angling herself so that she could witness her own actions. The curls were thick, but not so much that she could not see the pink flesh of her sex, or the small bump that was protected by thick lips. She toyed with her hairs, dipping her nails into the golden forest. A shiver slowly rolled across her flesh. Tiny goosebumps popped up. Gilraen licked her lips, and slipped her fingers further down. 

The small nub of her pussy made her heart leap when she brushed it with the tip of her fingernail. She gasped, touched it again more firmly, before sitting more upright and spreading her legs further. Her hair tumbled around her, almost creating a canopy of shimmering gold. Unconsciously the Princess tucked some hair behind her ear, and placed both hands against her sex. She opened her pussy lips, spreading them so she could better inspect the bump that had made her quiver. 

Sunlight that made its way between the strands of hair, glistened on the moisture that her inspection had brought forth. She swiped at the beads, brought her finger to her nose and breathed in the aroma of herself. Her brows rose as she tried to distinguish what scent her pussy had. It was unlike anything she had ever known. It was pleasant, but could not be named by any other scent she'd encountered. Quickly she licked the moist tip, of her digit. The taste too was foreign. Another swipe of her sex, brought a larger amount of juices to her tongue. She sucked on her finger, and found the liquid worth savoring. How would it taste when Turgon joined with her. Would his gift be as welcoming. Would her nectar taste even more rewarding once mingled with his? The idea brought forth a groan from Gilraen's lips. 

She rubbed the nub of her pussy with her fingers, and the graceful digits from the other hand slipped into her opening. She shuddered softly, gasped quietly, and opened her legs further, hoping to see what her fingers had found that gave her such an awakening. Her pink sex was slippery, more so now that her fingers had played with herself. Liquid silk spilled out into her palm. She licked her fingers clean, only to dirty them over and over again. Her breath came faster, as she discovered the depth that her fingers could go. Gilraen moved her body, angling it one way, then the other. She spread her legs as wide as she could. Her actions were not her own, but driven by the pure carnal lust that a virgin has upon discovering the pleasures of her body. 

The Princess bit her lip, moaned and hissed. Her fingers drove faster into her. There seemed to be a cliff and Gilraen desperately needed to reach it. She lay on her back, plunged her digits deeper. Her tits ached. They were heavy. One hand left her pussy. The fingers dug at her breasts. She pushed, kneaded, handled them like they were spongy melons. She squeezed them hard; her hips rose and fell. Her ass cheeks tightened. She could barely comprehend what she was doing. More juices spilled from her pussy. Her throat burned as did her lungs. Hard nipples arched forward. Her nails grazed them; she cried out. Gilraen pinched one bead, then the other. Over and over she assaulted her virgin body. When she felt as if the sun itself were about to explode, a cry was ripped from her chest. Her fingers stilled their assault. Her eyelids were clenched tight. Her features were locked in a grimace of desire. She panted, and fought for air. Vibrations churned deep within the very core of her sex. It throbbed with the pulse of her heart; her mind tried to catch up with the rest of her. It failed miserably. She lay gasping for several long minutes, unwilling or unable to move – she did not know which. 

When the Princess felt able to think she did so without moving from her rumbled bed. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling of her chambers. The fragrance of her release brought a smile to her lips. She again breathed in the aroma stuck to her fingers and suckled on the drying juice. A warm blush caressed all of her flesh, and she found herself eager for the binding of her and her betrothed. The gift Mistress Ireth spoke of could only further enhance the pleasures that Gilraen had given herself. A soft knock on the door brought the virgin out of her day dreams, she pulled the covers over herself, brushed her hair with her fingers and called "enter" to whomever disturbed her slumber. 

She gave a false yawn to her sister, and the two maiden elves that followed her in. Madrician glanced briefly at her sister, her eyes grew wide and her face grew pink. "Sister, you go where you should not," Gilraen reprimanded.

The maids only lifted their brows in questioning, but said nothing as they laid out Gilraen's bathing tools. When they left, Madrician moved to sit on the edge of her sister's bed. "I can not help but invade your thoughts. They are so full of joy and happiness. It has been so rare a treat to see these things in your mind – and now that I see them – I find myself eager to find my own life-mate." 

Gilraen smiled. "Please allow me to keep my thoughts my own. You will find your mate, and when you do, you will have to find a way to keep his thoughts his and your thoughts yours." 

Madrician nodded, then promised to give her sister the privacy she desired. "I am here to help you with your morning rituals. I will do your hair, and soon there will be elven women – elders of the clan to prepare you for the binding rituals." 

The Princess nodded. It was today and she found herself wishing the hours would pass quickly. Her and Turgon would stand before the Priest. Her father and his would tie their wrists together, each would spill the others blood – and when their life forces mingled together, words would be spoken and a gift would be offered to the goddess. Gilraen knew it would be hours after that before she and her mate would be allowed the privacy she already desperately craved. 

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~  

Breakfast and her bath had taken hours, or so it seemed to Gilraen. Her meal had been light, the fare tasty and welcoming to her hearty appetite, but she'd been told not to indulge in a large amount of food, so the elder women of the clan had taken her meal away before it had been finished. Her bath had also been much different than usual. Most mornings Gilraen would tend to herself. This morning was different; several elven women bathed in the pools with her. They washed her hair, rubbed her flesh, delved fingers between her thighs, massaging her sex with soaps and oils. Gilraen had shied away from their touches, only to be reprimanded and pulled back into their caresses. When she moaned softly, one woman cackled and pinched the nub she'd played with. "A tender clit, you got there miss." 

Gilraen said nothing, locking the word in her mind, thankful to finally have a name to what aroused her so greatly. After the bath was over, the drying of herself was also taken into other elven hands. She was roughly patted down, no drops or beads of water remained on her skin, nor did she believe any skin did either. She stood in the center of her bedroom. Women of various ages and sizes poured oils into their palms and ran them down her body. Her breasts were treated with a fruited lotion; one woman claimed it would have her mate feasting on them for hours. She blushed at the thought. Another covered her pussy with cream and began to run a small blade across the skin. Soon her sex was bare of the golden curls she'd played with earlier. Gilraen frowned at the loss, and promised to question Turgon later about growing the curls back, especially after one old woman claimed her mate loved the "bush of her pussy – tickled his nose" she'd confided. 

Madrician, Gilraen noticed had been shuffled out of the room. She was glad - this experience was something Madrician would have to have on her own, no cheating would be allowed – she'd made her young sister promise. After the hair was scrapped away, and her body perfumed, the thick strands of hair on her scalp were dried and Madrician was allowed back in. The young girl shooed the older women away without too much trouble, and then ushered Gilraen into a chair, where she would remain while strands of beads, jewels, flowers and vines were woven into her thick golden strands. 

"Are you frightened?" 

Gilraen looked at her sister's image through the mirror. A soft smiled warmed her features. "No. I am not. I know he will love me and our time together will be the stuff that Mistress Ireth promised." 

"I want that for you, sister. I do not believe I will find it, so I will have to live it though you." 

The Princess turned around and took her sister's hands. "You speak of a future you can not see. You will have this too. I am sure of it." 

Madrician smiled, patted her elder sister and turned her back to face the mirror. "You make a beautiful bride, and will be a beautiful Queen upon the death of our father. There is so much for you now, that you are free of her grip." 

Gilraen lowered her head. "She should have been doing those things the elder elven women did. She was not a good woman. I do hope I make a good wife and a good mother." Her sister kissed the top of her head. 

"You will sister. There is so much love in you, love you've never been able to share, for you've never been able to express it." 

The two elven females continued to discuss their lives, and futures, in time the elder women returned carrying a light tray of fruit for the two girls to share. One woman also brought in a gown, draped over her long arm. The material was ivory, with small teardrop beads of blue and emerald. Several ribbons had been woven into the fabric, their colors matched those of the glittering gems. Gilraen rose from her seat, surprised now at how freely she felt walking around naked before the elven women. "It's lovely," she whispered. 

"It's been worn by every daughter born to a King... your aunts before you, theirs before them. It's quite old, but through the years those in charge of its keeping have kept it in condition worthy of any Princess." 

Gilraen raised her arms, and the dress was slipped over her head. "I will cherish it forever." 

One old elf muttered, "Just take it off yourself, don't let that life mate of yours paw it off you!" 

The Princess giggled, but promised to do her best. The women prepared her, the gown fit her perfectly, the bodice hugged her breasts, allowing the tops to be exposed, but the pink hued flesh of her aureola remained hidden. "It is so low," she whispered, while trailing her fingers across her skin. 

"It is the way of things. Your life mate's people are allowed to see much of your skin, to know you go to your mate with no flaws." 

She swallowed the lump in her throat. When she moved around, to twirl in the afternoon light, it was then that she noticed the gown was split on each side. It was not sewn completely an intentional flaw. When she moved, both her thighs were exposed, as was a small hint of her hips and buttocks. Her features grew more crimson. "Oh my," she gasped, as she studied herself in the mirror. "They do get to see a lot," she muttered. 

"But they don't see everything," Madrician told her, sensing her sister's unease. 

"Come now little ones. Madrician, you must go put on your gown. It is lying on your bed, Lord Turgon's man, Círdan has asked to escort you to the chapel arch and you must not keep him waiting." 

She darted out, upon hearing the elven woman's words. The Princess could not help but notice the quickness of her sister's step, or the smile on her face. Gilraen did not have time to focus on what it may have meant for her sister, because as soon as Madrician was gone, Gilraen was pulled urgently toward the threshold of her chambers. "It's time for us to go as well," the oldest of the elves proclaimed.