Prince in shadow

[Cerridwen]

The moonlight shone gold on Legolas pale mane of hair, the rest of him blending into darkness. Cerridwen fixed her eyes on it as she walked along the collonade.
'' Sidhe, Prince Legolas, '' She murmured, standing still, amking no further move towards him.

[Legolas]

Legolas had not heard her approach, a soft glimmer hung around her, so that she looked as if veiled by subtle starlight.
'' You... '' a frown passed over his face. '' His sister? '' He demanded, forgetting his manners. he had not known what to expect, but something of a predatory, hard-faced dominating creature , not this. There was a sense of a deep, sure, and almost palpably sensual femininity, but these golden eyes were empathic, understanding, layered with ancient sadness, as if her soul reached out and touched his and said I understand without a word being spoken. He bowed, then, recollecting himself. '' forgive me for my rudeness. ''

[Cerridwen]

She gave a brief headshake, '' I am Cerridwen, his sister yes, '' the words were not ungentle but a stoniness ran through them. '' We never met, legolas Thranduilion, although I heard much of you, I am sorry you should be here. '' her eyes searched his face, his eyes, slipped beneath and she took a breath, as if seeing what she had feared.

[Legolas]

'' I was leaving Middle Earth, '' he murmured and sorrow shook through him, a grief as fresh as the day he had been beside Aragorn as he died, promising that no matter what lay beyond, their friendship would still endure. It was love, not sexual, but as deep as brothers , in fact deeper than most siblings, he had felt half his world ripped away.
'' And now what am I? And you, I believe... are the incentive. '' he had been ready to hurl denials and mockery at Saerens apparent complacent certainty that he, Legolas, would look on his sister with lust. But he found it hard not to, frankly. And that only enraged him further. His affairs had always been short, fierce and passionate, with , on his part, no regrets, when he ended them, and it was always he who ended them.
He was restless, loved to learn and travel, he did not desire a wife, although as Prince of Mirkwood, his father had desired him to wed, to further ties between other elven realms, Lorien, Mithlond, Imladris, but he was the youngest, he had an older brother, so that had given him more freedom, once Thranduil realised that Legolas , like a wild hawk, could not easily be curbed . And so he had traveled, and when Aragorn came into his own, he brought elves of Lasgalen to Ithilien and made it fair and beautiful. Until the bitter end.
Which had not been the end. It had been another beginning. A nightmare of will against will, of pain, struggle, shame, anguish, the blossoming, through grief of a fierce, strong will which would not bend the knee to this son of Saeren. And each day, those battles began afresh. he had thought this would be one, but the womans very aura seemed to offer a seductive, velvet, fiery forgetfulness, like the opium smoked here , like a beaded curtain, opening into a place of erotic, sensual, drugging delight. And she had not even touched him.

[Cerridwen]

" that is what he said, is it? " She made a quick, dismissive gesture with one hand. The sea wind took the ripples of dark hair, all gemmed with entwined jewels, and veiled her face, so that only her eyes showed, after the fashion of these lands, unfathomable gold under sooty lashes, huge, dimensionless.
" You are Legolas, son of Thranduil and no-one can take away from you what you are, no-one, not Morgoth, not Sauron, not his son, no-one, your soul is your own, you are its keeper, your body may be used, your mind scarred, you may weep tears of blood in your heart, but you are still in and of yourself, Prince of the Greenwood. Never forget that, and never forget that Eru is not cruel. He will never separate those who love, forever, although the years may seem endless beyond all reckoning. " With one gliding motion, she was closer to him, looking up, her hair fell away, the gems catching tiny, fiery, pinpoints of light in the dip and flare of the torches. She laid cool fingers on his high cheekbone for a moment, and then turned and swept away in a billowing cascade of silks and flowing hair.

[Lebennen]

Lebennens soft laugh came from behind Legolas, as he watched Cerridwen walk away, she had a curiously mannish stride, long and challenging, yet flowing graceful, but not a titupping little walk like many women.
'' Oh young one, this is an exercise in control, is it not? To go after her or watch her walk away? And you are too young to have such iron control surely, although Saeren does teach it, '' he turned amused glass-grey eyes to legolas' '' I know what Saeren is like, none better, it took him to break Maglor son of Feanor, not all saurons torments, and those too.. I know.
He uses pleasure beads? Devices? Ties you up? Spanks you? '' he gave a low laugh '' who do you think invented these toys, it was not men. There is no shame in enjoying your submission, you must realize that. Many great warriors and kings, even in Aman, I doubt not, chose to play these games in the safety of their bed-chambers, games of submission and dominance, and none of it had anything to do with their wisdom in ruling, or their excellence as warriors. And why should there be any shame in a lord who continually has to bear the responsibility of hundreds or thousands seeking relief for the pressure of that burden? Why should there be shame in him abandoning his fears his worried, for a few hours in which he is not allowed to make a single decision so that his lover can dominate him and help him to find a few moments of peace in his submission? ' He shook out his long cloud of black hair,
'' And what of their lovers? what about people like Maglor , who lost so much... who lost so much, even Saeren Or myself? Is it simple cruelty? The need to dominate? The excitement at hearing their lovers gasp or cry out in pain? Or is theirs perhaps a need just as great as that of their lovers? Those who crossed the Helcaraxe, those who brought death at Alqualonde and Doriath and later in Sirion, the three Kinslayings the burden and grief of the Oath of Feanor? Those who fought and lost their families to the evil of Morgoth and his servants? And us... who were the servants of such evil, whose days and nights were marked by it ....If those developed a taste for control - is it hard to understand? If they find relief from their guilt and their memories in a lovers graceful submission, in an obediently arched back, in hearing their lover beg, - in the knowledge that they can bring peace to their lovers mind, be it by pleasure or pain, or humiliation - can you judge them? Can you judge us? You have not lived their lives, and these games were played long before you were born, and you should not feel shame. Saeren is a rare master, he has both the highest blood and the darkest . Accept it, I did. Learn not to be afraid of the passions and needs your body feels, none of us are any different. Not that one either, '' he looked to where Cerridwen had vanished in the blowing darkness.

[Legolas]

The wind was rising, as a storm gathered out at sea, it sent the torches sidelong, in streaming flame, cooling the heat that burned on Legolas cheeks.
He followed the glimmering froth of the womans gowns and shadow of her hair, leaving behind those words which had impacted on his brain like arrows, laying bare his soul.
She seemed to lead him onward, in a deliberate , inviting, dance, a swish of silk in an archway, a lamp in an alcove, briefly illuminating the curve of a cheek, the rounded flesh of a bare arm, the drift of perfume on the air, the scattering shimmer of hangings in a doorway to mark her passage, and then... then, a descent into a heady, blazing, abandoned dream, no words, and need for none, no promises made to be broken, no fumbling, awkwardness, just the searing burn of nerves under the skin and the beat of blood through the veins, like two wild animals coming together for the imperative clash of mating.

[Cerridwen]

Sleep Bridhon nin, The white fingers, like moths wings, traced over the flood of pale golden hair on the pillows, and then she was gone, like a dream. There was a sleek, feline gloss in the way she moved, in her eyes, if some-one had asked her, whether she did what she did out of kindness, or to throw down the gauntlet to her brother, or simply for her own pleasure, she might not have been able to answer it, it was all one to her, the breath of life to her was excitement.

[Legolas]

Legolas nocked the bow, drew back the string, and fired, again and again and again, forty arrows flew from the great bow until he target sprouted shafts like a long quilled hedgehog. It felt effortless. It was strange he had always thought, how an amazing night seemed to make one shoot so much better. Incredible too, how the woman had given him back his sense of manhood, he was used to being the protagonist, he had never had a woman who participated as she did, like a wild tigress, giving and demanding, laughing, and hissing, leaving bite marks and nail marks over his skin, wanton and intense. In that way she certainly was her brothers twin.

But for those marks, he might have thought it a dream, for she was gone when he woke in the scattered and tossed bedsheets. She had been a gift, but of her own giving, he was sure.

[Saeren]

'' She is such a vixen, '' Murmured Saeren with a smile, watching him, with careful appraisial. '' I do like to see talent, Thranduilion, '' he added mockingly.