Chapter 8 - Mornings

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Time has always been an interesting concept to an elf. Some would say that being ageless makes time irrelevant, as the true reason other races put such an emphasis on it is because they are constantly afraid of it running out. This of course makes perfect sense. In the eyes of an elf days seem like minutes when held in comparison to the countless centuries ahead of them and those past. Elaborating the countless days Caledra begrudgingly shined the Kings crown and prepared his bedspread would be a rather droll read; in an elvish perspective, that is. Even though this is a story that covers a large span of time, fear not. My rhetoric, theatrical narrative will summarize every detail in the most timely and efficient manner!

So, let's continue.

*

Time was a wholly different thing to Caledra now.

Time used to be the color of the sky, the sun reaching out over the treetops at dawn, the dully twinkling stars at dusk. Time used to be something visible and beautiful, yet not really noticed. The changing of the seasons around her, the autumn leaves and the spring flowers in bloom. It all used to go so fast, everyday mushing into one another to make almost one continuous stream of action and movement.

Now, days seemed like years. Every moment was spent either horribly angry, embarrassed, or both. She would wake up at dawn every morning, and see no sky. Only the drab ceiling of her quarters as she roused herself, dressing and hurrying to the King's chambers.

Oh, mornings were dreadful.

On her first morning, she had quietly snuck into his room after being told to do so by some servants. He laid in bed, still managing to be flawless after a nights rest. Having no idea if she were to wake him or not, she silently crept to the edge of the bed, hesitantly deciding to nudge him slightly.

He rolled over, facing the other way.

She soon discovered that not only was the king a brat, but was not a morning person as well. When his eyes finally opened she almost squeaked from the level of drowsy grumpiness in them. He said nothing as he rose, instead running a hand through his hair and sitting up on the edge of the bed.

He stood, beginning to walk to the back of the room. Caledra followed nervously, before she spied the pool of warm water again. Her worst fears came true as he undid the button on his night robe, undressing. Her face immediately flushed red as she averted her eyes and rigidly turned to face the wall.

She heard him snort followed by the sound of him lowering himself into the water, to which she tentatively turned around after. His bare chest showed clearly as he leaned back into the steaming water. Caledra bowed as she felt her insides beginning to melt and eyes beginning to wander. She turned to take her leave before he stopped her.

"Are you really that dull? Do you expect me to wash myself?"

"Yes I do, actually." She snapped. "This is so completely immodest."

He laughed. "And what is immodest about this? All dogs do as their master pleases. It is nothing more. You are blessed that I am even allowing a stray mutt such as yourself even look at me, never mind touch me."

"Blessed? This whole thing feels more of a curse to me," Caledra grumbled, sighing as she turned back to the bath, grabbing a random assortment of color coordinated bottles and soaps from the shelf.

"Oh? I had gathered that you fancy this all more than you let on, nín mûl." He chuckled as she settled down at the edge of the water, a small knowing smirk on his face.

Caledra blushed, squeezing the bottle she was holding so hard she was surprised it didn't break. She didn't answer, instead glaring at her hands as she combined various oils. She slowly reached for his hair, hesitantly. Finally, after what seemed to be a century of listening to nothing but the water circling in and out of the basin, she did, running her hands over it and cleaning it, not that it seemed to need it much. Pampered asshole.

She took as much time as she could, as she knew what was to come would be much more horribly embarrassing. Eventually, he seemed to notice this and laughed, flicking the bottles over with a finger. She pursed her lips, grabbing the bar of soap and starting with his back.

By the heavens. She had originally assumed that simply staring at him was perfection, but now she knew that it wasn't just his damn appearance, everything about him was just so physically appealing. His skin was soft to the touch but you could feel the finely toned muscles beneath it. She gulped, scrubbing softly and trying to focus on not dropping the bar of soap in her shaky hands. He seemed to take note of this and would quite often make a deal of stretching, or subtle flexing his shoulders. She couldn't tell if it was to annoy her and make her drop the soap, or to make her embarrassed even more. In all actuality, it was both.

As she finished with his back she awkwardly sat there, waiting for him to turn so she could get at his chest.

"Am I finished or are you going to turn?" She finally spouted a bit impatiently, getting a raised eyebrow and a cocky smirk in return.

"Why should I have to do so much as turn, pet? You should be groveling at my feet, doing everything simply so that I don't have to."

Caledra gave a confused look, shoulders hunched out as she stared at him. With no warning, he suddenly grabbed her wrist, yanking her roughly into the water.

"By the heavens! I'm wearing my day clothes! This is completely ridiculous!" Caledra exclaimed, moving as far away from him as she could as she examined her now sopping wet clothing.

"What's ridiculous is the fact that you act like you have power and control in this situation, as if you have the right to complain." He said haughtily, looking down his nose at her. "You should feel honored. Not many pigs get this close to civilized life."

"First I'm a dog, now I'm a pig. What's next?" She grumbled, grabbing the soap and beginning to wash his chest. It was incredibly uncomfortable, to be this close to him. Not because she didn't want to be, but because he knew she enjoyed it. There were no doubts in her mind now that the king knew she was attracted to her, and that he would exploit that to make her submit every moment he could. And now as there faces were inches apart in the steamy water, her hands washing his bare chest, she could hardly take it anymore.

Getting up rigidly, she threw the soap on the ground and folded a towel by the edge of the water for him. She was dripping wet now, and was now shivering as she got out of the water. There were no extra towels, of course. The king actually dressed himself, although she believed it had more to do with him not wanting to get wet agains after drying off than simply being kind. As she followed him out of the room and into a hallway full of confused looking servants, she turned, going back to her room to change.

"I will be at breakfast. Do clean up your mess while I'm away." Thranduil said lightly, motioning to the soapy trail of water that had dropped off of her all the way across the room.

Oh, mornings were dreadful indeed.

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