With a secret mission to marry an elf, Wynne must join Legolas' and Elvenking Thranduil's new quest as a horsekeeper. She begins an adventurous journey, encountering orcs and monsters, friendly uruk-hai, a lady dwarf and many Fellowship heroes - but...
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~ Legolas is a naughty elf. Thankfully Wynne cheers him up. ~
35. Dirty Thoughts
Legolas was alone after enduring another of those awkward, painful walks. As usual he had been forced to lean heavily on the hateful crutch, his legs just barely holding up his weight, with everyone looking at him with badly hidden pity.
He felt weak and miserable and he hated it with a passion.
He wanted away from this awful rock and this claustrophobic room that might as well be a cell, out where there were trees, and sunlight, and fresh air. He missed his horse, he missed weapon practice, he missed eating real food and bathing. He missed Wynne. And his hair was a disaster.
A treacherous tear trickled down his cheek and he angrily wiped it off.
Ada had told him to rest like he was an elfling who needed a nap.
He didn't want to sleep. He wanted Wynne.
They hadn't been alone at all the whole day yesterday and she wouldn't dare come in now either. Not when his adar had all but ordered her to go on that tour.
He longed so much to hold her again. The bubbling happiness he had felt when she accepted him had turned to glum misery. How could he have believed it possible to have a secret relationship under his adar's hawk eyes? It would all turn to nothing.
Even if they could be alone now and then it would be far too seldom to amount to anything.
Rest, indeed! He was not tired; he was annoyed, and agitated, and he wanted to be his normal, strong self. Sleep was the last thing on his mind right now.
He needed cheering up, and if no one else would do it he had to do it himself. With everybody away looking at stupid machines he knew he would be alone and undisturbed long enough to what he intended. Good.
Kicking the crutch into a corner, he pulled off his tunic and threw it in a messy heap on the floor, almost hearing his adar's grating voice in his head. "This place looks like a swine sty. You need to take better care of your belongings, son."
Well, Ada was not here and if he didn't like garments littering the floor he could tidy them away himself. Sliding down his hose he rebelliously tossed them on Thranduil's bed.
Only in his undershirt, he sank back and made himself comfortable on the fluffy mattress, drawing a few calming breaths, willing himself to push down the anger and frustration.
He pulled his comforter up to his neck and closed his eyes. Protected by it – not that anyone would come in, but just in case – he slipped a hand between his legs.
He picked among his memories, choosing a very recent one: Wynne, when she kissed him. He replayed to himself her sweet, soft lips; how she had felt and tasted; the way his body had responded. When she pulled back her cheeks had been flushed and her eyes bright, and he knew she felt the same way as he.
