Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction ❯ Days of the King ❯ Sorcery, Seduction, and Stratagems ( Chapter 14 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

chapter 14 - sorcery, seduction and stratagems


Arwen awoke to find herself in Lothlorien.

She reclined on an enormous bed of silvery white, perched high on one of
the platforms of the great mallorn trees. These platforms, the homes of the
High Elves, had no ceilings, and she was on the highest level. The sky was
a burning blue, high summer, although she knew it to be early spring.

But the seasons and the very march of time was different in Lothlorien.
Time could pass more swiftly or more slowly here than at other places
in Middle Earth. And could be perceived differently by different people at
the same time.

But how was she here?

A large oval mirror, bordered by Elvish runes faced the bed, and allowed
her to see herself fully.

She wore a gown of palest translucent silver; it did nothing for modesty.
It delved deeply between her breasts and was bound with silver cords
around her waist. The sleeves were long and flowing, covering her hands and
trailing to the ground as she discovered when she rose. Her hair had been
piled upon her head and bound with silver bands and colorless gems that
sparkled as brilliantly as stars. Her bruises and welts were gone, her skin
again flawless ivory white.

"How like you my gifts, Lady?"

The voice was quite familiar, though it came from everywhere and nowhere at
once.

Arwen became truly frightened for the first time.

"You are the loveliest woman ever to grace these eyes, Arwen. But you
should be seen at night. That is when the Evenstar shines most brightly".

With a suddenness akin to drawing a curtain, or turning a page in a book,
it was night, the velvet sky alive with stars. Her skin began to prickle.
She forced back the early mewlings of the panic she felt developing. Fear
would not help, she told herself. Stay calm, be rational.

Legolas was displaying powers beyond her understanding or even her imagining.

"Please show yourself." she hoped her voice sounded calm and confident.

Legolas appeared as if rising from the beneath the surface of a lake in the
mirror opposite the bed. There was a silvery sound, like the splash of a
small waterfall, as he reached towards her and his hand broke the plane of
the glass. As through a doorway he walked, and stood, smiling at her.

He was dressed in a manner similar to her, a sheer golden robe, his
white-blond waist length hair flowing freely, unbound. As could be
seen, his intent towards her was clear.

Arwen took a step backwards, her brow knotted in confusion."Legolas...have
I ever given you reason to think I would welcome your advances? I have
been married ten years to the only man I have ever loved!"

She took another step away from him. "Why are we here, Legolas? You should
know I will not betray Aragorn. And until very recently, I thought you his
blood brother, through all adversity. How can you so distress me, and
dishonor him?"

He took two more steps toward her. "Had I known your intent, I never would
have asked your help with my conception ritual. Your pursuit is unwanted,
and without honor. I will not..."

Elegantly, Legolas extended his hand. Arwen's pupils dilated, her mouth
opened in surprise, her head thrown back in an explosion of ectasy. Her
veins burned with desire; she trembled with overwhelming need. Never before
had she felt this way.

Legolas slowly glided toward her. She found her voice again. "Please don't
do this". Her voice sounded small and unsure, even to herself.

"I never wanted to hurt Aragorn, my lady; but I want you far more than I care
for his discomfort. You are exquisite; too fine a thing for any mortal. And now
that I have discovered these powers, it is within my grasp to have what I wish.
Who else should I desire? As the last of our kind on these shores, it is our
destiny to bond...to love".

Arwen fought to recover from the sexual paroxysm. She wanted to flee, but
her dazzled senses could not organize such a defense. She watched him
approach like a hare watches the snake that it cannot escape.

"You suffer needlessly in that city of Men. Leave it. I will show you the wonders
that I have found, and love that asks for nothing, just to be, for it's own sake."

Legolas stopped mere inches from her, and gently took her hand. Even with
it's covering of silken fabric, she felt his warmth, and her burning
increased. He leaned forward, and she smelled his scent: woods, herbs,
and a musk that permeated her senses.

"Touch me".

Spoken as softly as a caress, her other hand instantly obeyed him. She lay
her hand on his chest. His skin was silken, a golden tan over the fair skin of
Elven-kind. He planted a slow, deliberate kiss in the hollow of her throat. She
moaned, and cursed her weakness.

Her panic was becoming anger. I am not clay for him to mold, she screamed
in her mind. I am Arwen Evenstar, Undomiel, daughter of Elrond, princess of
Imladris, Queen of Gondor! I rode against the Nine!

I can resist him. Think of Aragorn!

With the back of his hand he touched her nipple.

"No!!" She had gathered her arousal and her rage and hurled the word at
Legolas.


And then she awoke. In her own bed. In Gondor. Her breathing was hard and
fast, and she was covered in perspiration. Her body ached and her hands
were shaking.

She left her bed, trembling, and took a small sip of water, when the whisper reached
her ears.

"VERY impressive, cousin. Your will is strong. It will take more to convince
you that I am...sincere." She willed herself to ignore his voice.

There was a polite knock at the outer chamber door.

Arwen took another sip of water.

The knock became a trifle more insistent. Braethan's voice said, "My lady,
Madam Augra has arrived".

Arwen groped about and found a shawl. She hastily wiped her brow, threw
the shawl around her shoulders, and went to answer the door.
-----------------------------------------------
Lord Ondoher carefully reviewed the large envelopes laying on the polished
wooden desk in his office of his stately home. He was a tall man, spare and
athletic, though past middle age. He radiated power and the omnipresent
arrogance of the titled aristocracy. His steel gray hair, still thick and
plentiful, lay in graceful waves on his neck and shoulders.

He wore a townsman's tunic and breeches of pale grey with threads of silver.
The buttons of his tunic were beryls and a weighty medallion of pewter and
silver with his family crest lay on his chest, upheld by an ornate chain.
He was in what he referred to as his 'town house', but it was really more
of a palace, and had almost half the number of rooms of the Kings residence.

It was less than a 10 minute walk from the royal palace itself, and was
located on the same level of the City. It was the city's most elite
neighborhood, and all who lived here were either on the council or
the wealthiest resident citizens.

Ondoher had had differences with the Ranger King before, but he had always
been a supporter of the return of Isildur's heir to the throne. The
Stewards had been good leaders for the the City during the absence of it's
rightful monarchs, but blood was blood. The grandness of the Numenorean
royal line appealed to his expectation of proportional entitlement; Ondoher's
family could trace their roots to some of Aragorn's ancestors and he felt
that his family's fortunes would rise with the true King on the throne.

It was with disappointment that he discovered that the King came with a
pre-chosen bride. Not of the Numenorean line, not even human, but an
infernal she-elf. Ondoher had two unmarried daughters, and seven unmarried
nieces from his two sisters. He had hoped that one of them could wed a
bachelor King and seal their bloodline to that of the throne.

But this decade of childlessness had opened new doors. One of the envelopes
on his desk contained a beautifully transcribed excerpt of Gondorian law
117, chapter 3, article 4. Attached was the signed statement by most on the
council (with the notable exceptions of Faramir and that old fool Halmir),
reminding the king that a seated monarch with no issue after seven years
on the throne (and Aragorn and his wife were well beyond that limit) was
bound by law to supply one by the suggested methods.

It was thought tasteless to remind his majesty that the first option was to
annul his marriage and take a (hopefully) new and fertile queen.

Lord Ondoher volunteered to organize the second option with the utmost
discretion.

With council majority on his side, the selection of potential blood
mates was comparatively easy. The wars had decimated the male population,
and much of the best blood of Gondor had enriched the fields of Pelennor,
Osgiliath, and the myriad battlefields throughout the Realm. Most of the
best families had girls whose prospects for favorable marriage were slim.
Many were taking tradesmen, merchants and soldiers for husbands, for they
were available. The ranks of male nobility were rather thin.

In each of the five envelopes there was information regarding each young
woman he had selected: her age, her health, her ancestry for ten generations,
the families' wealth and land holdings. In addition, there were signed
affidavits by each girl stating that she was aware of the conditions of
the contract: any progeny would be claimed by the King alone; she was
concubine, not wife, and not entitled to any of the benefits thereof; the
situation by it's nature was confidential- if any of the intimacies of the
woman's relationship with the King was disclosed by her, it was considered
treason; if she did not produce a viable heir within two years, her term of
service was concluded; the King could 'employ' up to three of these women
simultaneously in the effort to produce an heir.

As a special touch, each package also included a talented artists'
portrait of the girl.

Aragorn was bound by the articles of rule to provide an heir or risk the
imposition of another law of Gondor: to name a successor in the case of his
death that would be acceptable to the council, so that orderly transfer of
power was possible. The real chaos that would ensue should the throne of
Gondor be untenanted would probably destroy the last true civilization of
the Numenoreans on this side of the Sea. It could not be allowed.

Ondoher smiled. Three of the five girls were from his own family. The other
two were children of political allies. One way or the other, a measure of
control over the throne was again within his reach. And should he not take
any of these women, he had another ten to present to him, family members
in every group. But in total, the process would take about a month.
After that, Aragorn's sovereignty would be in question, and the council
would be empowered to seek a successor without his approval.

The foreign Queen was unlikely to care for any of it.