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Fireworks	By : kathmco Category: -Multi-Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 1735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Fireworks
- 1
Title: Fireworks

Author: Emmess

Rated: R

Summary: Legolas takes his first trip into a city of Men with his Adar.

Genre: Drama, Romance

Fireworks

The horses were reined in at the outskirts of the town, proceeding in at a much slower pace through the muddy streets. Urchins crisscrossed their paths, shouting up at riders, daring one another to run up and touch them. Vendor cried to them from the crowded market, holding up items for purchase as they passed.

Single file, the riders, dressed in the warm earth colors their people favored, capes fluttering in the warming spring breeze, followed their leader silently looking neither left nor right, none tempted by the trinkets held up for their benefit, except for one. Riding directly behind the Elven King, tendrils of golden blonde hair lifted in the breeze, warrior braids holding it from obscuring his vision, the rider's brilliant blue eyes flicked back and forth at the exotic wares the vendors hawked.

Drawing abreast of the Inn most favored by his people when necessity forced them to visit this city of Men, Thranduil raised his hand to halt the line of Elves who followed in his wake. Dismounting with a grace only Ages could provide, He signaled for the Elf riding just behind him to follow. Together, the two Elves entered the Inn.

The innkeeper greeted them at the door, and a bargain was soon struck for lodging for Thranduil's party. Calling in the rest of his riders, Thranduil led them to an empty table near the back of the room, motioning for them to make themselves comfortable. Food and drink was ordered, and soon the Elves fell to talking amongst themselves, relaxing after the long trek to the city.

"Ada, did you see the wares that the vendors were selling? There is so much…I did not recognize half of it!" Legolas said, the excitement he had felt building since first told by Thranduil that he could accompany him on this trip flavoring his tone. His plate grew cold as he chattered about the sights he had seen, asking his father question after question, until finally Thranduil raised a hand, a small smile on his lips.

"Enough, Legolas…your food grows cold and my ears grow full! Eat, and then we shall see what the vendors have to offer us," he laughed, watching his son's eyes light up at the offer.

Thranduil sighed to himself, watching his son make short work of the platter before him. "He barely takes the time to chew," the Elven King thought. Knowing that this was Legolas' first trip into a city of Men, Thranduil could hardly blame the young Elf. Just past his majority, he had been sheltered the whole of his life within the rock walls of the Great Cavern. This was the first time he had been allowed to accompany his father on a trading mission, and had been as excitable and as frisky as a colt since given the news. Shaking his golden head, Thranduil hoped that his son would not be blinded by the glitter of the vendor's wares to the harshness of the lives of Men. As much as Thranduil wished to protect his son always, he had to learn that there was bitter in this world, along with the sweet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking along the muddy street, weaving in between the vendor's stalls, stopping every once in a while to examine closer a brass pot or finger a bolt of cloth, Legolas was nearly overwhelmed by the crush of humanity around him. His senses were overwhelmed as well as by dazzling array of color, the pungent, and oft times malodorous odors, and the steady, buzzing hum of noise.

His eyes had been riveted on a shining string of black beads that a vendor held up to catch the rays of the sun, when he nearly walked into his father's back. Thranduil had come to a halt at the edge of the row of vendors and was staring at a group of humans who were passing before them. Drawing himself up short, Legolas looked twice at his father. He could see from the set of Thranduil's shoulders and the hard look that crept into his eyes that the Elven King was not pleased.

"What is it, Ada? What is wrong?" Legolas asked. He peered over his father's shoulders at the group who were wearily making their way down the street.

The group was compromised mostly of men and their faces were nearly black with travel grime. They trudged along, herding a few women in the midst of them. Legolas took a second glance at the females that traveled with the road-weary men, cocking his head in confusion.

"Ada…why are their females' hands bound? Why are they roped together like that? Does that not make it more difficult for them to travel?" he asked, stepping to stand at his father's side in order to get a better view.

"They are slave-traders," Thranduil spat, the venom in his voice making even his son cringe. "Those women do not travel freely with those blackguards…they are being taken to market to be sold like so much livestock, Legolas."

"But…why is such a thing allowed, Ada? Where are these women's menfolk? Why are they not protected against such foul creatures? Why do the people here stand for such atrocities?" The questions tumbled from Legolas' mouth almost faster than Thranduil could comprehend them.

"Sadly, Legolas, most of them have been sold to the traders by their kinfolk…those of Men do not always value their females as highly as themselves. Some were stolen, I am certain…there are always a few who are taken by force. As to why no one here lifts a hand to help them…well, who do you think will buy such wares?" Thranduil explained in a hushed voice, although the anger he felt still showed in the tense set of his shoulders.

Legolas' keen eyes peered past the circle of grime-encrusted Men, picking out the more slender, although equally filthy women, dressed in rags, their heads hanging with exhaustion and despair. At that moment one of the females turned her head, and her eyes met his for an instant.

In that moment, Legolas felt the sadness and hopelessness that burdened the young girl's soul with such clarity that he recoiled as if slapped across his face. Her soft blue eyes were hollowed, shadowed by Eru knew what horrors that brought her to this fate, and her sharp cheekbones spoke of hunger. It was all he could do to keep from jumping past his father and pulling her to safety.

Thranduil sensed his son's agitation, putting out a hand to stay him from whatever course of action might be tempting the young Elf. "Leave them be, Legolas…we cannot help them. Come…I wish to put as much distance between those foul devils and us as possible…the very air here reeks with their depravity."

Having no choice but to follow his father, Legolas nevertheless took several backward glances at the backs of the retreating traders and their pitiable wares that plodded along in their midst.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thranduil was set to meet with a vendor he had long done business with, having established a trading relationship with the man's great-great grandfather when the city was no more than a few sod huts grouped together in the wilderness. Seeing that his son was eager to be out exploring the vendor's market, Thranduil pressed several gold pieces into Legolas' hand and bid him buy a few trinkets as a remembrance of his first trading mission.

Thanking his father, Legolas accepted the gold with a grin he couldn't quite contain, and was off in an instant. He knew exactly where he was going…to the slave auction. Reverie had eluded him the night before, for his mind's eye could see nothing but the haunted eyes of the young girl he had seen the previous afternoon. Not thinking quite beyond the moment, as youth of all races are wont to do, Legolas made his way through the streets to where a large group of Men had gathered.

On a raised platform a man stood holding a rope to which was tied a woman, her hands bound behind her. It was not the girl Legolas sought…this woman was older, but still her plight touched his tender heart as he watched her sold to a bear of a man. Led off by her new owner like a dog on a leash, her feet shuffled morosely behind him.

Two more women were sold, their prices fetching pittances in silver coin. Finally, Legolas tensed as the girl he had seen was led onto the platform.

"Look at her, my friends! Young! Sweet! Unbroken and untouched! Unmarked by disease or age! Tender young flesh, and a strong back to boot! Come now…what bid ye for such a tempting young morsel?" the man cried loudly as shouts began to be heard from the crowd.

Legolas remained silent, hoping that the bidding would stop before it reached the amount of coin in his purse. He needn't have worried though, since these men were not affluent by any means, and their bids remained low, even for this delicate young thing.

When the bidding had stopped, just before the man announced that the girl had been sold to a cadaverous-looking human with more scalp than hair, Legolas called out loudly. "Five gold pieces!"

A swift murmur shot through the crowd at the outrageous bid. "Five? Five do you say? Who called out five gold pieces?" demanded the man on the platform.

Legolas pushed his way through the crowd, his face forming the same stern, authoritative mask that he had so often seen his father's face assume when dealing with underlings. "I did. Here…five gold pieces for the girl."

"An Elf! Elves do not buy slaves," the man stammered, eyeing the shiny gold pieces held out in Legolas' palm.

"Is our gold not acceptable here, merchant?" Legolas asked haughtily, his sapphire eyes narrowing at the trader.

"Nay, friend…your gold is as good as any others'!" the man replied, a broad grin spreading across his face which showed the blackened stumps of his teeth. He snatched the gold from Legolas' palm as if afraid the Elf would withdraw the offer, tossing Legolas the rope to which the young girl was tethered. Giving the girl a hard push that nearly knocked her to her knees, he went about his business of selling his wares.

Legolas held out a hand to help the girl down from the platform, trying to ignore the coarse comments and bawdy humor from the crowd. He led her away from the site of the auction, until they were screened from the sight of the traders and their buyers. Stopping, he took out his dagger and quickly sliced through the ropes that held her bound.

"Fear not, I will not harm you. I will set you free," he whispered, his eyes seeking hers.

Shaking, the girl stared at her feet, unwilling to meet his eyes. As her ropes were cut, her arms fell listlessly to her sides, and she made no move to run.

"Have you a name?" Legolas asked. "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil of the Woodland Realm."

"Nínviel, Master," she replied, her voice barely audible, even to the Elf's keen ears.

"I am not your Master, Nínviel…you are free," Legolas proclaimed, a broad smile lighting his face.

"Free?" she repeated, finally looking up to meet his eyes. Shockingly, instead of the look of relief and perhaps gratitude Legolas had expected, a look of horror and fright crossed her face, and she paled so severely and suddenly that Legolas feared she might swoon. "Please, Master…how have I offended you? I will try harder to please you…I beg you, Master…"

Legolas shook his head, and held up a hand to silence her. " I do not understand Nínviel…you do not wish to be free? It is your desire to remain a slave?"

"I…I…if you free me, I will not remain free for long. Others will take me…worse, perhaps than the last…I have no one…no place to turn to…please, Master! I beg you, do not force me to live through such horrors again! I beg you…take your dagger and end me, or use me to that which you will, but please do not set me free!" Tears streamed down the hysterical young girl's face as she pleaded with the shocked and confused Elf.

"Shh…shh…peace, Nínviel…I will not free you to such a fate," Legolas whispered, smoothing her hair in an attempt to calm the girl, although his own heart was beginning to pound in his chest. At a loss for what to tell her, the realization of what he had done finally dawning, he swallowed hard and said, "come with me. We will go to my Adar…my father…he is wise and will know what we should do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nínviel followed obediently behind Legolas, keeping close to him as they made their way through the crowded marketplace to the Inn. Entering, Legolas spotted his father sitting at the same table as the night before, lifting a pint with a few of his riders.

Crude comments flew through the room at the bedraggled and ragged young woman who apparently was accompanying the Elf through the dining hall. Comments on the Elf's ostensible choice of bedmates along with suggestions as to what to do with her circulated freely, turning Legolas' face pink with embarrassment and anger. He did not address any of them, instead pushing on until he reached his father's table.

Standing ramrod straight before his father, eyes staring into the distance, hands clasped behind his back, his posture told Thranduil that his son was guilty of some transgression and was there to make a confession. Eyeing the filthy female cowering behind him, Thranduil's eyes widened as he guessed the cause of his son's appearance.

"Legolas, what have you done?" he asked, his brows knitting.

"I could not leave her to her fate, Ada."

"Legolas…I told you that they were not the concern of the Firstborn. Why did you not heed me?" Thranduil persisted, his tightly controlled voice nonetheless broadcasting his displeasure as loudly as if he had shouted.

"I am sorry, Ada…but I could not allow it. I…just could not," Legolas repeated, unsure himself of why he had done what he had done.

Thranduil looked at the girl who stood quaking behind his son. "And what is to be done with her now, Legolas?" he asked, his turquoise eyes returning to meet his son's.

"I wanted to free her, Ada…but she begged me not to do so…"

"Of course she did! What fate do you think would befall her here without even the traders' protection? I should never have allowed you out of my sight, Legolas…" Thranduil continued, wiping a hand over his face in dismay. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he eyed his son and saw the tender heart that beat within his chest. Sighing, feeling a bit proud at Legolas' intentions if not his actions, he ordered, "Take her to your room and see that she is bathed. Tell the chambermaid to fetch her a clean gown…have it charged to my account. We will have to work something out…perhaps we can secure her a position here at the Inn…"

"Aye, Ada…at once," Legolas replied, intensely relieved that his father had not ordered him to release her into the streets. Turning to Nínviel, he motioned for her to follow him.

She hadn't understood a word that had been said as the two Elves had conversed in their own tongue, but she knew that the Elf at the table was not pleased with her new Master's actions. She vowed to work hard and do her best to please her new Master, to show her gratitude at having been bought by someone who seemed to have a kind heart, and who was willing to suffer the disapproval of his father in order to keep her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several chambermaids lugged buckets of steaming water into the room, filling the small tub set there by Legolas' request. Strong lye soap and a few rough and dingy cloths were supplied as well. After the last chambermaid poured the final bucket of water into the tub and had left the room, Nínviel immediately knelt at the side of the tub, picking up the soap and a cloth. She looked at Legolas expectantly.

"The bath is not for me, Nínviel…it is for you, as is this gown. Bath and dress…I will be outside of the door when you are through," Legolas instructed the surprised girl. Not waiting for her answer, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Nínviel looked at the soap in her hands and at the gown on the bed. Simple and homespun, a nondescript brown, it was obviously new and was finer than any she had ever owned before in her lifetime.

Suddenly a chill ran down her spine as it occurred to her why the Elf would wish her to bathe and dress in such a nice gown. He was going to claim her innocence.

The other women had told her all about it on their journey. The traders had not touched her, they said, because she would be worth more a virgin, but rest assured that situation would be rectified the moment that her new Master had her alone. They had gone into great detail about the actual act, promising her that it would hurt, and that the man would sweat and grunt like a pig in rutting season. They also told her that she might catch with child…and that she should pray to the gods that she lost it before it could be born into slavery.

Trembling, Nínviel slowly stood and stripped herself of her rags, setting them neatly in a pile near the tub. Stepping into the hot water, she sank down to her knees, tears running down her face to mix with the water slowly turning a muddy brown as the grime sluiced off her body.

Then, she thought of Legolas. Of his kind eyes, bluer than any summer sky she could remember. Of his misplaced charity, paying an exorbitant amount of gold to buy her only to try to free her. Of his concern for her; of his gentle hand stroking her hair to try to calm her. Of his stoic acceptance of his father's will. Of his beauty…and her shuddering stopped.

"If this is how he wishes to use me, then so be it," she thought to herself as she began to scrub. "I only hope and pray that I will please him…I owe him that and so much more."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a hour later that Legolas turned at the timid knock that came from within the room. He opened the door and came face to face with a vision.

The simple lines of her homespun dress suited her figure perfectly, hugging her busom, dipping in to showcase her tiny waist and flaring slightly to skim her softly rounded hips.

Her hair, matted and filthy before, gleamed in the last rays of Anor that peeked through the window of the room, showing itself to be a gloriously thick mane, of a deep chestnut color that reminded Legolas of the fragrant, fertile soil of his homeland.

Soft blue eyes, which had so poignantly touched him the first time he had seen her now sparkled as they shyly looked up at him from under her long dark lashes.

Heart-shaped, her face was truly beautiful rather than merely pretty as had been his first impression. Her skin was creamy white, although a delicate blush colored her cheeks. Underfed, her cheekbones were sharp but did nothing more than accent her beauty.

She took his breath away.

He stood at a loss for words, staring at her until finally she gently, reverentially, took his hand and pulled him into the room. Still holding his large hand in her small one, she lifted it to her lips and tenderly kissed his knuckles, her eyes never once leaving his face.

"Nínviel…what?" he asked, feeling as though his feet had been bolted to the floor. He could not have fled that room at that moment had an army of Orc jumped in through the window.

"I know now what it is you wish of me, Master," she answered in a small voice, her blush intensifying, enhancing her loveliness. "I am ready for you."

"I…do not know of what you speak, Nínviel…" he lied. He knew very well of what she spoke…that mysterious, alluring and altogether forbidden thing that Elves did with one another in the privacy of their own rooms. He knew of it…had heard others speak of it…had heard young Elves his age brag of it…but he had never experienced it for himself. Young and inexperienced, he had not yet developed the legendary self-control of Elves in the matters of carnal pursuits and wasn't at all certain if he could resist her if she did so much as kiss his hand once more. His heart was already beginning to thud in his chest and his Elfhood, so quiet and well-behaved and used for no more than mundane affairs of the physical being, was suddenly straining at the seams of his leggings.

"I belong to you…it is your right, Master," Nínviel insisted, confused at his obvious reluctance in the matter. The other women in the slavers' caravan had not mentioned a Master who was so hesitant in claiming what was his. He looked ready to lose his breakfast.

"You belong to no one, Nínviel! Even now, my father works to secure a position for you here at the Inn," Legolas demurred, finding his lips speaking the words, but his mind lost in her eyes.

"Until then I belong to you, Master," Nínviel contradicted, reaching her hand to gently touch his cheek. "Never before in my life has anyone been as kind to me as you have been. My own father bemoaned the day I was born a useless female. My back bore the brunt of his drunken temper more often than not. After my mother died, he sold me to the first slaver who passed through the village."

"You…I…we…" Legolas stammered, wanting desperately to flee before he did something he could never take back, stole something that in his heart he felt he had not the right to take. Unable to move despite his inner misgivings, he found himself instead drawn closer to her…closer to her full, rosy lips that parted ever so slightly as his own neared them.

Finding the strength from some inner well he had not known he possessed he stopped just a hairsbreadth from her lips, knowing without a doubt that should he kiss her, he would be lost. "You tempt me…" he whispered. "Please…do not tempt me further."

"I am yours," she repeated, her breath ghosting over his lips. The sweetness of her breath drew him the rest of the way as a magnet would draw filings from a blacksmith's forge, his lips touching hers.

And he was lost.

Drawing her into his arms, he moaned through closed lips at the feel of her soft body crushed against his. Her body was breached for the first time, although not the last, as his tongue instinctively sought entrance past her lips. Allowed its access it danced across hers, soft and warm, wet and sweet.

The world fell away as all of Legolas' senses were filled with her. Her scent, her touch, her taste…the sound of her soft moans, the sight of her soft white flesh as he reluctantly left her mouth and dipped his head to nibble at her throat. Sucking warmth to the surface of her skin he marked her as his, laving the small hurt with his tongue.

Again he claimed her lips, again his tongue plunged into her mouth, again he lost control of himself. His hands tore at the strings that held her gown closed, his body now ruled by one thing alone…his throbbing and aching need to possess her body.

Freed from her dress, Legolas' hands caressed her body as if they had known the dips and swells that mapped her form all of his life. His fingers kneaded at her soft breasts, rolling hardened nipples between them. Her own trembling fingers worried at the closures of his tunic, succeeding in undoing a few before he lost patience and pushed her hands away, divesting himself of it quickly.

Strong arms crushed her to him, smashing her body against his, the feel of her skin against his pushing the last vestige of sanity from his mind. He stripped himself of his boots and leggings without ever his tongue leaving her sweet mouth. Groaning loudly into her mouth as his organ, freed at last from the tight bindings of his leggings sprang against her soft belly.

Her hand brushed against it and Legolas nearly lost his mind. Scooping her up in his arms, he laid her on the bed almost carelessly, straddling her, his blue eyes brilliant with his lust.

Nínviel's breath came faster still at the sight of Legolas' organ, thick and hard as it rose straight as an arrow from its bed of thick golden curls. His hooded eyes showed no signs of slowing as he bent her legs and positioned himself at her entry.

Wanting him, nay, needing him, she willingly opened her legs for him, her hands sliding over his strong chest to tease at his peach-colored nipples, all the while her lips moaning his name over and over again.

Legolas eyes closed as his length slipped into her body, easing himself into her tight channel. Feeling an obstruction, he pushed through her maidenhead, not realizing that he had just caused her pain as his organ ripped through the tender tissue.

The pain was negligible, she had felt worse before. The other feeling that came with it…that feeling of fullness…of warmth and tingly anticipation overcame the pain in an instant. Moaning, she begged him for more…although for what she was begging she had no idea.

Calling her name, Legolas plunged into her again and again, feeling his release boil up threatening to consume him. When he felt her channel tighten as she orgasmed with his name on her lips, he exploded within her, filling her with his essence. Behind his closed eyes colors burst and merged, flashes of light and color more brilliant than any wizard's fireworks filling his vision and his mind.

Slowly they faded…his breathing slowed, his body stopped trembling, and conscious thought returned. He opened his eyes to see Nínviel lying beneath him, a small, contented and knowing smile playing across her lips.

"Oh…Great Eru…what have I done?" Legolas gasped, lying down on the bed and gathering Nínviel into his arms. Words failed him as tears spilled from his azure eyes, tracking down his cheeks. He buried his face in her hair, weeping.

"Master…Master…Legolas…" Nínviel called, lifting her face up, startled and frightened by his tears. "Please…have I displeased you so much to cause tears?"

"Displeased? No… Nínviel, that was the most wonderful experience of my life. 'Tis I who has done harm to you…caused you pain…stolen your innocence…"

She smiled, although her own eyes threatened tears. "You took nothing that was not yours for the taking, Master. Even if I had not been yours already, still I would have given myself to you freely."

"I cannot…be with you, Nínviel. I have a duty to my father, my people…"

"Never would I ask that of you, Master. I know that you seek to find me a place here, so that you might free me. It was because of this, because of your generosity and caring, that I gave myself to you. Had I to do it over again, I would, without hesitation," Nínviel answered, wiping the tears from his cheeks. She lifted herself up and kissed him softly, then rose from the bed, pulling at his arm for him to rise also.

She helped him to dress and he her, then wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his broad chest. "Master…I will remember this day for the rest of my life. Should I ever be blessed with a mate and children, I will tell them of the generosity and sweetness of the Elves, and of one Elf in particular."

He had no reply for her, but held her tightly to him for a few moments. Pulling away, he said, "We should go. My father awaits us."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Centuries passed as swiftly as the seasons in a single year to mortals. Thranduil had used his influence to secure a position at the Inn for Nínviel, who had flourished there, quickly becoming a favorite of the Innkeeper. Indeed, so much so, that he married her following spring. She had presented him with a beautiful daughter, who was loved dearly by both.

Legolas went on to travel to Imladris, where he joined in a Fellowship of Nine Walkers. Afterward, he traveled extensively with the Dwarf Gimli, once passing through a familiar town whose Inn held memories dear to his heart. Never did he forget the shy, grateful woman who had given herself to him, body and soul, for one night.

He kept her memory locked in his heart, taken out and remembered during long lonely nights. As he remembered, he would close his eyes and see fireworks.

The End.
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