A/N: I am overwhelmed by the desire to describe what happens with Wren when, expecting Dain, she is kidnapped by a band of motley criminals and saved by Thranduil, the Lord of Woodland Realm. After a horrible misunderstanding she is abandoned by her beloved King Under the Mountain and left in Mirkwood for a few months. Her heart is broken in separation from her two older children and her unreasonable jealous husband, who is unaware of her expecting of their third child.
I was shortly describing this page in Thorin and Wren's story in "Thorin's Word A Day" #7 and #20 ("Thorin's Timeline" can also be used for reference, it's constantly updated). This story just wouldn't leave me alone, I already have a pile of drafts, but I am afraid it will be very painful and draining to write. Poor Wren, and, let's face it, though it is all his fault, poor Thorin!
I am in doubt, so I'm posting this sample. Let me know what you think! I love Wren, for me she is the best, but is it believable?! Would Thranduil...? Or wouldn't he? :)
I am slightly cautious about writing the Elvenking tbh. I like how he came out in other stories, but that will be a completely different matter.
Your feedback would be HIGHLY appreciated.
The cold lips of the Elvenking Thranduil are upon yours. His long, slender fingers lie on your shoulders, and the fragrance of his skin fills your nose, sweet, fresh, redolent of grasses and flowers of Greenwood the Great. Your eyes are wide open, and you see his long black lashes descending, hiding the brilliant cold irises. Then his narrow palms slide on your shoulder blades and he bends his long virile body, towering over you, enveloping your in his spell-binding presence, pressing his lips more firmly, his kiss still chaste but passionate. Your arms are pressed on the sides of your body, hands fisted, and you are trembling.
He withdraws slowly, his hands still on your back, and the impossible blue eyes open. There is a tender smile on his lips, and his striking elegant features soften. "Filegethiel..." His low hypnotic voice caresses your Elven name. "Guren..."
You start shaking harder. My heart... Such a different man, such a different language, but the same moniker. You feel tears running down your cheeks. His beautiful lips open slightly, and he gently wipes your tears with his thumbs. "Do not cry, guren, let me take away your grief."