Kindly leave a review the companions of Jon snow relfect on their many years spent in Middle-Earth, all the while Jon and Galadriel grow ever more in love

City of Annúminas

Ser Loras Tyrell was training a new batch of warriors; they were most hardy youths who had heard tales of the Battles of the Dale and Isengard, and while they were eager for glory, most had seen too few winters, and it would take many years to prepare them for war.

Time they did not have it seemed, they had received word from the South that Amon Amarth was spewing great clouds of ash and fire, and the foundries of Mordor were fashioning engines of war.

The Rose of Harlond was fearful of Sauron's wroth he suffered a defeat, yes but behind the Black gates, evil was stirring, and its malice was focused at one in particular.

Jon Snow, the wild wolf, his brother in arms and brother by blood if he was honest with himself.

Loras had heard little from Jon in the past year though he was not worried; after all, Jon was a Noldor in all but name; he loved to hunt, hawk, and had a keen love of song and verse the latter inherited without a doubt inherited from his Teleri and Vanyar blood, but above all, Jon had a passion for the fashioning of metals and stone.

Though Loras could little understand the wisdom of his brother to live for so long among the dwarves, it was madness whether their lousy table manners or the profuse consumption of ale, the dwarves were a queer and wondrous folk, and after many years living among them, Loras had been eager to depart for Arnor.

Though his time among the dwarves had proved fruitful, his brother in arms had become a splendid warrior and poet there was little left of the sullen boy who had set foot on these shores so many years ago, and there was little doubt in his mind that Jon had a glorious destiny and he would follow him till the end even into the fires of Mordor.

At the thought of Jon, a wistful smile adorned the Knight of Flowers's face.

The youngest son of House Tyrell would never have imagined that their lives would be altered in such a way; indeed, he hadn't the faintest imagining of what awaited him the day his father had brought that motherless boy to foster with them and yet here he stood in a land of queer magics and fantastical legends.

Though thinking of this happy life drew his thoughts back to Westeros and his beloved Renly, it brought tears to his eyes, knowing that he lived while Renly had perished brought low by that wicked bitch from Asshai, it seemed Stannis cared little for Kinslaying so long as a crown was on his head.

After the death of his beloved, Loras had taken his arms and armour and buried Renly deep in the forest none knew where his beloved was buried save Jon and Robar, an oath of blood so none would desecrate his grave.

But even after the years he spent in this land, Loras seldom thought of Westeros, for it reminded him of the blackest stain upon his honour.

The moment he slew Emmon Cuy in a fit of rage, to kill a man in battle was necessary, but it was another matter to slay an innocent man.

But until that moment when he killed Emmon, Loras never understood what it was really like to have his hands stained with blood.

It had taken years for him to wholly trust any save Robar and Jon though truly, Loras never thought so many fair maidens would accompany them to Middle-earth.

Those maidens of many houses storied and famous had fallen for his brother in arms whether by his own allure or perhaps the grace of the Valar and accompanied them to Middle-earth if only his sister and Mira could see Jon now they would be wroth with jealousy though perhaps it is best they remain in Westeros any woman who would sacrifice love for a crown deserves neither.

If they had stayed in Westeros far from the guidance of the Elves and Numenoreans, they could hope for little save for death or the Nights watch surrounded by thieves, rapists and all manner of cutthroats.

If that had been their fate, Loras couldn't bear it, No it was better they had fled Westeros.

Although despite everything, both he and Robar missed their families fiercely.

Were his parents safe what of his brothers? His grandmother? His sister, he missed them more than words could express, even his grandmother who had caused them untold misery all for a pretty crown.

Loras, let himself be carried away to those happier days in the Gardens of the castle where his family gathered to watch him spar with Jon; he recollected the look of pride in his fathers' eyes, of his mothers' careful admonishments he could recall Garland and Willis applauding his talents and of course his beloved sister and her handmaidens sneaking glances at Jon.

And lastly to his dear grandmother, who admonished him for sparring with a bastard and denouncing his haughty air, always claiming "men care for little else but sword and the scabbards they rest them in".

Well, "The Rose of Harlond" had to admit it, in his youth, he was thirsty for glory, short-tempered and impetuous oh, by the Valar, who was he trying to fool? He was still the same boy, merely older and wiser.

Loras laughed when he thought about it.

"What are you laughing at?" A curious voice asked in his direction.

Loras turned and was greeted by the sight of the fairest maiden of the North.

Arya Stark, the She-Wolf of Arnor as the Knights dubbed her, the warrior maiden who has scorned all who tried to claim her hand.

Loras could not believe that that little girl who resembled a horse and shirked all notions of ladyship had blossomed into a Lady of such beauty and grace, although Loras knew that despite this, she was deadly as the blade she wielded.

The little wolf had grown in these years; now, she stood taller than Rhaenys, and her long brown hair was thick and curly, an untamed mane that framed her heart-shaped face and her bright grey eyes. So fair was Arya wolf kissed that many an Arnorian noble clamoured for her hand.

If only her character had also changed along with her appearance

Though it was little shock to many that the nobles of Arnor were so eager to bind their houses to maidens of such lineage

Before being blessed by the Valar with the gift of long life, Jon's cousins were considered as prospects for the noble families of Arnor, but no noble had resolved to ask for their hand in marriage; firstly, they were far too young by the measure of the Númenóreans, and many feared that their descendants would prove likewise, thus diminishing the majesty of Arnor's royalty.

But those fears were waylaid by Jon's rebirth and the revelation of his lineage.

The northern realm was abuzz with the news of their blessing, and soon each of them was approached by the nobles of the North eager to increase the prestige of their house.

But Arya cared little for such follies and rebuffed each proposal in kind.

Lamentably, many of those men did not understand the words of the little wolf and tried to petition King Elendil to force a marriage between themselves and Arya as with Jon's absence, the power to arrange such affairs rested with the King. However, Elendil would not be cowed by his own nobles, and thus the call for marriage went unanswered until Arya expressed interest in the matter.

That caused a great commotion in Annúminas.

Some ten years ago, the little she-wolf, taking advantage of Jon's visit to the City, many Lords from the North and South approached him to beg the hand of his cousins, but Arya had her own schemes.

The She-Wolf hosted a tourney in the capital and declared any man who could best her would have her hand in marriage many a foolhardy noble thought Arya would be a meek maiden unaccustomed to the rigours of sparring, but the wolf blood was ever in her heart, and soon all the entrants lay battered and broken.

Upon her victory, Arya had declared that none may claim her heart save the fiercest wolf of Stark.

And everyone knew of whom she spoke as Arya was never subtle with her words.

One merely had to see how her eyes glittered when Jon's name was uttered or the look of lust upon her face when she watched Jon train, and she was always eager to spar with him when the occasion allowed

It wasn't so queer that those of northern blood would wed their kin, but for many years they had been raised as siblings.

And yet, the youngest of the Stark sisters cared little for their shared blood. He found it amusing that the wily young maiden who had sat beside his sister lo those many years ago shamelessly yearned for her cousins' love.

And yet, she wasn't the most sought after maiden in Arnor.

That dubious honour belongs to her older sister Sansa.

"Has your mind been addled?" Arya questioned in annoyance, drawing Loras out his thoughts.

"What?" Loras asked, confused, while Jon's cousin just looked away in annoyance.

"I've been speaking for several minutes, but you seemed lost in your thoughts, silly", Arya said with amusement.

"You should be more respectful to me, girl, or shall I humble you again?" Loras said, annoyed while Arya's face turned scarlet.

In a moment of arrogance, Jon's cousin challenged the soldiers he had trained and bested several dozen with ease, but rather than resting on her laurels, Arya chose to be foolish.

Arya had challenged him to a duel, and he was always eager to a good fight.

The girl was remarkably skilful and swift, no doubt, but she couldn't best him yet, but Arya must learn humility just as he had, and so he had thrown her off balance with furious blows and caused her to trip on a root and quickly disarmed her.

Arya Stark had sworn she would best him much to his amusement as she had yet to try again.

"I have practised for many long days. I shan't lose again," Said the she-wolf confidently.

"I have trained no less than you, and such pride shall be your undoing", Loras returned, weary of Aryas' arrogance as it reminded him far too much of himself when he was her age.

"What are you talking about?" Arya asked in bewilderment.

"If you keep striving to prove yourself better than anyone or that you shall never be beaten because you train, you shall never beat anyone," Loras said.

"How do you know?" Arya asked haughtily.

"Because you are no different than me at that age," Loras said, weary of this discussion; he wished to shed his armour and slip in a warm bath and perhaps have a smoke.

"WHAT?!" Arya Stark yelled as if she had been offended.

"Oh yes, Little Wolf, I once boasted that none could best me in my youth, and I was the fiercest blade since Ryam the bold, but being humbled by the Noldor was rather illuminating, " Loras said happily.

"You boast as if you are the mightiest swordsman in the realm," Arya said while Loras glowered in irritation.

"I'm far wiser than I once was, but still, the pride of Tyrell shall never wholly leave me," Loras thought with some embarrassment.

"Yes, but not as I once did have faith, little wolf and keep practising; I know in my heart that one day you shall show the quality of your character," Loras said, sheathing his sword.

"You don't want to train anymore?" The Little Wolf asked.

"No, Little Wolf; now I merely wish to find Robar and have a smoke if you desire to train more, I shall not hinder you," Loras said, leaving Arya to await her next foe.

After leaving the Little Wolf, the Knight of Flowers went in search of his other brother-in-arms, Ser Robar Royce, who should have concluded his duties as Captain of the City Guard.

After Jon departed for Khazad-Dûm, King Elendil consigned more duties to both of them and Robar, in particular being the eldest of the three as well as the most knowledgeable, was given the task of commanding the City Guard.

His brother in arms took the position in stride, inspiring loyalty among the rank and file men of the watch; alas, the task was laborious as Robar had no desire for men like Slynt to done the black cloaks.

The task of overseeing the entry of interested recruits was exhausting, and as a consequence, Loras's brother-in-arms spent far more time locked in the Kings tower than he would like.

Loras smiled at the thought Robar never desired to govern in such a way, and it had driven him grey before his time, and while he could aid Robar, it was far more amusing to watch him endure the torment.

Loras ascended the towers and soon came the oaken door that led to Robar's study, but before he could enter, he was greeted by the sound of laughter.

And one of those laughs was unquestionably feminine, which caused Loras's eyes to widen.

"Is it possible?" Loras wondered and knocked on the door of Robar's study, causing the laughter to die, and to his amusement, murmurs of fear were heard.

"May I enter?" Loras asked.

"Yes, brother," Robar said though his voice was ungracious, and Loras, amused, opened the door affirming his suspicions. Well, it seems Jon wasn't the only one who was being chased by some northern maiden.

Loras entered and met his friends' gaze. Robar had changed greatly during their adventures; he was the image of his father, brawny and powerful, with a booming laugh, a great black beard, and a mane of thick black hair; he wore a suit on bronze and blackened plate with runic medallions arranged across his chest and over this a cloak of fine ermine secured by a clasp of sapphire shaped to resemble his families sigil a gift from Andreth no doubt.

His brother-in-arms was not alone; rather, he was partaking in wine with a fair maiden.

She was tall and willowy with a swan-like neck and ebon tresses; Loras knew her quite well.

Her name was Andreth, named after the wise woman of the House of Beor in the First Age of whom they presume a distant kinship. Though she appeared young, Andreth was approaching her eightieth birthday; her father was well to do maintaining several of the chiefest ports in the Northern and Southern realms, however because of the many leagues between Annúminas and those ports, Andreth rarely saw her kin preferring to act as her fathers representative in Elendils court.

Andreth, like all maidens of marriageable age, was tasked with enticing Jon but Andreth wisely chose to not pursue him least she aroused the ire of Lady Írimë.

However, sometime after Jon's resurrection, Robar met the maiden Andreth formally at an event of high importance, and they had bonded over a great many things such as hunting and hawking and especially the growing of fine pipeweed.

It seems that Lady Andreth has forgotten her mission to enchant Jon, and she has set her eyes on charming Robar, or he hoped this was the case as Loras had no desire to see his dear friend miserable.

Seeing the blossoming love between the two made the Knight of Flowers remember his beloved Renly, along with his vow to never love again, a vow he does not lament, but it reminded him of his true asseveration to slay Stannis he could do little to save his golden stag, although he shall avenge him.

So for the moment, Loras will put his bitterness aside and feel happy for his friend and, if possible, mock him a little.

He could see the defeat in Andreths eyes; she was wroth that he had interrupted them, but she then blushed in embarrassment before bowing.

"Ser Loras," Lady Andreth said.

"My Lady", Loras said, laying a chaste kiss upon her knuckle.

"I see you are otherwise engaged," said the Knight of Flowers with a malicious smile, causing both of them to blush.

"What do you desire of me, Loras?" Robar growled, furious that his time with Andreth was spoiled.

"Oh, I apologize for my cheek, tis a shame; I hoped we might ride to the borders of the Kingdom and hunt some orcs," Loras said, noticing the look of longing in Robar's eyes hunting orcs was a beloved past time of theirs when Jon was here.

"Of course, my friend, excuse my bluntness; the work of a captain is tiring, and it had been too long since I rode to battle," Said Robar happily.

"Wonderful," Loras said, but at that moment, Lady Andreth crossed her arms and gave them a reproachful look.

"Patrolling the borders is a mattering task, not a child's pastime many men have died for thinking as much ", Andreth said in a reproachful tone, and both knights were cowed by her stern gaze.

"You are right, my Lady, I beg your pardon," Robar said sheepishly as Lady Andreth smiled.

"Before long, he will end up as Jon ruled by a woman though it is only the one", Loras thought, amused.

"I bed your pardon if my words vexed you, my Lady, we shall not take our duties lightly," Loras said.

But the look in her eyes told of how little she believed him.

"Well, in that case, Robar, we shall meet later to prepare our hunt if you aren't engaged in other matters," Loras said, wanting to leave the room quickly.

"Yes, my friend, that is best. I shall seek you out when I'm ready," Robar said, standing up and embracing him before muttering.

"By the Valar, I don't grasp how Jon can handle nine," He said in a pitiful whisper, and Loras tried hard not to laugh.

"We shall ask him next we meet", Loras replied in another whisper.

After bidding, Robar Farwell Loras ordered the servants to remove his armour and prepare a bath in his chambers. Once inside his room, Loras swiftly threw off his remaining clothes and gazed at himself in the mirror.

In the fifty years that had passed since Jon had departed for Khazad-dûm, he had changed little save that he was now taller than his brother Garlan and broader.

He had also grown a great golden beard which gave him a far more kingly appearance, thought Loras was confident that since his brother had risen from the grave, they hadn't aged a day visibly at least.

And he was not the only one who deemed it thus.

It seemed that the Ladies Ashara and Rhaella seemed younger than their age would hint.

That delighted both of them very much, chiefly Ashara now that she could be with Jon and Shiera for many centuries though all was not well as many foolhardy nobles still approached them desiring to obtain an alliance of marriage.

"Well, one shouldn't grieve when bestowed such a gift," Loras said before sinking into the soothing water.

After Jon left, Loras had hoped to follow his brothers' example and broaden his knowledge beyond swordplay and shipbuilding; first, he thought to study the harp just as Jon had, but his fingers were unsure and clumsy next he had endeavoured to sculpt marble, but Loras didn't possess an eye for stonework, and so he relented on that.

Loras was already beginning to believe that he had no artistic talent for his frustration until he saw two servants painting one of the chambers, and curiosity seized him, and he implored the servants to instruct him.

Loras wouldn't hold himself equal to the Artisans of Harlond, but with a great deal of practice, his tutors thought he would be adequate, just praise from the Arnorians, and although his passion lay in the arts of war, painting was an excellent way to repose.

With this in mind, the Rose of Harlond continued his bath, eager to rest his battered body.

"It is beautiful," Said a noblewoman astonished at the beauty of the tapestry that would decorate her home.

"Thank you," said the weaver, an exquisitely beautiful woman fair of skin with hair that shone like living flame.

"You have a great talent, my Lady. My husband will be pleased by the tapestry you have woven. Thank you, Lady Sansa. I assure you that you will collect your payment tomorrow," the woman said before departing, leaving Sansa to her own devices.

After the noble had departed, Sansa stood up and poured herself a glass of wine before walking onto the balcony to gaze at the city below.

Almost a half-century had passed since she had escaped that den of vipers and come to dwell in Middle-earth with her cousin and sister.

A Cousin, whom Sansa once loved as an older brother and now fervently wished to take as her loving husband.

Sighing sadly, Catelyn Tully's eldest daughter gazed at herself in the mirror and could scarcely remember the girl she had once been.

She had become a lovely woman just as she had always desired; she was tall, graceful, and quite buxom, no doubt her Tully blood at work.

Her figure now rivalled Princess Arianne causing her no end of misery as many a foolhardy man now gazed at her will ill-concealed lust.

Arya even likened her breasts to the udders of an aurochs; she had struck Arya about the head for that remark. That was one of the few discussions the two had had in recent years, but when Arya grew exceedingly insolent, Sansa was keen to remind her that she was the more desired of the two.

However, they were still kin and seldom left the others side Arya often acted as her sworn shield aiding her when the lecherous nobles didn't grasp that she had no interest in them.

Unfortunately, that did not hinder the nobles of the Dúnedain from seeking to beguile her and Arya they were descended from the Kings of Númenor and long-lived as Elros himself and thus the most desirable maids in the Northern Kingdom, something that as a child Sansa would have relished greatly being courted by so many brave and handsome knights but those were the fantasies of a foolish girl.

Her time as a captive of the Lannisters put an end to those silly notions. She did not wish to be courted by any knight no matter how brave, courteous or mighty; Sansa's apparent disdain to love caused many to say her heart was as cold as the land of her birth; some even remarked that she resembled her ancestor Tar-Ancalimë.

Sansa was outraged when she heard that because she knew very well the story of that woman, the daughter of Tar-Aldarion, a woman who inherited the bitterness of her proud mother Erendis the wicked shrew had known nothing of love nor happiness even forbidding her serving-women to marry.

To be likened to such a vile woman filled Sansa with rage, but that was not the worst of it; despite her dazzling beauty Sansa was robbed of the man she desired above all her dearest cousin Jon snow.

Jon did not seem to care for her maturity in these many years, nor had he noticed when she had sought to entice him.

Remembering her time in those mines, Sansa was awash with wonder, greed, amazement but above all bitterness, for Jon had deemed it necessary to dwell there rather than among his family.

He had sworn that he would never be parted from them again, and yet Jon was content hammering damned metal rather than spending his days with them or preferably herself.

Sansa emptied her glass and began to knit her thoughts, returning to the day she had entered the Kingdom of the Longbeards.

When Winterfell's eldest daughter saw the great Kingdom of Khazad-dûm for the first time, she had no words to describe its beauty and majesty. It was beyond anything she would have ever imagined from the stories that Jon and the others told them so many years ago in the Gray Havens.

Sansa would never have believed that such beauty could be created from metal and stone, yet the beauty of these halls surpassed any work of the smiths of men.

"In time, my beloved shall be the greatest smith since the days of our forbear Celebrimbor," Sansa thought after gazing upon the beauty of those halls she had come to understand why Jon desired so greatly to learn from the Longbeards though she was still vexed that he had been gone for so long.

Though the best part of that blessed realm was the treasures of Dwarves, indeed, the forges were grand, but Sansa loved fine jewels far more. Jon knew this and gifted her with a heavy silver necklace, alternating star sapphires and rubies to complement her Tully heritage.

Something that made Sansa extremely happy and smiling like a little girl; however, the dilemma of living in Khazad-dûm was the Dwarves themselves.

Sansa remembered the poor manners of the Dwarves, whether eating contest, breaking wind at the table or the copious amount of spirits they imbibed, and while the Kingdom of Khazad-dûm was beautiful; its halls were no place for a lady.

Sansa had prayed to the Valar that Jon wouldn't acquire the habits of those filthy Dwarves; the stench of that wretched pipe was enough.

Even so, to see her beloved cousin so joyous was worth more than all the gems of the earth and stars of the heavens.

Apart from her necklace, Jon had fashioned a set of mithril sewing needles for her nameday, one the shape of a leaping trout set with rubies, the other resembled a prancing wolf set with sapphires.

Although it was a gift of great beauty, it was simple but very profound because it showed how much her dragon wolf knew her, and that was what moved the little bird to tears even more than the beauty of the gift itself.

Sansa was crying with happiness for that gesture from Jon and was about to kiss him and confess her love when a jealous Arya had ruined the moment demanding something of Mithril as well.

For Arya's nameday, Jon had reforged needle, making the sword as light as a feather and far keener. As for her own gift, Sansa excitedly used her new needles to knit Jon a black velvet doublet embroidered with white wolves, but sadly she has not yet delivered it, preferring to surprise Jon with her arts.

A time that was growing nearer and nearer, Sansa vexed by her own timidity. She looked towards the wall of her workshop, and there lay in a frame of imperishable crystal, the Noldolantë.

A lament composed by Jon's erstwhile mentor, the song told of events Maglor himself took part in Fëanor's rebellion against the Valar, the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, in which Fëanor led the first ever slaying of Elves by Elves, and the Exile of the Noldor in Middle-earth.

Knowing that she and hence all her family were kindred of that ignoble elf filled her heart with woe though it did her some good to know he shall never be freed of his shackles.

However, according to Jon, Maglor himself never supported what his father and brothers did and only followed them out of loyalty, living in remorse for their actions until Jon and the others helped him return to the Blessed Kingdom.

Jon gave her and Arya the Noldolantë for safekeeping, and as a promise, he would always return to them until then the Noldolantë would remain in her keeping.

She had accepted the honour graciously as she knew Jon held Maglor in such esteem, and to entrust her with such a precious heirloom showed his trust in her she would prove worthy of that faith and in time worthy of his love.

She longed to be a part of her cousin's harem and desired for him to take her maidenhood.

"I can give him a little Cregan of our own or even a Brandon, perhaps Lyanna." Sansa thought her heart aflutter with joy.

Even their wolves had bonded after the battle of Isengard, Ghost and Lady had disappeared for some time, and Sansa was worried they had abandoned them, but both had returned several days later though Lady was now as tall as her.

Jon had told her that Ghost must have taken Lady deep in the forest of Fangorn to sup from the Ents spring. But neither she nor Jon foresaw what would occur, but perhaps Ghost had intended this all along.

When Jon went to dwell in Khazad-dûm, Ghost had followed them, but why none could say until one day Sansa was strolling through the palace after finishing a weaving commissioned by a noblewoman for one of her sons and found Ghost furiously fucking Lady claiming the She-Wolf as his mate.

Sansa couldn't help but watch with morbid fascination as Ghost claimed Lady as his own. Since that night, Sansa has often dreamed of Jon taking her in such a way and often, she awoke flushed and consumed by a burning lust none could tame save Jon.

The union of Ghost and Lady did not go unheeded in Arnor because a few months later when her wolf gave birth to several giant direwolf pups, these wolves were held in high esteem by the Dúnedain as many believed them to be descendants of the hound Huan and soon many nobles desired a wolf of their own even Anárion came North after hearing tales of the ancient Winter kings who fought beside the great wolves as brothers.

Reminiscing about it made her remember Ashara, Ashara Dayne, the woman who could have been her father's wife if not for the selfishness of her aunt Lyanna and the stupidity of her uncle Brandon but that mattered little now; what mattered was Ashara had treated her as a daughter of her own womb.

But also, as one of her rivals for Jon's love, that was something that made her uncomfortable; Ashara and the others may endure sharing the same man, but it was anathema to her.

Jon loves all his women and will not give up any of them, and Sansa is certain that Jon often shares the bed with more than one, Ashara and Lady Shiera being the most common.

But she was raised with too much modesty; Sansa did not believe she could share her bed with another woman as they did.

Sansa desired to be Jon sole lover, but she knew it was a fools hope.

If only her mother could see her now, desperate to become Jon's wife and bear him a litter of pups.

Oh, what a beautiful litter of wolves she and Jon would have; their children would be true children of the North if only he would think of her as more than a sister.

Sighing, Sansa put down her needles, stood up, and gave one last look at Jon's gift before regarding the courtyard below where Arya was training with the men-at-arms.

She arched an eyebrow; Arya must be taunting them as well as practising.

In the years that have passed in Arnor, Sansa had witnessed the soldiers train many times, especially the Princesses Arianne, Daenerys, Rhaenys and of course, Arya and while she had never thought to pick up a blade. She couldn't disregard what she endured in King's Landing, being beaten and mauled by the King's Guard.

Sansa clenched her fists in anger and hoped one day they may return to Westeros and Jon could burn them alive with Vhagar.

But she did not forget what it was like, what it was to be defenceless, what it was to be fragile, what it was to be powerless.

She did not wish to feel that way again; she is the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Lady Catelyn Tully of Riverrun.

She was the blood of Winterfell, and no one would ever mistreat her again.

Sansa wouldn't allow it.

For this reason, leaving behind her fears and doubts, she approached Lord Glorfindel to ask him to teach her in secret as she had no desire to hear Arya's mocking japes.

The noble elf was surprised by Sansa's choice to become a warrior, but Glorfindel strove to teach her how to handle a blade.

Although Sansa soon regretted her choice as her body was bruised and battered by the battle drills, still Glorfindel was a patient teacher, and after many years she had become wholly skilful with a Greatsword.

Since then, the Dagger that Sansa received from Lord Elrond in Harlond ceased to be a pretty bauble, and she carried it hidden among her clothes, ready to be used when obliged.

"Aaahh…" Ashara said, falling naked on her bed drenched in sweat; she was soon joined by her beloved Shiera, who had been betwixt her legs feasting on her like a starving woman.

"That was wonderous," Ashara said, struggling to draw breath, her body aflame with pleasure.

"I know, my love, I know," Said the beautiful Targaryen bastard smugly before licking the essence of her beloved from her lips.

"And what possessed you to do this, my love," Ashara said, finally catching her breath.

At that moment, a hint of sadness crossed Shiera's face as she lay beside her.

"I miss Jon," Shiera said sadly, causing Ashara to be disheartened by the absence of her beloved dragon.

"Oh, so, Shiera tried to emulate our dear dragon," Ashara thought mischievously.

"I know, my love, I know," Ashara said, kissing Shiera's head.

"Why doesn't that fool return to Annúminas? ... IT HAS BEEN 50 YEARS!" Shiera said, frustrated, standing up suddenly and looking at Ashara with determination.

"Oh… do you yearn for our beloved dragon so wantonly?" Ashara said, mocking her love, but unfortunately, Shiera was not amused, and she nipped Ashara's breasts, causing the maiden of Starfall to yelp in pain.

"SHIERA!" Ashara screeched before cuffing her across the face.

"Slattern!" Shiera yelled, lunging at Ashara and soon they were locked in a passionate embrace once more.

"Do you think they heard us?" Shiera asked, gasping for air.

"Aye, if not, we have lost our touch", Ashara replied happily.

"I truly miss our dragon," Shiera said sadly.

"I do as well, beloved," Said the Lady of Starfall, shedding a tear of sadness.

"I hope Jon brings us gifts from Durin's halls; he had been gone far too long," Shiera growled.

"There is no doubt that she is a Targaryen; when she holds that something is hers, Shiera does not let go of it for the world," Ashara thought, amused by Shiera's possessive nature.

"I'm certain Jon hasn't forgotten his promise to bring us gifts, don't be greedy, my love," Ashara said in a reproachful tone, and Shiera looked away proudly.

"I'm not; I merely desire to see the fruits of Jon's labour in Khazad-Dum," Shiera said.

"Fret not, my love; once our dragon returns, we shall give him countless reasons to stay," Ashara said in a lusty tone.

"Oh, do tell my love?" Shiera said lustily.

"Shiera, we have lain together for the better part of the afternoon. I would like to bathe," Ashara said, grinning, standing up and covering her naked body with the sheets while Shiera looked at her indignantly.

"ASH!" Shiera cried, knowing her beloved was teasing her.

"What? .. We can no longer dally, come on, now we have obligations to fulfil," Ashara said with a laugh before entering the washroom, leaving Shiera to lay in bed thinking of her beloved Jon.

Yes, she and Ashara had duties in the half-century of Jon's absence; they had become storied healers, often venturing to Imladris to study under Elrond, and after many years of tutelage, the wisened lord had declared them the most worthy pupils he had taught.

In recognition of their abilities as healers, King Elendil ordered them to train others in such arts, and so they had founded a society of healers akin to those in Oldtown.

Of course, the order was still young, yet many noble families from Arnor and Gondor sent their daughters and, in some cases, their sons to study under them, grasping the arts of a healer were vital, especially after the Siege of Isengard.

Mordor was stirring again, and they feared war was drawing near.

"Sauron," Shiera thought with scorn as she remembered the fallen Maia and her vow of vengeance against him for having caused the Fall of Númenor and slaying her beloved.

"Jon," Shiera whispered.

She would never have expected to love a person so utterly, let alone a man, especially after her brothers' cruel rejection of her, but Jon had captured her heart.

The Maiden of the Sea felt the absence of her beloved dragon keenly since she returned from Khazad-dûm while Jon decided to linger there and learn from the Longbeards some fifty years ago.

Shiera Seastar was utterly delighted to lay eyes upon the Kingdom of the Longbeards and explore their vast galleries filled with many wondrous things forged from gold, silver and, of course, Mithril.

Oh, what a beautiful metal; there is no doubt that the Valar sent them to a beautiful land where they could heal from the hardships they suffered in Westeros and Essos, and for the first time in many centuries, Shiera felt whole and loved.

And though the Dwarves' manners may be deplorable, they are wonderful artisans and smiths, and knowing that their beloved Jon learns from them despite being a mortal man fills Shiera with pride and satisfaction.

Especially since her beloved brings her all manner of fine pieces from Durin's horde.

With that in mind, Shiera sighed and biting her lip in anticipation.

"Now perhaps I can show Ashara that trick I showed Daenerys to please Daemon", Shiera whispered before joining her beloved in the bath.

"Jon has already left for Dorwinion," Said Queen Rhaella, reading King Durin's message before King Elendil and his entire court, her voice as cold as the waters of the great ocean behind her were her daughter, granddaughter, and Princess Arianne with a wistful expression upon hearing about Jon.

In the half-century that had passed, Rhaella hadn't aged; in fact, she seemed as she did when she first wed Aerys fierce and full of vigour befitting a dragoness so great was her beauty that some nobles of Arnor had asked for her hand, but the former Queen of Westeros gracefully denied them.

Although those who knew the dowager queen knew her heart belonged to another.

As for the Princesses, they hadn't aged a day though they had grown in wisdom and countenance, markedly Rhaenys, who was more akin to her namesake than any of her kindred.

They often attended the Kings counsel and thus dressed for the part.

Rhaella wore a cloth-of-silver gown slashed in burgundy velvet while Daenarys a low-cut gown of deep amethyst velvet; lastly, Arianne and Rhaenys wore dresses of orange and red silk.

And all wore the pieces of jewellery Jon had gifted them each worth a king's ransom though the worth mattered little to the Queen and her companions.

Unlike Rhaella and Jon's cousins, they all kenned rightly that the Princesses, as well as the Ladies Ashara and Shiera, were lovers of Jon Herenlounga, and none wished to arouse the ire of the dragon lord, so their list of suitors swiftly bolted.

Upon uttering those words, the King's Councilors began to murmur among themselves, claiming that a task like that was unworthy of the heir of Fingolfin, but the High King raised his sceptre, and the hall fell silent.

"Well Met, Queen Rhaella, I know that you're of a mind with my counsel, and this appears to be unbefitting Jon, but I have foreseen the part he shall play in this," Elendil said, convinced of the importance of the mission.

At that moment, Rhaenys stood up, and after bowing before the King, he ordered her to rise.

"What do you wish to say, Princess Rhaenys?" Asked the King of the Dunedain.

"Forgive my daring, my King, but I wish to know why my brother was given such a quest?" Rhaenys asked, looking at the King of the Dunedain curiously.

For a few moments, King Elendil sighed and did not respond to the question as if pondering the answer, but in the end, he looked at Rhaenys solemnly.

"I can say little save that my heart is troubled by those Eastern Lands, they are our allies, and they have never given us cause to distrust them, but with Mordor stirring again, I wish not to be taken unaware as we were with Isengard, that is why I wish to make certain that the Vinter lords don't find common cause with our enemies. So I sent your brother to record the comings and going of their people and reaffirm our oaths of loyalty," Elendil said, striving to calm Jon's family.

While Rhaella may have agreed with the old king, she knew of her grandsons' fierceness which made her think that perhaps her grandson was not the best suited for such a quest though there was little she could do forthwith as Jon had departed for the East.

At that moment, one of the King's Councilors cleared his throat and addressed Elendil.

"Your Majesty, I beg your pardon, but we have a predicament regarding Principality of Dol Amroth," The Councilor said, and the King nodded.

"Speak Araniel" Elendil said.

"The reigning Prince has perished," Araniel, his voice wracked with grief.

"How did this happen?" Elendil asked in dismay.

"Evidently, the Prince fell from his horse and broke his neck," Araniel remarked sadly.

Everyone knew why, the previous Prince of Dol Amroth was slain some fifty years ago defending Osgiliath, and although his son was only a boy, then he never recovered from the death of his father, and so he became an ignorant, dull, slow-witted, drunken brute of a man.

The noble line of Princes of Dol Amroth would pass to his brother Adhrahil though he was only a boy of fourteen winters, and so a council would govern in his place until he comes of age.

"We can leave that matter later," Elendil said with a hand on his head, and his advisor nodded.

"As your Highness orders," said the advisor, returning to his place.

"I will not ask your pardon Rhaenys though I know of the love you share with Jon; this quest is of great importance to our people, and I hope you understand why I chose Jon," Elendil said, gazing at the Targaryen princess who merely nodded.

"As you say, King Elendil," Rhaenys said.

"Well, now that matter is settled, tell me how fair your dragons?" Elendil inquired.

The dragons of the Westerosi were the wonder of Arnor; they had no love for gold nor jewels and were much fiercer than the dragons of the withered heath, and although the creatures could not speak, the tongues of men they were wise enough to understand the speech of others.

As they grew, the dragons became ever fiercer soon they were large enough to battle just as they had in the dance, often scorching vast swathes of farmland, much to the ire of the Arnorians.

This worried them greatly; they wished no harm upon their dragons, but the beast was quite clever and often disregarded them thought the maidens of Targaryen would not be dissuaded, and after many years of toil, they had tamed their dragons.

Soon, the dragons allowed their riders to mount them to the wonderment of the Lord of Arnor, chief among them Elendil, who thought to use the beast against Sauron in the wars to come, a belief shared by many among the King's counsel.

"We are growing year by year, King Elendil; the dragons already attack when we ask; they are no longer a danger to your men unless they venture too close," said Queen Rhaella.

"Aye, that is good. I was cautious of allowing the beast to roam free after Jon's departure, but it seems my fears and those of the people were unfounded," Elendil said.

"I daresay they were right, my King; those dragons caused a great deal of ruckus before being tamed," Said one of the Councilors, looking suspiciously at the Westerosi women who had all turned scarlet.

"We have little to worry for now the Westerosi have tamed the beast, and the matter is settled," Elendil said.

"That is not true, my King", Daenerys said suddenly to everyone's surprise.

"Dany" Rhaella said in surprise.

"A dragon is not a slave; they can never be entirely controlled. Jon told me that on one of his visits, despite his bond with Vhagar, the dragon does not always heed his commands, and so he must bribe her," Daenerys said solemnly.

Many advisers began to talk among themselves as Elendil stared at the Dragon Princess and finally nodded.

"I see"

"I'm sorry for my insolence. But it's the truth; I didn't wish for the counsel to wrongfully assume that they are wholly commanded," Dany said, bowing and Elendil smiled.

"Thank you for your honesty, my girl; however, I am assured that those formidable beasts shall aid us greatly in the wars to come," Said the King of Arnor.

"Yes," The Dragon Princess said happily.

"Dragons are powerfully magical creatures by nature, Your Highness; they are not just mere weapons of war; our ancestors used the might of dragons to create many wonders. In the outer lands, they are believed that dragons were intrinsically linked to magic in the world. Unfortunately, since the death of the last dragon in Westeros, summers have become shorter and winters colder and crueller, while the magic of the world have withered and faded though I'm certain we could relearn these magics given time," Rhaella said, standing next to her daughter while the King and his advisers listened in surprise to this new erudition.

"I was not aware of this," Elendil replied earnestly, thinking of what uses the dragons may have.

"As I said, most things are just legends; dragons have been extinct in Westeros and Essos long before we were born. But, although I understand little of the will of the Valar and even less of the will of Ilúvatar, I am certain these dragons are more than mere weapons," Rhaella said solemnly.

"Well, I think we will soon discover the full extent of the power of these dragons," Elendil said, and for a few moments, the entire Hall was silent until suddenly Arianne approached the throne after bowing.

"Forgive me, King Elendil, I wish to know how long shall this quest keep our wolf from us?" Arianne asked as Elendil smiled upon hearing Jon's nickname.

"Almost a year, I am afraid, the journey to Dorwinion takes six months from Durin's Dominions and another six back, although it seems to me that he will shorten the journey by travelling on Gryphon" Elendil supposed.

"I wish Jon would return soon. I have been parted from my brother for far too long," Rhaenys growled, remembering her last night of passion with him.

After dwelling in Middle-earth for many years, the five of them were resolute about having children though they were rightly worried each hoped their beloved would be filled with joy. But to their disappointment, Jon refused to become a father despite their please and protest Jon was resolute they shouldn't have children.

At first, they were wroth with their dragon-wolf and thought his refusal was due to his bastardy; alas, it seems their beloved had foreseen dark times ahead.

"Sadly, I feel in my heart that Jon will not return to live by our side for many more years, and when he does, he shall be mightier than before," Elendil said, sure of his premonition.

The Westeros women heard the words of their King and groaned before nodding, but they had already waited for Jon too long, and if he did not return soon, they would go and drag him out of the East themselves.

It had been a few weeks since Jon and Galadriel had started their journey from Rivendell to Dorwinion, and during that time that had fallen deeper in love, he was the knight of her songs and tale and insisted she does nothing but enjoys his company, Galadriel was amused to see Jon desperate to please her, whether it was foraging for food, tending the fire or minding the camp.

She was neither evil nor cruel, but she is still a woman, and despite her wisdom, the beautiful elf loved to be spoiled by her wild wolf.

"One of several", Galadriel thought with resignation and some bitterness at the thought of the rest of Jon's harem.

Finarfin's daughter thought about it and sighed as she felt the wind on her face and Jon's powerful arms holding her firmly as they flew, but her mind wasn't on the journey rather her beloved.

She was part of a harem She, Artanis, Nerwen, Galadriel, the daughter of Finarfin and Eärwen, the greatest of the Noldor, the consort of a mortal man never in her long life would she have thought this possible.

Although she had no desire to rob Jon of his lady loves, she also desired other women, especially her aunt, whom she wished to take as a lover, and Galadriel knew she would never be at peace with the queerness of these feelings unless she lay with her aunt as Jon had.

Galadriel knew it would take many years to lure Irime into her bed, yet she desired nothing so passionately.

Oh, but how sinful are the desires that now afflict her body, the Daughter of Finarfin, also her mind and spirit, the noble elf was sometimes ashamed for desiring her kin in such a way but when she remembered her aunt Írimë in the throws of passion shame gave way to lust, and she thought of little else save for Jon and Írimë.

For the moment, she shall enjoy the journey with her beloved wolf, for soon, they would give in to their passion and seal their union before the eyes of Arda.

She had discarded Jon's tent before they had crossed the Anduin, and thus they had shared hers during their long months of travel, and now she could seldom sleep with the gentle caress of her wild wolf; She was wholly consumed by her love for Jon his warmth, his scent even the sound of his beating heart filled her with a joy like no other.

Galadriel loved him fiercely though she knew one day they would be parted by the bitterness of mortality. That thought always made her shed tears of pain and anguish, but such is the fate of Firstborn and Second Born.

She knew it from the moment she resolved to take Jon as her lover and second husband.

The journey southward had been without incident, so they continued on foot from the Hollen Ridge, moving at great speed by night and day and soon found themselves at the Gates of Khazad-dûm.

He and Galadriel chose to go through Khazad-dûm to shorten the journey and were welcomed by King Durin with much fanfare and celebration; the Dwarves treated his beloved with courtesy unseen among their kin in truth, it was rather queer to see an elf held in such reverence by the children of Aulë.

It was rather odd there were no ribald drinking games nor the throwing of food, nor any remarkable happening when they dined with the Dwarves it was as if they were a wholly different people or perhaps they wished to impress a guest as famous as his dear Galadriel.

The ballrooms of King Durin had never been so quiet in living memory and certainly not when he had dwelt there on occasion he glanced at Galadriel wondering if she was bewildered as himself, knowing that he was watching her, gave him a haughty and somewhat malicious smile, which worried Jon fearing that she would decide to embarrass him in front of King Durin the memory of a dwarf is sharp indeed. Jon kenned the old king wouldn't forget any humiliation he suffered.

Fortunately, his beloved elf appeared fairly engaged with the drinking of spirits, but that did little to waylay his fears, for he knew Galadriel was far cunninger than she appeared.

In the two days that their very short stay in Khazad-dûm lasted, they both slept comfortably in Jon's solar, and although King Durin offered Galadriel his own rooms, everyone knew that it was mere courtesy as he knew perfectly well that Galadriel would not be parted from her beloved and they would often sneak kisses in the halls when the mood struck them.

Something that Jon appreciated greatly as he knew King Durin wouldn't utter a word of it to anyone far too often did the delegations of King Gil-Galad venture to these halls, and if word reached the Lord of the Noldor regarding his courtship of Galadriel, there would be many well to do elves clamouring for his head.

And so ultimately, he again left Khazad-dûm but this time with Galadriel and armed with provisions given by the King, among which were several strawberry cakes, much to his joy and Galadriel's amusement seeing her beloved wolf acting akin to a child.

To say goodbye to the King and his Dwarves, Jon composed a ballad of friendship just as he had when they departed Imladris and the Dwarves were happier for it, although before they departed, Durin had inquired as to whether he had enjoyed the gifts of his lady loves though Jon did not answer causing the dwarves to laugh uproariously.

The beautiful sound of a melodious laugh caused Jon to look at Galadriel with suspicion until he remembered the gesture she made at the table two days before.

"She planned this", Jon thought, irritated, and his suspicions were proven when his beloved merely smiled in innocence.

"You will pay for this Galadriel this I swear", Jon promised with a wolfish smile that vowed revenge, but Galadriel just glanced at him without fear, or if she had it very well hidden.

"Oh my beloved wolf, it was just a harmless joke", Galadriel replied haughtily with a false sadness in her voice, and she was so persuasive that Jon almost fell for it, but he knew his beloved well and sought to win this little row.

"Two can play that game, my Star of the West", Jon thought; amused at that instant, he seized Galadriel by the waist and dipped her low, claiming her lips in a passionate kiss.

For a few moments, no sound was heard; even the Dwarves who had laughed at him were surprised by the boldness of the young mortal; their respect for Jon's bravery had risen enormously, but many believed that the Lady of the Light would be infuriated with him and just as they respected him, they appeared to be imagining the punishment that he would receive from the Lady of Belfalas for his daring.

Finally, Jon released Galadriel from his embrace and watched with satisfaction as his beautiful elf looked away while she was utterly scarlet, and Jon was rightly pleased with himself.

"Well, King Durin, we are going," Jon said, bidding the old dwarf farewell.

"Yes..good trip and all that", Said the Dwarf King, who was nevertheless dumbfounded by Jon's courage.

"I shall pay you in kind, my love", Jon heard though he smiled as he felt no anger from his beloved, merely shame and lust.

"Perhaps my star has thoughts of being dominated?" Jon thought.

"How curious," Jon thought, amused to discover that side of Galadriel.

One glance at the Lady of Light told Jon that his assumption was correct, and Galadriel did little to refute his words, merely turning ever redder.

"Oh, my Star of the West has such impure thoughts", Jon asked, amused by Galadriel's shame, but she answered by attacking his mind as she did in Rivendell, causing Jon great pain.

"Do not forget my fool Wild Wolf that I am no weak-willed maiden if you desire something of me, you shall have to fight for it", Galadriel said with fierce pride.

"She is the wisest and most powerful of the Noldor but also the proudest except for her uncle Fëanor, and yet it sets my heart aflame", Jon thought excited.

"Do you truly think that, my love?" Galadriel queried amused.

"Oh yes, my beloved Star of the West, seeing the fierceness in your eyes, the wisdom and your skill at arms it set my heart aflutter with lust", Said Jon, enthralled by the Princess of the Noldor.

"Maybe you are the one who wants to be dominated," Galadriel said haughtily.

"Perhaps my beloved, perhaps, but that does not change the fact that I will claim you as mine before the journies end you say that I am a wild wolf? Well, in that case, Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin King of the Noldor in Valinor, you are my prey, and I shall claim you," Jon said with confidence, so much that Galadriel gulped for a moment.

"Bold words, Jon, though shall your deeds be bolder," Galadriel said with defiance, but her voice betrayed her desire.

Her design may not be working out the way she had intended, but it seems the result will be the same no matter what.

That vision of the three children she would beget Jon still weighed on her; she shall be certain it comes to pass. Galadriel yearned to feel the babes growing in her womb and to shower them with adoration and praise.

"Then dear Jon, if you are so assured, care for a wager," Galadriel said with confidence.

"What are you planning now my love?" Jon asked suspiciously without discerning the joy he stirred in Galadriel when he called her that

"If you get me to surrender to you before returning to Imladris, I will fulfil all your wishes. I swear on my honour," Galadriel said, her eyes alight with mischief.

"What if you managed to escape my clutches my beloved prey?" Jon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I suppose you will have to stay with me in Imladris or wherever I decide to reside after returning; you will obey all my orders; whatever they might be, do we have a deal? Dear Jon," Galadriel urged, standing in front of Jon and beginning to caress his face tenderly.

"Aye, my love, we do," Jon said, speaking in his own voice for the first time since they left Khazad-dûm and surprised the Lady of Light by kissing her fiercely suddenly, and Galadriel could not help but return the kiss with the same passion confident of her victory.

"In that case ... let us enjoy the journey, my love," Galadriel said, separating from Jon before tenderly caressing his face.

Jon only smiled his wolfish smile, and it caused her some worry as Galadriel knew her beloved better than most perhaps, he would tame her as he claimed, and that filled her with same parts dread and exhilaration.

-,- - -

After some days of travel, Jon and Galadriel reached the shores of the Anduin, seeing the stone bridge that served as a river crossing, and joy was in their hearts, for they were nearing the Kingdom of Oropher.

The Vast Trees of the Greenwood arrayed before them like some vast crown.

"At last", Jon said, his heart filled with wonder at the thought of the great forest kingdom.

"Are you eager to gaze upon the halls of Oropher, my love?" Galadriel said, happy to see Jon smile.

"It seems to me that we can take the path of the Old Forest if my memory serves me well", Jon said thoughtfully.

"It does, although it would be a lot easier if your gryphon were with us," Galadriel said.

"Unfortunately, that haughty animal still does not return from wherever he is, so we will have to do without him well; the sooner we cross that bridge, the better", Jon said, laying a kiss upon her cheek.

That made Galadriel turn scarlet, but she didn't want to tell Jon because she still had to win her wager.

"This forest is vast and long, there is very ancient magic here in the trees as well as in the water, and it can confuse the minds of those who enter it or drink from its waters if they are not careful," Galadriel said sternly.

"Not to mention that it doesn't take long to get dark," Jon said, in a dour mood at the thought of stopping so soon.

"I know you desire to reach the domain of Oropher, my love, I also wish it because I would like to sleep in a soft bed again, but it is better to be patient and cautious; the Great Greenwood is fair as any realm of Middle-Earth and thought Orophers soldiers patrol these lands they aren't absent their own perils," Galadriel said kissing Jon chastely on the lips before caressing his face.

She knew very well that this forest had its own magic, and it was perilous, especially the river of sleep that flows in it.

"Jon presumably knows the tales regarding that river, but I will not take risks, I will not let anything happen to my love, I shall not lose Jon like I lost Celeborn," Galadriel thought, with some melancholy.

She knew that she was somewhat senseless; her beloved was a mighty man, but she desired no harm to befall him after all, he was still mortal, and his time in Arda was but a stone compared to her weight of years.

"Very well, in that case, I will prepare the camp, my beloved", Jon said, dropping the baggage.

"No, my beloved, let me do it; you have already pleased me too much in these months; let me strike camp while you find our supper," Galadriel said, kissing Jon again with all the love she could muster.

Jon tried to deny her, but the passion of her embrace had silenced him.

"Well ..." Jon said, finally able to speak, and Galadriel laughed.

"In that case, go ... I'll settle camp," Galadriel said sweetly, and Jon merely smiled before wading into the Anduin to catch supper.

"Now shall come the next step of ensnaring my wolf," Galadriel said with a smile, reflecting on the book of poems and songs that Jon gave her.

She had read them many times over the years, but now she yearned for Jon to read them to her as a humble bard seduces the royal maiden.

Dinner was hardly a quiet affair; much to Jon's chagrin Galadriel had insisted on preparing the fish.

But by Valar, it was splendid, in all his existence, Jon had never eaten something so succulent, the fish and vegetables were baked with elvish salt and stewed in a sweet broth, soon it was so soft he hardly needed to chew and each bite he fought back a groan of satisfaction.

Galadriel merely smiled at the expression of her beloved wolf as she was eager to carry out the second part of her scheme.

"Did you enjoy the fish, my wolf?" Galadriel asked haughtily.

"Very much so I daresay it's the best meal I have eaten in my long years," Jon said honestly.

"I'm glad to hear it, my love, now I would beg a favour," Galadriel said, blushing.

"What is my Star of the West?" Jon asked, curious.

"I brought with me the gift you gave me before the battle of Isengard, the book you wrote for me full of songs and poems," Said the daughter of Finarfin, now so flushed that her face was akin to a ruby.

"Truly?" Jon asked, his heart filling with joy knowing his beloved held his gift in such esteem.

"Yes, my beloved wolf, I desire nothing more than to hear the sonnets from your own lips," Galadriel said, her love burning bright as the star eternal.

"My Star of the West, I would be honoured," Jon said with a joyful eloquence, and Galadriel smiled in joy.

After they both soaked in the waters of the Anduin, they retired to Galadriel's tent where she brought out the book of poems, and Jon began to recite all of them one by one, praising Galadriel in such a way that she could not meet his gaze merely blushing at the words of her beloved wolf.

Each poem by Jon praises many things about her, her beauty, her kindness, her generosity, her compassion, the colour of her hair, the softness of her touch; in those poems, Jon portrayed her as a goddess, more beautiful than Varda, more Merciful than Nienna, gentler than Yavanna.

She spoke little content to let her beloved recite the sonnets, and after several poems, Galadriel could scarcely restrain herself and thought to surrender to her lust.

She mastered herself, hoping she would not be conquered so easily.

Lamentably, that will not be as simple as she imagined, since, at that moment, her beloved Wolf began to sing a song in which she was as bright as the stars and her touch as fiery as the sun but soft as summers wind.

When Jon finished singing, Galadriel could not contain herself and pounced upon Jon kissing him with all the passions she could muster.

They continued their passionate embrace until, to Galadriel's confusion, Jon separated from her while chortling, his appearance wholly complacent.

"Oh my beloved star, I think I was about to win our wager," Jon said haughtily, and Galadriel came out of her reverie deeply flushed.

"Jon ... I ..." She stuttered deeply ashamed, she who had ruled over thousands of elves for hundreds of years, she who is renowned for her wisdom and prudence as well as her power, pride and beauty now Galadriel had been reduced to behaving like a nervous maiden again for the young mortal in front of her, the mortal who had stolen her heart.

"I know my beloved Starlight, I know ..." Jon said, now speaking to her without a trace of his haughtiness and looking at her with all his love and devotion he could muster, and Galadriel shed tears knowing Jon truly loved her.

"I love you, Jon Snow, I will love you unto the ending of Arda and in that place shall I abide with Írimë until we meet again in the fair green country where we shall never be parted, Our love will last for eternity, I swear to you," Galadriel said, sealing her promise of eternal love with a tender kiss that Jon returned with equal vigour.

"There is no doubt that another of your gifts, my beautiful star, is that of poetry your words have captured my desires for you so greatly I won't repeat them and diminish our love, so now I shall share my love through song and verse and recite a poem I composed for you ere we left Durin's halls, "Said Jon lovingly.

"That was what he planned", Galadriel thought happily.

"Did you write me another poem, my love?" Galadriel asked excitedly.

"And another song do you wish to hear them?" Jon asked, laying a kiss upon her brow.

"YES!" Galadriel said happily, and Jon drank some water before clearing his voice.

"I called this composition Namárië," Jon said.

Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind,

long years numberless as the wings of trees!

The long years have passed like swift draughts

of the sweet mead in lofty halls

beyond the West, beneath the blue vaults of Varda

wherein the stars tremble

in the voice of her song, holy and queenly.

Who now shall refill the cup for me?

For now, the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the stars,

from Mount, Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds

and all paths are drowned deep in shadow;

and out of a grey country darkness lies

on the foaming waves between us,

and mist covers the jewels of Calacirya forever.

Now lost, lost to those of the East is Valimar!

Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar!

Maybe even thou shalt find it! Farewell!

After that, Galadriel was moved to tears by the beauty of the poem; it was brief but profound in which Jon recounted the moment when Varda carried out her masterpiece, the creation of the stars. Although many might think that that poem was to honour Varda, the noble elf understood its meaning; that poem speaks of the moment when Varda created the stars because she and Jon looked at the stars the night they confessed their love with the light of the stars as a witness.

Your Wild Wolf knows how to win a Lady's heart, that's for sure.

"It's beautiful, akin to the stars on the night we plighted our troth and swore to fight for our love no matter what may come," Galadriel said.

"Yes, you noticed my Star of the West", Said the young Targaryen, content that his beloved understood the meaning of his poem, something that only Galadriel would know.

"Yes, my beloved wolf ... That is your best poem so far ... It fills me with joy that you composed it using me as inspiration," Said the noble elf blushing, and Jon laughed.

"It's impossible not to, but I have yet more, my beloved I call this Eldamar," Jon said with a smile.

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:

Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.

Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,

And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.

Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,

In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.

There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,

While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.

O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;

The leaves are falling in the stream, the river flows away.

O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore

And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.

But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,

What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?

With that, Jon ceased singing, and his Elven Queen had tears in her eyes that seemed like two stars, like the dew of Telperion when the world was young.

"I have no doubt that you were blessed with a wonderful voice, my love," Galadriel said, approaching Jon again and kissing him gently.

"If you, who has such a wonderful voice that drives away misery just with your laugh, tells me it must be true", Jon replied, caressing Galadriel's cheeks to wipe her tears as she blushed once more.

How long was Jon planning to blush her like a maiden?

At that moment, Galadriel felt Jon's strong hands on her shoulders, and she could feel him move behind her and undo the laces of her nightgown until her shoulders and breast were bare to the world.

"Jon?" Galadriel asked nervously.

"Let me do something for you, my" Star of the West. "I have practised soothing my loves if the need arose, and you shall be the first to welcome my touch," Jon said with a smile.

"Am I truly the first to endure his touch?" Galadriel thought as she felt her chest swell with pride.

The first thing she felt was the warmth of the oil, Jon's hands were strong and callused as one would expect from a blacksmith, but there was a softness and tenderness in his touch that began to cloud her mind with pleasure.

"Aaahh", Galadriel moaned softly, enjoying the ministrations of her beloved wolf.

The young dragon worked over his beloved with skill easing all the knots and pains that had plagued his beloved for many years, and soon she was moaning so wantonly many would believe they were making love.

It filled him with pride to know he was pleasing his beloved in such a way.

Dany has often given him massages after his training Annúminas and Khazad-dûm; indeed, it was partly because of Daenarys that he could move after long days in the forges and had hoped to learn the same arts and return the favour.

He has secretly practised these arts to surprise Daenerys and Lalwen when he returns, although it will be his beloved Galadriel who received his touch first.

"I have no doubt they shall be jealous of Galadriel for some years to come", Jon thought, filled with some dread.

This massage may have been at first a means to satisfy Jon's burning lust for his beloved maiden, but no more Galadriel truly bore the weight of years upon her shoulders and seldom shared that with any save Celeborn, so he resolved to heal her battered body to make her feel as if she were a young maiden of Valinor again.

He laid there for what seemed an age, slowly resolving all stress that had claimed his beloved from her shoulders to her toes. Jon hoped to free her of any burden, whether of the body or mind.

"That's it," Jon said, satisfied with his ministrations.

In the end, he concluded his massage and was surprised to hear a melodious sound.

Galadriel had fallen fast asleep, and she had started snoring, and even her snoring seemed like a beautiful melody to Jon.

"Rest my love," Said the fierce dragon watching his beloved elf sleep so peacefully, something he had never seen, and it was the first time that Jon saw his beloved Galadriel sleep as if she weren't scheming in her dreams.

With utmost care, Jon got up and carried Galadriel over to their shared bed before laying her gently upon the fur covers before crawling beside her and muttering some sweet words into her ear.

"Rest my beloved Star of the West", Jon said lovingly before laying a soft kiss upon her golden tresses, and Galadriel smiled at the touch of her beloved Wild Wolf.

And with that, they drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When he felt the first rays of the sun on his skin, Jon began to rise before feeling a soft, warm body lying beside him.

The young Targaryen lowered his gaze and smiled with love and satisfaction as he saw his beloved Galadriel still sound asleep and snoring melodiously with her head on his chest.

"Surely she hasn't slept like this in many years," Jon thought sadly.

"Well, we must depart soon", Jon murmured, separating himself from a Galadriel's embrace.

"It's a shame, but someone must prepare breakfast," Jon thought sadly, not wishing to disturb Galadriel.

At that moment, Jon saw on the ground the book of poems and songs that he wrote for Galadriel and smiling he took one of the quills that his beloved had brought, along with some ink and began writing the new verse he had composed last night so that she may read them whenever she desired when he finished Jon placed the book beside Galadriel and kissed her tenderly.

With that, the knight of Westernesse left the tent to catch their breakfast and bathe in the river.

The first thing Galadriel felt when she woke up was a joy that she had not felt for many years though she had almost forgotten the night prior, for it was ever blissful.

The Princess of the Noldor slept soundly.

She yawned softly and, stretching herself, realized that she felt better than she had in a long time, not just from the deep sleep from which she woke up.

She felt the aches and maladies of her body melt away, and it was replaced by contentment and love; then, she recalled what had happened the night prior.

Jon had recited his new poem and song to her and made her feel like a blushing maiden innocent in the ways of love and all the more joyous for it.

"Where is my Wild Wolf?" Galadriel asked until she could discern the aroma of cooked berries and vegetables, and she went to investigate.

Thanks to his heightened senses, Jon could perceive that his beloved Galadriel had finally risen, surely guided by the aroma of breakfast.

A look back confirmed his suspicion when he saw his Star of the West in a way he never imagined, his beloved Galadriel was still wearing the gown from the night before, and her golden tresses were glittering in the morning sun.

His questions were answered when Galadriel began to laugh again, filling the place with beautiful sounds, and she sat next to him and snatched the plate of food from which Jon was going to start breakfast.

Smiling haughtily, the Lady of Belfalas began to devour Jon's breakfast, all the while smiling at him.

"It's delicious," Galadriel said, and Jon started laughing.

"It must be my Lady. I made an endeavour to make food the same way you did. I hope I have met your expectations," Jon said in a sweet tone, and Galadriel reddened furiously.

"You did, Jon, you truly excel in everything you resolve to do, my beloved", Galadriel said, enjoying breakfast, but Jon shook his head.

"I do not have an inherent talent for anything, my love; it is merely the toil of many years and many struggles, and I must train to keep my skills sharp," Jon said, helping himself to a strawberry tart.

"Wise words," Galadriel said with a smile as she served herself more food.

"Thank you, my star. Did you enjoy your massage?" Jon asked, smiling.

"Yes, my wolf, I haven't slept that well in many years," Galadriel said her smile radiant as spring first morn.

"I thank you for your praise, beloved. I haven't tried a massage such as that before," said Jon.

"What do you mean?" Galadriel asked curiously.

"In Westeros, those who live in castles learn to use weapons at an early age, I began practising with a sword before I departed Winterfell, and when I was fostered in Highgarden, Loras and I often trained till our bodies were bruised and battered so the servants had to soothe our muscle with those techniques though they weren't gentle nor did we relish it, "Jon said with a sad smile as he remembered his life in Highgarden.

"Lord Mace and Lady Alerie, Garlan, Willis, Margaery, what had become of them?"

At that moment, Jon felt Galadriel's soft hands in his and felt a warm kiss on his brow and then his lips.

"Galadriel ..." Jon started to say, but she silenced him.

"Hush, My beloved wolf I know of those mysterious and faraway lands it was where you were born and where you knew joy and sadness, although unfortunately the second more than the first but like my dear aunt Írimë, I promise you that I will not let you return to those lesser realms if I can help it," Galadriel said kissing him again.

"Thank you, my beloved star, with your love and that of others ... I know that I should not worry by such things they now seem more fantasy than memory and though my a piece of my heart shall ever reside in Westeros, my place is here among the proud folk of this land, "said Jon before kissing her again.

"Your words fill me with joy, my love, now if you'll excuse me, I would like to finish the delicious breakfast you prepared, and then I'm going to wash up in the river, so I'll ask you to look away," Galadriel said, enjoying the disappointment in Jon's eyes but then his grin turned wolfish.

"It matters not, my beloved soon, we shall make love under the moon, and your belly shall grow fat with my children," Jon said softly as his warm breath caressed her neck, turning Galadriel wholly red.

"But you still did not win, my love, do not be so trusting, or you will end up serving me", Galadriel said while looking at him with a haughty smile.

"I still recall your cries of pleasure, so my prize is within reach," Jon said, smiling with satisfaction when Galadriel reddened so much that her beautiful face looked like a ruby, and she was going to respond to him when they both heard a familiar sound.

The flapping of great wings, a glance skyward, rid him of doubt as the Gryphon landed gracefully.

"Well, met old friend, you have returned so soon," Jon said, continuing to eat his breakfast while the beast stared at him.

"I'm having breakfast; what difference does it make if I rise to greet you or not?" Jon asked, annoyed while Galadriel held back her laughter.

"At your back stand the Anduin who waters are wide and deep teeming with all manner of morsels for a beast such as yourself, and I hate to think a servant of the great powers requires feeding by my hand," Jon said harshly.

"It seems he does not agree", Galadriel said, now shedding tears of laughter.

"It seems not fine, fine have some of my fish it the best reward you shall get for flying to Amon Lanc," Jon said, tossing the Gryphon his scraps before wading into the Anduin to catch more fish all the while the Gryphon rested by the fire eying her with ravenous intent.

Galadriel guessed the mind of the creature even though it couldn't speak.

"I have not forgotten my promise. You will have your lamb when we return, now please Let me have breakfast in peace," After which the Gryphon lay on the ground helping himself to several kippers.

"Well, at least we'll get to Amon Lanc today," Galadriel thought as she helped herself to more berries.