~Lasriel reads a romance book to Legolas that make them both feel lacking, and later they are invited to a dinner that lets her see a new side of him.~

~♕~

"Why does nothing ever
turn out like it should?"

– Jack Skellington,
Nightmare Before Christmas

~♕~

15. Dinner

As usual, cooking was a challenge. Lasriel kept her mother's notes beside her the whole time but somehow the soup didn't turn out at all like Thuriniel's. She needed more detailed notes, that must be it. How helpful was a sentence like "add salt and pepper to taste"? Or "a fistful of thyme" – how large a fist? Legolas' fist would hold at least twice the amount of thyme as Lasriel's.

When seating himself, Legolas gave her a critical glance. "Why are you wearing dirty ellyn's clothes?"

Her cheeks heated up. She had forgotten she was still in her workwear, and of course this unfortunate moment would be the one where Legolas decided to look at her again. "Sorry," she managed.

"As the leader's wife you have to be a bit careful with such things. Here we are among elves, but when we visit Osgiliath and other places with humans I need you to look proper at all times. They pay a lot of attention to appearances."

"I will try." Mortified, she kept her eyes on the soup, eating without tasting it. How did Legolas expect her to do all her chores and fix roofs and whatnot wearing a "proper" outfit? But then, she supposed, he didn't know what work she had done during the day. And if she told him now it would only sound like a bad excuse.

After doing the dishes she hurried to her room, washing her hands and face thoroughly in the washstand and changing to her nicest dress. She combed her hair until it was as smooth as it could get.

When she returned to the main room Legolas was putting a stack of books on her shelf. "I had bought these for you before you came but had nowhere to put them," he explained. Then he noticed her change in appearance and smiled pleasedly. "Much better! Sorry if I sounded cranky before. I know you are still new here and this colony is hardly like a Gondor city yet so it's completely understandable if, well, you didn't think to dress the part."

His apology warmed her, and even more so the fact he was talking to her and looking at her again. She hoped whatever made him flee from her bed last night had passed.

"What books did you buy?" She joined him expectantly, picking up the top one.

"Just a few titles I was recommended. Apparently they are popular with Gondor ladies."

Leafing through the book, Lasriel had to struggle to uphold her smile. Did he think she liked soppy romance novels? By the look of it this was even worse than those her mother would read; Thuriniel at least had some taste.

"Want to read one for me?" Legolas asked. "Like we did when we were little."

Lasriel couldn't say no to that, not when he so clearly was making an effort to be nice to her. Mentally preparing herself for the cringe, she took her usual seat on the cushion by the fireplace. She thoroughly missed the comfortable chairs back home.

Legolas moved his cushion to the wall, leaning against it while stretching out his long legs. Seeing him so relaxed suddenly made Lasriel's chest flutter. In moments like this he was achingly handsome.

"What is the book about?" he asked, closing his eyes.

"It's about a woman and an elf, apparently. The title is 'Gone With the Elf'."

"Sounds interesting." He didn't sound very convincing.

"It was a lovely morning," she began. "I had just woken up and stood before my mirror, meeting my emerald eyes while combing my mass of obnoxious, red curls. My skin was white as pearls and softer than velvet. Today was an important day for me; my father had invited the elf prince to dinner and I was dying with curiosity, having never met an elf before. I put on a beautiful, green dress to match my colors, and it fell around my slim form in a silky cascade of embroidered flowers and frills, accentuating my shapely..." Lasriel had to pause to clear her throat and didn't dare look at Legolas. "... shapely bosom."

He made a sound that was something between a snort and a cough.

With increasing embarrassment Lasriel continued, describing how the gorgeous "me" met the equally gorgeous prince. The latter was tall, muscular, dark-eyed and with black hair to his waist. He seemed dangerous and intriguing but the heroine hid her interest with snarky banter.

"'Walk with me and show me the roses,' the handsome prince demanded, but I realized what his intentions were and daringly quipped: 'I will never let you near my flower, even if you were the last elf in Gondor!'" Lasriel rolled her eyes and continued: "At this he only smirked, took my hand and put it on his strong arm. I allowed him to take me out, for though I hated his commanding behavior he was so attractive I could not resist. Just as I had suspected his intentions were scandalous. He took me to the old, secluded gazebo where he pulled me onto his lap, and then commenced to kiss me with unrestrained passion. I melted in his embrace, new feelings waking up within me as he taught me what it means to be a woman. All night he kept me occupied in that gazebo, bringing me to heights of overwhelming pleasure I had not thought possible..."

"Uh I think this is enough reading for tonight." Legolas sounded like he was choking on the words.

Lasriel snapped the book shut. "Then let us go to bed."

~♕~

As he washed himself in the icy river, Legolas' thoughts kept returning to the book Lasriel had read to him. He should have checked it before buying it; it was probably not what decent wives should read. Did ladies really like that sort of thing? The last line was especially troubling: "All night he kept me occupied." How was it possible to do... it for a whole night?

The book was bringing Legolas' insecurity from yesterday back in full strength, just as he had managed to put it behind him and become hopeful he would get the hang of the act.

He had been thinking about it all that day as he worked with the plants, imagining how the evening would proceed and how he would make it feel better for her, and now this! Lasriel was bound to compare him to that fantasy elf prince who was able to keep his lady occupied a whole night and give her "overwhelming pleasure" at that.

His humiliation would be overwhelming, that was for certain.

Morosely he returned, bracing himself to see her disappointment once more.

~♕~

As Legolas entered her room, Lasriel's heart nearly skipped a beat. Even as badly written and sleazy as the book had been, it had reminded her of how attractive her husband was. When he looked like he did now, with his hair damp and wearing only a thin nightshirt revealing his fit warrior's body, he was almost irresistible.

She wished he would kiss her passionately all night like the prince in the book.

"If you are tired we can do it another time." He was looking at his feet.

"I'm not tired."

"Are you sure? We don't have to do... uh, that every day."

There it was again, just like yesterday – the feeling he didn't want to be near her. Didn't he want to lie with her anymore? Lasriel anxiously looked at herself. Was it her lack of curves that turned him off? Her hair? Maybe he preferred flaming red curls like the heroine's from the book...

"But your adar wants an heir," she murmured, beyond embarrassed that she had to use that lie to persuade him.

"Right. Well then."

Despite her humiliation, Lasriel enjoyed feeling him close as he moved on top of her. His scent in her nostrils, his warmth, the hard planes of his back under her fingers.

He struggled for a bit until he managed to push into her, and for the first time it didn't hurt; he was softer and smaller somehow.

After only a few strokes he slipped out. "Sorry," he mumbled, face scarlet.

She wanted to ask what had happened but refrained; he didn't look like he wanted to talk about it. Instead he lay on his back, eyes closed in concentration while he fumbled with something under the comforter.

It took a few heartbeats until Lasriel understood. He was touching himself to get hard again so he could continue.

Was it that bad then? He must truly find her lacking if he had to resort to his own hand.

Biting her lip not to let her mortification show, Lasriel sent a silent prayer to any Vala who might hear, begging them to make her pregnant soon so that she would never have to endure this again.

When he resumed the position over her a short while later he set a quick, hard pace – as if he just wanted it over with as well. It was a relief when she felt the now familiar tensing as he finished.

"I hope it worked." He hurried out of her room without so much as a glance her way.

Me too, Lasriel thought silently, feeling tears fill her eyes and spill on her pillow.

~♕~

The next morning was a silent affair. Legolas didn't avoid her this time, he just seemed lost in thought. Lasriel was reminded of one of the reasons for the marriage; his father's worry that Legolas would sail to Aman prematurely. Was he thinking about that now? She wished there was a way to know.

When he had gone to work, she continued making the house more functional in order to stop herself from pouring over the situation endlessly. First she sorted through all of Legolas' clothes and reorganized his chest, and after that she dug up stones and clay from the river and built a simple chimney, adding "bricks" and "pipes" to the shopping list so she could make a better stove as well, and lead in water like in her old home.

When she had finished the chimney she remembered to change clothes, and did so before starting on the dinner. She noticed with satisfaction the difference the new chimney made; it was a relief to cook without a cloud of smoke around her head.

Legolas entered unexpectedly. "Oh, I forgot to say you don't need to make dinner. We are invited to Prince Faramir and Éowyn." He went into his room, but soon came out again, frowning. "What did you do with my clothes? I can't find a thing."

"I just organized them."

"They were organized. Please ask before you do something with my things next time." He closed his door a bit too hard after him.

She glared at it. They were not, they were a mess you ungrateful elf, she thought, wishing she could say it out loud. Then she sighed. She wasn't like the heroine in Gone With the Elf; it was not in her nature to talk back.

Instead she put the half-cooked meal in the cupboard, hoping it wouldn't spoil before the next day, and went to change clothes a second time. Hopefully she had something fine enough for this other prince they were meeting.

~♕~

Several elves from the colony were invited to the dinner. On the ride there, Legolas seemed to have overcome the morning's melancholy and chatted amiably with everyone except Lasriel. Apparently he had still not forgiven her for sorting his clothes.

Faramir and Éowyn lived in a small but beautiful stone house in the central part of Osgiliath. Legolas explained it was only a temporary solution while they waited for the completion of their country residence at Emyn Arnen south of the city. They had hired dwarves to build it so he expected it to be finished soon.

When the host and hostess came out to meet them, Lasriel observed them with interest. She had heard much of Éowyn in particular, who had taken an active part in the Ring War – strictly against her uncle's orders.

Now she looked the less a warrior and all the more a woman in a spotless, white gown and her blond hair arranged in orderly curls – and a telltale bump on her stomach.

Lasriel instantly became jealous, and not only over the pregnancy. Why couldn't she be that lovely and feminine?

The guests were shown into a surprisingly large dining room considering the size of the house, half full of dwarves. "These are the workers who are building my house," Faramir introduced. "Master Glodson here is the foreman."

A blond dwarf rose and bowed. He had an impressive beard, wider even than Gimli's and reaching almost to the floor. "Cheery Glodson, at your service," he said in a surprisingly mellow voice.

Lasriel took her seat next to Legolas, shyly peering at the many strangers. The dwarves looked rather intimidating, but at least they were not acting as unfriendly as those she had seen the first time she passed Osgiliath. Legolas had said Faramir often invited his builders and foresters to dinners like this, and hence most of the others knew each other well by now.

The volume in the room soon grew loud and merry, aided by a generous supply of beer and wine. Naturally there was a fair deal of banter and teasing between the dwarves and the elves, but in a good-natured way, not meant to offend.

Lasriel ate and drank in silence, feeling out of place and awkward as the only female other than Éowyn. She however talked and laughed as heartily as any male, even sharing in the more daring jokes. Apart from the lack of red hair and emerald eyes, Éowyn was a lot like the heroine in that romantic book, both beautiful and witty.

Legolas too seemed to genuinely enjoy himself for once. He was more talkative than Lasriel had ever seen him, and in addition he proved to have a dry sense of humor she had not known about.

His good mood made him even more appealing in her eyes, but it also made her more dejected. She had hoped that their marriage would cure him of his melancholy and sea-longing, but now she realized she had the opposite effect on him. With her he was nervous, awkward, stiff – whereas among his friends he was funny and cheerful.

She hadn't cured him. She had just made his life worse.

A/N:

Writing idiots-to-lovers (a.k.a. Legolas x Lasriel) is almost painful... When I wrote the sentence "Was he thinking about that now? She wished there was a way to know" I wanted to yell at her that there is a way to know, very simple. It's called talking. XD

In the next chapter we return to the pining not-a-couple in Greenwood. Take care until then! x