~ Wynne takes a bath and has a pleasant evening around the campfire. ~

4. Showing Skin

When she had removed her hose and tunic Wynne hesitated, fingers lingering on the hem of her linen chemise. Surely Mother didn't expect her to get stark naked in front of the elves? The chemise was bad enough, it had a low neckline and reached only a bit below the knees, showing a great deal of bare ankle. Quite scandalous.

She drew a few long breaths to calm herself before joining the elves by the river shore. She mustn't appear embarrassed. Mother had said elves didn't know much about human customs so if she pretended this was normal woman behavior they wouldn't have cause to question it.

Feeling extremely conscious, she advanced into the water and began washing her face. If it was red they would hopefully think this was because it was so cold.

"What on Arda are you doing?" Thranduil sounded more shocked than she had expected.

"Washing." She raised her head and met his bewildered stare.

All of them stared, she saw, and the three light-skinned ones had become noticeably flushed.

"But... you are almost nude!"

"I'm in my underclothes same as you. Surely you must have seen a female in her shift before? You're a father." Wynne had no idea where that boldness came from but instinctively knew it was the right approach.

Thranduil swallowed a few times, obviously at a loss what to say. Then he shrugged and continued cleaning himself.

While she bathed in the chilly water, Wynne subtly peered at the others through her lashes. They kept throwing glances at her, she noticed, and started to feel rather satisfied about the whole thing. This had not been as mortifying as she had anticipated and she found that she liked drawing a male's attention. As plain as she was, that had never happened before.

oOo

In the evening, they gathered around the campfire, sharing a nice dinner of a special kind of elvish bread called lembas. It tasted sweet and aromatic and Wynne needed only a very small piece to become completely satisfied.

They stayed up a while afterwards, resting and watching the stars come out. The elves took turns entertaining each other, beginning with Nodir and Bronedir. The brothers sang a duet, a slow, melancholy song about the many martyrs of the Ring War. Their vibrant voices were perfectly matched and intertwined in otherworldly harmonies.

The light of the fire reflected in their dark eyes and no words could describe the combination of their elven beauty and the exquisite, bewitching tones.

Wynne was enthralled, unable to tear her gaze from them, and when the song ended she was not the only one with tears in her eyes.

"I say, we need something more cheerful after this", decided Legolas, and contributed with a series of anecdotes of his many adventures together with a dwarf named Gimli. Most of the time, it seemed, the two of them had competed about something or other, such as who could kill more orcs, or who was the greatest drinker. In Legolas' version of the events he always won these competitions, but Wynne had pretty strong doubts about his truthfulness. There was an amused twinkle in his blue eyes and the hint of a smile on his lips that betrayed him.

When Legolas had finished his storytelling he turned to Wynne. "Your turn, my lady. Amuse us!"

Her mind turned absolutely blank at that and she was overcome with stage fright. She had no entertaining skills! She hardly knew any songs and had no funny memories to share; her life up to now had been utterly dull, mostly spent on the fields training the family horses.

"Maybe you can tell us something about your people's history," suggested Galion kindly, noticing her distress.

She nodded. That she could do.

With a dry mouth she recounted the ancient story of the king Fram, son of Frungar, who reigned early in the Third Age, and who fought and slayed the mighty dragon Scatha. Fram's son was less fortunate; he took on the task to tame the first ever meara horse, Felaróf, but perished in the process. Later his son Eorl the Young succeeded where his father had not, and ever since the mearas belonged to the Rohirrim.

"I remember that dragon," mused Thranduil. "However, he was not all that mighty, as I recall. Rather small and soft-skinned. Not like Smaug. Now he was a sight to be seen. Terrible and beautiful!" He proceeded to tell the story of the dwarves, the hobbit and the bowman who contributed to ending the terror reign of that evil reptile.

Wynne thoughtfully observed him while he spoke. She had known elves could grow older than men, of course, but that old? Did he really remember the beginning of the last Age, over three thousand years ago?

He didn't look old, that was for sure. His long hair gleamed as spun gold in the faint light and there was not a single white strand. His eyes, shaded by the formidable eyebrows, were clear and bright, full of power and vigor, and his face was as smooth as a young man's. She would have guessed his age to be around thirty, or thirty-five at the very most.

Realizing how old he must be was intimidating. How could she ever hope to seduce someone that ancient? He must have met thousands of females in his days, each more beautiful than the other.

The night had become colder and quite dark. It was time to get some rest, except for Galion who offered to take the first watch.

Wynne was appointed a tent all to herself while the others shared the two remaining ones, with the brothers and Galion in one and Legolas and his father in the other. They had expected Wynne to be male, she knew, and one of them would have shared with her. Because of her gender they now had to squeeze together three in a tent made for two.

Oh well, that was their choice. Maybe with time she could persuade one of them to join her bed like Mother wanted.

Now that Wynne knew what the elves looked like that prospect was slightly less frightening. She recalled Nodir's and Bronedir's brown eyes glittering in the firelight, and the gleaming, golden hair of Thranduil and his son. And Galion with his translucent skin and fair lashes was not far behind the others in beauty.

She found that she actually looked forward to getting to know them all – and not only because of their good looks, obviously. She had enjoyed spending the day with them a lot more than she had anticipated, and the evening around the fire had been enchanting. Even the proud king had proved to be somewhat more friendly after a while.

She didn't look forward to the next step, however. Getting to know them and becoming friends with an elf was one thing, coupling with him quite another.

Wynne tried to picture herself with Thranduil, him naked and pounding his abdomen against her like a stallion with a mare, but it was simply impossible to imagine him in that role.

She couldn't imagine him naked with anyone, actually. He was way too neat and elegant to get his clothes in disarray and become sweaty with exertion. But how else had he fathered Legolas? Perhaps he had adopted him.

She sighed heavily. Her secret quest was doomed. Mother would kill her, or worse.

A sweet sound dispelled her brooding thoughts. Galion had picked up a wooden flute and its soft tones drifted through the night. It sounded like a lullaby, but not one Wynne had ever heard.

Before she knew it she was fast asleep.

A/N:

Actually I can easily imagine Thranduil making love to someone, which Thranduil's Shadow (the prequel to this fic) is proof of, as well as my Matched From Birth in later chapters. ;)

Image Credits:

Zendaya's Instagram.