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b2mem2019-03-08 09:06 am
erulissedances) wrote in b2mem2019-03-08 09:06 am
AFTERCARE by Erulisse (one L)
B2MeM Prompt, Card and Number:G54: Funny, 31; Nature, 33; (First times, 136); Waiting, 183
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Minor general reference to torture
Characters: Thranduil, Haldir
Pairings:Thranduil, Haldir
Creator’s Notes (optional):One more opportunity to use Card 136, so Thranduil and Haldir’s story continues.
Summary:After their session, it’s time to relax. Aftercare is just as important as the scenes, and it provides opportunities to rest and to catch up on news and gossip.
AFTERCARE
It had been a good session. After giving Haldir what he needed but wasn't able to ask for, the ghosts had seemed to leave the Marchwarden’s eyes. The two elves bathed together, Thranduil gently soaping his lover's body. He then dressed him in a loosely tied soft pant, and guided him to a side chamber where they fell into exhausted sleep. Haldir slept deeply, unworried for the first time in many months. He knew he was protected and safe behind Thranduil’s doors.
Later they shared a light meal. "How quickly does the Lady require her answer? She's never been the most patient at waiting."
"She's gotten better over time," Haldir said, grinning. “In fact, she has been wandering Lothlorien more often lately. Just last moon she was northwest of Cerin Amroth. She tried so hard to not bother a young boar charging at its own shadow that she backed up right into its watching father! The look of shock and momentary alarm that flashed across her face was a sight for song and fireside tale. But even better, hurrying backward away from the father before he charged, she tripped over a root, ending up in a shallow pond, wearing a lily pad as a hat. Celeborn was with her on that trip, and he laughed so hard he turned red. She didn't speak to him for two days."
The two elves laughed at the escapades of the extremely dignified Queen. "Oh my”, Thranduil gasped. “I wish I could have seen that. I suppose she won't like it if I whisper that tale into a few select ears."
"I wouldn’t recommend it, Sir. It could thwart our diplomatic efforts." The two elves looked at each other and burst out in renewed laughter. “But to answer your question, I think I have two, maybe three days before I have to return to Lorien.”
They settled back into a comfortable silence as they finished their meal. Thranduil rose, holding his hand out. Grasping his companion’s arm, he pulled him to his feet. They walked together into the hidden chamber.
“Do you remember the first time you came here, so long ago?”
“I will never forget it, Sir.” Haldir walked to a wall featuring a variety of whips and floggers. His fingers stroked the handle of a well-used multi-stranded short-handled flogger. Thranduil remained still, waiting patiently.
“I was distraught, my thoughts and feelings unable to settle. You were still in the South, hadn’t moved North into the caverns yet, and Celeborn was visiting, offering an alliance with Lorien in the battle against the evil that assailed both realms. You gazed over our retinue and focused on me, piercing me and offering solace. When your messenger came to me later that night, I followed without second thoughts.”
Haldir continued, gently flicking the multiple strands of the weapon. “Was it this flogger? No matter.” He turned to face the King. “You knew exactly what I needed – discipline, pain and release. When we parted early the next day, my thoughts were ordered and I was once again the Marchwarden I needed to be to protect the borders of my land.”
“And since that time?” Thranduil asked, moving closer to his companion. “Have you regrets? Do you wish we came together differently, without pain or roles?”
“No! Never, Sir. I know fully that what we do is something most will never understand, but it is enough that we do. When I am at my lowest, when orcs come at us from all directions and our arrows will soon run out, forcing our hands to our swords, I get my strength from the times we’ve spent together, exploring limits and pushing boundaries.” Haldir turned and knelt at Thranduil’s feet, hands clasped behind him. “No regrets, Master. Not ever.”
Thranduil’s hand rested on his head, almost like a benediction.
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Minor general reference to torture
Characters: Thranduil, Haldir
Pairings:Thranduil, Haldir
Creator’s Notes (optional):One more opportunity to use Card 136, so Thranduil and Haldir’s story continues.
Summary:After their session, it’s time to relax. Aftercare is just as important as the scenes, and it provides opportunities to rest and to catch up on news and gossip.
AFTERCARE
It had been a good session. After giving Haldir what he needed but wasn't able to ask for, the ghosts had seemed to leave the Marchwarden’s eyes. The two elves bathed together, Thranduil gently soaping his lover's body. He then dressed him in a loosely tied soft pant, and guided him to a side chamber where they fell into exhausted sleep. Haldir slept deeply, unworried for the first time in many months. He knew he was protected and safe behind Thranduil’s doors.
Later they shared a light meal. "How quickly does the Lady require her answer? She's never been the most patient at waiting."
"She's gotten better over time," Haldir said, grinning. “In fact, she has been wandering Lothlorien more often lately. Just last moon she was northwest of Cerin Amroth. She tried so hard to not bother a young boar charging at its own shadow that she backed up right into its watching father! The look of shock and momentary alarm that flashed across her face was a sight for song and fireside tale. But even better, hurrying backward away from the father before he charged, she tripped over a root, ending up in a shallow pond, wearing a lily pad as a hat. Celeborn was with her on that trip, and he laughed so hard he turned red. She didn't speak to him for two days."
The two elves laughed at the escapades of the extremely dignified Queen. "Oh my”, Thranduil gasped. “I wish I could have seen that. I suppose she won't like it if I whisper that tale into a few select ears."
"I wouldn’t recommend it, Sir. It could thwart our diplomatic efforts." The two elves looked at each other and burst out in renewed laughter. “But to answer your question, I think I have two, maybe three days before I have to return to Lorien.”
They settled back into a comfortable silence as they finished their meal. Thranduil rose, holding his hand out. Grasping his companion’s arm, he pulled him to his feet. They walked together into the hidden chamber.
“Do you remember the first time you came here, so long ago?”
“I will never forget it, Sir.” Haldir walked to a wall featuring a variety of whips and floggers. His fingers stroked the handle of a well-used multi-stranded short-handled flogger. Thranduil remained still, waiting patiently.
“I was distraught, my thoughts and feelings unable to settle. You were still in the South, hadn’t moved North into the caverns yet, and Celeborn was visiting, offering an alliance with Lorien in the battle against the evil that assailed both realms. You gazed over our retinue and focused on me, piercing me and offering solace. When your messenger came to me later that night, I followed without second thoughts.”
Haldir continued, gently flicking the multiple strands of the weapon. “Was it this flogger? No matter.” He turned to face the King. “You knew exactly what I needed – discipline, pain and release. When we parted early the next day, my thoughts were ordered and I was once again the Marchwarden I needed to be to protect the borders of my land.”
“And since that time?” Thranduil asked, moving closer to his companion. “Have you regrets? Do you wish we came together differently, without pain or roles?”
“No! Never, Sir. I know fully that what we do is something most will never understand, but it is enough that we do. When I am at my lowest, when orcs come at us from all directions and our arrows will soon run out, forcing our hands to our swords, I get my strength from the times we’ve spent together, exploring limits and pushing boundaries.” Haldir turned and knelt at Thranduil’s feet, hands clasped behind him. “No regrets, Master. Not ever.”
Thranduil’s hand rested on his head, almost like a benediction.
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- Erulisse (one L)
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- Erulisse (one L)