On the fourth day of Hrive 'Isia
"I see what you are thinking and it will only end in sorrow."
Gilraen looked over to her sister, stuck out her tongue and told her to stay away from her thoughts. Madrician frowned, but did as was asked of her, choosing instead to remove herself from the library and seek out Huro so he could help her practice her skills. With her sister's nuptials so close, Madrician was finding it harder and harder to block out the images that Gilraen was projecting.
The Princess watched her sister leave, and felt once more the safe haven of having her thoughts be her own. She knew Madrician had seen what had transpired in the cabin with Ireth and Huro, and she knew her sister had felt the emotions that were stirring deep within her when she imagined Turgon and her reenacting what she'd witnessed. It was the youngest Princess's own undoing. She knew how to protect herself from others' private musings; she just dallied too much and was often rewarded with things she'd rather forget. Gilraen shook her head, cleared what little guilt she felt at Madrician's lost innocence and went back to focusing on the man who sat quietly reading from one of her father's books.
A half hour passed before Gilraen gained the courage needed to approach Círdan. She rose from her chair, shook out her long locks, squared her shoulders, thrust out her breasts and walked demurely toward her intended victim. Once she reached his side, she waited until he took notice of her. When he failed to do so in a timely manner, her body relaxed and her arms came up to cross in front of her bosom and she tapped her toe annoyingly.
"May I help you, Your Highness?" Círdan replied more casually than Gilraen expected. He almost sounded annoyed by her presence.
She cleared her throat. "I wish to take a turn about the garden and since you are obviously the man my betrothed put in charge to guard me, I expect you to escort me."
Círdan's brow arched. He looked up, and Gilraen answered back with a haughty expression. He sighed, rose, closed the book and offered his arm. "Thank you," she answered, in a tone that reeked of regality.
"But of course."
They moved together toward the double doors that opened into the garden. Each one paused long enough to accept the warm outerwear that was offered to them via the servants. "Your mother runs a tight household," Círdan commented after helping the Princess into her hooded cape.
"She does. She prides herself on it." Gilraen did not want to speak of her mother, she'd been fortunate enough not to be alone with her for the past several days and speaking of her would most likely jinx her luck.
Once outside Gilraen shivered against the shocking cold. The promising wind from the day before had indeed released a mountain of snow onto the Lúinwë keep as well as its surrounding lands. Gilraen burrowed herself deeper into the cape she wore, and huddled closer to her escort, in hopes to ward off the chill.
"Are you sure this is wise?" Círdan asked.
The Princess paused. "What, my being so close to you? Why do you feel something?" She blinked in a fashion she hoped was seductive.
Círdan turned his head to cough. "Um – I meant this walk. It is quite cold and the snow, though removed enough for your stroll is still thick."
"Oh," Gilraen's shoulders slumped, "I'll be fine, as will you. Besides perhaps we can think of a way to warm ourselves. A hear a good conversation can often lead to warm thoughts that ward off the chill."
The couple remained silent as Círdan escorted Gilraen on a tour of the snow capped bushes, trees, and hibernating flowers. They reached a bench, where Gilraen paused. Círdan sighed, looked around and shook his head. The Princess waited. Her escort brushed the snow away with his gloved hand and waited for his charge to take a seat. When she patted the empty space next to him, he claimed it. Gilraen ignored the sound of displeasure whispered from his lips. Once he was seated, she scooted closer, hoping to capture more of his heat, as well as put her plan into action.
"Turgon tells me you are his best mate."
"I feel the same way about him."
Gilraen smiled. "Have you known each other long?"
"Since we were babes; we've trained together, fought together, hell we've even fucked the --." Círdan shifted, "forgive me Your Highness."
"It's alright Círdan. I am not a fool. I know my future will be one that I share my husband with other women. I am not happy with the arrangement, but I will accept it." She noted Círdan's frown. "In fact that is why I wanted to walk with you."
"Oh?"
"Yes," Gilraen turned her body, so her gaze could hold Círdan's, "I wish," she pulled one glove off her hand and brought her fingers to Círdan's lips, "I wish to kiss you Círdan. To feel you pressed against me, to –."
"Your Highness!" Círdan grabbed her hand and pulled it away.
"What?" she purred, trying hard to display her feminine attributes through the thickness of the cape, "You already admitted that you shared the same women and am I not to be his woman. Can you not see anything," she thrust her breasts out further, "that appeals to you?"
She watched the lump in his throat and watched him swallow it. Inside her stomach churned, the idea of kissing the man in front of her caused a vile taste to spill into her throat; she refused to acknowledge it, and instead took one of his hands and placed it on her chest. "See, Círdan, I am a woman and I have needs like a man. Why should only one man fill my bed, when one woman is not enough for my Lord?"
Gilraen pushed her chest forward at the same time as she pressed his palm deeper into her firm globe. She watched his face grow warm, and knew he was fighting an inner war. She took advantage of the situation, quickly moving her hand to cup the back of his head and force her mouth onto his.
Círdan pulled away, and rose quickly from the bench. His face was red, and his mouth gaping in shock. Gilraen bit down on her lower lip, her own skin flush from embarrassment. She heard Círdan try to speak, to form words that seemed unable to be spoken. "Just go," she whispered, lifting her hand and dismissing him, "just leave me."
