The sixth day of Hrive 'Isia
"Your Highness – a pleasant surprise, please come in. I will admit I did not believe you were courageous enough to step over my threshold again."
Gilraen handed a bundle of coins over to Ireth's open palm. "I wasn't sure if I were brave enough either," the princess admitted.
"I do not have a companion at this moment, so I cannot demonstrate anything for you, so I am not sure what I can help you with."
The Princess took a seat that Ireth offered, and settled down into it. "I am to wed Turgon on the twelfth day of the celebration and then of course bed him that night and though you were kind enough to show me," she licked her lips nervously, "how to please him with my mouth – I do not know how to please him with my body and I do not want our first night to be - - awkward. I do not wish to be a disappointment to my husband, not after all he has given back to me."
Ireth pursed her lips, and took the chair opposite of Gilraen. "It will be awkward no matter how many lessons you pay me for. Here take your coin. Your betrothed already knows you are here, for I saw his men outside just as I closed the door behind you."
Gilraen rolled her eyes. "I thought as much," she muttered.
"It is only wise of him to have you followed. Your mother has loyal people, even now that she's been banished and her sentence carried out."
She knew Ireth was right. Her mother had stood before the council and admitted to her wrong doings, she had not wept, only set looks of loathing and hate to both of her daughters. She had accepted her punishment, and most likely had prepared herself years ago for this day, because a wrong done to another is eventually paid. The council had allowed her enough coin to survive three days of travel. She was ordered to never return to the land of Lúinwë or Celebrindal, seeing that her eldest would reside at both throughout her life. Eáránë had made no move to embrace young Madrician, nor had she given pause to either of her cohorts, who had also been sentenced to banishment. They were however given no coin, for they were skilled laborers, who would most likely find jobs more quickly than their Lady.
"But what is it you wish to ask me?" Ireth asked, hoping to ease some of the tension from the room.
"Lord Turgon has kissed me and I have found myself enjoying it – which I know is a good and normal thing, but his hands – they move across my body and even though I am clothed it burns me."
Ireth smiled and patted the young girl's hand. "It is a good thing. It means you are most likely very compatible with your betrothed. Are you afraid of what you feel for him, when he touches you?"
"I am fearful of myself. I want to explode inside. I want to crawl out of my skin and into his. It cannot be normal. I feel that if he does not touch me, I will die."
"My dear Princess, you speak as if you have never reached a point in your life where you have exploded inside."
Gilraen lifted a brow, confusion easily read on her face. Ireth frowned. "Have you ever touched yourself Princess? I saw that when you were witnessed the Priest and I, your hand moved to your chest; have you never spent time exploring your own body?"
The young woman blinked rapidly, shrank back and her jaw slackened. "I have not done such a sinful act. Our Priest speaks of self pleasuring as a sin and one should not..."
Ireth lifted her hand and interrupted the young girl, "The same Priest that has frequented my bed many a year?"
"I see," Gilraen answered.
"Your Highness, to know your own body is to know where you want your lover to touch you. It will help him to truly mark you as his own. He will come to embrace your desires, and will strive to satisfy you in all ways."
"And you know this how?" Gilraen asked.
Ireth shrugged her shoulders. "He has bent over backward to care for you. If he did not find you favorable, and if he did not care for your needs he would have not allowed you so much leeway in your comings and goings, nor would he have allowed your mother's loyal subjects to live. He would have come into your kingdom demanding your hand without a thought as to others around you. Is it not true your sister benefits from your marriage, and becomes a member of Círdan's household? The fact he gives one such as her notice, proclaims his desire to please you sits high on his list of priorities."
Silence weighed heavily in the air as Gilraen thought of what Ireth said. "Princess, go back to your chambers," Ireth handed the coins back to the woman, "learn your body, explore yourself and find out where those special places are on you that make your insides explode."
Gilraen blushed, took the coins, and returned them to the village whore. "I have a feeling I will be back again before my wedding night, but if not then most likely afterward." She left the cottage, waved to the guards who had not done a very good job at hiding and made her way back to the castle. Would Turgon chastise her for visiting Ireth again, or would he tease her mercifully? Gilraen hoped neither, it had taken a lot of courage to approach the whore again, and she had to admit she was disappointed not to catch her in the act of earning more coins from the local gentry.
Each step Gilraen took out of the village was full of mixed feelings and worrisome concern. She found herself anxious over what her life with Turgon would be like, would she please him, would he remain faithful as he proclaimed he would? What would happen to Madrician? Círdan had already held firm to his commitment to her sister and her position in his household, but what of her heart. She'd lost a mother and a father and had no one. Perhaps she should seek out Turgon and suggest Madrician live with them. It was obvious from Madrician's speech with the King that she felt his hostility toward her and she knew he would not welcome her presence upon his house. It was the shout from a guard and a hard shove off the path that brought Gilraen out of her musings. She fell to the ground, rocks dug into her gloves, the leather kept her palms free of cuts and bruises.
Gilraen turned, and saw one of Turgon's men dead. An arrow protruded from his throat. The villagers that had been milling about various vendors screamed and shouted. Some ran around haphazardly, others darted behind trees, and carts. Another arrow sailed through the air, striking the second guard. He pulled a knife from his boot thrust it toward Gilraen, who took it. "Run!" he shouted before an arrow penetrated his skull.
The Princess scrambled to her feet, her gown and cloak hindering her swiftness. She cursed, as fear coursed through her veins. She ran several feet before an arm wrapped tight around her waist and hauled her back. A screamed was ripped from her lungs, as she took the knife and stabbed it repeatedly into the arm. Its tip did little damage to the thick leather hide that covered the attacker's beefy muscles. He pulled her into the woods. Gilraen kicked and thrashed. She felt panic growing and knew that without a doubt her mother's loyal followers were still deep within her walls.
"Vile wench," the kidnapper cursed, before releasing the Princess and spinning her around. Before she could react, his fist came down and blackness consumed her frightened mind.
On the seventh day of Hrive 'Isia
