Twelve Days of Hrive 'isia

On the eleventh day of Hrive 'Isia

They arrived late in the evening. The celebration of Hrive 'Isia seemed to have stalled due to all the chaos of the Princess's abduction. She felt guilty over all the fuss that had been made over her. She was helped from her horse and quickly surrounded by the strong, feminine grip of Madrician. "Oh sister!" the young girl cried, and wept into her chest. Gilraen kissed the top of her head, and pulled her back. She stared into her sister's gaze and knew she was reading her thoughts.

Madrician paled, and tears slipped silently from her puffy eyes. When she hugged her sister again, Gilraen knew that she had no reason to worry. Her sister did love her and did not blame her for their mother's death. "Father asks for you," Madrician whispered, tugging on sister's arm.

"He speaks?" Gilraen asked, then turned to Turgon.

"I knew nothing of this," he promised.

Círdan appeared at Madrician's side. "He began to form sentences yesterday morning, and as of this morning has become quite demanding. Insisting on being in top form when he binds his daughter to her life-mate; he does wish to speak to Turgon before the ceremony."

"Of course," Turgon answered. "What other progress has he made?"

"Oh Lord Turgon," Madrician interjected, "He is walking with assistance, and is trying to feed himself. It is a miracle, a gift from the goddess that she has smiled down on him, found favor in him and he works to make her proud," the young girl turned her gaze upon Círdan, "with the goddesses steady hand leading him, Círdan has brought him back to us."

Gilraen could not help but notice the way her sister's features changed when she spoke to Círdan. Her sister seemed to be developing a crush on the elven warrior. It would be several years before Madrician could act on those growing desires, but if she chose to Círdan would certainly be a worthy mate. She promised herself to think more on the possible binding between her sister and her betrothed's friend later, for now she needed to see for herself this "miracle" her sister spoke of.

The small cluster moved together, leaving Lord Séregon to inform Turgon's parents, Priest Huro, and the council of the events that had transpired during Gilraen's abduction. Madrician insisted her sister rest, but Gilraen refused. She hurried to her father's chambers and when she heard a weakened "enter" a smile spread across her face. Her gaze held Turgon's as she opened the door and stepped into her father's room. "Papa?"

The old man, had been groomed. His face still showed age, and weakness from the drugged state he'd been kept in, but he wore clothes that had been sewn to fit his slender frame; his hair had been cut, and his beard freshly trimmed. He rose slowly from the bench in which he was sitting. A cane was gripped in his hand. Gilraen ran to him, and gently hugged him, before she pressed him back into his seat. She claimed the space beside him. "Oh papa!"

He reached out and caressed her face, pulled her close and kissed her forehead. He stroked her hair. "I have learned much from the little one. She holds you so high on a pedestal, I feared you weren't real."

Gilraen blushed. "She is so special father, so very much my sister, if not your daughter."

King Lúinwë squeezed Gilraen's hand. "She is my daughter. She is not her mother, I see that and will strive to clear her mind of the ugly thoughts I had when I found out who she was in the beginning."

"I am glad to hear this."

"Your betrothal is still firm? And he is the elf you wish to bind with?"

She lowered her head, and shook it gently. "Yes, father. He is. I want nothing but to lie with him and give you many, many grandchildren."

Her sire laughed. The sound was music to Gilraen's ears. "I knew you would still feel this way," he said, "and though I have not been able to do much for you, I have ordered your wedding to be the grandest of all events. There is not much time – I wonder if I could convince you to wait another month before binding yourself to him?

Gilraen chewed her lip.

"I guessed not. Your sister shared with me that you were very much in love with this young elf Lord, even if you had not been ready to accept it."

"She is too wise for her age," Gilraen answered. "Father, her gift, mother spoke that Madrician's father had it."

King Lúinwë seemed to chew on the knowledge. "She most likely did. He was a magician, and his tricks seemed more real than those of other entertainers. I will need to guard her well. I was going to keep her here, but perhaps sending her to Círdan's keep is the best thing. Her gift will be a secret to those in that land."

"I would not rush though, father. Let you both bond with each other. I do not wish to leave too soon after my wedding either. I wish to remain here with you. Do you think Turgon will allow it?"

"He will have little say. His father has not yet relinquished control of Celebrindal to his son. His father can rule for another year before he gives all to Lord Turgon." King Lúinwë sighed, and stifled a yawn. "I must sleep daughter. Círdan's herbs have helped beyond any of us dared hope, but they also cause this once great leader to yearn a healing rest unlike any other."

"I understand, and tomorrow – tomorrow father you will lead me to my future and when I turn to gaze back at you, please know that you are in it and will always be the brightest spot." She rose, helped him to his bed, and kissed his cheek before taking her leave.

Once outside she was greeted by her sister, who took her to her chambers. "Madrician, I wish to see Turgon," Gilraen gently demanded.

"I know, and if it were up to me, I would allow it. But – well – she came and said you would have to ease your desires tomorrow night, after your binding ceremony."

"She?"

"That Mistress woman – the one you," Madrician leaned into her sister's ear, "learned to suckle a cock from."

Gilraen gasped and stepped back. "Ireth came to you?"

"Oh yes, and what a mind that woman has. She has so many lessons to give."

"You should not read her thoughts," Gilraen chastised.

Madrician laughed. "But I learned so much," she admitted. "But that is not here or there. She said you are to remain pure for your night of binding and if I were to allow you alone time with Lord Turgon than you would most certainly take his gift before your promises were given."

"I'm sure Lord Turgon searches for me as well."

"Yes, but she instructed Círdan that he is to keep him occupied, or she would present him with a creepy crawler for his bed. I did not seek her mind for that, for it sounded quite unpleasant."

Gilraen chuckled, but resigned herself to the fact that she would have to wait until the day of binding for her love to grace her with his "gift".

On the twelfth day of Hrive 'Isia

The morning light filtered into Gilraen's chamber. She rolled over, and welcomed its rays. Her dreams had been full of Turgon and her body had awoke to a desire she had no name for. She thought back on the dream, images of his mouth pressed against her breast. Her gaze had held his, as his fingers slid across her hips, and down her thighs, only to skate back up the trembling muscle. A long sigh of pleasure poured from her lips, and as her mind cleared her fingers moved to where his dream kiss had last rested.

Gilraen pressed her fingertips against her left nipple. She rolled the bead back and forth, her nightdress scratched its tender surface. She licked her lips, stilled her actions, trying to see if anyone moved near her doorway. Her wedding day was today, she would be bound forever to her life-mate, and in so doing she still had one more lesson that Ireth had commanded she learn. The whore had told her to explore herself, to know the depths and desires that her body wanted, so that she could show Turgon where to touch, and how to please her. Gilraen's pussy tightened in anticipation. It was as if it knew what was to come, long before Gilraen did.

She blushed at her thoughts. Eventually, the small teasing caresses on her nipple were not enough and Gilraen pushed her coverings away. Two small fists reached down and pulled at her night clothes. She lifted the silky material over her head and dropped it to the floor. Her underclothes were soon discarded and she lay in the morning sunlight, naked and eager to explore herself.

Timidly she touched her pussy, angling herself so that she could witness her own actions. The curls were thick, but not so much that she could not see the pink flesh of her sex, or the small bump that was protected by thick lips. She toyed with her hairs, dipping her nails into the golden forest. A shiver slowly rolled across her flesh. Tiny goosebumps popped up. Gilraen licked her lips, and slipped her fingers further down.

The small nub of her pussy made her heart leap when she brushed it with the tip of her fingernail. She gasped, touched it again more firmly, before sitting more upright and spreading her legs further. Her hair tumbled around her, almost creating a canopy of shimmering gold. Unconsciously the Princess tucked some hair behind her ear, and placed both hands against her sex. She opened her pussy lips, spreading them so she could better inspect the bump that had made her quiver.

Sunlight that made its way between the strands of hair, glistened on the moisture that her inspection had brought forth. She swiped at the beads, brought her finger to her nose and breathed in the aroma of herself. Her brows rose as she tried to distinguish what scent her pussy had. It was unlike anything she had ever known. It was pleasant, but could not be named by any other scent she'd encountered. Quickly she licked the moist tip, of her digit. The taste too was foreign. Another swipe of her sex, brought a larger amount of juices to her tongue. She sucked on her finger, and found the liquid worth savoring. How would it taste when Turgon joined with her. Would his gift be as welcoming. Would her nectar taste even more rewarding once mingled with his? The idea brought forth a groan from Gilraen's lips.

She rubbed the nub of her pussy with her fingers, and the graceful digits from the other hand slipped into her opening. She shuddered softly, gasped quietly, and opened her legs further, hoping to see what her fingers had found that gave her such an awakening. Her pink sex was slippery, more so now that her fingers had played with herself. Liquid silk spilled out into her palm. She licked her fingers clean, only to dirty them over and over again. Her breath came faster, as she discovered the depth that her fingers could go. Gilraen moved her body, angling it one way, then the other. She spread her legs as wide as she could. Her actions were not her own, but driven by the pure carnal lust that a virgin has upon discovering the pleasures of her body.

The Princess bit her lip, moaned and hissed. Her fingers drove faster into her. There seemed to be a cliff and Gilraen desperately needed to reach it. She lay on her back, plunged her digits deeper. Her tits ached. They were heavy. One hand left her pussy. The fingers dug at her breasts. She pushed, kneaded, handled them like they were spongy melons. She squeezed them hard; her hips rose and fell. Her ass cheeks tightened. She could barely comprehend what she was doing. More juices spilled from her pussy. Her throat burned as did her lungs. Hard nipples arched forward. Her nails grazed them; she cried out. Gilraen pinched one bead, then the other. Over and over she assaulted her virgin body. When she felt as if the sun itself were about to explode, a cry was ripped from her chest. Her fingers stilled their assault. Her eyelids were clenched tight. Her features were locked in a grimace of desire. She panted, and fought for air. Vibrations churned deep within the very core of her sex. It throbbed with the pulse of her heart; her mind tried to catch up with the rest of her. It failed miserably. She lay gasping for several long minutes, unwilling or unable to move – she did not know which.

When the Princess felt able to think she did so without moving from her rumbled bed. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling of her chambers. The fragrance of her release brought a smile to her lips. She again breathed in the aroma stuck to her fingers and suckled on the drying juice. A warm blush caressed all of her flesh, and she found herself eager for the binding of her and her betrothed. The gift Mistress Ireth spoke of could only further enhance the pleasures that Gilraen had given herself. A soft knock on the door brought the virgin out of her day dreams, she pulled the covers over herself, brushed her hair with her fingers and called "enter" to whomever disturbed her slumber.

She gave a false yawn to her sister, and the two maiden elves that followed her in. Madrician glanced briefly at her sister, her eyes grew wide and her face grew pink. "Sister, you go where you should not," Gilraen reprimanded.

The maids only lifted their brows in questioning, but said nothing as they laid out Gilraen's bathing tools. When they left, Madrician moved to sit on the edge of her sister's bed. "I can not help but invade your thoughts. They are so full of joy and happiness. It has been so rare a treat to see these things in your mind – and now that I see them – I find myself eager to find my own life-mate."

Gilraen smiled. "Please allow me to keep my thoughts my own. You will find your mate, and when you do, you will have to find a way to keep his thoughts his and your thoughts yours."

Madrician nodded, then promised to give her sister the privacy she desired. "I am here to help you with your morning rituals. I will do your hair, and soon there will be elven women – elders of the clan to prepare you for the binding rituals."

The Princess nodded. It was today and she found herself wishing the hours would pass quickly. Her and Turgon would stand before the Priest. Her father and his would tie their wrists together, each would spill the others blood – and when their life forces mingled together, words would be spoken and a gift would be offered to the goddess. Gilraen knew it would be hours after that before she and her mate would be allowed the privacy she already desperately craved.

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~

Breakfast and her bath had taken hours, or so it seemed to Gilraen. Her meal had been light, the fare tasty and welcoming to her hearty appetite, but she'd been told not to indulge in a large amount of food, so the elder women of the clan had taken her meal away before it had been finished. Her bath had also been much different than usual. Most mornings Gilraen would tend to herself. This morning was different; several elven women bathed in the pools with her. They washed her hair, rubbed her flesh, delved fingers between her thighs, massaging her sex with soaps and oils. Gilraen had shied away from their touches, only to be reprimanded and pulled back into their caresses. When she moaned softly, one woman cackled and pinched the nub she'd played with. "A tender clit, you got there miss."

Gilraen said nothing, locking the word in her mind, thankful to finally have a name to what aroused her so greatly. After the bath was over, the drying of herself was also taken into other elven hands. She was roughly patted down, no drops or beads of water remained on her skin, nor did she believe any skin did either. She stood in the center of her bedroom. Women of various ages and sizes poured oils into their palms and ran them down her body. Her breasts were treated with a fruited lotion; one woman claimed it would have her mate feasting on them for hours. She blushed at the thought. Another covered her pussy with cream and began to run a small blade across the skin. Soon her sex was bare of the golden curls she'd played with earlier. Gilraen frowned at the loss, and promised to question Turgon later about growing the curls back, especially after one old woman claimed her mate loved the "bush of her pussy – tickled his nose" she'd confided.

Madrician, Gilraen noticed had been shuffled out of the room. She was glad - this experience was something Madrician would have to have on her own, no cheating would be allowed – she'd made her young sister promise. After the hair was scrapped away, and her body perfumed, the thick strands of hair on her scalp were dried and Madrician was allowed back in. The young girl shooed the older women away without too much trouble, and then ushered Gilraen into a chair, where she would remain while strands of beads, jewels, flowers and vines were woven into her thick golden strands.

"Are you frightened?"

Gilraen looked at her sister's image through the mirror. A soft smiled warmed her features. "No. I am not. I know he will love me and our time together will be the stuff that Mistress Ireth promised."

"I want that for you, sister. I do not believe I will find it, so I will have to live it though you."

The Princess turned around and took her sister's hands. "You speak of a future you can not see. You will have this too. I am sure of it."

Madrician smiled, patted her elder sister and turned her back to face the mirror. "You make a beautiful bride, and will be a beautiful Queen upon the death of our father. There is so much for you now, that you are free of her grip."

Gilraen lowered her head. "She should have been doing those things the elder elven women did. She was not a good woman. I do hope I make a good wife and a good mother." Her sister kissed the top of her head.

"You will sister. There is so much love in you, love you've never been able to share, for you've never been able to express it."

The two elven females continued to discuss their lives, and futures, in time the elder women returned carrying a light tray of fruit for the two girls to share. One woman also brought in a gown, draped over her long arm. The material was ivory, with small teardrop beads of blue and emerald. Several ribbons had been woven into the fabric, their colors matched those of the glittering gems. Gilraen rose from her seat, surprised now at how freely she felt walking around naked before the elven women. "It's lovely," she whispered.

"It's been worn by every daughter born to a King... your aunts before you, theirs before them. It's quite old, but through the years those in charge of its keeping have kept it in condition worthy of any Princess."

Gilraen raised her arms, and the dress was slipped over her head. "I will cherish it forever."

One old elf muttered, "Just take it off yourself, don't let that life mate of yours paw it off you!"

The Princess giggled, but promised to do her best. The women prepared her, the gown fit her perfectly, the bodice hugged her breasts, allowing the tops to be exposed, but the pink hued flesh of her aureola remained hidden. "It is so low," she whispered, while trailing her fingers across her skin.

"It is the way of things. Your life mate's people are allowed to see much of your skin, to know you go to your mate with no flaws."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. When she moved around, to twirl in the afternoon light, it was then that she noticed the gown was split on each side. It was not sewn completely an intentional flaw. When she moved, both her thighs were exposed, as was a small hint of her hips and buttocks. Her features grew more crimson. "Oh my," she gasped, as she studied herself in the mirror. "They do get to see a lot," she muttered.

"But they don't see everything," Madrician told her, sensing her sister's unease.

"Come now little ones. Madrician, you must go put on your gown. It is lying on your bed, Lord Turgon's man, Círdan has asked to escort you to the chapel arch and you must not keep him waiting."

She darted out, upon hearing the elven woman's words. The Princess could not help but notice the quickness of her sister's step, or the smile on her face. Gilraen did not have time to focus on what it may have meant for her sister, because as soon as Madrician was gone, Gilraen was pulled urgently toward the threshold of her chambers. "It's time for us to go as well," the oldest of the elves proclaimed.