Title: Wild Justice 2/? (until I get bored)
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer2000@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Paring: Thranduil/Celeborn/Elrond; Elrohir/Glorfindel; Haldir/Gildor; Elladan/Orophin
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline and my precious, evil mind.
Feedback: Please!
Warnings: BDSM. Just FYI, flaming me to tell me what a sick, perverted so and so I am is a waste of time. I already know all that.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc (and yes, I know, it is getting entirely out of hand.) Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused and to miss a lot of inside jokes.
Elrohir watched the elaborate preparations being made in the small glade with considerable interest. He had seen Erestor leaving the royal talan that morning, looking quite furtive, and decided to follow him. He had little else to do. Glorfindel was stuck in political meetings all day as he had been since their arrival in Lorien, although he gave only vague answers to queries as to what was going on. Frustration and worry over the fact that Thranduil was also in these meetings had been enough to make Elrohir very edgy. Discovering whatever Erestor was up to, then, would provide a welcome diversion.
Elrohir followed his old tutor to a glade quite distant from the city, and became steadily more mystified by his elaborate efforts to avoid being seen. Erestor was dressed unusually in a plain, grey-green ensemble that blended in perfectly with the deeper foliage; whenever he stood still for a moment, Elrohir had great difficulty seeing him. He almost lost him twice, and had to close the distance between them or he would certainly have done so. It was rather amusing to be tailing Erestor, who had been one of his teachers in the art of concealment and stealth. Strangely, Elrohir had never before wondered why Erestor had taught those lessons, rather than Glorfindel who had instructed him in most of the other arts of war. Now, however, as he found himself having to use all his talents plus a good bit of luck to follow the dark shadow through the forest, it made sense. It also caused him to wonder what, exactly, Erestor had done in the days of the First Alliance. Now that he thought about it, he could not recall a single story having to do with Erestor's role, yet he was certainly old enough to have participated. And, as Elrond had not founded Imladris until the war was well along, he couldn't very well have been his housekeeper then!
Erestor finally made his way to a small glade. Elrohir, skulking behind a tree, peered out onto a strange scene. About twenty elves, Noldor by the look of them, were milling about the open space. Elrohir only recognised two of them, those supercilious blonds Elros and Camthalion, who were standing over to one side, arms crossed, surveying the others with their usual icy expressions. But they looked up as Erestor approached and, to Elrohir's surprise, broke into twin smiles of welcome. Elrohir could not remember ever seeing those two evidence any emotion, much less a friendly one. He found it a little creepy and unconsciously drew back a bit further into the shadows.
After a few moments' conversation that Elrohir was too far away to hear, Erestor turned to face the throng of elves and clapped his hands imperiously. "All right," he said, raising his voice and drawing something out of the wide sleeve of his tunic. "Over here, gather round everyone." He surveyed the elves who arranged themselves into two lines in almost military formation before him, "Let us be perfectly clear. I am here as a favour to the Lady Galadriel who expressed an interest recently to Lord Elrond about having some of her servants trained in certain matters. What I am going to teach you has already been learned, in part, by two of your number," and he indicated Camthalion and Elros with a flourish of his riding crop. Elrohir paused to wonder what he was doing with a crop with no horse in evidence, but Erestor was continuing on and he concentrated on trying not to miss anything.
"The skills I am about to teach you may shortly be needed in an important mission. However, we have much work to do, as you are all presently the strictest of novices," and here he punctuated his words by thwapping his crop on the thigh of a nearby Noldor. The proud elf said nothing, but shot him a glare from angry blue eyes. Camthalion and Elros seemed to find something amusing, for they exchanged arch looks behind Erestor's back. Erestor also smiled, a little strangely Elrohir thought, and ran his hand gently along the elf's sleek head. "You don't like it when I do that?," he inquired softly, his tone almost too low for Elrohir to hear. He chuckled, then suddenly grabbed a handful of blond hair and jerked the elf's head toward him while forcing him to his knees. "I think we've just found our first volunteer." He released him to allow Elros and Camthalion to each grab an arm and tow the struggling elf off into the woods. Erestor watched them for a moment before turning back to the assembled elves. "Lesson one--you do what you are told, how you are told and when you are told. There is only one master here, and that is me."
The elves looked at each other but there were no arguments. "Good." Erestor rocked back on his heels, apparently pleased. "Then strip."
"Er, sir?" One of the Noldor spoke up, looking a bit confused. Erestor smiled more broadly and walked slowly over to him.
"You have a question?"
The elf looked a little unsure, but persisted nonetheless. "Yes, sir. Er, we were told that we are here to be trained in interrogation techniques."
"Yes, that is one of my specialties."
"Well, in that case, why do you want us to . . . disrobe?"
Erestor glanced up as Camthalion reappeared at the edge of the forest. "We have volunteer number two, Cam," he commented briefly, and the elf in front of him looked about fearfully as Camthalion moved quickly towards him.
"Any other questions?," Erestor asked the assembled elves. They looked at each other for a second, then, as their fellow elf was dragged protesting into the undergrowth, quickly began stripping off their clothing. Erestor smiled at them and caressed his crop with a loving motion. "I do so love my work," Elrohir heard him mutter.
* * *
Celeborn knew, of course, that Elrond would try something, but he had expected it and made certain preparations, so the thought did not initially concern him. His first clue that something more ominous than he'd anticipated was possibly occurring was the silence. He began to worry when days passed and he heard nothing from Imladris, as, by now, Elrond must have discovered his little deception. Celeborn had been extremely pleased to hear that Deya and her band of gypsies were in the area of the Last Homely House, as their magic combined with his own had virtually insured Elrond's subjugation. Fortunately, she happened to owe him a favour. Of course, being Deya, she had turned the tables on him rather neatly, practically insuring that Elrond would eventually discern what had happened by dressing the last dancers almost identically to the two of them. Celeborn sighed. It was so hard to get good help these days.
In any case, it was foolish of Elrond to believe that Celeborn would ever drop his guard where he was concerned; his son-in-law could plot all he wanted, but he would never have the opportunity to put any of his plans into action. It would be a relief, however, whenever Elrond got around to trying something, as this eerie silence was beginning to grate on Celeborn's nerves. He hoped Elrond wouldn't do anything too extreme and cause him to have to retaliate. Now that it was all in the past, he almost felt as if he owed Imladris' master a favour--he'd felt more alive in the past few weeks than he had in centuries, and still had the pleasure of dealing with Galadriel to anticipate. Despite everything, that little trip to Imladris had been an excellent notion.
The second hint he had that things might be becoming complicated was Galadriel's decision to make another quick trip to Imladris, ostensibly to visit Arwen. As his lovely granddaughter had just returned home after an extended stay in Lorien, Celeborn found this extremely difficult to believe, not to mention that his wife had not bothered to even try to make her excuse convincing. There was something in her clear blue eyes that worried him. If Galadriel was plotting with Elrond, this whole situation might become considerably less amusing very quickly. There was no way for Celeborn to prevent her journey, however, nor could he follow her as someone had to remain to continue the negotiations with Thranduil. It was going to be difficult enough to explain his wife's sudden absence; obviously both of them could not just disappear.
Celeborn poured himself some more wine and scowled at the pretty green glass bottle that held it. A Mirkwood vintage. The opaque glass rather reminded him of Thranduil's clever green eyes, and he absentmindedly rubbed the bridge of his nose. Thranduil was yet another problem. The king rarely left his realm, and never without good reason. Celeborn had no idea what he was doing here, taking up endless hours in roundabout discussions that, when examined later, were shown to be completely meaningless. Elbereth, but the elf could talk! They had spent almost four hours in consultation the day before, and he still, for the life of him, could not recall a single point of interest. There had certainly been no explanation for the king's visit.
Thranduil wanted something, of course, that was sure, but just what it was Celeborn had no idea. Whatever it might be, though, he apparently had no doubts that he would obtain it. He positively dripped power, and his easy confidence in his own authority vastly annoyed the Lord of Lorien. Thranduil had moved into the royal talan and made himself and his huge entourage as comfortable as if he owned the place, monopolizing the servants who practically fell over themselves to wait on his every need. Celeborn had had to fetch his own wine as all the available help were busy in the king's quarters. He should have known that he couldn't expect to take a few weeks off for a much-deserved break without having to return to a mess, but this was more than he had planned. He sighed and finished his wine. Why did he have a feeling that this was going to be a very long week?
* * *
Elrohir was feeling a little dizzy. It was an extraordinary experience to see an old friend and mentor, who you had long believed you knew thoroughly, suddenly transformed into a very different person. The martinet in the glade looked like Erestor, but the resemblance ended there. The dandified little housekeeper who had fed Elrohir treats and indulgently failed to report any of his childhood capers to Elrond, was completely gone. In his place was a tyrant and sadist of unbelievable proportions. Elrohir could hardly believe what he was seeing as the day wore on. And he had thought a few of Erestor's suggestion to him about ways of pleasuring Glorfindel were over the top! He now realised that his old tutor had merely been playing with him. He wasn't playing now--or, if he was, Elrohir REALLY didn't want to be there when he decided to get serious.
For hours, the twenty nude Noldor were put through tortures Elrohir doubted if he would ever have thought up, no matter how many ages he might live. Erestor had early on declared that, before they could interrogate anyone properly, they had to understand the uses of both pain and pleasure, and the best tutor for that was experience. Elrohir wasn't sure about the pleasure part, but the pain was undoubted. He would probably never be able to excise from his brain the image of Erestor, in the dispassionate tone he had always used in the schoolroom, giving an extended lecture of the basics of torture with various "volunteers" as visual aides.
The first two elves actually ended up better off than some of the others. They reappeared as Erestor was holding forth on the merits and disadvantages of using a cat of nine tails over a cane or crop. Unfurling one of the former, he walked casually over to where the two elves had been stripped and tied in different ways. The first was shackled hand and foot and suspended from a thick, overhanging tree limb. Metal bars had been placed between his cuffs to insure that his limbs were spread quite far apart. The other had been affixed to a strange contraption that looked like a large wheel.
"The cane," Erestor lectured, "is usually considered more painful than the crop but considerably less than this," and he fondled the heavy braided leather weapon in his hand with affection. "Usually, it is best to begin subtly and let the individual rest in between sessions, to give them time to think about what might be coming next. Start with the crop or the cane," he advised, "and move on from there as needed." He nodded at Camthalion who proceeded to give the first trussed elf a number of sharp whacks across the buttocks with the long, thin reed in his hand. Elros followed this by applying a riding crop to the thighs and buttocks of the other elf. Erestor had them stop after eight or ten strokes and called the observers over to examine the differences between the marks. Spinning the elf on the wheel upside down, he brought his bright pink posterior to eye level and nodded approval at Elros. "Nicely done, but then, you always were a quick learner."
After a discussion on the merits of the cat, as Erestor fondly called it, he looked about as if searching for a volunteer on whom to demonstrate, but the assembled elves all seemed to suddenly find the grass extremely interesting and none met his eyes. He sighed, "perhaps we'll leave this for another day, when you've advanced a bit further." He looked rather disappointed, Elrohir thought in amazement. Had he actually expected anyone to volunteer?
Their meditation on the local flora did not save several elves from being brought forward to demonstrate the proper use of nipple clamps, of which Erestor seemed to have an astounding collection, complete with weights of differing sizes. "It is truly amazing," he was saying, as he attached a particularly heavy specimen to the clamp biting into the breast of one large elf, "how much pain one of these tiny things, if properly applied, can inflict." The elf, who had steadfastly refused to show any emotion up to this point, winced slightly as Erestor adjusted the device. "Such clamps can also be applied to the genitals," he commented casually, his hand sliding down the front of the hapless elf, whose face had taken on a warm pink flush by the time Erestor began to stroke a thumb over one soft, furred ball. "Similar weights may be attached to either the penis or testicles, varying in size depending on the amount of . . .incentive . . . you wish to apply," he continued. This little piece of information caused the elf on display to lose his recently acquired colour and begin to look seriously worried. Erestor smiled into his suddenly huge blue eyes with tolerant amusement. "But that's also a lesson for another day," he murmured before releasing the slightly shaking elf, whose eyes glistened with tears of profound relief.
And so it went, hour after hour, as such things as methods of using ice and hot wax, various types of gags, and whether blindfolds or hoods were best in particular situations were discussed with no more concern than if Erestor was conversing on the weather. He finally released the sore, aching and extremely subdued Noldor just after lunch, sending them off with the ominous pronouncement, "We'll move on to intermediate lessons tomorrow!"
Elrohir sat on the ground, partly to make himself smaller so as not to be noticed by the departing Noldor, but also because his head was frankly spinning. What a completely bizarre way to spend a morning. Glorfindel was never going to believe this. The fresh, green smell of the woods was comforting, and he thought that perhaps, in an hour or two, he might be able to return to the talan unaided. Then, out of nowhere, Erestor's animated face appeared in front of him, black eyes glittering wickedly. "Lunch, young one? Or would you like to stay and play with the boys? I think Elros and Cam are going to remain awhile." Elrohir suddenly found strength flowing back into him, and he scrambled to quickly follow Erestor, glancing back over his shoulder to see Cam spinning the wheel with a delighted expression on his face.
TBC
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer2000@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Paring: Thranduil/Celeborn/Elrond; Elrohir/Glorfindel; Haldir/Gildor; Elladan/Orophin
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline and my precious, evil mind.
Feedback: Please!
Warnings: BDSM. Just FYI, flaming me to tell me what a sick, perverted so and so I am is a waste of time. I already know all that.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc (and yes, I know, it is getting entirely out of hand.) Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused and to miss a lot of inside jokes.
Elrohir watched the elaborate preparations being made in the small glade with considerable interest. He had seen Erestor leaving the royal talan that morning, looking quite furtive, and decided to follow him. He had little else to do. Glorfindel was stuck in political meetings all day as he had been since their arrival in Lorien, although he gave only vague answers to queries as to what was going on. Frustration and worry over the fact that Thranduil was also in these meetings had been enough to make Elrohir very edgy. Discovering whatever Erestor was up to, then, would provide a welcome diversion.
Elrohir followed his old tutor to a glade quite distant from the city, and became steadily more mystified by his elaborate efforts to avoid being seen. Erestor was dressed unusually in a plain, grey-green ensemble that blended in perfectly with the deeper foliage; whenever he stood still for a moment, Elrohir had great difficulty seeing him. He almost lost him twice, and had to close the distance between them or he would certainly have done so. It was rather amusing to be tailing Erestor, who had been one of his teachers in the art of concealment and stealth. Strangely, Elrohir had never before wondered why Erestor had taught those lessons, rather than Glorfindel who had instructed him in most of the other arts of war. Now, however, as he found himself having to use all his talents plus a good bit of luck to follow the dark shadow through the forest, it made sense. It also caused him to wonder what, exactly, Erestor had done in the days of the First Alliance. Now that he thought about it, he could not recall a single story having to do with Erestor's role, yet he was certainly old enough to have participated. And, as Elrond had not founded Imladris until the war was well along, he couldn't very well have been his housekeeper then!
Erestor finally made his way to a small glade. Elrohir, skulking behind a tree, peered out onto a strange scene. About twenty elves, Noldor by the look of them, were milling about the open space. Elrohir only recognised two of them, those supercilious blonds Elros and Camthalion, who were standing over to one side, arms crossed, surveying the others with their usual icy expressions. But they looked up as Erestor approached and, to Elrohir's surprise, broke into twin smiles of welcome. Elrohir could not remember ever seeing those two evidence any emotion, much less a friendly one. He found it a little creepy and unconsciously drew back a bit further into the shadows.
After a few moments' conversation that Elrohir was too far away to hear, Erestor turned to face the throng of elves and clapped his hands imperiously. "All right," he said, raising his voice and drawing something out of the wide sleeve of his tunic. "Over here, gather round everyone." He surveyed the elves who arranged themselves into two lines in almost military formation before him, "Let us be perfectly clear. I am here as a favour to the Lady Galadriel who expressed an interest recently to Lord Elrond about having some of her servants trained in certain matters. What I am going to teach you has already been learned, in part, by two of your number," and he indicated Camthalion and Elros with a flourish of his riding crop. Elrohir paused to wonder what he was doing with a crop with no horse in evidence, but Erestor was continuing on and he concentrated on trying not to miss anything.
"The skills I am about to teach you may shortly be needed in an important mission. However, we have much work to do, as you are all presently the strictest of novices," and here he punctuated his words by thwapping his crop on the thigh of a nearby Noldor. The proud elf said nothing, but shot him a glare from angry blue eyes. Camthalion and Elros seemed to find something amusing, for they exchanged arch looks behind Erestor's back. Erestor also smiled, a little strangely Elrohir thought, and ran his hand gently along the elf's sleek head. "You don't like it when I do that?," he inquired softly, his tone almost too low for Elrohir to hear. He chuckled, then suddenly grabbed a handful of blond hair and jerked the elf's head toward him while forcing him to his knees. "I think we've just found our first volunteer." He released him to allow Elros and Camthalion to each grab an arm and tow the struggling elf off into the woods. Erestor watched them for a moment before turning back to the assembled elves. "Lesson one--you do what you are told, how you are told and when you are told. There is only one master here, and that is me."
The elves looked at each other but there were no arguments. "Good." Erestor rocked back on his heels, apparently pleased. "Then strip."
"Er, sir?" One of the Noldor spoke up, looking a bit confused. Erestor smiled more broadly and walked slowly over to him.
"You have a question?"
The elf looked a little unsure, but persisted nonetheless. "Yes, sir. Er, we were told that we are here to be trained in interrogation techniques."
"Yes, that is one of my specialties."
"Well, in that case, why do you want us to . . . disrobe?"
Erestor glanced up as Camthalion reappeared at the edge of the forest. "We have volunteer number two, Cam," he commented briefly, and the elf in front of him looked about fearfully as Camthalion moved quickly towards him.
"Any other questions?," Erestor asked the assembled elves. They looked at each other for a second, then, as their fellow elf was dragged protesting into the undergrowth, quickly began stripping off their clothing. Erestor smiled at them and caressed his crop with a loving motion. "I do so love my work," Elrohir heard him mutter.
* * *
Celeborn knew, of course, that Elrond would try something, but he had expected it and made certain preparations, so the thought did not initially concern him. His first clue that something more ominous than he'd anticipated was possibly occurring was the silence. He began to worry when days passed and he heard nothing from Imladris, as, by now, Elrond must have discovered his little deception. Celeborn had been extremely pleased to hear that Deya and her band of gypsies were in the area of the Last Homely House, as their magic combined with his own had virtually insured Elrond's subjugation. Fortunately, she happened to owe him a favour. Of course, being Deya, she had turned the tables on him rather neatly, practically insuring that Elrond would eventually discern what had happened by dressing the last dancers almost identically to the two of them. Celeborn sighed. It was so hard to get good help these days.
In any case, it was foolish of Elrond to believe that Celeborn would ever drop his guard where he was concerned; his son-in-law could plot all he wanted, but he would never have the opportunity to put any of his plans into action. It would be a relief, however, whenever Elrond got around to trying something, as this eerie silence was beginning to grate on Celeborn's nerves. He hoped Elrond wouldn't do anything too extreme and cause him to have to retaliate. Now that it was all in the past, he almost felt as if he owed Imladris' master a favour--he'd felt more alive in the past few weeks than he had in centuries, and still had the pleasure of dealing with Galadriel to anticipate. Despite everything, that little trip to Imladris had been an excellent notion.
The second hint he had that things might be becoming complicated was Galadriel's decision to make another quick trip to Imladris, ostensibly to visit Arwen. As his lovely granddaughter had just returned home after an extended stay in Lorien, Celeborn found this extremely difficult to believe, not to mention that his wife had not bothered to even try to make her excuse convincing. There was something in her clear blue eyes that worried him. If Galadriel was plotting with Elrond, this whole situation might become considerably less amusing very quickly. There was no way for Celeborn to prevent her journey, however, nor could he follow her as someone had to remain to continue the negotiations with Thranduil. It was going to be difficult enough to explain his wife's sudden absence; obviously both of them could not just disappear.
Celeborn poured himself some more wine and scowled at the pretty green glass bottle that held it. A Mirkwood vintage. The opaque glass rather reminded him of Thranduil's clever green eyes, and he absentmindedly rubbed the bridge of his nose. Thranduil was yet another problem. The king rarely left his realm, and never without good reason. Celeborn had no idea what he was doing here, taking up endless hours in roundabout discussions that, when examined later, were shown to be completely meaningless. Elbereth, but the elf could talk! They had spent almost four hours in consultation the day before, and he still, for the life of him, could not recall a single point of interest. There had certainly been no explanation for the king's visit.
Thranduil wanted something, of course, that was sure, but just what it was Celeborn had no idea. Whatever it might be, though, he apparently had no doubts that he would obtain it. He positively dripped power, and his easy confidence in his own authority vastly annoyed the Lord of Lorien. Thranduil had moved into the royal talan and made himself and his huge entourage as comfortable as if he owned the place, monopolizing the servants who practically fell over themselves to wait on his every need. Celeborn had had to fetch his own wine as all the available help were busy in the king's quarters. He should have known that he couldn't expect to take a few weeks off for a much-deserved break without having to return to a mess, but this was more than he had planned. He sighed and finished his wine. Why did he have a feeling that this was going to be a very long week?
* * *
Elrohir was feeling a little dizzy. It was an extraordinary experience to see an old friend and mentor, who you had long believed you knew thoroughly, suddenly transformed into a very different person. The martinet in the glade looked like Erestor, but the resemblance ended there. The dandified little housekeeper who had fed Elrohir treats and indulgently failed to report any of his childhood capers to Elrond, was completely gone. In his place was a tyrant and sadist of unbelievable proportions. Elrohir could hardly believe what he was seeing as the day wore on. And he had thought a few of Erestor's suggestion to him about ways of pleasuring Glorfindel were over the top! He now realised that his old tutor had merely been playing with him. He wasn't playing now--or, if he was, Elrohir REALLY didn't want to be there when he decided to get serious.
For hours, the twenty nude Noldor were put through tortures Elrohir doubted if he would ever have thought up, no matter how many ages he might live. Erestor had early on declared that, before they could interrogate anyone properly, they had to understand the uses of both pain and pleasure, and the best tutor for that was experience. Elrohir wasn't sure about the pleasure part, but the pain was undoubted. He would probably never be able to excise from his brain the image of Erestor, in the dispassionate tone he had always used in the schoolroom, giving an extended lecture of the basics of torture with various "volunteers" as visual aides.
The first two elves actually ended up better off than some of the others. They reappeared as Erestor was holding forth on the merits and disadvantages of using a cat of nine tails over a cane or crop. Unfurling one of the former, he walked casually over to where the two elves had been stripped and tied in different ways. The first was shackled hand and foot and suspended from a thick, overhanging tree limb. Metal bars had been placed between his cuffs to insure that his limbs were spread quite far apart. The other had been affixed to a strange contraption that looked like a large wheel.
"The cane," Erestor lectured, "is usually considered more painful than the crop but considerably less than this," and he fondled the heavy braided leather weapon in his hand with affection. "Usually, it is best to begin subtly and let the individual rest in between sessions, to give them time to think about what might be coming next. Start with the crop or the cane," he advised, "and move on from there as needed." He nodded at Camthalion who proceeded to give the first trussed elf a number of sharp whacks across the buttocks with the long, thin reed in his hand. Elros followed this by applying a riding crop to the thighs and buttocks of the other elf. Erestor had them stop after eight or ten strokes and called the observers over to examine the differences between the marks. Spinning the elf on the wheel upside down, he brought his bright pink posterior to eye level and nodded approval at Elros. "Nicely done, but then, you always were a quick learner."
After a discussion on the merits of the cat, as Erestor fondly called it, he looked about as if searching for a volunteer on whom to demonstrate, but the assembled elves all seemed to suddenly find the grass extremely interesting and none met his eyes. He sighed, "perhaps we'll leave this for another day, when you've advanced a bit further." He looked rather disappointed, Elrohir thought in amazement. Had he actually expected anyone to volunteer?
Their meditation on the local flora did not save several elves from being brought forward to demonstrate the proper use of nipple clamps, of which Erestor seemed to have an astounding collection, complete with weights of differing sizes. "It is truly amazing," he was saying, as he attached a particularly heavy specimen to the clamp biting into the breast of one large elf, "how much pain one of these tiny things, if properly applied, can inflict." The elf, who had steadfastly refused to show any emotion up to this point, winced slightly as Erestor adjusted the device. "Such clamps can also be applied to the genitals," he commented casually, his hand sliding down the front of the hapless elf, whose face had taken on a warm pink flush by the time Erestor began to stroke a thumb over one soft, furred ball. "Similar weights may be attached to either the penis or testicles, varying in size depending on the amount of . . .incentive . . . you wish to apply," he continued. This little piece of information caused the elf on display to lose his recently acquired colour and begin to look seriously worried. Erestor smiled into his suddenly huge blue eyes with tolerant amusement. "But that's also a lesson for another day," he murmured before releasing the slightly shaking elf, whose eyes glistened with tears of profound relief.
And so it went, hour after hour, as such things as methods of using ice and hot wax, various types of gags, and whether blindfolds or hoods were best in particular situations were discussed with no more concern than if Erestor was conversing on the weather. He finally released the sore, aching and extremely subdued Noldor just after lunch, sending them off with the ominous pronouncement, "We'll move on to intermediate lessons tomorrow!"
Elrohir sat on the ground, partly to make himself smaller so as not to be noticed by the departing Noldor, but also because his head was frankly spinning. What a completely bizarre way to spend a morning. Glorfindel was never going to believe this. The fresh, green smell of the woods was comforting, and he thought that perhaps, in an hour or two, he might be able to return to the talan unaided. Then, out of nowhere, Erestor's animated face appeared in front of him, black eyes glittering wickedly. "Lunch, young one? Or would you like to stay and play with the boys? I think Elros and Cam are going to remain awhile." Elrohir suddenly found strength flowing back into him, and he scrambled to quickly follow Erestor, glancing back over his shoulder to see Cam spinning the wheel with a delighted expression on his face.
TBC