Title: Wild Justice 16/?
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.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.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc. Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused.
* * *
Elladan was growing less and less sure about this all the time. Orophin seemed to know what he was doing, but the heavy cloak he had insisted Elladan wear was itchy and hot and he seriously doubted its necessity. Who in Lorien could possibly care what he and his family did, anyway? Obviously, Orophin was either deluded or playing with him, and either way it worried Elladan, as did the direction they were heading.
They had already passed several fine looking taverns, and Elladan, who had decided he could really use a drink, would have been happy to stop in any of them. But they bypassed the pretentious Silver Tree, which had Lord Celeborn's personal seal of approval prominently displayed on its sign as well as the boast that it served "the finest ale in Arda." But Elladan had not complained as it looked a bit stuffy, with a lot of older elves having chess matches or debating politics loudly enough that he could hear them in the street. If he wanted that sort of thing, he didn't need to go out at all--he could have just stayed at the royal talan.
He had felt like saying something, however, when the much friendlier looking Gwingil was also ignored, as he liked the flirty looking mermaid on its sign, as well as the appearance of several attractive and obviously bored elf-maids lounging on its vine covered terrace. Before he could suggest a few ways to alleviate their ennui, however, Orophin dragged him away, down a small side street that Elladan had never seen before. When they stopped before the dingy looking tavern at the very end of the street, however, Elladan finally baulked.
"Liltadin-Cirth? What kind of name is that for a pub?"
"This is the oldest surviving tavern in Lorien," Orophin told him shortly, pulling him into the shadows of the narrow alley between the dubious looking establishment and the high wall of the city. "Haldir stables his horse nearby, so he comes here often. If he manages to get this far, he's almost sure to stop in for supplies, as I can't see him trying to raid the lord's kitchens in his current state." Orophin adjusted the deep midnight blue hood that concealed Elladan's dark hair and distinctive features. "Just keep your head down. We'll find a quiet table in a dark corner and wait--he's certain to turn up sooner or later."
Elladan doubted this--if he was Haldir and had just left his nurse locked in the wardrobe and his youngest brother bound, gagged and stuffed under the bed, he didn't think he would go anywhere near his usual haunts. But still, Orophin knew him best, so Elladan was willing to trust his judgment, although he wished Haldir patronized a more upscale tavern. This place was a dump.
Elladan followed Orophin into the murky interior, which was lit only by a few horn lanterns giving off a very dim, gold light. He was thankful for the lack of illumination, as it meant that even elvin eyes would have difficulty penetrating his disguise, but it nonetheless made the place a little creepy. Not that it wasn't doing fine in that respect even without the lighting effects. They found a small table in a corner as far from the bar as they could get and Orophin went to get drinks, as Elladan had noticed that the barmaid was none other than Ithilessar, his one time play mate, who was certain to recognise him if he came too close. He hunched down in his heavy robe and waited, looking about for a lack of anything better to do.
The patrons were all elves, although some looked to be from other lands than Lorien. The tavern's position near the city gates meant that it was probably one of the first such establishments visitors encountered. Elladan thought his grandfather should be a little concerned about that, as the place was hardly an advertisement for Lorien's beauty and grace. It must have been built before most if not all of the other city buildings, as its architecture was of a very different type. It didn't even look elvin to Elladan, with rough hewn wooden walls sagging with age and growing a crop of grey-green moss, and a thatched roof appearing in equal need of repair, with several bird's nests visible among the rafters. Apparently appearances didn't lie. A rainstorm began as he sat there, and Elladan soon perceived a cool drip down his collar. He sighed and moved his wooden stool slightly to the left to avoid it. Well, at least that explained how the moss and mildew covering the floorboards survived.
None of the other patrons seemed to notice the rain. The elf at the closest table, a farmer type wearing coarse brown clothing, continued to stare gloomily into his half-empty mug of ale, ignoring the drip that was soon falling onto his head. He sighed heavily now and again, but made no effort to move. A few tables beyond him, a couple of rather loose looking females continued to lounge and gossip, paying no heed to the weather or to anyone else. The only other patron, besides several Mirkwood types who were flirting outrageously with Ithilessar at the bar, was as heavily muffled as Elladan himself and sat at a table in the opposite corner. Occasionally the figure jotted down something in a leather bound book, but did not attempt to approach anyone.
Orophin had just returned with their drinks, a surprisingly good wine which he informed Elladan was only available at this pub due to an exclusive agreement with the vintners, when the door burst open and a group of raucous elves came in, laughing and dropping wet clothing onto tables and over the backs of chairs. Elladan didn't recognise any of them, but by their features and accents, they were Sindar from Lorien. Their leader was a handsome elf with long blond curls, who climbed up on one of the tables and clanked two pewter tankards together for silence.
"I now call this meeting of the Honourable Lorien Gossip Guild to order! Let the merriment begin!" To a chorus of laughter, boos and "get off the table Earon" he hopped gracefully down, leaving room for Ithilessar to place a huge flagon of wine in the table's centre. The elves quickly pushed the other tables to the room's edge, leaving a clear space around the one with the wine, then perched on chairs and tabletops in a happy, jostling circle.
"As lord of this society, I claim first round," Earen said, walking up to the table and hefting the heavy flagon easily.
"Oh no." Orophin groaned quietly. "I forgot this group meets here every Menelya eve."
"What's going on?" Orophin just shook his head and buried his face in his arms, refusing to answer Elladan's query. Luckily, he was soon enlightened anyway, for Ithilessar was pushing a pretty blond Sindarin maiden forward, who Elladan recognised in surprise as Cerebrethil, another one time playmate.
"Wait, wait!" Ithilessar called out, laughing. "We have a gossip virgin with us tonight who doesn't know the rules." Her comments after that were drowned out by a loud chorus of "explain the rules, explain the rules" from the surrounding circle of elves, along with much stamping of feet and pounding of mugs.
"Alright, alright!," Earen held up his arms, laughing. "Bring forth the virgin!" This, of course, elicited a number of ribald comments and more laughter, and Cerebrethil added to the rowdy atmosphere by pinching Earen in a most unvirginal way. He grabbed her wrist and pushed her slightly in front of him, presumably to keep an eye on her. Elladan hid a smile behind his glass; he knew Cerebrethil enough to guess just how well that was likely to work.
"These are the rules of this august company, which ye must respect or face expulsion into the frigid atmosphere of the Silver Tree, where ye shall surely fade from sheer boredom within a sennight. So." Earen handed Celebrethil the flagon, and grinned when she almost dropped it because of the excessive weight. She recovered quickly, however, balancing the huge pitcher gracefully on one hip. "We take things in turn, but as the newest member you will be given the honour of first chance. The idea is to prove our reputation for always knowing all the gossip worth hearing in Lorien. Each of us keeps an ear out for the more interesting news that never makes it into the formal broadsheets, and then saves it up to entertain, er, I mean to inform, our fellow members."
"Get to the point, Earen," someone called, which began a new chant that took some time to die down. Apparently deciding to cut his explanation short or they'd never get to the wine, Earen made an effort at brevity when he again achieved something like order. "All right! All right! All you have to do, my lovely one, is to tell us a story about a recent happening here in the Golden Wood. At the end, we decide whether it is true or false, and if you fool the majority of the company either way, you win a drink. Otherwise, you move to the back of the queue. Understand?"
At Celebrethil's nod, Earen cleared out of the way and left the elf-maid in the centre of the circle. She sat the heavy wine container on the table once more, and then, to Elladan's stunned disbelief, launched into a detailed account of his prowess in the bedroom. He felt his cheeks burning and drew back even further under his hood, resisting the impulse to leap to his feet and choke her pretty neck until her face turned blue. How DARE she? Only the heavy pressure of Orophin's foot on his kept him from acting out the impulse, especially when she went on to rate him "a weak seven, although to be fair, we were all very drunk at the time."
A variety of catcalls answered this tale, which the group unanimously declared a barefaced lie. Elladan was feeling somewhat better until an elf called Mirimon called out their reason, "Come now, Cele, everyone in Lorien knows the young Peredhil is seeing Orophin of the Guard."
"And I hear he rates him a ten!," another male elf said, laughing.
Elladan reached across the table and poked Orophin on the shoulder. "Is that true, did you actually say that?"
Orophin looked up, his face mottled red with suppressed laughter. "Don't get a big head. This group is NOT to be trusted about anything!"
Elladan wondered if that was true, however, as member after member of the drinking club took their turns, collectively managing to piece together a good deal of the goings on at the royal talan. A tall blond named Elemmakil, who owned a weaving shop, told all about the visit of Gildor and the dwarf, and won a large drink because no one believed Gildor had spent a fortune buying her such an expensive piece of fabric. A flirty elf maid called Sárince described Glorfindel's encounter with Orophin, but it won her no wine, as it was apparently old news--"even the stiffs at the Silver Tree know THAT one," someone commented. A thin male named Alcon also failed to get a free drink, as Erestor's playground was another poorly kept secret, but a small female with huge blue eyes named Nandelle was more successful because she was able to enlighten the group as to what certain elf lords had been seen using said glade for a few nights ago. No one was sure whether to believe her or not, but the consensus was that a story that good deserved a drink anyway. Elladan, knowing his father, sank a little further down into his chair. He, at least, had no trouble believing it.
And so it went on for the better part of two hours, with Cerebrethil breaking in occasionally to sulkily remark that she had too told the truth, but no one believed her, even when she persuaded Ithilessar to back her up. "Although," the bar maid said consideringly, "I would give him at least an eight, maybe even a nine for effort." While Elladan was trying to figure out just what that meant, and whether or not he should feel insulted, the door opened emitting a gust of rain and a soaking wet figure wrapped in a long grey cloak.
"Haldir!" A pretty maid called Callë waved at him, "Nae saian luume'! More wine, Ithil--this one can drink!"
Haldir ignored her, but made his way over to the bar, where he had a low voiced conversation with Ithilessar. Orophin had risen to his feet, and Elladan followed him, but before they could do anything, two more soaking wet figures burst into the room, both looking mad as Mandos.
"Oh, well," Orophin commented, suddenly sitting back down and picking up his drink. Elladan looked at him strangely until the new arrivals tossed their soaked cloaks aside and began to slowly approach the bar. Elladan noticed that the gossip club had all grown quiet and were watching the scene as avidly as Orophin, so he shrugged and sat down again, waiting to see if the odd duo could bring their prey to ground without aid.
Haldir heard their approach and spun to face them with less than his usual grace, his heavily bandaged foot slowing him down. Before he could move, the smaller of his two pursuers launched herself at him, emitting a hoarse battle cry. The little dwarf grabbed him around the knees and hung on with dogged determination, forcing Haldir to have to hop forward to avoid Rumil's attempts to get a rope around him. He moved quickly despite his impediment, but succeeded only in causing considerable chaos. Rumil wisely stayed between him and the door, blocking the only way of escape, while beginning to spin the rope about lariat style. Elwyyda lost her grip on Haldir's legs after the two of them smashed into the centre table, sending the wine pitcher spinning across the floor, scattering slippery lees everywhere. But she recovered quickly, clambering onto his back when he briefly dropped to one knee, and catching him in a stranglehold around the neck.
"Would you like another round?," someone asked, and Elladan looked about in confusion until he noticed Ithilessar standing beside their table, looking unconcerned and holding a wine bottle. Orophin took it, smelled the cork, smiled and accepted, passing over a coin as the barmaid turned away.
"Drink, El?" Elladan silently held out his glass, then quickly pulled it back as Haldir came stumbling towards them and collapsed onto their table, Elwyyda still clutching his neck. Orophin managed to save the wine, but he looked at Haldir with considerable trepidation, apparently with good reason as one glance at his brother caused Haldir to forget all about Rumil and the dwarf. Growling out a curse, he lunged for him. The bottle went flying as Orophin and Haldir crashed to the floor, but Elladan caught it, stepping nimbly out of the way as the three on the ground began thrashing about. Rumil approached cautiously, the rope raised, just as Haldir and company rolled into the darkness under the table. Rumil crawled under after them.
The table rocked about a good bit, but after a minute or so Elwyyda emerged, straightening her little kirtle and patting her hair. Elladan wordlessly handed her the wine; he felt she deserved it. Next came Orophin, dragging Haldir by the legs, which had been tightly wrapped with sturdy Lorien rope, and finally Rumil, a bruise blossoming on his jaw but with his brother's arms and torso trussed up in a large quantity of rope. Elwyyda leading the way, the bottle tucked safely under her arm, the procession carted a protesting Haldir to the door, where Rumil deposited him briefly on a table while he slid back into his outer robe.
Elladan was not an elf to miss an opportunity. Catching Orophin at the door, he threw back his hood and pulled his lover into a deep kiss, adding a grope on his delectable backside just for good measure. Catching Earen's flabbergasted gaze, he just smiled. "She lied," he commented briefly, before the whole procession trooped out into the rain.
TBC
Liltadin-Cirth: The Dancing Rune (I think).
Menelya: Friday
Nae saian luume': It has been too long.
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.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.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc. Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused.
* * *
Elladan was growing less and less sure about this all the time. Orophin seemed to know what he was doing, but the heavy cloak he had insisted Elladan wear was itchy and hot and he seriously doubted its necessity. Who in Lorien could possibly care what he and his family did, anyway? Obviously, Orophin was either deluded or playing with him, and either way it worried Elladan, as did the direction they were heading.
They had already passed several fine looking taverns, and Elladan, who had decided he could really use a drink, would have been happy to stop in any of them. But they bypassed the pretentious Silver Tree, which had Lord Celeborn's personal seal of approval prominently displayed on its sign as well as the boast that it served "the finest ale in Arda." But Elladan had not complained as it looked a bit stuffy, with a lot of older elves having chess matches or debating politics loudly enough that he could hear them in the street. If he wanted that sort of thing, he didn't need to go out at all--he could have just stayed at the royal talan.
He had felt like saying something, however, when the much friendlier looking Gwingil was also ignored, as he liked the flirty looking mermaid on its sign, as well as the appearance of several attractive and obviously bored elf-maids lounging on its vine covered terrace. Before he could suggest a few ways to alleviate their ennui, however, Orophin dragged him away, down a small side street that Elladan had never seen before. When they stopped before the dingy looking tavern at the very end of the street, however, Elladan finally baulked.
"Liltadin-Cirth? What kind of name is that for a pub?"
"This is the oldest surviving tavern in Lorien," Orophin told him shortly, pulling him into the shadows of the narrow alley between the dubious looking establishment and the high wall of the city. "Haldir stables his horse nearby, so he comes here often. If he manages to get this far, he's almost sure to stop in for supplies, as I can't see him trying to raid the lord's kitchens in his current state." Orophin adjusted the deep midnight blue hood that concealed Elladan's dark hair and distinctive features. "Just keep your head down. We'll find a quiet table in a dark corner and wait--he's certain to turn up sooner or later."
Elladan doubted this--if he was Haldir and had just left his nurse locked in the wardrobe and his youngest brother bound, gagged and stuffed under the bed, he didn't think he would go anywhere near his usual haunts. But still, Orophin knew him best, so Elladan was willing to trust his judgment, although he wished Haldir patronized a more upscale tavern. This place was a dump.
Elladan followed Orophin into the murky interior, which was lit only by a few horn lanterns giving off a very dim, gold light. He was thankful for the lack of illumination, as it meant that even elvin eyes would have difficulty penetrating his disguise, but it nonetheless made the place a little creepy. Not that it wasn't doing fine in that respect even without the lighting effects. They found a small table in a corner as far from the bar as they could get and Orophin went to get drinks, as Elladan had noticed that the barmaid was none other than Ithilessar, his one time play mate, who was certain to recognise him if he came too close. He hunched down in his heavy robe and waited, looking about for a lack of anything better to do.
The patrons were all elves, although some looked to be from other lands than Lorien. The tavern's position near the city gates meant that it was probably one of the first such establishments visitors encountered. Elladan thought his grandfather should be a little concerned about that, as the place was hardly an advertisement for Lorien's beauty and grace. It must have been built before most if not all of the other city buildings, as its architecture was of a very different type. It didn't even look elvin to Elladan, with rough hewn wooden walls sagging with age and growing a crop of grey-green moss, and a thatched roof appearing in equal need of repair, with several bird's nests visible among the rafters. Apparently appearances didn't lie. A rainstorm began as he sat there, and Elladan soon perceived a cool drip down his collar. He sighed and moved his wooden stool slightly to the left to avoid it. Well, at least that explained how the moss and mildew covering the floorboards survived.
None of the other patrons seemed to notice the rain. The elf at the closest table, a farmer type wearing coarse brown clothing, continued to stare gloomily into his half-empty mug of ale, ignoring the drip that was soon falling onto his head. He sighed heavily now and again, but made no effort to move. A few tables beyond him, a couple of rather loose looking females continued to lounge and gossip, paying no heed to the weather or to anyone else. The only other patron, besides several Mirkwood types who were flirting outrageously with Ithilessar at the bar, was as heavily muffled as Elladan himself and sat at a table in the opposite corner. Occasionally the figure jotted down something in a leather bound book, but did not attempt to approach anyone.
Orophin had just returned with their drinks, a surprisingly good wine which he informed Elladan was only available at this pub due to an exclusive agreement with the vintners, when the door burst open and a group of raucous elves came in, laughing and dropping wet clothing onto tables and over the backs of chairs. Elladan didn't recognise any of them, but by their features and accents, they were Sindar from Lorien. Their leader was a handsome elf with long blond curls, who climbed up on one of the tables and clanked two pewter tankards together for silence.
"I now call this meeting of the Honourable Lorien Gossip Guild to order! Let the merriment begin!" To a chorus of laughter, boos and "get off the table Earon" he hopped gracefully down, leaving room for Ithilessar to place a huge flagon of wine in the table's centre. The elves quickly pushed the other tables to the room's edge, leaving a clear space around the one with the wine, then perched on chairs and tabletops in a happy, jostling circle.
"As lord of this society, I claim first round," Earen said, walking up to the table and hefting the heavy flagon easily.
"Oh no." Orophin groaned quietly. "I forgot this group meets here every Menelya eve."
"What's going on?" Orophin just shook his head and buried his face in his arms, refusing to answer Elladan's query. Luckily, he was soon enlightened anyway, for Ithilessar was pushing a pretty blond Sindarin maiden forward, who Elladan recognised in surprise as Cerebrethil, another one time playmate.
"Wait, wait!" Ithilessar called out, laughing. "We have a gossip virgin with us tonight who doesn't know the rules." Her comments after that were drowned out by a loud chorus of "explain the rules, explain the rules" from the surrounding circle of elves, along with much stamping of feet and pounding of mugs.
"Alright, alright!," Earen held up his arms, laughing. "Bring forth the virgin!" This, of course, elicited a number of ribald comments and more laughter, and Cerebrethil added to the rowdy atmosphere by pinching Earen in a most unvirginal way. He grabbed her wrist and pushed her slightly in front of him, presumably to keep an eye on her. Elladan hid a smile behind his glass; he knew Cerebrethil enough to guess just how well that was likely to work.
"These are the rules of this august company, which ye must respect or face expulsion into the frigid atmosphere of the Silver Tree, where ye shall surely fade from sheer boredom within a sennight. So." Earen handed Celebrethil the flagon, and grinned when she almost dropped it because of the excessive weight. She recovered quickly, however, balancing the huge pitcher gracefully on one hip. "We take things in turn, but as the newest member you will be given the honour of first chance. The idea is to prove our reputation for always knowing all the gossip worth hearing in Lorien. Each of us keeps an ear out for the more interesting news that never makes it into the formal broadsheets, and then saves it up to entertain, er, I mean to inform, our fellow members."
"Get to the point, Earen," someone called, which began a new chant that took some time to die down. Apparently deciding to cut his explanation short or they'd never get to the wine, Earen made an effort at brevity when he again achieved something like order. "All right! All right! All you have to do, my lovely one, is to tell us a story about a recent happening here in the Golden Wood. At the end, we decide whether it is true or false, and if you fool the majority of the company either way, you win a drink. Otherwise, you move to the back of the queue. Understand?"
At Celebrethil's nod, Earen cleared out of the way and left the elf-maid in the centre of the circle. She sat the heavy wine container on the table once more, and then, to Elladan's stunned disbelief, launched into a detailed account of his prowess in the bedroom. He felt his cheeks burning and drew back even further under his hood, resisting the impulse to leap to his feet and choke her pretty neck until her face turned blue. How DARE she? Only the heavy pressure of Orophin's foot on his kept him from acting out the impulse, especially when she went on to rate him "a weak seven, although to be fair, we were all very drunk at the time."
A variety of catcalls answered this tale, which the group unanimously declared a barefaced lie. Elladan was feeling somewhat better until an elf called Mirimon called out their reason, "Come now, Cele, everyone in Lorien knows the young Peredhil is seeing Orophin of the Guard."
"And I hear he rates him a ten!," another male elf said, laughing.
Elladan reached across the table and poked Orophin on the shoulder. "Is that true, did you actually say that?"
Orophin looked up, his face mottled red with suppressed laughter. "Don't get a big head. This group is NOT to be trusted about anything!"
Elladan wondered if that was true, however, as member after member of the drinking club took their turns, collectively managing to piece together a good deal of the goings on at the royal talan. A tall blond named Elemmakil, who owned a weaving shop, told all about the visit of Gildor and the dwarf, and won a large drink because no one believed Gildor had spent a fortune buying her such an expensive piece of fabric. A flirty elf maid called Sárince described Glorfindel's encounter with Orophin, but it won her no wine, as it was apparently old news--"even the stiffs at the Silver Tree know THAT one," someone commented. A thin male named Alcon also failed to get a free drink, as Erestor's playground was another poorly kept secret, but a small female with huge blue eyes named Nandelle was more successful because she was able to enlighten the group as to what certain elf lords had been seen using said glade for a few nights ago. No one was sure whether to believe her or not, but the consensus was that a story that good deserved a drink anyway. Elladan, knowing his father, sank a little further down into his chair. He, at least, had no trouble believing it.
And so it went on for the better part of two hours, with Cerebrethil breaking in occasionally to sulkily remark that she had too told the truth, but no one believed her, even when she persuaded Ithilessar to back her up. "Although," the bar maid said consideringly, "I would give him at least an eight, maybe even a nine for effort." While Elladan was trying to figure out just what that meant, and whether or not he should feel insulted, the door opened emitting a gust of rain and a soaking wet figure wrapped in a long grey cloak.
"Haldir!" A pretty maid called Callë waved at him, "Nae saian luume'! More wine, Ithil--this one can drink!"
Haldir ignored her, but made his way over to the bar, where he had a low voiced conversation with Ithilessar. Orophin had risen to his feet, and Elladan followed him, but before they could do anything, two more soaking wet figures burst into the room, both looking mad as Mandos.
"Oh, well," Orophin commented, suddenly sitting back down and picking up his drink. Elladan looked at him strangely until the new arrivals tossed their soaked cloaks aside and began to slowly approach the bar. Elladan noticed that the gossip club had all grown quiet and were watching the scene as avidly as Orophin, so he shrugged and sat down again, waiting to see if the odd duo could bring their prey to ground without aid.
Haldir heard their approach and spun to face them with less than his usual grace, his heavily bandaged foot slowing him down. Before he could move, the smaller of his two pursuers launched herself at him, emitting a hoarse battle cry. The little dwarf grabbed him around the knees and hung on with dogged determination, forcing Haldir to have to hop forward to avoid Rumil's attempts to get a rope around him. He moved quickly despite his impediment, but succeeded only in causing considerable chaos. Rumil wisely stayed between him and the door, blocking the only way of escape, while beginning to spin the rope about lariat style. Elwyyda lost her grip on Haldir's legs after the two of them smashed into the centre table, sending the wine pitcher spinning across the floor, scattering slippery lees everywhere. But she recovered quickly, clambering onto his back when he briefly dropped to one knee, and catching him in a stranglehold around the neck.
"Would you like another round?," someone asked, and Elladan looked about in confusion until he noticed Ithilessar standing beside their table, looking unconcerned and holding a wine bottle. Orophin took it, smelled the cork, smiled and accepted, passing over a coin as the barmaid turned away.
"Drink, El?" Elladan silently held out his glass, then quickly pulled it back as Haldir came stumbling towards them and collapsed onto their table, Elwyyda still clutching his neck. Orophin managed to save the wine, but he looked at Haldir with considerable trepidation, apparently with good reason as one glance at his brother caused Haldir to forget all about Rumil and the dwarf. Growling out a curse, he lunged for him. The bottle went flying as Orophin and Haldir crashed to the floor, but Elladan caught it, stepping nimbly out of the way as the three on the ground began thrashing about. Rumil approached cautiously, the rope raised, just as Haldir and company rolled into the darkness under the table. Rumil crawled under after them.
The table rocked about a good bit, but after a minute or so Elwyyda emerged, straightening her little kirtle and patting her hair. Elladan wordlessly handed her the wine; he felt she deserved it. Next came Orophin, dragging Haldir by the legs, which had been tightly wrapped with sturdy Lorien rope, and finally Rumil, a bruise blossoming on his jaw but with his brother's arms and torso trussed up in a large quantity of rope. Elwyyda leading the way, the bottle tucked safely under her arm, the procession carted a protesting Haldir to the door, where Rumil deposited him briefly on a table while he slid back into his outer robe.
Elladan was not an elf to miss an opportunity. Catching Orophin at the door, he threw back his hood and pulled his lover into a deep kiss, adding a grope on his delectable backside just for good measure. Catching Earen's flabbergasted gaze, he just smiled. "She lied," he commented briefly, before the whole procession trooped out into the rain.
TBC
Liltadin-Cirth: The Dancing Rune (I think).
Menelya: Friday
Nae saian luume': It has been too long.