Title: Hunter and Prey, 7/7 Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com Rating: R Pairing: That would be telling. Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda. Warnings: Slash. Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know. A/N: This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken story arc, although some of the characterizations are eerily similar. Thanks to those who reviewed!.

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Elrond knew something was wrong as soon as he saw his youngest son come pelting down the main forest path towards the finish line. He was running fleet as a deer despite holding the awkward standard in his hand, while a whole host of elves tried to catch up with him. It was obvious to Elrond that they would not be able to do so, for Elrohir had too much of a head start, and he glanced down from the balcony to see an expression of surprised delight flood Erestor's face as he came to the same conclusion. His secretary smirked up at him before beginning to thread his way through the suddenly tense crowd of spectators towards the finish line.

Elrond scanned the elves running behind his son, but there was no sign of Glorfindel, although an infuriated looking Legolas appeared near the back of the group. Elrond left his chair and, heedless of his dignity, dropped off the edge of the parapet and landed lightly on the ground. By the time he'd made his way through the crowd, however, an ugly scene had already broken out.

"But . . . but you have to!," Elrohir was yelling at a flushed Erestor. "It's part of the rules! I can declare myself a substitute for anyone I choose!"

In his agitation, Elrohir was flailing his arms about, causing the standard he still gripped to wave in wide arcs. The onlookers just ducked whenever the staff came flying at their heads, however, instead of moving back; they weren't going to miss witnessing this even in spite of a risk of decapitation. Elrond was about to order them back for their own safety when Erestor's next words caused every other thought to fly from his head.

"The rules are whatever I say they are. I am Hunt Master this year, young Elrohir, if you will recall? And I am awarding the crown of victory to you." He moved forward and tried to place a golden circlet on Elrohir's dusty locks, but the young elf knocked his hand away. The crown went flying, but Elrond plucked it from the air rather handily and moved closer.

Elrond stared in surprise as he reached Erestor's side. His usually natty secretary was disheveled to a degree that had never before been seen. He'd lost one of the heels to his fashionable boots, causing him to have to stand at an awkward angle. The cravat of his once nice silk shirt was askew, most of it bunched under his left ear, and his buckskins were torn in several places. He had a rather fevered look in his eyes, but also the air of someone who has triumphed over numerous obstacles and now sees the end of his trial in sight. Elrond had a sudden sinking sensation in his stomach; he somehow did not think Erestor was going to be reasonable.

Elrohir did not seem to have noticed the ominous signs, however, and was glaring at Erestor with every indication of the onset of a tantrum the likes of which had not been seen since the twins were toddlers. Before he could begin to tell the secretary what he thought of him, however, his pack of pursuers slammed into the crowd at the finish line, throwing some bystanders to the ground, and all of them seemed to have something to say at once. The cacophony was increased a few second later when the Imladris guards became aware of just what Elrohir was trying to do and began roaring their displeasure.

Elrond usually had no difficulty establishing order by his mere presence alone, but tempers were flying so high at the moment that he doubted most people were even aware that he was there. Deciding to revert to an old battlefield tactic, he climbed up on one of the herald's shoulders and, grabbing his trumpet, sent an ear splitting blast echoing across the field. It caused most of the crowd to cry out in pain and cover their sensitive ears, but it also got their attention. "If we may adjourn to the chamber?," Elrond asked after a few seconds, and without waiting to see that he was followed, stomped off in the direction of the council hall in high annoyance.

It took almost half an hour, but at last something resembling an orderly session was achieved. Elrond ignored the hundreds of elves who had crowded into the small open courtyard and the many others sitting on nearby roofs and hanging off balconies. His attention was focused on the sorry looking group standing before him in the circle's center. It was to his utter annoyance that his two sons looked far the most disreputable of the lot. Elladan was sporting two black eyes and his nose looked to be slightly off center, which had certainly not been the case that morning. Elrohir looked as if he had tried to clean himself up at some point, but rings of black smoke still clung on around his eyes, giving him the slightly startled look of a raccoon caught in some nefarious midnight escapade. Indeed, out of the rest of the group that included Haldir and his two brothers, Glorfindel, Erestor, a representative of the guards, and Legolas, only the latter was his usual pristine self. Everyone else looked like a pack of men crawling in from a two-day bender, a fact Elrond barely refrained from pointing out to them. Things were bad enough without adding to the already huge gossip potential here.

"All right. I will ask a question of a particular person, and that person-- and he alone--will answer, am I clearly understood?" The group looked defiant, but all stiffly nodded. Arguing with the master of Imladris when he was obviously in a snit was not a smart move. "Very well. Elrohir, I believe you had a petition for the Hunt Master?"

"It isn't a petition!," Elrohir commented, moving forward a step and resuming his glare at Erestor. "It's my right and he knows it!"

"Erestor?," Elrond repressed a sigh at the mutinous look on his secretary's face.

"Lord Elrond, as you know, the position of Hunt Master was put in place forty years after the origination of the Hunt to guard against just such an incident as this. It has always been custom . . . "

"But not a requirement!" A red faced Elrohir broke in, seemingly even more incensed over the condescending tone in the Hunt Master's voice.

Elrond really couldn't blame him, as, much as he loved Erestor, even he had to admit that the elf could be extremely irritating when in one of his more sanctimonious moods. "Let him finish, Elrohir," Elrond chided, and was rewarded by a smirk from his lover. He sighed inwardly. Erestor would be less pleased later on.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond. Now, as I was saying, it has always been customary for any substitutions to be announced PRIOR to the game. Legolas' request that Glorfindel take his place in the Hunt was therefore allowed as perfectly right and proper, as long as Glorfindel agreed, which of course he did." A low growl came from the direction of the guards at this reminder, but Erestor ignored it. "However, no request was made or even mentioned about Elrohir becoming in turn Glorfindel's substitute, and indeed, as Glorfindel himself participated in the Hunt, allowing it would be in effect placing TWO Glorfindels on the field, giving him an unfair advantage over the other Hunters."

The guard on Erestor's right clapped him on the back in approval, and for the first time that day, the Imladris' guards were shooting looks of admiration in his direction. Elrond knew perfectly well why this was, of course, for if Elrohir was awarded the crown in his own right, then Imladris could claim the victory, something that would go to Mirkwood if the honor went to Glorfindel.

"Do you have anything to say about Lord Erestor's pronouncement, Lord Glorfindel?" Elrond could not, in truth, see a way out of this himself, but hoped the game's traditional master might be familiar with some loophole he had missed.

His hopes were dashed the next minute, however, when Glorfindel distractedly murmured a negative. Elrond felt slightly put out with him, as he barely seemed to be paying attention. Instead, he kept glancing at Elrohir, who blushed every time their eyes met and hastily looked away. At Glorfindel's comment, however, Elrohir stared at him in amazement and the two exchanged what could only be regarded as a significant look. Elrond felt the beginnings of a headache start behind his eyes, and decided that he really didn't want to know what might be going on there. He could only be grateful that Celebrian was not around, as she would not react well to the hint that she could not expect grandchildren from yet another of her children.

"Well, then, my Lord, I take it that my ruling stands?" Erestor was looking smug. Elrond would have liked to choke him, but decided that events would soon mete out much more punishment than anything he could do.

"Very well, Erestor," Elrond gave in as gracefully as possible under the circumstances. "I hereby confer the title of Master Hunter on Elrohir of Imladris, to be held until he shall be called upon to defend his title exactly one year from today." At the announcement, a surge of people, some laughing, some grimacing, and all seemingly wanting to talk at once, converged on Elrohir, who was quickly lost in the sea of heads. Elrond sat back on his throne and caught Legolas' eye across the hall. The imp sighed with a hand to his heart, then shrugged and blew him a kiss before disappearing from the room. Erestor, who had fled the circle to avoid even more jostling, smirked at Elrond, having obviously caught the display. Elrond just shook his head. Poor Erestor. He almost felt sorry for him.

* * *

Elladan sat on his bed and looked with distaste at the sumptuous robes laid out for that evening's feast. It was tradition that all Hunters attend, and usually he was pleased to do so. It was a merry affair enlivened by tall tales of supposed exploits (which this year might even be true as it would be hard to outdo the facts). It was normally a happy and relaxed way to end the festivities. This year, however, his mood hardly permitted him to look forward to it, as he would certainly be expected to recount his "heroics" to the laughing crowd. He had no desire to look the fool any further, nor to see Haldir, whose mood was unknown but was unlikely to be good.

He sighed, and began pulling the burnt umber satin over his head. He supposed he should go if for no other reason than to offer moral support to Elrohir, who was almost certainly going to be given a hard time by the guards. Of course, he HAD won them the title, which might mitigate their annoyance somewhat, but then, as he'd been awarded it only over his loud protestations and after teaming up with the elf whose performance he was supposed to be undermining, things could get a bit tense. Elladan felt responsible for his brother's participation in the whole lamentable affair in the first place, and couldn't leave him at the mercy of the guards all night.

He checked his reflection and batted a stray braid out of his face. He refused to attempt any special enhancements, as elaborate braiding would only draw more attention to his battered face; it had now turned a brilliant purple and orange that, oddly, complemented his robes. He grinned weakly; did he know how to accessorize or what?

Leaving his rooms behind, Elladan walked a few doors down to his brother's chambers. They could go to the ball together and present a united front to any detractors. Not accustomed to knocking at his brother's door, which was always open to him, Elladan sailed right on in, wondering if he'd have to fish Elrohir out from under the bed and force him to go. It would only be worse if they postponed the inevitable, after all. "Come on, Elrohir, hiding won't do any . . . "

Elladan broke off in utter shock, staring at the two figures on the bed, who scrambled for clothes and coverlet, but not quickly enough. Elrohir looked, well, thoroughly debauched, with his bottom lip red and swollen and his body gleaming with some sort of edible oil--peppermint, by the smell. His partner seemed more concerned with covering Elrohir to save him embarrassment than in hiding his own condition, which was . . . impressive. Elladan had never viewed his old tutor as a sex object before, but quickly considered updating that opinion as Glorfindel, blond hair mussed and face flushed, stood to order him from the room. Elladan whistled in admiration, but quickly brought himself under control as the glare directed his way promised retribution later. He briefly considered pointing out that their absence from the ball would certainly be commented upon, but thought better of it as Elrohir threw a pillow at his head. He decided that they couldn't go in their current state anyway, for even properly dressed and coiffured, there could be no doubt about their recent activities. They both looked far too . . . energized.

With a broad grin breaking out over his face, Elladan spun smartly on his heel and made a rapid exit, but not before glancing back to see Elrohir reach up and pull his new lover back into his arms. Well, perhaps the day hadn't been an entire disaster, after all. In somewhat renewed spirits, Elladan started down the hall towards the ballroom. He would bluster his way through this alone somehow; after all, he consoled himself, it is only one night and will soon pass. He had worked himself up to quite a state of bravado by the time he reached the top of the stairs, and was concentrating on the exact wording of a few choice put downs for the guards, when he was jerked inside a nearby room and slammed against the wall.

"What the . . . " A warm tongue stopped further comments and a hard body melted against his own. Elladan was a fairly practiced seducer himself, and therefore tried to pay attention to the technique used to strip him out of his robes without breaking bodily contact, but was never able afterwards to explain it. He felt a warm hand between his bare thighs, pushing them open, and a waft of peppermint in the air--what, had there been a sale?-- right before he was penetrated by someone who most definitely knew what they were doing. He would have protested--they hadn't even had dinner yet-- but intense sensations were soon interfering with normal brain activity. What the hell, he finally decided, wrapping his legs tightly around whoever- it-was and holding on for the ride, he hadn't wanted to go to the damn ball anyway.

Quite some time later found Elladan sitting atop a puddle of umber satin-- which would most definitely need to be cleaned--and staring at the dimly lit profile of Haldir of Lorien. He thought up several witty things to say, then abandoned all of them as he was not sure what had just happened here. He half expected Haldir to get up, make some casual remark about having paid in full, and take off, leaving Elladan to locate another robe and come up with a good excuse for being late. When that didn't happen, he found himself at a loss to know what to say, and this was such a novelty in itself as to further confuse him.

"So, er, no hard feelings?"

Haldir looked at him in silence for a few seconds, then grabbed him round the neck and pulled him close once more. "Elladan, you are SUCH a prat," he murmured, before dragging him into another deep kiss. Well, all right then.

* * *

"I kept you from doing something incredibly foolish, Elrond, but not without exerting a considerable amount of energy and undergoing all sorts of calumnies in the process. I hope this whole unfortunate affair has taught you a lesson." Erestor pointedly kept his back to his lord, concentrating instead on watching through the study window as Legolas Greenleaf and his entourage rode out of Imladris. Apparently, Thranduil's youngest had decided a quick retreat might be prudent, as too many people had noticed his return with the other Hunters. No doubt he was off to arrange a convincing cover story before his father heard any unfortunate rumors. And good riddance, too, Erestor thought glumly. Thranduil's youngest was a walking temptation to all who saw him, and his presence never failed to cause some type of uproar. Beauty like that should be banned.

Erestor felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and the next moment a familiar pair of lips were nuzzling his neck. He shifted, caught between irritation and pleasure, but ire won out and he moved away, doing up the collar of his formal attire as he did so. "We don't have time for that now; you know perfectly well that you have a ball to host." He glanced at Elrond and wrinkled his nose. "You need to get cleaned up; being fashionably late is one thing, but it is shortly going to appear that you don't care about your guests."

"I don't." Elrond, still clad in his casual amethyst robes from the morning, walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink. "They have been quite well entertained today, I think, and there is food, drink and music enough for them to fully enjoy the farewell gala without me."

Erestor humphed; he should have expected this. "Just because you lost . . ."

Elrond quirked an eyebrow at him. "Is that what you think? That I'm being a sore loser?"

Erestor fidgeted, playing with a corner of his sapphire robes. He didn't really like bright colors, especially for evening wear, but Elrond had given the ensemble to him and he'd thought it diplomatic to use it. "Well, you seemed upset all day; what else am I to think?"

Elrond chuckled and poured himself a refill. "Actually, Erestor, I am just feeling sorry for you. It was quite an opportunity and now . . . "

Erestor glowered from under his perfectly plucked brows. "Opportunity? You know, Elrond, I thought we had a better understanding than this, I really did. If you've . . . well . . . tired of me, and want to move on to someone new, you could simply say so, you know. All this betting business . . . I hate to say it, but it was really rather common of you." Erestor wasn't in the habit of speaking so freely to his lord, but he had been deeply hurt by Elrond's suggestion.

"Melethryn!," Elrond set down his glass and came over to pull the reluctant secretary into his arms. "You know I love you. Why would I want anyone else? You are confusing things, Erestor."

Erestor bit his lip, but did not relax into the encircling arms. It was time they had this out. Tearing away, he went over to the bar and tried to give himself something to do by pouring some wine, but he only managed to slosh it all over the place. Giving up, he set the bottle down with a thump and turned to glare at Elrond, hurt tears shimmering in his black eyes. "Then why all this?! Why did you even bring up having someone else share our bed, if you are not tired of me? I would never make such a suggestion to you!" Elrond's lips quirked, and Erestor briefly contemplated throwing the bottle at him, but it was too good a vintage to waste. "If you will excuse me, my lord," he said stiffly, "I believe I have duties to attend to."

He tried to sweep from the room, but Elrond caught him by the upper arm before he could do so and pulled him into another embrace. "Erestor, listen to me," and the sound of his voice and the brush of a hand through Erestor's hair was deliberately soothing. "I was approached by someone at last year's Hunt, asking if you were . . . available. This person found you, how did he put it now? 'Exotic and enticing,' I believe were the terms used. But not wanting to cause any unpleasantness by upsetting my chief advisor, and, I suspect, not wishing to embarrass himself were you already attached, he came to me for advice. I gently commented that I thought you were, er, otherwise occupied, and that it might be well if he looked elsewhere for his entertainment."

Erestor looked up uncomprehendingly, as he couldn't see what any of this had to do with Elrond's ridiculous bet. "I felt," his lord continued, "perfectly justified in telling him this, for surely you and I are very satisfied with our relationship. But I couldn't help but notice during the rest of the Hunt that your eyes were prone to linger on the individual in question, and his on you. I began to feel that I might be depriving you of a memorable experience, a fact which didn't seem fair considering that you have never attempted to interfere with my and Celebrian's relationship. And so, I began to reconsider."

Elrond laughed at his secretary's scandalized expression, and dropped a kiss on his full, red lips. "And so, when the time neared for this year's Hunt, I began to wonder how I could make the offer to you without having you feel that you were in any way betraying me by accepting. After a time I thought I had it, and last month approached you with the idea of a threesome, but seeing your immediate distress, I dropped the subject. I have known you long, Erestor, and have never known you to be one to try new things easily, so I wondered if your refusal was one genuinely meant, or simply because of your tendency to favor the tried and true over the unknown. In the end, I decided to approach your admirer with the idea and see how he took to it, for if he declined there was no point in going on any further. But he seemed to be extremely, er, positive, about the idea, and so the only question left was how to persuade you to agree. I admit the ruse about the bet was a tacky one, but it occurred to me so suddenly that I had done it before I fully thought about how you might perceive the offer."

Elrond kissed his lover on top of the head before moving away to retrieve his glass. "But I entirely understand now, my dear Erestor, that you genuinely did not want anything to do with my scheme, and of course I respect your wishes. But I hope you will understand that it was well meant, and not hold it against me or Legolas. He does so admire you, you know."

"L-Legolas?" Erestor sat down rather suddenly on the edge of the window seat, his head spinning. Elrond and Legolas, at one time, seeing to his pleasure . . . and he had turned it down?!

The cry of anguish could be heard as far away as the stables, where it caused a mini stampede among the horses. It perhaps explains why no one wanted to question too deeply why the host, winner and several key players at that year's most memorable Hunt, never did show up for the farewell ball.

The End