The Librarian 5 extra
LotR
NC17
Summery: Erestor = Erestor! w/ Glorfindel & Melpomean
Warnings: BDSM, kink
Disclaimer: All LotR characters and settings are the exclusive property of
the Tolkien estate. I do not have permission to use them.
Summery: Haldir has his own agenda
Feedback: Please – I'm using the comments to beta this mess
For lj user="Kharessa" and lj user="Machiavellian"
"You truly care for Master Erestor, don't you elfling?"
Glorfindel had bolted from the table shortly after his lesson on human discipline, with Elladan tagging behind him, not even pretending discretion. The dinner party had broken up after that until only a glaring Melpomaen and an amused Haldir remained.
"I am not an elfling" The words sounded ridiculous, even to his own ears.
"No? Well then, my learned and experienced Eldar, I misjudged you. It has long been tradition that the Master Librarian should tutor his apprentice in all things. Perhaps I could learn from you. Come, share some wine and tell me of life in the Library"
Melpomaen wriggled uncomfortably in his seat eyeing the exits. They seemed very far away. Haldir moved closer, reaching out and stroking the raised hair on his forearm, then placing a full cup in his hand.
"I um never, I mean..." He gulped at the wine, unused to its burn as it warmed his throat and loosened his tongue. Melpomaen tried again.
"Master Erestor would never do such things with me".
"No? I cannot imagine why not. After all, Erestor knows these traditions better than anyone. After Master Rumil brought him to age they remained lovers for many years"
"Master Erestor and Master Rumil?" Melpomaen squeaked, drinking more wine, his eyes wide. Haldir refilled his glass.
"Indeed. Surely you knew? Tis common knowledge in Lothlorian. Indeed, I assumed you had a similar arrangement. But if Master Erestor has not yet introduced you to the joys of flesh, perhaps another elf should. You miss out on so very much"
The exotic cadence of Haldir's speech lulled yet excited him, the warrior's easy familiarity washing over him and making him light headed and giddy. Feeling daring, he leaned towards Haldir, whispering in his ear;
"You were right; I do long for my Master's touch"
"And you do not pursue it?" Haldir's face seemed open with genuine interest, and Melpomaen inched closer.
"No...What would he want with me?"
"Indeed, you are young and perhaps Erestor has not fulfilled tradition because he does not find your naiveté appealing. It is not my place to make such suggestions..."
"Please, tell me!"
Melpomaen knocked over Haldir's wine in his eagerness, soaking the table linen in dark liquid. He blotted haphazardly at the creeping stain, barely aware as Haldir refilled his glass.
"Master Erestor is a scholar at heart. Surely the best way to is heart would be to stimulate his mind? I once loved an elf scholar, not unlike your Master..."
Mind spinning, Melpomaen sat mesmerized as Haldir described his own seduction techniques.
*
Erestor felt giddy when he returned to his room. Glorfindel had always intimidated him. He had spent the first few years of his apprenticeship painstakingly reproducing accounts of the Fall of Gondolin. Multiple copies to be used by elflings in their lessons, written over and over until the words were branded on his memory. To this day Erestor thought he could likely recite the texts of hundreds of scrolls. He knew every second of the final battle. And with each copy made he lived the words. Drowning as Ecthelion sank under the weight of his own armor, falling as Glorfindel into the abyss in the fiery embrace of a Balrog. Finally meeting Glorfindel had been as exhilarating as it was terrifying.
**
He was eating a late dinner in the Kitchens. After the heavy solitude of the Library the Kitchens were a welcome relief. Even this late there was always activity. Noisy, bustling, and though Erestor was excluded from the merry groups he felt somehow less lonely to be just near them. That night was like any other: boisterous guards crowded corner tables in high spirits as they out did each other with tales of heroism or wit. Erestor wished he could join them, but what did he have to offer? From the sounds of it they led exciting, dangerous lives, and somehow his second hand recounting of battles fought by others didn't measure up. So he listened quietly in the corner, eyes steadfastly glued to whatever book he pretended to read, soaking in their company.
One of the larger elves, a self assured visitor from 'Lorien named Haldir, was in the middle of describing a particularly daring escape involving a dragon, a hapless dwarf, and a ball of twine when the room went silent. Erestor peaked around his book. And saw him. Erestor had copied enough portraits of the legendary Balrog slayer to recognize him at once; his aquiline features were as familiar to Erestor as his own reflection. Features that were now displaying considerable displeasure.
"Well. This is quite the gathering. Was there something wrong with the barrack food this evening?" Haldir looked somewhat annoyed that his tale had been interrupted. He met Glorfindel's gaze and they stared at each other for several moments until Haldir lowered his eyes.
"Or perhaps you were all assigned late duty and missed your regular meals?" Glorfindel was strolling past the tables, stopping to rest a large hand on the shoulders of various elves. "But no, that cannot be – I remember assigning Turin, Ephor, and Ororn morning shifts, so something else must be drawing such a large company to these Kitchens so late past midnight."
He really was magnificent, thought Erestor, the leather armor flattered his powerful frame and finely wrought studding accented muscles and curve. All golden fire and enflamed, too alive to be captured in flat medium. Erestor catalogued the subtle differences between the elf of flesh and bone and the ones on canvas, deciding the artists had done Glorfindel no justice.
"If the Rivendell guard has enough time and energy to dally in the Kitchens so late at night then clearly I have been lax in both duties and training. Rest assured that this lapse will. Not. Continue." Elves shifted uncomfortably, staring pointedly at their boots.
Glorfindel sat at Erestor's table. "I recommend that those of you who do not wish to spend the next month in stable training get some sleep" The entire guard bolted from the room.
"And you must be Rumil's new apprentice. I begin to understand"
"My Lord?" Erestor swallowed heavily.
"Your name is Erestor, is it not? Tell me about your training".
And so he did, haltingly at first, and then faster as he relaxed in the realization that Glorfindel wasn't going to snap him in two. Indeed the elf lord seemed genuinely interested in the Librarian's apprentice, laughing occasionally when the stories warranted, encouraging and even complimenting him. They talked for hours, and when Anor shone through the Kitchen's windows, Erestor began his day with the first friend he had made since coming to Imladris.
**
The memory warmed him, his friend, able to send elflings and warriors alike scurrying for cover with a well aimed look. Legendary, terrifying, all powerful... except he wasn't, and it bothered Erestor. He picked up the diary.
After the first week we developed a ritual. I would arrive in his room, undress and kneel in the center of his carpet, presenting myself for training. My Lord is very particular about my posture: kneeling, my knees spread hip width with my heels pressed together. Back straight with my chest arched slightly out. Wrists crossed, palms open, neck extended. Even writing this I can hear his orders. Orders that never fail to arouse me. As I am now.
It puzzles me, the ease with which I slid into this submission. I too am a Lord of a noble house in this fair city, and proud by nature. But none of that matters for the few hours I am under his command. The humiliation he offers is more than that, it is an exhilarating freedom from that makes me ache for him. I have spent enough time considering how my actions will reflect upon the House of the Golden Flower. He takes that away from me, I submit, I feel mortification, and I am rewarded with pleasure. So simple. So free.
I have become quite adept at kneeling...
Erestor heard a knock. Tucking the diary under a pillow he went to his door.
"Master? I'm sorry to bother you so late..." Melpomean looked anything but sorry. His eyes were bright from wine and daring. He fidgeted with the buttons on his robe.
"I uh... wanted to apologize for almost mentioning my work on the Orc scrolls to Lord Glorfindel. It was unforgivable. I want to know that I will keep whatever happens in the Library in the strictest confidence." Melpomean wetted his lips with his tongue and smiled.
"Oh. Yes. Well, don't worry about it" Erestor watched as Melpomaen's tongue swept his lips again. "I uh have the utmost confidence" By the Valar his assistant looked so inviting Erestor wasted to drag him to his bed by his neck. Poor innocent Melpomean had no idea the effect he had on him.
"Is there anything you want, my Lord?" His imagination tricked him into thinking Melpomean pressed closer to him.
"No. I mean no. Um thank you. Good night"
Erestor closed the door abruptly. One more minute of that and he would have grabbed Melpomean. Taken him, as if he were a possession. He'd have made him kneel and crawl and
Erestor was stroking himself through his robes. Leaning his forehead against the closed door. He could picture Melpomean kneeling, presenting himself for Erestor's command. So willing. So willing to serve...
Another tapping at the door. Erestor gave in. No elf could be expected to resist such temptation, he reasoned. He would make it good for his innocent assistant; make it as memorable as his first time had been. So hard, so ready, he opened the door.
"Come here" He growled, then paused. With visible difficulty he smiled. "Good evening, Glorfindel. Can I help you?"
"You truly care for Master Erestor, don't you elfling?"
Glorfindel had bolted from the table shortly after his lesson on human discipline, with Elladan tagging behind him, not even pretending discretion. The dinner party had broken up after that until only a glaring Melpomaen and an amused Haldir remained.
"I am not an elfling" The words sounded ridiculous, even to his own ears.
"No? Well then, my learned and experienced Eldar, I misjudged you. It has long been tradition that the Master Librarian should tutor his apprentice in all things. Perhaps I could learn from you. Come, share some wine and tell me of life in the Library"
Melpomaen wriggled uncomfortably in his seat eyeing the exits. They seemed very far away. Haldir moved closer, reaching out and stroking the raised hair on his forearm, then placing a full cup in his hand.
"I um never, I mean..." He gulped at the wine, unused to its burn as it warmed his throat and loosened his tongue. Melpomaen tried again.
"Master Erestor would never do such things with me".
"No? I cannot imagine why not. After all, Erestor knows these traditions better than anyone. After Master Rumil brought him to age they remained lovers for many years"
"Master Erestor and Master Rumil?" Melpomaen squeaked, drinking more wine, his eyes wide. Haldir refilled his glass.
"Indeed. Surely you knew? Tis common knowledge in Lothlorian. Indeed, I assumed you had a similar arrangement. But if Master Erestor has not yet introduced you to the joys of flesh, perhaps another elf should. You miss out on so very much"
The exotic cadence of Haldir's speech lulled yet excited him, the warrior's easy familiarity washing over him and making him light headed and giddy. Feeling daring, he leaned towards Haldir, whispering in his ear;
"You were right; I do long for my Master's touch"
"And you do not pursue it?" Haldir's face seemed open with genuine interest, and Melpomaen inched closer.
"No...What would he want with me?"
"Indeed, you are young and perhaps Erestor has not fulfilled tradition because he does not find your naiveté appealing. It is not my place to make such suggestions..."
"Please, tell me!"
Melpomaen knocked over Haldir's wine in his eagerness, soaking the table linen in dark liquid. He blotted haphazardly at the creeping stain, barely aware as Haldir refilled his glass.
"Master Erestor is a scholar at heart. Surely the best way to is heart would be to stimulate his mind? I once loved an elf scholar, not unlike your Master..."
Mind spinning, Melpomaen sat mesmerized as Haldir described his own seduction techniques.
*
Erestor felt giddy when he returned to his room. Glorfindel had always intimidated him. He had spent the first few years of his apprenticeship painstakingly reproducing accounts of the Fall of Gondolin. Multiple copies to be used by elflings in their lessons, written over and over until the words were branded on his memory. To this day Erestor thought he could likely recite the texts of hundreds of scrolls. He knew every second of the final battle. And with each copy made he lived the words. Drowning as Ecthelion sank under the weight of his own armor, falling as Glorfindel into the abyss in the fiery embrace of a Balrog. Finally meeting Glorfindel had been as exhilarating as it was terrifying.
**
He was eating a late dinner in the Kitchens. After the heavy solitude of the Library the Kitchens were a welcome relief. Even this late there was always activity. Noisy, bustling, and though Erestor was excluded from the merry groups he felt somehow less lonely to be just near them. That night was like any other: boisterous guards crowded corner tables in high spirits as they out did each other with tales of heroism or wit. Erestor wished he could join them, but what did he have to offer? From the sounds of it they led exciting, dangerous lives, and somehow his second hand recounting of battles fought by others didn't measure up. So he listened quietly in the corner, eyes steadfastly glued to whatever book he pretended to read, soaking in their company.
One of the larger elves, a self assured visitor from 'Lorien named Haldir, was in the middle of describing a particularly daring escape involving a dragon, a hapless dwarf, and a ball of twine when the room went silent. Erestor peaked around his book. And saw him. Erestor had copied enough portraits of the legendary Balrog slayer to recognize him at once; his aquiline features were as familiar to Erestor as his own reflection. Features that were now displaying considerable displeasure.
"Well. This is quite the gathering. Was there something wrong with the barrack food this evening?" Haldir looked somewhat annoyed that his tale had been interrupted. He met Glorfindel's gaze and they stared at each other for several moments until Haldir lowered his eyes.
"Or perhaps you were all assigned late duty and missed your regular meals?" Glorfindel was strolling past the tables, stopping to rest a large hand on the shoulders of various elves. "But no, that cannot be – I remember assigning Turin, Ephor, and Ororn morning shifts, so something else must be drawing such a large company to these Kitchens so late past midnight."
He really was magnificent, thought Erestor, the leather armor flattered his powerful frame and finely wrought studding accented muscles and curve. All golden fire and enflamed, too alive to be captured in flat medium. Erestor catalogued the subtle differences between the elf of flesh and bone and the ones on canvas, deciding the artists had done Glorfindel no justice.
"If the Rivendell guard has enough time and energy to dally in the Kitchens so late at night then clearly I have been lax in both duties and training. Rest assured that this lapse will. Not. Continue." Elves shifted uncomfortably, staring pointedly at their boots.
Glorfindel sat at Erestor's table. "I recommend that those of you who do not wish to spend the next month in stable training get some sleep" The entire guard bolted from the room.
"And you must be Rumil's new apprentice. I begin to understand"
"My Lord?" Erestor swallowed heavily.
"Your name is Erestor, is it not? Tell me about your training".
And so he did, haltingly at first, and then faster as he relaxed in the realization that Glorfindel wasn't going to snap him in two. Indeed the elf lord seemed genuinely interested in the Librarian's apprentice, laughing occasionally when the stories warranted, encouraging and even complimenting him. They talked for hours, and when Anor shone through the Kitchen's windows, Erestor began his day with the first friend he had made since coming to Imladris.
**
The memory warmed him, his friend, able to send elflings and warriors alike scurrying for cover with a well aimed look. Legendary, terrifying, all powerful... except he wasn't, and it bothered Erestor. He picked up the diary.
After the first week we developed a ritual. I would arrive in his room, undress and kneel in the center of his carpet, presenting myself for training. My Lord is very particular about my posture: kneeling, my knees spread hip width with my heels pressed together. Back straight with my chest arched slightly out. Wrists crossed, palms open, neck extended. Even writing this I can hear his orders. Orders that never fail to arouse me. As I am now.
It puzzles me, the ease with which I slid into this submission. I too am a Lord of a noble house in this fair city, and proud by nature. But none of that matters for the few hours I am under his command. The humiliation he offers is more than that, it is an exhilarating freedom from that makes me ache for him. I have spent enough time considering how my actions will reflect upon the House of the Golden Flower. He takes that away from me, I submit, I feel mortification, and I am rewarded with pleasure. So simple. So free.
I have become quite adept at kneeling...
Erestor heard a knock. Tucking the diary under a pillow he went to his door.
"Master? I'm sorry to bother you so late..." Melpomean looked anything but sorry. His eyes were bright from wine and daring. He fidgeted with the buttons on his robe.
"I uh... wanted to apologize for almost mentioning my work on the Orc scrolls to Lord Glorfindel. It was unforgivable. I want to know that I will keep whatever happens in the Library in the strictest confidence." Melpomean wetted his lips with his tongue and smiled.
"Oh. Yes. Well, don't worry about it" Erestor watched as Melpomaen's tongue swept his lips again. "I uh have the utmost confidence" By the Valar his assistant looked so inviting Erestor wasted to drag him to his bed by his neck. Poor innocent Melpomean had no idea the effect he had on him.
"Is there anything you want, my Lord?" His imagination tricked him into thinking Melpomean pressed closer to him.
"No. I mean no. Um thank you. Good night"
Erestor closed the door abruptly. One more minute of that and he would have grabbed Melpomean. Taken him, as if he were a possession. He'd have made him kneel and crawl and
Erestor was stroking himself through his robes. Leaning his forehead against the closed door. He could picture Melpomean kneeling, presenting himself for Erestor's command. So willing. So willing to serve...
Another tapping at the door. Erestor gave in. No elf could be expected to resist such temptation, he reasoned. He would make it good for his innocent assistant; make it as memorable as his first time had been. So hard, so ready, he opened the door.
"Come here" He growled, then paused. With visible difficulty he smiled. "Good evening, Glorfindel. Can I help you?"