Chapter 6 - Elrond Finds Out the Truth
Elrond sighed as he rose from the humble cot, unable to suppress the need to caress the Wood Elf one more time, checking what remained of the gash though it was all but healed, fingering the tangled hair, soothing his fingers all the way down the svelte body from nipples to knees, chuckling as his new lover stretched and wriggled like a cat under the touch. He wouldn't have been overly surprised to hear him begin to purr.
"Maethoren," he said quietly, well satisfied that it was indeed so and only a little concerned over the depths to which this concept resonated within his heart. It had been a long time for him and he was the young archer's first. Such conditions were uncommon and the resulting emotional reaction was bound to be highly intense for them both. It wasn't, he reminded himself, as though he were in love with this woodland sprite, nor was this aboriginal specimen of the First-born smitten with him. They were lovers, nothing more. A sudden and sharp compression round his chest made him inhale a ragged breath and he felt unaccountably bereft.
"What is wrong?" asked Legolas, alarmed to see this expression of acute sorrow overtake the previous display of contented happiness. He half sat up and reached out, but the healer quickly pressed him down, following to kiss him passionately, almost violently, as though he might never do so again. Legolas snatched at the long inky locks and answered the embrace with equal fervour, disturbed and beginning to be upset himself, his previous reservations and internal warnings vibrating through his entire being.
After their union, he had wanted to dispense with all the mystery at once, finding he did not like deceiving his new lover, yet the healer had rebuffed his attempts to share the most basic information. Indeed, Legolas had told him his real name, but stopped short of revealing his father's. The healer showed no suspicion that Legolas of Greenwood might be more than an ordinary woodland archer and had sealed his young love's lips by claiming them every time Legolas tried to continue his revelations. Meanwhile, the healer insisted he be called only by his title. This had bothered Legolas and still did, but during the night he had been easily diverted from his worries by the skilful attention of the ellon's hands and mouth and, most especially, that exquisite rod of rigid flesh and blood that so sweetly skewered him. Now he wondered anew why the healer would want to draw out the game and whether this was at the root of his obvious unhappiness. What was this despair and terror building in his heart? "Nestaron!"
"Be at peace, Legolas; all is well," Elrond said, trying to sound assured, voice quavering. He sat back on his haunches by the bed and smiled gently, pressed a kiss to the frowning brow and gathered his warrior close to his heart for a less demanding clasp of arms, chin resting on the golden crown of hair. "Forgive me; I did not mean to be so dramatic. I was momentarily overwhelmed by what we have shared together and and Oh, I am just an old soul overcome by his good fortune to have fate gift him with so glorious a lover," he concluded, hoping that would do, and immediately lean arms fastened him in a crushing hug as the wild warrior actually did make a low, murmuring mew, burrowing against his neck. Elrond felt the pressure of lips there and then a bold nip that made him jump. "Ai! We agreed not to mark one another!"
Legolas chuckled, a soft, rumbling sound evocative of indulgent possession, and released him, smugly smiling as the healer stood and hurried to take up a reflecting glass and examine his neck. "We disobeyed that rule rather early on, I think," he said, fingers brushing a hot, tender, raspberry-coloured patch on his clavicle.
"Aye, you're right," Elrond gave a rueful grin and shrugged. "Well, I will display it proudly, be assured of that." Yet as he washed up he dabbed a little ointment there to speed the healing and as he dressed, pulled his tunic collar high to partially shield the love-bite from sight. Behind him the young archer laughed gayly and a pillow sailing through the air caught Elrond full in the face as he turned. This raised a loud whoop of mirth from the bed and he could not help but laugh, too, seeing the Wood Elf so pleased with the proof of his conquest. "All right, serves me right, I guess. Stay and rest as long as you wish for none will disturb you. I will order fresh water so you may bathe, and I'll send word to have your captain bring clean garments for you." He gave a half bow and moved to go, hand on the curtained partition, when a frantic plea stopped him.
"Wait! When will we be together again? Will you dine with me at noon?" Legolas did not really want him to go and felt the urge to leap from the bed and hold him fast, disrobe him and push him back on the cot, have his way with him. He restrained himself, not wanting to appear so eager and demanding. Somehow, he felt such blatant hunger and forceful behaviour would be judged unseemly by this refined and aristocratic healer, so comfortably accustomed to command.
"Ah, I regret that will not be possible today, Maethoren. I have a most complicated and serious surgical procedure this morning and will not be able to leave the patient until she has regained consciousness and stabilised. She is a very young human and her leg must be amputated at the knee. Mortal constitutions are not as durable as ours; this will be a brutal shock to her body and mind."
"Ai! How terribly sad! Of course, you must do all you can to make her well again." Legolas said, truly dismayed to hear of this child's distress, but unable to stifle his disappointment entirely. He waited to see if the healer would make a counter invitation, eyes bright and expectant.
Elrond got lost in them, envisioning what he would like to do to the ellon to change that expression into one of ecstatic abandon. His mind ran through the brief catalogue of sex toys he still owned and immediately resolved to purchase new ones to initiate this inexperienced youth into more advanced erotic games. He shivered and cleared his throat, blinking as Legolas shifted slightly and pulled him out of a fantasy set in a hot spring and furnished with silken restraints and anal beads. "Yes, it is unfortunate, but she will recover when many others have perished. She was a victim of the dragon," he fell back on the child's condition to help get him through the next few seconds.
"Twas a were-worm," said Legolas solemnly. "Never have I imagined such a creature could exist."
"You saw it? When was this?"
"On the way here. We killed it," Legolas answered modestly though it was his arrow that had felled the creature.
"Then all the lands from the Angle to Rhudaur are in the debt of the Woodland Realm." Elrond was no little bit amazed. "I that is, our Lord will order a great feast of celebration to honour you and your comrades." Legolas smiled benignly at this but said nothing and suddenly Elrond realised he was waiting for something more, hope and hunger burning in the bright eyes. His heart leaped; his fantasy could become reality in a matter of hours! "Would you like to meet tomorrow at dawn for the morning meal? Can you get away from your duties for the day? There are many places in the valley I would love to show you."
"I will be ready," Legolas felt his face aching from the stretch his grin was giving the muscles there. "Should I await you here in the House of Healing?"
"That will be perfect," Elrond beamed back at the radiant elf and finally pulled aside the curtain and stepped out, tripping and nearly falling on his face as his feet encountered the rolled bundle of bedding he had requested last night.
Uh-oh.
He had forgot about that entirely. The page who brought it must have got an earful! Yet, he found he was really quite pleased, imagining word spreading throughout the Last Homely House about his late night conquest. This was exactly what he needed to squelch all the strange sensations surging through his fëa: a little boasting as he was wont to do long ago before his marriage. Somehow, he would have to let it slip that his new lover had been a virgin; a few words to Erestor in passing should do. He gathered himself and lifted his head high, strode out boldly, smiling as every face turned to peer at him, patients and attending healers alike. His cheeks grew warm; this was more of an audience than he had ever imagined, but the expressions universally confirmed that one and all had borne auditory witness to the Wood Elf's deflowering.
Barahin approached him and gave her usual professional half-bow in greeting, but her eyes were twinkling with mischief. "Maur aur, Hiren," she said politely but spritely. "Did you pass the night agreeably?"
He gazed at her, left brow arched and lips compressed, but found he just could not rebuke her. His smile broke free and he laughed. "I did indeed, Barahin; I did indeed! Now then, how is my young patient this morning?"
"Alas, her condition deteriorates," the healer confided. "The fever mounts and we dare not delay much longer. I am beginning the preparations now to sink her in oblivion for the procedure. She should be properly sedated by the time you finish your morning tea with Hîr Erestor and the Emissary from Mirkwood."
"I have already spent considerable time with the most appealing emissary that blighted place can produce," he chuckled and she tittered along with him. "I think I'll evade the others." Then he grew serious. "Very well, continue the immersion into unconsciousness, but gradually, gradually. If she is weakening, we may lose her if we send her too deep. I will hasten and take nourishment with my kinsman and return within an hour." He acknowledged her affirmation of his orders and strode quickly along the long open room of the infirmary, noting in passing the improving condition of those who had slept in the repose of Lorien's Garden under Estë's gentle care, pausing only when he got to the child's bed. There another healer was softly singing the spell of sleeping, exhorting the Powers to come and aid in the cure. Laer was not aware and Elrond made only a cursory examination, knowing he could trust to Barahin's prognosis.
The girl's mother sat quietly beside the bed holding her child's hand and did not speak, afraid to ask anything for fear of what she would be forced to hear. Elrond laid his hand upon her bowed head and murmured a calming incantation, his eyes silently informing the attending healer to include her in the spell. A slight nod confirmed his desire was understood and Elrond left then, once more thanking the Valar for the good people who worked with him so closely here. They were warriors of a different sort, he mused, but they behaved with professionalism, precision, and dedication much like the best trained and most disciplined warriors he had ever commanded in Eregion.
Out in the grounds now, he passed a gardener and received an especially cheery and subtly cheeky morning greeting commenting on how early he had got up and about today. Elrond slowed down and moved with the regal grace he adopted when he was showing off and intended everyone to take note of his passing. 'Strutting', Erestor called it, and he let a pleased and secretive smile collect upon his features. Those observing him were wont to think he looked much like a cat who had just consumed a very fine bowl of sweet cream. Elrond reached the private area of the estate and entered his personal morning room by way of the gardens beside is, navigating the maze where a hidden gate easily and silently swung open at a mere touch of his hand. Erestor was already there sipping his tea, not looking at all pleased, and this conversely made Elrond feel very superior. So he has heard the news already.His kinsman did not have a lover at the present time.
"Maur aur, muindoren," he said as he sat and poured himself tea.
"No, it is not a good morning, Elrond." Erestor banged his cup into its saucer vehemently. "What were you thinking? That Wood Elf was sent to the infirmary because of a wound inflicted during a fantastic brawl last night. A brawl with our warriors, in the kitchens, no less. He is either a friend or kinsman, probably both, to one, or probably both, of Thranduil's Princes. Was it really necessary to bed him? This is not going to be favourably received."
"Why not? The injury was minor. He was not unconscious, Erestor, and gave consent with eagerness. Anyway, there is no cause for any of the Wood Elves to complain about it. He was a delight and I am sure I pleased him, too, though that would not be difficult since he has no one with which to compare me." There, that should just about do it.He offered his councillor a bland smile.
"What?" Erestor stared and realised his mouth had dropped open. He shut it. "Oh wonderful, just perfect. Word has already spread, Elrond; you were not exactly discreet. Gondaran was delighted to share his news after carrying the blankets to the infirmary office. The mood in the barracks is highly charged. Have you any idea what the fighting was about?"
"Of course not, since I was not there. What is the matter?" This was not the reaction he had anticipated and Elrond felt cheated. He gulped his tea and glared. "I think you are jealous, mellon."
"Jealous? Ai Valar, Elrond! I am not so desperate that I must resort to seducing incapacitated Wood Elves to relieve my loneliness. What you do not know is that our warriors made some rather crude and vulgar comments about our sylvan guests and there particular tastes in carnal pleasures, as well as the insubstantial nature of the equipment required for sexual exploits, likening them to children in form and function."
"Really?" Elrond responded without hearing anything past the remark about seduction, now completely mortified. Is that how he appeared to his people? Did they believe he had to get his lovers by such underhanded methods? Were those friendly grins and winks and cheeky greetings all meant to mock him? Were they laughing behind his back? "He was not incapacitated, Erestor," he shot back, angry now as well. The focus was not supposed to be on him, not like this. Desperation! Erestor was supposed to be fittingly impressed and envious, not disparaging and scornful. "He performed quite remarkably for someone who has never engaged in intercourse before. Never. Not with anyone, male or female." There! Let him ruminate on that!At last Erestor's eyes widened in interest and he revealed a hint of a grin, trying to suppress it and failing.
"So he was good?"
"Ai Elbereth! Better than good, cousin!" Elrond replied enthusiastically, eager to forget and forgive his seneschal's harangue . This was more like it. "He gave himself up absolutely, totally submissive. Anything I wanted to do to him, I did it. Several times." Elrond puffed up proudly and took a bite of his omelette, barely tasting it for the zest of his victory was too rich to savour anything else.
"Oh? Oral, too?"
"Oral, anal, from behind, on top, bent over the desk, balanced on his hands, up against the wall "
"Ai! Enough!" Erestor held up his hand, laughing and shaking his head. "Stop or I will have to make a journey to that sickroom myself, for I have seen your young lover naked already. A rare type for a Wood Elf, isn't he?"
"Indeed, he has a refinement of face and features that almost looks patrician, as those folk down in Mithlond look, those refugees from Gondolin who are a mixture of Noldorin and Sindarin. There is High Sindarin in his bloodlines somewhere, maybe even Vanyarin. But he is mine exclusively, kinsman. Spread the word: none are to pursue him."
"What if he does not want to be yours exclusively?" demanded Erestor, disappointed. It could as easily have been him despoiling that virginal sylvan had he not remained behind to sort out Mirkwood's Princes and settle them in the officer's barrack. Filigod had then kept him occupied for several hours trying to divulge something he obviously found quite serious yet could not manage to get out. Hints were dropped that Princes Legolas and Celon'lir were not what they appeared. Or perhaps he had said who they appeared. It made no sense and he had finally put an end to it and bade the august and morose emissary good evening.
"He does. We have already arranged to meet tomorrow and spend the day together, so whatever activities you have scheduled for our guests you must exempt Legolas from it all. He is to be my personal and exclusive catamite for the duration of his stay." For all he did not really care about the flavour of the food, Elrond found he was hungry and wolfed it down, enjoying his kinsman's nonplussed expression immensely. He ate in silence while Erestor digested the new directive.
"Wait." Erestor felt a horrendous migraine coming on. He must not have heard correctly. Or perhaps there are two of them. Yet it was an uncommon name, a revered name that harked back to ancient days and a noble warrior. Not a name a common Wood Elf would be likely to choose for his son. But I have met Legolas and he is in the mess hall this very moment."Did you just call him Legolas?"
"Aye, that's his name. What else should I call him?" Elrond snickered with conspiratorial glee, failing to note the dawning apprehension on his seneschal's countenance. "Although, he doe not yet know he has been divested of his innocence by the Lord of Imladris. I insisted he know me only by my title of Nestaron." The mighty elven Lord chortled as he swallowed his tea, watching Erestor's face grow pale. "Aye, it is all very mysterious and exciting this way. I didn't want to scare him off, you see. Who could blame me with such an opportunity? I was his first, broke him in and made him beg for more. Ai, Erestor, I have never known anything like it! He is so tight and hot and wanton!"
"Eru's Arse! Elrond!" Erestor could not find the words he needed to explain what he now realised with all too absolute a sense of doom. Filigod's cryptic words supplied the only plausible answer: the elf in the infirmary was Prince Legolas. Who the elf in the barracks might be Erestor did not care to know at this moment. They traded places. It was a trick the Twins had played so regularly over the centuries he might have suspected it at once, save for the brawl. Being knocked about and roughed up had obscured the real reason for Celon'lir's or rather the ellon pretending to be Celon'lirinept diplomacy. Erestor groaned and shut his eyes tight. Visions of hordes of Wood Elves invading the valley filled his thoughts, a tide of archers sweeping in preceded by an inescapable rain of arrows, rallying under the banner of King Thranduil, who would lead the charge and take his own exquisite pleasure in gutting Elrond personally.
"What is wrong with you, Erestor?" Elrond demanded, beginning to be concerned. He reached out and grabbed the seneschal's shoulder and shook him.
"This is dreadful," Erestor got up and paced the terrace. "I don't know how we can possibly avert disaster, war even." He stopped and pinned his clueless kinsman with a withering glare. "And you don't even know what you've done! Did you actually read that document from King Thranduil?"
"Of course I read it!" barked Elrond, rising and drawing himself tall. He was the Lord around here, after all, and if he wanted to fuck a Wood Elf, he would fuck a Wood Elf, especially a virgin Wood Elf. "What are you implying? What disaster? What is this nonsense about war? He is of age and was not unconscious when I took him."
"What a relief," droned Erestor. "Perhaps those facts will spare your life. You don't recall the names of Thranduil's sons, do you?" he queried in acid tones.
A lengthy silence filled the space between them, Elrond gaping in dumb denial, Erestor waiting for the truth to force its way to the surface. Elrond swallowed with difficulty and reached a shaking hand for his cup, finished off the tea, set the cup down with extreme care.
"Thranduil's sons?" A dark heaviness gathered in his stomach then, for he began to understand. That mental warning that had nagged at him last night came back and began screaming, and it was screaming a name he had found vaguely familiar. He returned to his seat, carefully lowering his bottom onto the cushion and gripping the arms for support. His head was spinning a bit and he thought he might be about to lose his breakfast. "Is one of them, by any chance of ill fate, named Legolas?"
Arms folded over his breast in disgust, face contorted in a scowl of absolute disapprobation, Erestor nodded silently.
Elrond was having trouble getting his mind around the situation, struggling as he was not to vomit, but eventually he managed to get to the core of the issue. "That remark you made in passing, the one about 'seducing incapacitated Wood Elves'? Is that what the sylvans believe?"
Erestor's pose did not alter a mite. "Yes, Elrond. They believe you, the Lord of Imladris, raped an injured, unconscious, defenceless, virginal sylvan archer. Their Prince, in fact."
TBC
© 26/07/2008 Ellen Robey
Disclaimer: Main characters and settings originally created by JRR Tolkien. Just for fun, no money earned. OC's and story are erobey's.
Elvish names and such:
Celon'lîr (River Song - Thranduil's eldest)
Ûrrusc (Fire Fox - Thranduil's nephew)
Tuiw. (Sprout - a pet name for Legolas)
Faron (Hunter - also Thranduil's nephew)
Mallavorn (Black and Gold - one of the warriors)
Filigod (Little Bird - Thranduil's councillor)
Condir O Gladgalen (Mayor of Greenwood - Filigod's Official Title)
Giliach (Star Crossing - Cel's false identity while in Lorien)
Tôradar (brother-father: uncle)
Hîren Adar (My Lord Father)
Hîr Adar mín (our Lord Father)
Ernil (Prince)
Ernil Vain, (Pre-eminent Prince)
Ernil Daid (Secondary Prince)
ion-an'weath (son-by-bond - son-in-law)
aurlinn (day-bird, a wood thrush)
Minya'mmë (grandmother)
thêl dithen. (little sister)
muindor laes, (baby brother)
nâr (rat)
muindoren (my brother - often used between close kindred like cousins)
Gondaran (Stonelord - an Imladrian page)