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The Teacher - Missing Scenes	By : pip Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 4116 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Tolkien's world, middle earth, Lord of the Rings or any characters. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
Author's Note: As the title implies, part of the events at Daglorlad told from Thranduil's point of view.

Thranduil at Dagorlad

When he returned from the fighting, he was already aware of the news. One of the Captains told him, pulling him aside and giving it to him in a whisper, as if afraid of his reaction, but Thranduil had known for many years as much as Oropher knew. He simply bowed his head in acknowledgement, and sighed, then gave the Captain instructions for settling their camp that would usually have come from his father. Perhaps the elf thought his reaction calm, but he did not say. He seemed more relieved to find Thranduil capable, and hurried about his tasks.

Though he knew where his father lay, Thranduil did not go there straight away. Instead he went to his own tent and went through the ritual of cleansing himself of all the muck and grime of the battle. He took his time, using this space to remember his father. Thranduil would attend his body, but in state. He would not show disrespect by showing up filthy and overwrought. Nimbrethil had told him he must not fall, and he would not.

After he had cleaned himself, he sat on the side of his bed and cleaned off his boots too. He was a member of the army, and he did what he would expect of those who followed him. There was no polish, but he buffed them with a dry cloth, and that was enough to bring back some shine. At last there was nothing else to do. Thranduil drew in a deep breath and stood up, leaving his tent to seek out his father and King.

When he entered the tent where his father lay, he was confronted with something he did not expect. Elrond was here, holding his father's hand and sobbing. Clearly he did not know he was observed. Thranduil regarded him, sorry for what he had lost too. Elrond and his father; they had been lovers for many centuries, since long before he was even born.

Thranduil walked to stand beside Elrond and looked at his father. A tight sudden pain flared in his heart, but he was expecting it. He had confronted this very image so many times in his own imagination the reality lost some of its power over him. Nimbrethil had helped him with that too. But Elrond... Thranduil looked down upon him. He had no knowledge that this would happen, and Thranduil's heart constricted again, and this time he could not will it away.

For an instant he looked back at his father. You should have confided in him, Thranduil thought. But it was too late now. It had not been his place to tell Elrond anything, even though his former teacher had questioned him, confided in him. In the end, Thranduil hadn't even told his own father what he knew. To do that would be to admit to prying, and his father would simply have hidden his knowledge elsewhere. It would have caused him pain to know his secrets were found out. Thranduil did not hold any resentment towards his father.

He sensed it when Elrond looked up at him, and switched his gaze to look. He was sat back on his heels, holding the King's hand. As Thranduil watched, Elrond drew in a shuddering breath and tried to wipe away his tears, but only managed to smear the dirt on his face. He was fresh from the battle.

Gently, he took his father's hand from Elrond and laid it respectfully by the side of his body once more, then turned and faced his old teacher. Elrond was on his knees at Thranduil's feet.

“The battle will continue, peredhel,” he said, knowing it was true, wishing he could ease the anguish in Elrond's heart, but that part of Elrond had always been closed to him. “Let his death make you wrathful and hungry for it,” he urged. “Let it make you require to kill his murderers. The time for grief will come when it is all over and we stand victorious.”

To his surprise, Elrond laughed harshly at his words, but there was no humour in it. He saw tears again in Elrond's eyes, threatening to spill over. “I cannot,” Elrond said, his voice almost breaking. “I don’t want to be here without him.”

Thranduil found himself at a loss, though he did not allow that to show in his face. What could he say to ease this? For Elrond must snap out of it – and soon. They had a matter of hours before they must go out and engage the enemy again, and here Elrond was, falling apart right in front of him. He remembered his own quiet reaction, how he had in one moment accepted the responsibility his father's death conferred upon him.

Yes, this was Elrond. Duty would work on him far better than any other inducement.

“Lord Elrond,” Thranduil began formally, feeling himself frown. “You are needed. You cannot simply give in to this. What is expected of me is also expected of you. Do not let them down.”

Then, to Thranduil's dismay, Elrond merely looked up at him and shook his head. “I don’t care,” he said. “They are not us.”

Thranduil kept his face carefully expressionless, hiding his shock. He remembered then the relief in the Captain earlier when he had issued calm instructions. “I see,” he said thoughtfully, as Elrond gazed at his father's body. “You need a leader too.” If Elrond needed commands to get through this, then Thranduil would give them to him. Elrond might resist, but he was extremely vulnerable, and Thranduil was used to being obeyed. Between the two of them, he liked his chances rather better.

“What do you mean?” Elrond asked, his voice weary, and Thranduil silently prayed, apologising to all the Valar he knew for what he was about to do to the son of Eärendil and the great, great grandson of Melian the Maiar.

“Kiss my feet,” he ordered. “Promise me your allegiance.”

Elrond's eyes became sharp, and Thranduil felt his piercing intelligent regard like a touch. For a moment it really was his teacher knelt there at his feet, yet Thranduil did not relent, and did not look away. “I will not!” Elrond said, shaking his head, his lips twisted in displeasure at the demand.

Thranduil waited, seeing the look in Elrond's eyes change from derision, to shock, and then finally something softer. Yes, it was there; something in Elrond was almost willing. Thranduil sighed inwardly.

“Oh, yes, you will,” Thranduil said then, leaning over to press his hand on the back of Elrond's head, urging him down. “Because I demand it.”

In the end it took hardly any encouragement at all. “You... demand...” Elrond echoed, sounding quite lost. Thranduil sighed silently, keeping his hand pressed there as Elrond struggled, then eventually gave in, lips pressed to Thranduil's boot. Thranduil truly was sorry. He did not believe Elrond had ever been made to submit like this to anyone, not even Gil-galad, and now was not the time to begin, but it was all he could think of.

“Give me your allegiance,” he repeated, his voice purposefully calm, knowing Elrond would lend that little bit of peace from him. That he needed it.

“I…” Elrond began, and Thranduil saw his lips move away from his boot to give the assurance. “I vow to serve you,” he whispered quietly, “my King.”

That was enough. It was more than enough. Still leaning over, Thranduil pulled Elrond to his feet so that they faced each other. For a moment they looked into each other's eyes, and Thranduil could see that new submission, so tender, like a budding leaf; it needed just a little attention to grow. It could be used to seduce him. It could also be used to rescue him, if Thranduil had the courage.

“Thranduil,” Elrond began.

“Quiet.” Thranduil said, and there it was again. The Lord of Imladris lowered his gaze and closed his eyes, becoming silent. Thranduil did not miss the meaning of that reaction, nor did he forget that it was Elrond he held in his arms, that it was Elrond who showed such a promise to him. Thranduil could think of nothing else for a moment. So many centuries of wanting, of desiring, of wishing. Of watching the love Elrond gave so freely to his father, and never to him.

“And so you are,” he said wonderingly. Elrond looked up again, this time in alarm and understanding, and he had not changed at all. He was as beautiful as when Thranduil had been helplessly besotted and foolish. He had been so young. It would have been so easy to take advantage, but Elrond had not done it. Elrond was the better of them both, Thranduil knew that, because when the same temptation was put before him, here and now, he couldn't help himself...

Thranduil pulled Elrond close for the kiss, holding him tightly as if he might disappear. He knew that Elrond struggled, but it was only half-hearted. If Elrond truly wished to escape, Thranduil would not be able to kiss him like this. He wondered if, after all this time, finally tasting Elrond's lips would be a pale comparison to his fantasies, but it was not. Thranduil could not be more exalted if someone burst in then to say they had already won the war. Elrond at last! It was perfect, even the way Elrond unconsciously begged to be subdued excited him.

Too soon he pulled away, resting his forehead against Elrond's, and then became aware of where they were, his eyes flickering to his father. “Come, Peredhil. We will continue this someplace else,” he said, taking Elrond's hand, his pulse racing, already imagining all the things he might do now. All the things he might have.

“Continue?” Elrond repeated, clearly stunned and still very upset. “No! This is madness! At least I have shown my grief. Please, Thranduil…” Elrond appeared to want some proof of Thranduil's pain, and he could not give it. Weakness could not be tolerated. But he saw Elrond's sorrow very well. Soon, perhaps, he would soothe that pain. At least for a short while.

“Majesty,” Thranduil reminded Elrond deliberately, narrowing his eyes. Elrond shook his head and pulled his hand back, stepping out of the way. For a moment, Thranduil regarded Oropher's body, and as he moved to stand behind Elrond, he could not escape the impression that Elrond had been passed to him, along with the title of King. He imagined himself as the keeper of Elrond's heart, the recipient of a love so rarely bestowed, and he could not help desiring it. Even if he had to keep Elrond in chains... Thranduil had a sudden vision of that, of taking Elrond back to his home as a captive – the spoils of war – and he knew that if he could, he would do that too.

“Not like this,” Elrond muttered, breaking into his thoughts. “I can’t help you like this…”

Thranduil only laughed. “You misunderstand, Peredhil,” he said slowly, hoping Elrond did not hear his dark intent. “I can help you.” He thought about that, and then felt a rush of desire when he realised how much he would enjoy it. “Or rather,” he amended, “we can help each other.”

“Help me,” Elrond repeated, almost as if it were a plea. Thranduil felt his heart clench inside him as Elrond turned to look at Oropher again. All those centuries. Elrond had given much of himself to Oropher. As far as Thranduil knew, he had never taken another lover, and he felt a sudden need to protect Elrond, to save him from his grief before it could consume him and leave him helpless before the enemy. That was no fate for Eärendilion, and he would not allow it.

“Yes,” Thranduil said gently, coaxing. “Come with me, away from here. Just a little way. You can come back in a while.”

Elrond sniffled. Clearly, he knew it was an untruth given in kindness. “You can do nothing here, Peredhil,” Thranduil reminded him in sympathy, and at that Elrond allowed Thranduil to lead him away, giving in, leaning on him as if he had no strength left. Every bit of surrender he gave was a testament to his grief, and Thranduil could not help feeling for him.

They did not encounter anyone on the short journey to his own tent, and for that Thranduil was glad and grateful. For Elrond's sake, he did not want rumours circulating that he was broken by this. When they entered, Elrond glanced around until his eyes settled on the water for washing.

“You are welcome,” Thranduil told him, gesturing to it and letting him go. He'd picked up Elrond's sword belt, and put it somewhere safe for now along with his own. All too soon they would be needed again. When he turned back, Elrond was sitting on the side of his bed. He had not washed himself, but sat there hunched over, arms wrapped around himself. That would not do at all. Thranduil frowned.

He searched around for some kind of tonic. The Dorwinion he favoured would not do, as it would likely remind Elrond of Oropher, but he had a little of Imladris' own Miruvor, given to him by Glorfindel. Thranduil poured a tiny dram of it into a tarred leather cup and made his way back to the bed.

“Elrond?” he said softly, sitting beside him. There was no response to his name. “Take this,” Thranduil said patiently, holding the cup in front of him until Elrond reached out to take it from his hands. He drank the strong spirit swiftly, knocking it back in one. Thranduil took the cup away from him. It was a start, at least.

As Thranduil turned back to look at him, Elrond shivered, and when he looked at Thranduil, there was a terrible naked fear in his eyes.

“I am going to die,” he said simply, and then as if to illustrate he unfolded his arms and held out his shaking hands to Thranduil. “I cannot fight,” he said, as if pleading for Thranduil to do something about it.

Thranduil was not a great healer, but after his centuries with Nimbrethil, he was a very accomplished Master. There was only one thing he could do to ease Elrond, and he was quite sure his old teacher was not going to like it at all, despite the promise of submission he showed earlier.

“Really?” Thranduil asked, as if it did not matter. Elrond looked at him again searchingly. Thranduil began to remove his tunic, watching Elrond all the while.

“I am sorry… I know I have to go,” Elrond said quietly, his eyes dropping to his feet. Is that what he thought? It was time to begin correcting him, then.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Thranduil informed him simply, watching as Elrond's eyes flickered to his bare chest, then to the bed, then down at himself.

“That is ridiculous,” Elrond said, betraying his thoughts, as if he spoke to himself. “I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“No, you aren’t,” Thranduil said in the same tone. Elrond would not leave this tent unless it was with him, and that would be much, much later. He allowed his gaze to roam over Elrond slowly. He made to get up, and Thranduil laid a hand on his shoulder, preventing him. “But you will be soon.”

Slowly, he began to unbuckle the clasps that held Elrond's armour to him, turning Elrond's hands away patiently when he sought to protest. Nor did he listen to Elrond's pleas to stop, removing each piece until he came to the last, the part that covered Elrond's chest.

“Don't,” Elrond begged, one hand on his heart to hold the armour in place, looking into Thranduil's eyes. His eyes held a different message, and Thranduil took the chest plate away from him, Elrond's hand falling to rest in his lap.

When it was done, Thranduil stalked over to the tent entrance, calling over an elf to fetch clean clothes for the Lord of Imladris, and fresh water. He waited until it arrived, tapping his foot, impatient, occasionally checking on Elrond but he did not move. He continued just sitting there, hugging himself, rocking slightly.

When at last everything was as he wanted it, and they were alone again, Thranduil stood before Elrond and felt full of purpose. It was time to begin, and if Elrond would not care for himself, then he, Thranduil, the King of Eryn Galen, would do it for him.

“Stand,” he commanded. Elrond looked around him, and then up at him, shivering. He did not move.

“Stand up,” Thranduil repeated, tilting his head.

“Thranduil,” Elrond said, sighing, still not making any move to obey.

“Did you vow to serve me as your King?” Thranduil asked directly. He watched for a moment as Elrond thought about it. “Did you not say: 'I vow to serve you, my King?'” he pursued, his voice even colder and more regal.

Elrond made a sound then. It was fear and grief and helplessness rolled into one. “Yes,” he whispered at last, admitting to it.

“Then obey me,” Thranduil demanded, “and stand up.”

Slowly, as if it were a dream, Elrond stood up, though his arms were still folded. Thranduil dropped down to kneel at his feet and remove Elrond's boots. When he had done with that, he stood to find Elrond staring blankly at the water. With a little encouragement, Elrond lifted his arms in silence for Thranduil to remove his tunic.

Though he kept his movements slow and measured, Thranduil's mind and heart were a whirl as he undressed his former teacher. Every part of him was being exposed under Thranduil's hands, ready for his touch, though Elrond did not yet know it. He was like a lifeless doll in Thranduil's thrall. He unlaced Elrond's breeches, then slipped his fingers beneath the waistband to push them down past his hips, barely daring to breathe for fear of breaking the spell and sending Elrond running before he could accomplish his goal.

His goal. He tried to remember what that goal was as Elrond stepped out of the breeches, completely naked now. He was all that Thranduil had imagined and more. Elrond was still mostly unresponsive, and so Thranduil took the opportunity to look him over slowly, indulging himself, wishing to emblazon this sight in his mind forever: Elrond naked before him at his command, awaiting his further instruction. It was more than he'd ever dared to dream.

His chest rose and fell as he breathed, drawing Thranduil's attention to his pectoral muscles, adorned with perfect dusky nipples. Thranduil's fingers twitched, as if he would touch Elrond there and make him respond at last. He imagined how Elrond would gasp if he was a little cruel, the helpless look in his eyes as he stood and allowed it. Swallowing, Thranduil's eyes moved down over his flat stomach, his soft cock nestled in short dark hair, his long legs, so defined by muscle. He was a vision.

Thranduil knew he was slightly aroused, just from looking, but that would not do for this and he willed it to abate as he gently took Elrond's hands, pulling him to stand on the grass mat in front of the water. Yet for all his efforts, Thranduil still felt like he was in some erotic dream of old as he soaked a cloth and wrung it out; the droplets of water seemed to fall in slow motion before he turned and used the wet cloth to begin his task, starting on Elrond's left shoulder.

Elrond gasped at the chill of the water against his skin, but did not speak or move, giving implicit consent for Thranduil to continue. He took as much time as he dared, using the cloth to touch as he wished he could with his hands, as if he was laying claim to every patch of luminous skin. As the dirt and grime were wiped away, Elrond only became more beautiful to Thranduil, revealed in his perfection.

Thranduil left Elrond's face until the end, wiping away the blood and dirt with tender care as he looked into the other elf's eyes. Suddenly, Elrond grabbed his wrist, but not to forbid him.

“Thank you,” Elrond said, and he sounded more lost than ever. Thranduil smiled slightly. He would save Elrond, and enjoy it – every moment. Elrond let go of his wrist and closed his eyes, tilting his head back in glorious acceptance as Thranduil finished cleansing his face and neck. It took all the self-restraint Thranduil possessed not to claim him right there and then.

Thranduil did not waste time with Elrond's hair, but dried him down quickly, briskly, so as to leave some warmth in him. Elrond submitted to that too, and then Thranduil turned him to the water to wash his hands. For the first time then Elrond resisted as Thranduil tried to dip his hands in the water.

“No!” Elrond said loudly, pulling his hands back with all of his strength, though he did not back away.

“Wash your hands,” Thranduil ordered, surprised that it had taken this long for Elrond to protest. His former teacher looked into his eyes as if entranced, and Thranduil took the opportunity of his sudden stillness to get his hands into the water.

Elrond cried out as if the water hurt him in some way while Thranduil moved to stand behind him. Beneath the surface of the water he rubbed his thumbs over Elrond's palms and wrists. All he could think about was the way Elrond fitted into his arms, his body warm and trembling slightly. When he was done, he lifted Elrond's hands and dried them for him without letting him free from the embrace.

“Lie down on the bed,” Thranduil said quietly, and Elrond moved immediately to obey him, lying down and curling up in an expression of pain and loneliness. He sobbed quietly into the pillows as Thranduil searched among his belongings for the things he needed. He wondered how Elrond would react to this, and could only hope the submission he had seen earlier was real. It would need to be for the next hour or two.

Thranduil approached the bed and put the rest of the gathered supplies down beside the bed, retaining the cane. It was the same cane Nimbrethil had used on him before he left. Whenever he felt alone without her he was to look at it and remember that she thought of him. It granted him a strength of sorts, because regarding the cane made him remember her instructions.

Do not fail. Do not fall. Lead your people. Come back to me.

He and Nimbrethil had been together for many centuries, and they played extensively. He could use the same tactic on Elrond now, and he intended to. Thranduil was no stranger to both sides of the use of discipline. After so long practising, he was sure of himself, and certain that he could pull Elrond back from the brink that he teetered upon. What happened after that would be a thing for later. He would willingly take the consequences, even if Elrond hated him forever, as long as it saved his life now.

Yet he did not fool himself. He wanted to do this too. Wanted it so much he could almost taste it. Elrond would be so beautiful in submission! Elrond would be his. His heart picked up again at the thought. Even if it was only here, now. Even if it was only that, he would have it.

Elrond was faced away from him and could not know what he intended. Perhaps that was for the best. The shock when he realised would aid Thranduil in this endeavour as much as the pain. He encouraged Elrond to lie on his front, and then began.

“When this is over, you shall allow Glorfindel to travel back to Imladris alone, and you will come with me.”

As he waited for the inevitable denial, Thranduil's fingers tightened on the cane. He must remember to be gentle. At last Elrond sighed. “No,” he said sadly.

Thranduil let the cane fall on Elrond's buttocks for the first time, so gently it did not even raise a welt, although the mark could be seen. Elrond yelped and turned back onto his side, yet he did not flee. “Wrong answer.”

Thranduil reached for the bindings he had brought and took Elrond's wrists to secure them away from his body, ensuring that he was laid on his front again. And now there was no doubt. Elrond allowed this, whether he knew it or not. He made no protest, and though his muscles tensed, Elrond did not fight the restriction.

Sitting upon the bed again, he repeated himself. Again, Elrond rejected the truth, and again he was punished. Elrond cried out, but Thranduil did not relent, repeating it again and again until Elrond accepted it.

Thranduil described a vision of the future to Elrond, a future in which Oropher was lost, and they took the news back to the Greenwood together. A future that Elrond featured in heavily. He forced Elrond to recite it to him over the course of the next hour, until it was clear he imagined it for himself.

“Do you think he knew?” Elrond asked then, his voice still full of sorrow that the cane could not alleviate. Thranduil was torn by that question.

“Undoubtedly,” he replied, and Elrond sobbed. He was so vulnerable and broken. So ready for what Thranduil wished to have above all else. Without saying another word, he lie down behind Elrond and heard him take in a deep breath, as if he had forgotten whose bed he was in.

“Did you think to only take what you needed?” Thranduil asked then, amused, his hand resting on Elrond's waist.

“What I needed?” Elrond echoed, and for all of his years he sounded as innocent as an elfling. Oh, he would enjoy this very much indeed!

“No. That isn’t how it works,” Thranduil informed him with some satisfaction. “Now I will take payment, aníra-nín, and I think I will use your body to give me the warmth and pleasure I miss while I am away from home.”

Suddenly Elrond did fight to be free of the bindings, much too late. Thranduil pressed against his back, loving the sensation of finally having Elrond's naked body next to his. He closed his eyes to properly enjoy it, feeling his cock half-hard already as his arousal came rushing back.

“Please, don't!” Elrond cried out.

“You will learn to surrender, I promise you,” said Thranduil, opening his eyes. “But for now understand that you have no choice. I will take what is due to me.”

“No!” And yet he could do nothing to defend himself from Thranduil's touch, and touch he did, exploring Elrond's skin with sweeping passes of his hands, lingering in places, marvelling at his muscles and the lines of his body. His at last! Thranduil imagined sharing him with Nimbrethil. She would love him too, he was quite certain. Elrond quietened, whimpering and shivering as if in dread.

“Hush! Do not tremble so, Elrond! I will not hurt you, my little green leaf,” Thranduil said with a small smile. Elrond was probably completely unaware of the way he had given in. He was not shouting or screaming. Indeed, now he even ceased to struggle. A part of him was desperate for this claiming, and Thranduil knew it very well.

“Do not call me such,” he said coldly. “I am not inexperienced.”

So there was some life in him after all! Thranduil could feel his face stretching in a grin. He would get what he wanted. “No, you are not,” he agreed. “But I would be willing to wager no one has ever had you bound and helpless like this.” He waited for Elrond to respond, but he was stubborn and silent. “Have they?”

“No…” Elrond said softly, pulling at the bindings so half-heartedly, Thranduil almost laughed. He could not know how every little thing he did only ensured his fate. He was delicious! Wanting, yet not wanting. Thranduil felt his own body aching to claim him and end the contradiction. Make him submit and beg for more. Oh, yes... he would beg so prettily, Thranduil was certain.

“Is that an answer to my question or something else? Because you should know I am not going to ask for your permission, green leaf.”

Elrond only moaned, further proving Thranduil's thoughts correct, and he shivered too, just like a leaf. Thranduil laughed softly as he leaned back a little, reaching for the salve which he had brought to the bed with him to use as a lubricant. “I think I have found a name for you… Legolas.”

“No,” Elrond said weakly, struggling again before falling still. “I do not like it!”

Behind Elrond, Thranduil covered his hardness and his fingers with the salve before putting the pot aside. “That is precisely why it is perfect for you, green leaf,” he said, smirking. “Do not argue with your King.”

It was only now Thranduil hesitated, when he was just a breath away from touching Elrond that way, but it must be done. If he let Elrond go now, he would crumble. Forced to kneel and submit, but not to be enjoyed or cherished? If he let Elrond go now, everything he had done would only have made it worse. This part was necessary to ensure his compliance. Thranduil slid his fingers between Elrond's buttocks and over his entrance, and then inside him. Just a little at first, then deeper, until Elrond was taking short quickened breaths.

“Please, don't,” Elrond whispered, managing to sound almost virginal, and yet Thranduil knew Elrond had lain with his father many, many times. “Don't... No...” he pleaded, and yet he did not fight, or move away. Thranduil deemed it was enough, and he removed his fingers, pressing his erection inside slowly, wanting to savour this moment for eternity. Elrond groaned, and Thranduil went deeper, eyes closed as he concentrated upon how Elrond's body surrounded him, so hot. Thranduil could feel how Elrond stretched around him, tense, and knew he was perfect.

At last he struggled, too late, and it wasn't long before Thranduil was inside him all the way. Being in him was like paradise. Thranduil felt his stomach muscles quiver in pleasure and sighed, at last satisfied.

“Well done, green leaf,” he murmured playfully, his hand stroking over Elrond's side, finishing on his hip. “That is the hardest part over with.” As if in a dream, Thranduil pulled back and gave Elrond a gentle thrust forward, marvelling all over again at how it felt as Elrond continued to fight. He could not contain a moan – they were a perfect fit. Elrond was making little sounds of his own, and Thranduil suddenly realised what those sounds were.

“Are you crying, green leaf?” he ask, unbelieving. Elrond sniffled.

“No,” he replied, rebellious, though his voice and his body trembled in Thranduil's arms. Elrond drew in his next breath in a series of hitching little gasps, and his body tightened around Thranduil just for an instant.

“Yes, you are!” Thranduil said. “Oh, green leaf…” he moaned, kissing the back of Elrond’s neck lovingly while he shivered in response. “How beautiful you are! I should have taken this from you a long time ago.”

“Do not say such things!” Elrond managed to gasp as Thranduil took him with pleased fervour. He did not ever want to let this treasure go.

“When you return with me, you will be mine, Elrond. Is that clear?”

“What do you really want from me?” Elrond demanded.

“I want you to enjoy it, green leaf,” Thranduil ground out between movements. “I want you to admit you want this. I want you to be with me in body and soul because you will only survive if you believe there is something to return to – do you understand?”

As if Thranduil's words had worked, Elrond finally ceased his struggles. “So you think this is the answer?” he asked quietly, as if Thranduil had surprised him. “How do you expect me to react?”

“I expect you to live!” Thranduil almost shouted, wanting his words to sink in. “I expect you to relish the pain and beg me for more. I want you to fight me and lose. I want you to surrender to me wholeheartedly, knowing that when this is over, I will take you to my home as a captive and a plaything.”

Going quiet, Thranduil pushed deeply again, and this time Elrond moaned wantonly.

“And yes, I want you to enjoy it all,” he said then, relishing the slick tightness around him.

“Don’t…” Elrond begged, but the timbre of his plea had changed, and Thranduil knew Elrond had heard him, knew his intention at last. He would have it! He would have Elrond's submission long after they had finished here.

“This war is about hope, Elrond, and if you fight without it, you will perish whether the enemy kills you or not,” he confided.

“This is not hope.”

Inwardly, Thranduil cursed his teacher's stubborn nature. “Yes, it is,” he said definitively. “I want you. I want you to be mine. Mine to take and to play with. And I want you to desire it too.”

“But why like this? Why be cruel?” Thranduil did not give the first answer which sprung to his mind, which was that he had already waited for Elrond to come around to him for centuries. If he was not this proactive, this opportunistic, it would never come to pass. Instead he told Elrond what he needed to hear.

“Because it is not in me to be anyone but myself. I am not my father, green leaf, but I will love and cherish your surrender to me as dearly as he loved your serious nature and loyalty.”

Yet as he fucked Elrond, Thranduil's thoughts continued to turn. Elrond had not expressed the slightest interest in him over the centuries. It had hurt him for a long time before he found Nimbrethil. But it occurred to Thranduil that Elrond might really not want this.

“If you tell me you aren’t seduced by this,” he said regretfully, “I will let you go, because it defeats the purpose.” Thranduil stilled, afraid. Elrond only moaned, giving no other answer, and Thranduil let his hand drift down over that taut, flat stomach, to find Elrond rock hard against his hand. He gripped Elrond's erection, taking that as proof, and his fear evaporated. Elrond did want him!

Thranduil began to move again, still tenderly, for he did not want to abuse this new thing and cause it to die. He heard Elrond sigh in pleasure as he did it, and Thranduil pumped his cock slowly, drawing it out for him.

“Surrender to me, green leaf,” he urged. “Surrender to your King.” As Thranduil kissed the back of his neck, Elrond moaned again, and he pressed back against Thranduil’s body in clear and sudden invitation. Thranduil laughed softly at his victory.

“I surrender,” Elrond said, trembling again.

“I know. Trust me. It will be all right, Elrond.” He did not stop then until the deed was done, and Elrond moaned and pleaded so sweetly Thranduil wished it would last forever, that Elrond would be his after this and love him, just as deeply as he had loved Thranduil's own father. As deeply as Thranduil had wished for it when he was a mere youngster, and Elrond had seemed like all the light and beauty in the world.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it – please leave a word or two.
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The Teacher - Missing Scenes