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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
- 11
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- 13
Author's Note: Some more young Thranduil. Remember how in the last bit, Elrond threatened him with a timetable? Yep, well he wasn't kidding...

Extra Lessons 3
For nearly two weeks, life had become an unvarying rhythm set to a tempo of Elrond's choosing. In the morning, Thranduil awakened. He referred to Elrond's “Timetable” for him, and got ready to face the day ahead. Every activity was timed to the minute. He arrived at Elrond's study precisely on time, took his place, and wordlessly began his first assignment of each day: describing what he had done in his hours of free time.
Wary of rousing Elrond's anger, and somehow making all of this worse, Thranduil stuck to acceptable activities. He scowled as he wrote, then looked up, seeing Elrond watching him, and deliberately smoothed his face into an expression of passive acceptance. He pressed the nib of the quill so deep into the paper it left a groove several pages deep in the sheets below.
I expect to hear that you had fun.
Little did Thranduil know Elrond meant an actual written report. At least, not until that first morning. He'd lied then; made up an entire late afternoon and evening full of activities Elrond would not be able to reproach him with. But somehow Elrond had known, and he'd drawn confession from Thranduil like poison from a snakebite, until he was weeping with remorse for the naughtiness and sneaking around he and his friends engaged in when left to their own devices.
Now, he actually did the things he described in these reports. He spent his “free” time playing games, reading, practising music... his life was not fun, it was boring, and his peers teased him for his sudden change in behaviour. Thranduil resented that deeply.
Elrond. Before this, Thranduil had thought of Elrond often. Dreamed of him at night. Now, it was as if Elrond was with him constantly, looking over his shoulder. He had not one single moment in the day that was not pencilled in with some duty or requisite activity. He felt like a slave, and wondered if he should crawl to Elrond's desk to deliver his report when he had finished it.
Sighing, he stood up instead and went to stand by the side of Elrond's desk, waiting patiently for Elrond to acknowledge him. At last, he looked up, and Thranduil handed him the report then marched back to his own desk without a word.
Thranduil was sure that he loathed Elrond now, watched his bent head studying the words he had written and knew he was glaring. He almost hoped Elrond would look up and catch him at it. Thranduil folded his arms in a huff when Elrond didn't. His thoughts turned to the dreams he'd had the night before, and he hated those too. Hated it that in his dreams he submitted to all of this and more, that he begged for Elrond's attention at his command, every touch of his hand and whispered word.
Frustrated tears rose in his eyes and he looked down, blinking them away, angry at himself for his weakness.
“This is acceptable,” Elrond said at last, and Thranduil heard his chair scrape back on the floor as he stood up. “Except for this part,” Elrond deliberated, standing in front of him now and pointing to the offending half hour. Thranduil paled, mortified, remembering that bit of stolen time. He'd done everything else Elrond wrote in for him, and he'd needed a few moments just to relieve himself by his own hand.
“B-but I had to lie down,” he said, stunned. Elrond gave him a searching look.
“Were you tired?” he questioned, his voice taking on the timbre of an interrogation.
Thranduil bit his lip and swallowed, shaking his head. “No, I was...” His face was burning, and he wondered if Elrond actually wanted him to say it. “I just needed to...” Thranduil dropped his head to the desk in defeat and groaned. He couldn't! “Please don't make me say it, Sir,” he begged, just as if it were one of his recent dreams.
“Ah...” Elrond said, as if he finally understood. “I see. Fine.”
Thranduil could scarcely believe it. “You do not forbid it?” he asked, his voice quiet. Would you like me to? whispered a perfect replica of Elrond in his mind. In reality, Elrond did not say anything of the kind.
“I will not. It is quite normal.” Elrond paused there. “Unless of course I believe that you are using these moments to cover up misbehaviour.”
He waited, and the report was handed back to him. As if he had any use for it! Thranduil said nothing, merely filed it under the pile of similar reports on his desk. Elrond did not walk away though, and at last Thranduil looked up.
Elrond was staring down at him, leaning against the edge of the desk behind him, and for all of his earlier resentment, Thranduil felt like his heart must melt in his chest. He was dark where Thranduil was fair, and that made him fascinating. The arch of his brow was so exquisite it might have been drawn upon him, and his eyes were like stormy seas. There was a slight smile on his teacher's lips, and Thranduil found his gaze drawn there helplessly. Elrond was beautiful, and Thranduil could not forget it, try as he might. He could not help wanting to possess it for his own, and that was worse.
“How do you find your timetable?” Elrond was asking, his lips making the shapes of the words. Thranduil concentrated hurriedly, his attention snapping to so suddenly he was surprised it didn't make a sound.
“It is helpful, Pengolodh,” Thranduil said softly, while his mind screamed at him. Helpful? It was a prison! “Thank you for it.”
Elrond nodded, satisfied, and it made something in Thranduil thrill in excitement, though he did not understand where it came from.
You will do exactly as I say, Thranduil...
Again, the memory of his words, and this is what it meant; to do Elrond's bidding to the letter. Quite suddenly, the strict timetable was easy: there wasn't a command Elrond could give that he wouldn't strive to obey, except... He remembered how Elrond had tapped the ruler against the desk when he said that. Thranduil swallowed and imagined how Elrond would react if he wrote of his dreams in his morning report. Or if he got up to some high jinx with his friends of the kind he used to. Would the ruler come out to play again? Would he tap it on the desk, or somewhere else...?
“Today we will talk about ethics,” Elrond said, not moving, still standing mere feet away. It would be a lecture, then. Thranduil adopted an attitude of rapt attention as Elrond's velvety voice continued. Elrond had taught him languages, and how to write most of them, but nothing compared to the spoken word in Elrond's voice. He made every language on Arda seem indulgent and as expressive as music. Elrond went on, talking of dilemmas, but Thranduil quickly became lost in his thoughts.
That ruler. He was not sure why it had come to be a thing for him. All he knew is that he could not seem to forget the unspoken threat of it. His eyes drifted to Elrond's hands, long-fingered and elegant hands. So graceful. He was using them now as he spoke, to illustrate his point – whatever that was – and quite suddenly Thranduil found himself imagining those hands without the ruler. Punishment for bad behaviour as his teacher chastised him for his disobedience, falling on his –
“Your attention wanders?” Elrond asked, frowning, his hands still now, held down and clasped together over the front of his body. Thranduil blinked, raising his eyes to look at Elrond's face.
“Sorry, Sir?” he asked.
“You will be tested, Thranduil,” he warned.
“I will?” Thranduil asked, his heart jumping, still half in the daydream. He shook his head to clear it, annoyed.
“It will help if you listen,” Elrond said, displeased, and Thranduil felt his blood sink in him, his heart too, and yet he knew they did not sink all the way down. They stopped somewhere beneath the desk, making him half hard so that he squirmed in his seat. It seemed to happen more and more lately. He drew in a short breath to reply, but Elrond continued.
“Did you attend the healers' quarters as I instructed? It was written in for you yesterday.”
Thranduil's face suddenly burned in embarrassment again, and he looked up at Elrond helplessly.
“Yes, Pengolodh,” he said, hoping Elrond would not question him about it. He thought if Elrond was aware of his discomfort, he would probably compose a written test. The thought made him curl his lips in displeasure.
He had indeed attended, as Elrond demanded. The elleth Elrond sent him to was frank and no nonsense. She did not suffer fools, as she put it, and she instructed Thranduil bluntly, clinically, about sexual activity and reproduction in such a way that it drained all of the excitement out of the subject.
Worse still, it was not over. He had to attend for an hour each week, and it had become, in the space of the first five minutes, the most dreaded thing on his new timetable.
“Good,” Elrond said, a faint smile on those lips again. Thranduil suddenly wondered if Elrond was enjoying this in some way. Was he? Did he think of Thranduil following his instructions and get some kind of thrill out of subjecting him to it? Something in Thranduil leapt at the thought, as if it was a source of excitement for him too. “I am glad you are learning of those things properly,” Elrond noted. “I trust the lady involved very much.”
With a little wishful thinking, it almost sounded as if Elrond was having him tutored for his own purposes, and Thranduil put one hand below the desk to press against himself, willing the unwanted erection away.
“I am sorry it took so long to arrange,” Elrond said. “I believe the other students your age began their education in sexual matters a decade or so ago.”
Thranduil wondered then if it was Elrond's intention to humiliate him beyond all reason.
“Hands above the desk, Thranduil!” he rapped out, and he obeyed immediately, looking up just quickly enough to catch the twinkle in Elrond's eyes. He knew!
“Now we shall return to the subject, and you will listen.”
“Yes, Pengolodh,” replied Thranduil with a heavy sigh of frustration.
“This is unethical,” he said under his breath, his body burning in lust that he couldn't relieve and couldn't help at all, no matter what Elrond devised to kill the desire in him. It felt like forever. It felt like fate, and every time he looked up at his teacher, it felt like coming home, no matter if Elrond was cruel, ignorant or indifferent. This forcing him to obey was a kind of torture, and Thranduil knew it very well. But did Elrond? His teacher, who seemed to know everything... did he know this?
His heart suddenly hammered in nervous dread as he realised he'd spoken loud enough to be heard.
A sheaf of blank parchment was put before him, and he sighed, waiting to hear what his punishment would be this time.
“For your presumption and insolence, you will write me five thousand words about bearing responsibility for others,” Elrond said. Thranduil sighed.
“Yes, Pengolodh,” he said.
“And Thranduil?” He looked up, quill in hand. “Do not let me see your hands go below the desk again. Is that clear?”
Thranduil stared, and Elrond stared back. He wished Elrond would drop that stern demeanour just for a moment, and be the Elrond he'd known when he really was a child. The Elrond who'd indulged him and spoiled him. Who'd looked upon him with love. Yet even as a hard taskmaster he was beautiful, irresistible even. Perhaps it was that which created this strange desire in him, this willingness to suffer in whichever way would give Elrond pleasure.
Tomorrow they would draw swords in the arena. Thranduil felt his pulse racing, imagining it, a chance to relieve the tension between them. Elrond would be dressed to fight, and Thranduil imagined it now, all of that hard muscle on display. He looked Elrond up and down slowly, drinking in the sight of him, and only when he realised Elrond could see his overt adoration did he drop his gaze.
“I am sorry, Pengolodh,” he said quietly, closing his eyes, wishing, though lately he did not even know what he wished for. Certainly he did not know why he was sorry, except that Elrond seemed to expect it.
“I know, Thranduil,” Elrond returned, something different in his voice now, something tender. Thranduil sensed the change in him, and knew Elrond was looking upon him with love now, but he didn't dare to look up and accidentally chase it away.
“I know you think me cruel. It will pass.”
Thranduil did not know if his teacher expected him to say anything in response, then at last he heard Elrond walk slowly back behind his own desk and sit down. “Begin,” he said sternly. “You have two hours.”

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment on your way out! :)
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The Teacher - Missing Scenes