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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
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This is a continuation of a chapter I wrote a little while ago with Legolas and Galion. Hope you like:
Galion
“Do be sure to attend me in the morning. I would have you awaken me with your hot, sweet mouth,” he said, his gaze lingering on those soft red lips. Galion lowered his head and bowed slightly, his hair tumbling around him in unruly loose curls. Legolas found he wanted to bind that hair to make it behave, much like the servant himself. For a moment he imagined having Galion bound to his bed, unable to move. Something for tomorrow, perhaps.
“Yes, Prince Legolas,” Galion said, meek and obliging as ever. Then he gave Legolas a daring smile of satisfaction and victory, and was gone.
Legolas flung himself back on the bed and laughed, looking forward to the morning.
Legolas surprised himself awake the next morning with a quiet moan. He made the sound again, just as he became aware that the wet sucking heat on his morning hardness was not the leftover of some erotic dream. He stretched his legs a little, which meant he pressed further into that welcoming mouth. The servant allowed it, his tongue rubbing against Legolas' shaft.
“Galion,” Legolas said, mostly to himself. “Good.” He raised his head a little to look down the bed, and could see the hunched figure of the servant beneath the sheets, pleasuring him as Legolas had commanded the night before. He lifted a hand and rested it on the sheet that covered the back of Galion's head.
He could let this happen, he thought, amazed at the idea. Woken like this, he could lie back while Galion brought him pleasure, swallowed him. It was a tempting thought indeed, and on its heels were other thoughts. Legolas noticed that Galion had been busy before waking him. A tray awaited with a plate covered by a silver dome. The fire was burning merrily, warming the air in the room, and through the door that led to his private bathroom he could smell sweet scented steam.
Did his father get this same level of service every morning? Suddenly Legolas wondered if Galion would repeat all of this for his father in an hour or two, once Legolas had finished with him. Somehow, that thought made him jerk up into that welcoming mouth in lust. Valar! Why had he waited so long to make use of Galion like this?
There were muffled sounds coming from beneath the sheet, from behind the gag of his own cock. Legolas smirked. Let him continue. It must be before dawn – Legolas always woke early – and if Galion had been forced to recount his failure to obey the King's command, he would have had a rather late night. He must be exhausted. Somehow, that didn't inspire mercy in Legolas at all.
The sounds disappeared, as they must, because Galion was no inexperienced ellon. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Legolas crossed his arms behind his head, happy to let Galion work for a few minutes, in no hurry to come too soon.
At last, Legolas took a break from his leisurely writhing and moaning to peer under the sheet, and saw Galion at work, his lips stretched, his cheeks hollow. With an indrawn hiss of breath, Legolas grasped at his shoulders to make him stop and all but pulled him up the bed. For a moment or two, Legolas let Galion rest on him, his bodyweight was so slight it was barely there. Galion caught his breath, those trembling red wet lips pressed against Legolas' shoulder.
Feeling charitable, Legolas stroked down over the side of Galion's body with one hand – soothing.
“Are you prepared?” he asked, and neither of them could doubt what he meant. Galion nodded in silence. “Ride me,” Legolas commanded, and then let Galion go to get into position, which he did with gratifying speed.
Galion straddled him, one hand reaching behind to hold Legolas' erection in place, and then he sank down slowly as Legolas groaned with his eyes closed, feeling himself encased in the other elf's body once more. The sound Galion made was slightly different; he drew in an endless breath mixed with a whimper. Legolas opened his eyes to watch.
The servant had his head thrown back, exposing the pale column of his neck in the firelight. His body was perfect, androgynous, except for the hard cock that pointed straight up in front where his pelvis tilted forward. It was darker than the rest of him, much darker, almost obscene. Legolas moved his hands forward, tickling his fingertips beneath Galion's buttocks, and found he could control him that way. Just the press of his fingertips and Galion moved to obey him, lifting up and then sinking back down, his moans deep and helpless with surrender.
“Touch yourself,” Legolas suggested, thrilled when Galion did just that, one hand caressing his cock while his body squeezed and moved on Legolas, letting him so deep that Legolas knew Galion must feel completely possessed. He began giving him little jolts of his hips as a reminder when their connection was at the deepest, until Galion was making deep grunts of awareness.
“Look at me,” Legolas said. “See who possesses you.”
His head came up slowly, his hair flowing loose and wild around him, the length of it brushing against Legolas' forearms. His grey eyes gleamed like mithril in the firelight, his pupils dark and expanded. Just like the rest of him, his features were delicate. Legolas admired him, from the tender points of his ears and the exquisite arch of his eyebrows, to the small nose and fine jawline. He found himself staring at the skin below Galion's ear, and surged up into a sitting position to nuzzle him there, arms closing around his slender frame as he fell back helplessly; Legolas' sudden move had made him lose his balance.
“Lovely...” Legolas said while Galion's legs wrapped around him, inhaling the scent of him, brushing his lips over that spot again and again. His skin was soft as the finest velvet. His lips drifted slightly lower, and he nipped at Galion's throat with his teeth. All of the servant's bodyweight was resting back on his arms, his fine-boned hands on Legolas' shoulders, squeezing urgently while his body tightened.
“Prince Legolas, please! Don't mark me!” Legolas only laughed, his voice low and deep.
“Oh, but you like to be in trouble, do you not?” he murmured, and Galion trembled in his arms, inviting all of this. “Tell me that you like to be in trouble,” he ordered devilishly. “Tell me that, and maybe I will let you go this time.”
“I like to be –” Galion began, obedient to a fault, and then Legolas bit hard. The servant's entire body seized pleasantly, so that Legolas held him tighter, almost crushing him. He could feel the hard length of Galion pressed against his belly. “Oh, not this! You don't know what he will do!”
“What will he do?” Legolas asked, curious, licking over the mark he had made. Even in the firelight it looked spectacular. “Or, better still,” he said. “Tell me how long you have wished for this. To serve me as well as my father.”
“Many centuries, Prince Legolas,” Galion admitted. “You are both very beautiful to me.”
“Pretty words,” said Legolas, and drew Galion away a little so he could thrust inside him again. “Is it Thranduil and Legolas you desire or the King and the Prince?”
Something in Galion's eyes cleared suddenly. “Oh, Legolas,” he said in reproach. “Is it me you want or the slave?” He laughed strangely. “Tell me truly, when I woke you, did you think of me, or the service I provide?”
Legolas blushed, remembering, entirely caught out. “You are not my slave,” he vowed, uncomfortable now. Then the moment was over. The clear look in Galion's eyes fled and he stretched in Legolas' arms, his lips curved upwards, there was no doubt.
“Let me,” he moaned, “let me be your slave, Prince Legolas!” This was different now, and Legolas laughed a little. It was a game, that is all, and he relaxed. If it was a game Galion wanted, he had come to the right place.
Withdrawing temporarily, Legolas guided Galion to lie on his back, and then hold his own ankles. It left him spread wide open, and Legolas kept him steady, hooking hands around his thighs as he eased back inside. From this angle, Legolas could watch as Galion's body stretched to accommodate him, the flesh around him a dark and ruddy pink.
Legolas set a steady pace, watching avidly as he moved in and out, making sure that Galion felt every single inch. He was moaning and shaking, and Legolas looked up briefly.
“My slave,” he said, never ceasing in his movements.
“Yes! Yours!” Galion cried out, his eyes shining with moisture that dampened his eyelashes.
At the sight of those tears, Legolas gave in, and thrust hard and fast until he felt himself let go, spilling deep inside Galion. The servant was still hard, and Legolas wrapped a hand around him.
“Will you behave for me or for him? Your choice,” Legolas said with a wicked grin. Galion groaned.
“After the night I had? I obey him,” Galion said breathlessly, although his body moved into Legolas' touch. Legolas laughed lightly and let him go. Their time wasn't over yet, and Legolas was covered in sweat. He jumped up lightly and pulled on Galion's hand.
“Come bathe with me,” Legolas said, happy, and Galion actually giggled.
“Told you,” he said as he allowed Legolas to lead him. “You can't keep up the act.”
Legolas stopped dead, and Galion ran into him. He hardly felt it. Turning, he looked down from his own height and calculated. Then he grinned. Galion's smile faltered, and he backed away a step, though Legolas still had tight hold of his hand so he didn't get very far.
Suddenly, Legolas dipped down and picked Galion up like an elleth to carry him into the bathroom. He wasn't a child, and he wasn't as slight as a female, but his height and weight were easily manageable for Legolas. Galion did not struggle, but relaxed and allowed it, his legs kicking slightly as he played with a lock of Legolas' hair.
The water was still hot, and was fragranced with some sweet smelling oil. Steam had gathered in the room, and Legolas walked into the sunken bath with Galion in his arms. He was surprised he hadn't been woken from sleep. Galion must have brought several servants with him to fill the bath. They must have been so silent.
He let Galion go and dipped under the water, coming up to lounge against the side. “Wash my hair, slave,” he ordered with a flick of water and a smile, feeling playful. The servant moved close to obey, pouring water first, then lathering Legolas' hair, his fingers moving in firm circular movements that felt fantastic. Legolas relaxed as Galion took position behind him, his back against Galion's chest.
“Now,” he said. “Tell me all about last night.”
“After I left you, I went back to your father immediately,” Galion began. “He didn't seem to have moved, so I took my usual place beside him. I can drift into reverie there as well as he does. You woke me from it when you spoke my name earlier.”
“And then?” Legolas asked, full of eager curiosity.
“Well, he was not sleeping at all...” Galion said, then rinsed Legolas' hair, making sure that the water cascaded in such a way that none of it got in his eyes. Legolas found himself relaxing further as Galion began to wash the rest of his body.
Before he could remind Galion to continue again, the servant began speaking, describing what had happened, and Legolas listened, rapt, as Galion revealed secrets to him that went way beyond whatever naughtiness he engaged in with Legolas' father.
“I ventured quietly into the hall,” Galion began, “and the King – my Master – had not moved. I am so well used to looking at him, I was sure I would be able to tell. A part of me wished that he had missed my presence, but I took my usual place and let my eyes unfocus in reverie. It is easy for me to do this on demand after these numberless centuries. Too easy, and were it not for the service I provide to my Master, I am certain I would sleep these ages away. Perhaps even turn to stone, like the elders of my tribe did once upon a time.”
“How old are you?” Legolas asked suddenly, intrigued. Elves turning to stone? He had never heard of such a thing! Galion was combing through his hair now, and behind him he felt the slighter elf shrug.
“I do not know. Many thousands of years, perhaps. Immortality is not granted by time, Legolas, but by continued participation. Your father is a case in point, but he will come back to us.”
Galion sounded certain, and it soothed Legolas a little. It made his fear for his father seem like a trifling, transient thing. For a long moment, Galion said nothing, then he mused upon his own words, as if he were talking only to himself.
“I have read your books, and I know your legends, your myths. If, as foretold, the elves are to endure until Arda is unmade, then it was wise of the Valar to prepare a place of peace for them in the far West. Wise indeed. Perhaps it is true that in such a place, the weariness of our long existence is not such a burden. Perhaps it is true we will all meet there one day.”
Galion spoke in such an odd way, as if in part he were not an elf at all. As if he were not one of them, and it made an eerie prickle of sensation race over Legolas' skin. If Galion did not consider himself part of history, was that because he had not shared in it? Was he truly that ancient? If only Elrond were here, he would know what all of this meant. Legolas swallowed loudly, aware of the touch of Galion's hands on him.
“I should like that,” Galion whispered, as if Legolas were not even with him. “To meet again. I should like that very much.”
“Continue the story,” Legolas said, nearly pleading so that Galion would stop the reflections that made him so uneasy. “What happened next with my father?”
Galion's arms closed around him, and squeezed lightly. “Do not be afraid, pen neth,” Galion whispered, and Legolas felt his body relax at the kind reassurance, as if to do other than what Galion suggested was impossible. There was no cause to be nervous. Wasn't this Galion, who had cared for him all of his life? Always respectful, quiet and meek? Legolas sighed and leaned his head back, his eyes closed in trust. Galion's lips brushed over his temple. Then he continued.
“I drifted, and I began to think of ways to bring Elrond half-elven to the palace,” Galion said. “If anyone can awaken my Master, it will be him...”
Yes, Legolas thought hazily. Bring Elrond here. He had thought of it himself, for his father's sake. He would also know about elves who turned to stone, though the idea of revealing Galion's secrets – even to Elrond – felt wrong. Those confidences were given to him alone. He would not break them, not even to satisfy his own curiosity. He listened as Galion told of the previous night's events...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where have you been?” I jumped, having almost reached that meditative place in my mind. So he was awake at last. An answer was required of me, and I thought of Legolas. I decided to keep him anonymous. I could entertain Thranduil without the use of his name.
“Sire,” I said, then corrected myself almost immediately. “I m-mean, Master. I was called away, but I returned to your side as soon as I could.”
I turned my head to look up at him where he perched on the throne, and I was sure to look at him from below my lashes, as if the sight of him filled me with awe and fear. In a way it does, for the King Thranduil is as beautiful as his father. And his son. I lowered my gaze when he stood up and came before me, and found myself staring at his shoulder, for he is much taller than I.
“You were called away?” Thranduil asked, as if he did not believe it, and I had given him no reason to. I am purposeful in my way, and I let him admonish me. “You, Galion, have no family, you keep no friends, you give no counsel. You have no responsibilities. You serve only me. What would such as you be called away for?”
I trembled. It came easily, for I knew the kind of punishment I invited, and it would be hard to bear. But I encouraged it because it keeps me interested in this life. It is a necessary spice. Without it, I would decline to partake in the feast. I am full and empty at the same time. Oh, I needed this very much.
“I am sorry, Master,” I said quietly, still not looking up, and I knew I would rouse his impatience. Sure enough, I felt his hands grasping the front of my clothes to pull me close. I deliberately stumbled forward with a cry of alarm as he sniffed at me. Now he knew, and I looked up at last, swallowing, as a devilish smile curved his lips.
“I should have guessed,” he said with exaggerated malice, for this is always a game, despite appearances. There is nothing truly dark in Thranduil and he would not refuse me lovers if I wanted them. But I played my part. I shivered. “Disloyalty. Did you not learn your lesson the last time?”
The last time I played with him like this was when he lost Nimbrethil. He was so tired then, and too young to be so. I tormented him with my misdemeanours until he tired of punishing me and became interested in the world again. He looked upon me with a strange twinkle in his eyes that did not belong to this game, and I realised he knew the aim of it, and was grateful. I smiled to acknowledge it, but my answer was designed to inflame him further. To awaken him.
“You have so many lessons for me, Master. If I have forgotten one, I am sorry.”
A heavy hand was laid on my shoulder, and he steered me to the door of the chamber. “With me,” he ordered. “Together, Galion, we shall find out just how disobedient you have been, and with whom.”
I felt a very real sense of foreboding in my heart, and I knew it did not have to be like this between us. Even then, if I changed certain things in my responses, I could have made him love me, cherish me, promise me eternity. I could have had him lie with me until morning, warm and pleasant. I could even have made him beg for my favour. But that is not what either of us need. Thranduil needs direction and purpose to make him feel alive, even if that purpose is only to punish a wayward slave. That is who he is. I need to be of use. It is what I have become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I see no marks on you,” Legolas blurted as Galion urged him out of the bath, only to wrap him in a warm fluffy towel. Legolas blushed. “I mean,” he said, gesturing with his hand. “It does not look as if you were punished.”
Just as with knowing the context of Galion's service to his father, Legolas was also aware of the kind of sexual games his father favoured. He knew his mother had been partial to them too, though he had never spoken of it. It was certainly not his business! And yet... if Thranduil had punished Galion, then it was in some way that could not be seen. The only mark on him was the bite Legolas had given him earlier. Something for which he now began to feel guilty. Galion would shortly face the consequences for that, not him.
Galion did not reply, and only rubbed a towel through Legolas' hair, remaining silent. Despite everything, the servant was being deliberately insolent, and try as he might, Legolas could not help but respond to it.
“Answer me,” he commanded, turning and catching hold of Galion's wrists to stop him in his work. Galion drew in a quick breath, but did not try to break free. His eyes darkened.
“What question would you have me answer, Prince Legolas?” he queried, his voice soft with deference.
“How were you punished?”
Galion licked his lips. The act drew Legolas' attention to them, and he moved a half-step closer, his hands letting go of Galion's wrists to rest lightly on his hips. “I screamed. I cried. I was in pain. Be in no doubt, I begged his forgiveness as earnestly as I have ever done anything.”
The words skimmed across the surface of Legolas' mind. He found himself watching the way Galion's lips moved. Another half step, and now their bodies were touching. Legolas inclined his head to taste those lips...
“Why do you wish to know how he achieved it? Do you wish to do it to me yourself?”
The questions stopped Legolas in his tracks. From nowhere he remembered his momentary fantasy of having Galion tied to his bed, helpless. “Yes,” he said suddenly, even though he didn't understand where the desire came from, especially now that Galion had confided so much to him. The relative difference in their height meant that Legolas was looking down on the servant slightly, and that did not make him feel any better about his admission.
Galion looked down and away, so Legolas merely cupped his chin in one hand, forcing him to make eye contact. Oh, but he was so beautiful! It was then that Legolas understood much about Galion that he'd only half-grasped before.
“You could make me love you, cherish you, promise you eternity,” Legolas said, quoting Galion's own words. “I would do it gladly.” He narrowed his eyes to keep the thought before the servant could make him forget it. “You wish for this. For something else.”
To his surprise, Galion reached up and wound his arms around Legolas' neck, standing on tip-toe to kiss him on the lips, giving him what he wanted. His body was lithe and slender, and he fit into Legolas' embrace perfectly.
“Well done, Prince Legolas,” said Galion warmly. “Come. Get dressed and I shall give you your answer while you eat breakfast. Then you may decide...” Galion winked. “For yourself, what you wish.”
Stunned, Legolas followed the old servant back into his room and dressed hastily, so that soon he found himself seated with breakfast before him. Where he was, he had full view of his divan, and Galion, still naked, strolled over to it with a sigh.
Legolas toyed with his spoon, twirling it in the dish of oatmeal and apple as Galion laid back upon the bed, so inviting that Legolas was seized with the need to go over there and claim him. Only the promise of knowing what his father did kept him still.
“He bound me to his bed,” Galion said, his face tilted up to the ceiling, his arms and legs stretched out to the four corners of the divan. The bed was too big for him: it made Galion seem small and lonely. As Legolas watched he moved his limbs as though he were restrained, writhing, his damp hair clinging to him as if he were bathed in sweat.
“Oropherion has some very wicked ways to restrain his lovers, but he also has bracelets and anklets lined with the softest fur, so that no amount of struggle will cause injury. These he uses when he intends for his servant to resist.”
Galion finished speaking, and now lie quite still on the bed. “These he put on me.” The servant let his head fall to the side, as if watching someone at the side of the bed. “He poured oil onto his hands, and onto a slender toy he used to penetrate me.”
Legolas could see it all so clearly as Galion replayed it for him, arching up from the bed with a whimpering moan. “Still he did not question me. But he touched...” There was a loud clink as Legolas dropped his spoon into the dish. He had not eaten a thing. Galion was moaning and making a show of struggling again, just as if those restraints were on him.
“It is nice now,” Galion said, his hips lifting from the bed in little jerky movements as Legolas stood up and walked over to him. “But when I am aching and hard, his hands leave me.”
Legolas stood at the side of the bed in silence, looking down as Galion breathed in and out, his muscles taut. “I cannot move or get free, and I cannot get relief. He watches me, unblinking, as I beg for his mercy. For compassion.”
“At last the need to be somewhere – to have his touch – eases. And of course, that is when he returns his hands, working me up to that fever pitch of need all over again. So deliberate. Over and over again, for an hour or longer he plays this game. I am need. My body aches all over. I shiver because I feel cold, though my skin is damp with sweat and my hair is wet through. It is intended to cause pain, what he does. And I am pain. I am whatever he wishes me to be.”
Legolas reached out with a hand to Galion's chest, to touch him there and release him from the memory. But he hesitated when Galion spoke again, hearing his father's words from those perfect lips that were twisted now in anguish.
“You, Galion, are the property of the King, as you know very well. Who has used you? Who has given you pleasure?” Galion cried but did not speak an answer. It was he, Legolas, who had done it.
“Master, please!” Galion begged, and his suffering was exquisite. He was hard now at the memory of it, and Legolas moved his hand again, this time lower down. He would end this. Yet his touch did not inspire the reaction he hoped for.
“No more, please, Master, no more,” Galion gibbered, and yet his body rose to Legolas' hand. “Oh, touch me! Please touch me!” Legolas did so, watching Galion's hardness in his hand, then switching to look at his face. The lines of anguish were gone, and Galion lie there giving Legolas a look of invitation and yearning.
“Why didn't you tell him?” Legolas asked, deliberately continuing the caress; he liked the way it made Galion look, lips parted and eyelashes fluttering. “I do not care to remain nameless.”
Galion sighed, and drew his arms and legs back in towards his body. He turned onto his side, dislodging Legolas' grip. “Because he needed to do it, and I needed...” Galion frowned, his voice trailing off.
“A necessary spice?” Legolas asked, sitting on the side of the bed, and Galion smiled at him.
“Yes. That is it.”
It finally sank in then that whatever his father did, Galion not only consented to it: he made it happen. Galion had been telling him that very thing all the way through.
“I don't want to do that to you,” Legolas confessed. It had been difficult enough to watch Galion recall it for his sake. Then he smiled. “But I do want to restrain you, and perhaps get you into terrible trouble.” He paused. “On a regular basis.”
“I would like that,” Galion replied, turning onto his back again, and something about him was so seductive Legolas wished he could begin at that very moment. Before he realised quite what he was doing, he was sprawled over Galion, fully dressed, hands holding his wrists down to the bed.
“Whatever I want, you would not be able to stop me,” Legolas said quietly, tightening his grip when Galion struggled slightly, teasing him. “It suits you to be helpless.”
“I should go now,” Galion said seriously. Legolas decided to ignore him, and instead of letting him go, kissed the bruise he had made on Galion's neck. “Your father will expect me soon.” Again Legolas ignored his words, and ignored his feeble attempts to get free. He, Legolas, was bigger and stronger.
“Legolas...” Galion sighed. “Your father must not awaken alone.”
That sentence came upon him like ice water. Legolas could not help imagining his father awakening alone when he was used to Galion's attention, and how lonely that would make him feel. He drew back quickly, letting Galion free at once.
“I will find you later,” Galion promised, laying a hand on Legolas' cheek. “Then...” He drew in a deep breath. “You may do whatever you wish.”
Legolas sat on the side of the bed and watched as Galion retrieved his clothing and put it on.
“Take good care of him,” Legolas said suddenly, and then blushed a little, remembering how Galion had awoken him.
“Yes, Prince Legolas.” Then he was gone. Again.
Legolas threw himself back on his bed, completely bemused. Whatever happened between them, he was quite sure that Galion would always be in complete control of it all. He supposed his father knew that too, and suddenly he laughed out loud. No wonder Galion infuriated Thranduil so much!

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed! Please consider leaving a comment for the Galion muse... he's very shy. I will respond to any reviews here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/55964-pippychicks-lotr-fiction-review-responses/
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The Teacher - Missing Scenes