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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
- 14
- 15
- 16
Author's Note: Well, at last I have finished this. I'm incredibly sorry for the long wait, bigredbutton, but I hope you enjoy it. The request was left on a comment of this missing scene from The Teacher: Wine and Wishes.

“I wonder just how Elrond will feel and how he will react if he ever realizes that he has taken Thranduil's virginity, and to have taken it in that sort of manner. He spotted the bruise he'd left on Thranduil's neck, so he must be suspicious about something... Maybe thranduil is able to keep it a secret until much, much later. Like maybe Elrond has a weird sense of daja vu much later on when he's having sex with an adult Thranduil (like in the current section of the main story) and the circumstances are similar enough to ping his memory. Or something like that.”
- BigRedButton

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, Middle Earth, nor any of the characters. Everything belongs to Tolkien. I make no money from this.

Watch out for Elrond saying: OMG in elvish, lol.

Also, don't try this at home. Drinking a full bottle of port wine in a few minutes will see you rushed into hospital to have your stomach pumped.

Drink and Discovery
In retrospect, it was probably the wine which was to blame.
Thranduil had an extensive wine cellar of port and sherry, including some vintages that were put by long ago by Oropher. During each of Elrond's visits to Eryn Galen, there would be at least one night where they went walking amongst the treasured section of dusty bottles, Thranduil blowing cobwebs of the labels, discussing their merits with him as if they were old friends. Those were too old to drink, many centuries too old, but they would find one, and Thranduil would match it up with a recent vintage for them to take back with them. He was quite the expert.
Just how much drinking had Thranduil done in those empty years?
Anyway, this particular wine was one of Oropher's favourites, Thranduil had told him. He'd had a wine regularly imported while he still dwelt at Lindon, when Thranduil was little more than a child. Elrond had been intrigued, taking the bottle from Thranduil's hands carefully to read it. He smiled to recall those times, drinking with Oropher when Thranduil was in bed and out of the way.
Many long nights, when Authiriel had gone to visit relatives, Oropher had taken the time to get Elrond thoroughly drunk before seducing him on the settee. Their relationship was already mostly over by then, but they loved each other during those nights as if it was new.
“I don't suppose you know this wine,” Elrond said in regret, his hand caressing the bottle. Thranduil would have been too young, unless he'd tasted it years later. He might have done, since Oropher had obviously kept some. “I remember it had a very distinctive bouquet. Heavy oak and rich blackberry. Very difficult to attain. I've never tasted its equal.” Thranduil gave him a look.
“If you want that one, I think there is a version I brought in not long ago. I tasted it, but have been waiting for an excuse to open another bottle.” He rolled his eyes. “Galion drank the rest of the last one before I could. He said it was dropped and broken, but...” He frowned. “Well, you know how he is.”
They were a great pair together, Elrond thought, shaking his head. “Sometimes, Celebmîr nín, I am not altogether sure you two are good for each other,” he teased.
Thranduil smirked, took the bottle from Elrond's hands to put it back, and led him into the drinkable section. He hummed and aahed for a few minutes, taking out a couple of bottles to study them in the light of the lamp, only to put them back. Then he suddenly came out with a “Ha!” of victory. He held up a couple of bottles, his eyes twinkling, a wolfish grin on his face.
“This is it,” he said, clearly excited. “Let us take it to my rooms, and you will tell me if it matches the wine from your memory.”
If it did, he would beg for a bottle to take home with him, he knew. When you lived so long, you became dependent on more visceral things to remind you of times long past. The taste of a particular wine, the scent of a perfume or a melody. They were like keys that opened up the centuries and the ages like keepsake boxes. Just the idea of that wine had made him remember those nights with Oropher. He did not know what wonders the taste of it would have him recall.
For all that Elrond teased him, Thranduil did not take his drinking seriously. They opened a bottle, and sipped at it while they played games of chance and composed ridiculous stories together. It was a very good match. So much so that as the evening drew on into night, Elrond found himself pleasantly relaxed, Thranduil in his arms on the settee as he dawdled in half-forgotten memories of Oropher and Lindon. Even of Maglor and Elros. Such things did not hurt now; they were a pleasure to recall.
“I always knew when you were there,” Thranduil said, his voice dreamy as Elrond played with a strand of his hair. He adjusted himself so he was laid with the back of his head in Elrond's lap. “I would stand at my door and listen to you. You had dismissed me. I hated you. I loved you. I wanted you.”
Elrond frowned, and put his glass down on a side table. He had become so drunk he had talked about Oropher to his own son! That was inexcusable, but then Thranduil's confession made his heart ache.
“Thranduil, I –” The King waved a negligent hand at him, and he fell silent.
“What does it matter now? Besides you were right. I was a child.” He smiled as if recalling something from those times, and Elrond smiled back at him, quite at ease again. Celebmîr, he thought, and Thranduil was a treasure, for he carried no resentment with him. Only love.
“What are you thinking of, that makes you smile like that?” Elrond queried, and Thranduil shook his head. Given where his head was, his movement made Elrond draw in a deep silent breath and close his eyes. Thranduil laughed.
“Only this wine,” he said, sitting up a little for another taste, tilting his head back as he swallowed. “It reminds you of my father.” He sighed, lingering over it in a lazy fashion. “It reminds me of being young, and yet here you are – with me.”
He suddenly stretched out over Elrond's lap, putting the glass down on the floor, perfectly confident. His back arched up and his arms hung over the side of the settee above his head. He could feel young, after everything? Elrond wished he knew that trick. “Teach me a new lesson, Elrondlas,” Thranduil demanded, his eyes half closed. He might be the last ElvenKing, and he might be tall, but to Elrond in that moment he also seemed terribly young. Much too young for what had been, and what was to come.
Perhaps he had imbibed too much. He should convince Thranduil to retire with him before he became maudlin and the losses of the centuries could catch up with him. Thinking that, he slapped Thranduil's thigh. “To bed with you, and I will teach you something there,” Elrond said, and despite the darkening of his mood he could not help laughing when Thranduil jumped up and all but ran to the bed, shedding clothes as he went.
It wasn't until the middle of the long night that it happened. Elrond was dragged half out of reverie when he felt Thranduil slipping back into bed in the dark. He might have fallen back to sleep and avoided everything that followed if Thranduil had not reached across and touched his shoulder.
With a groan, Elrond rolled over, pulling Thranduil into his arms. He was freezing! What mischief had he been involved in now? “Where have you been, hmm?” he asked, his voice fuzzy with wine and sleep.
Beneath the covers, Thranduil's toes touched his feet, and Elrond shivered. “It doesn't matter. I suppose you would like to steal my warmth now?” He laughed, though Thranduil gave him no answer. “I will warm you, Celebmîr nín,” he murmured, his lips brushing against Thranduil's jaw. “My own way...”
Feeling wicked, he suckled on the tip of Thranduil's ear, listening to him whimper and feeling his body tremble. Strong hands came to his shoulders, attempting to push him back, but Elrond only grasped the King's wrists and pressed them into the bed as he rolled over to trap Thranduil beneath him. His lover's body arched up against him, but Elrond did not relent and set him free.
“Oh, no, you don't!” he chastised playfully. “It is my turn now.” In the dark, he smiled, though Thranduil would not see it. This, suddenly knowing he could have Thranduil made his body burn with desire. He could not get enough. It was as though all the feelings he had repressed over the centuries were boiling in his blood, and only being inside Thranduil would ease it. Elrond rubbed against Thranduil deliberately, letting the King feel how hard he was. Of course, at the same time he could feel Thranduil's erection, and he knew how much his lover wanted it too.
“Ai, Valar, yes...” Thranduil moaned quietly. “Again...”
Something about the way he said it was not quite right, and Elrond felt a sudden sense of repetition. He became still for a moment, considering. It wasn't altogether unknown; to sense that something was happening again. The elves knew this. Their lives were so long they lived with many echoes. Elrond thought for a second or two, then decided it did not matter. He lowered his lips to Thranduil's, tasting him deeply, then he broke away and laughed.
“You taste of that wine,” he noted. “Is that why you left our bed? I cannot decide if you are mischievous as an elfling, or if you really do intend to play the drunken ElvenKing.”
Thranduil had been oddly passive during that kiss. Again, Elrond had to shake a strong feeling of recollection. It was no use trying to pinpoint it, and he hoped it would pass. He paused, and Thranduil did not move or speak. How to make him respond? There was something about Thranduil's lack of participation that was adding to Elrond's unease.
Dipping his head, he brushed his lips over Thranduil's jaw to his neck, and his lover tilted his head to give better access. To Elrond it was as good as any request, and after a further moment of consideration, he bit Thranduil there, worrying a fold of skin with his teeth slowly, cruelly, wanting to leave evidence of himself.
He could imagine how that mark would look on Thranduil's neck in the light of day, over breakfast, perhaps... Elrond gasped loudly. He refused to see it. No. His memory was playing a trick on him, surely? Oh, but he was still half drunk! That must be it.
“Hmm...” he murmured, setting Thranduil's wrists free to run his hands down the King's body. If he could just make Thranduil participate, that uneasy feeling would shift, he was certain. “Show me how you want it,” he demanded. “Make me feel it, Celebmîr nín.”
Thranduil's arms wrapped around him, and his hips lifted, begging for Elrond's attention. He supplied it, pleased with the obedient response, wrapping his hand around Thranduil's erection, and yet there was something about the King's movements that seemed slightly off. If he didn't know better, he would swear that he was with an inexperienced young ellon. With that thought, and with the aid of the wine they had imbibed, Elrond's mind slipped back through time, to an almost identical night in Lindon. And Thranduil the next morning at breakfast, sporting that bruise on his neck.
Elrond drew back quickly, moving to his hands and knees above Thranduil's prone body so that they were no longer touching. For a long moment all he could do was breathe as the memory slammed into him, this time with the added benefit of seeing the scale of the crime he'd committed. Knowingly or not, it hardly mattered just then.
“Elrond?” Thranduil spoke his name as if lost.
“Did I do it?” Elrond whispered harshly, certain that Thranduil would know what he referred to. “Did I do that to you? Did I take your innocence?”
Thranduil didn't answer right away, and that was all the confirmation Elrond needed. He groaned in instinctive regret, and it felt as though he were wounded. He could not be in both places at the same time. Here, with the adult Thranduil in the dark. And there, with that youngster he had taught. He would have crept in, of course he would, Elrond saw it so clearly now. And yet he would have been frightened, nervous, faced with something he hadn't the experience to imagine. Idiot!
For the sake of his sanity, Elrond lit a candle by the side of the bed to give a little light. Though the last thing he wanted right now was to see Thranduil's face, he wanted to reassure himself that they were not still there, that these long aeons of time had indeed passed.
Elrond sat on the side of the bed with his head in his hands. “Ai! Ilúvatar nín!” Elrond muttered. He could sense Thranduil sitting up, hesitant to speak. “What am I to do with you?” he asked, exasperated. “Tell me, what?”
After a few moments of heavy silence, Thranduil came to sit beside him, staring down at his own lap. If he apologised, Elrond was not sure Thranduil would live through the night.
“Are you going to leave over this?” Thranduil asked hesitantly, a note of plaintive regret in his voice that Elrond had not heard since those times. Since then, the King had worked tirelessly on his arrogant façade. “It was so long ago,” Thranduil said, almost pleading, almost the youngster who had begged him not to end their lessons.
This thing between them was old, yet it was new at the same time. Elrond could understand Thranduil fearing to lose what was between them, and he sighed, reaching beside him blindly to lay a hand on Thranduil's thigh.
“No... never that, Thranduil,” he said at last, which was as close as he could get to providing comfort. “I just... I need ten minutes just to think.”
“All right,” the King said, and he went back to staring down at himself, saying nothing further.
Elrond drew in a deep breath. What a foolish, idiotic, reckless thing to do! No wonder Thranduil had found it so easy to steal from him in those years after the Last Alliance. Clearly he was just continuing a extant strategy. These thoughts were not helping to cool his sudden anger. Elrond shook his head, but he could not help it. Thranduil could have been harmed, and he would have been responsible for it! His thoughts went round and round in circles, and he kept remembering how young Thranduil was then, how hopelessly naïve, how –
“How long now?” Thranduil asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“You've only been quiet for around forty five seconds,” Elrond remarked dryly, squeezing Thranduil's thigh with his hand.
Beside him, he could see Thranduil nod slowly from the corner of his eye. “Ah, I see.” Thranduil sighed.
Elrond said nothing else, and returned to his own internal tirade. Yes, Thranduil was courageous, but to a fault. How ridiculously certain Thranduil had been, how underhanded, how utterly besotted... Elrond brought himself up at that. Yes, so he had been. And perhaps, if he himself had been paying the proper attention, Thranduil would not have had the chance or inclination to do what he did. If Elrond had let him go when he first noticed that fixation, instead of telling himself he could cure Thranduil of it... Slowly, he turned his head to look at his lover. Thranduil squirmed under his direct regard, despite his age and experience. In his shame, in the candlelight, he seemed unbearably young again.
“I am sorry,” he said, dejected.
Elrond could not help smiling, despite himself. “I am certain you got more than you bargained for,” he said, and Thranduil's eyes leapt to his with a guilty start.
“I frightened myself,” Thranduil admitted. “I was wrong about so many things, but I learnt that lesson well, even though you were no longer my teacher then.”
Elrond sighed and shook his head.
“I am not sorry it was you,” Thranduil said quietly. “And for that reason, I would do it again.”
Elrond could not believe what he was hearing. “Thranduil! Do you always have to push?” He turned properly, and realised that this was just one part of him. Oropher's son had ever been precocious, and he was just the same as an adult. Elrond's gaze was drawn to the side of the bed, where a full bottle of that wine rested, with two glasses.
“I went to bring it back for us,” Thranduil said in explanation, seeing Elrond note it.
Though he had reassured his lover, Elrond was still quite angry at the liberty Thranduil had taken, and as he considered the full bottle of wine, something dark came alive in him. “Oh, Thranduil,” he said, with a certain amount of regret. “You know very well you brought it back for yourself,” he said, “and you should have it. In fact, I think you will.”
So saying, he took a glass and filled it to the brim, holding it out to Thranduil. “Drink it,” Elrond ordered. Thranduil sipped at the wine. “Quickly now. All of it.”
Thranduil flashed a look at him, and then smirked. Clearly, he considered he'd just been set a challenge. “Oh, I can drink,” he drawled, and tipped the glass back, gulping down the contents in one swift stroke. Thranduil slowly lowered the glass and licked his lips. “Ah, lovely,” he said, his voice somewhat gravelly.
Reaching out, Elrond held the glass steady in Thranduil's hand and refilled it. The King just laughed. “Really?” he said. “You're going to lose this game, lass nín, but I will happily play it with you.” So saying, he lifted it in a kind of salute, then brought it to his lips and drank again, as if it were merely water. Though when he lowered it this time, his head remained tilted back, and a kind of low, almost sibilant sound came from his throat, as if something had just overcome him slightly.
Elrond merely filled the glass again and gave it back to him.
Holding up the bottle in the candlelight, Elrond calculated Thranduil had got down more than half of it in a very short space of time. Thranduil flashed him a slightly dubious look, abruptly dropping the act. “Do you intend for me to drink the whole bottle? But I... it is very strong!” he argued.
“I am aware of it,” Elrond said with a terse nod. “Drink it all down.”
He watched as Thranduil drank the wine in large gulps, until the glass was empty and he handed it back into Elrond's outstretched hand.
“Please... punish me if you will, but do not insist on this,” Thranduil pleaded, apparently having completely given up on his former playfulness. He leaned against Elrond's side drunkenly, head laid lopsided against his shoulder. “I cannot seem to think clearly,” Thranduil said, biting his lip, doing his best to appeal to Elrond. But Elrond was having none of it, and simply poured the last of the bottle into the glass. Thranduil looked at it and sighed, sitting up straight again.
“You wanted a lesson,” Elrond noted darkly. “You shall have one. Drink.”
Thranduil swayed in his place and closed his eyes, but he drank the wine nevertheless.
“You have no regard for my mornings,” he complained then, pressing the glass into Elrond's hand. All of the bottle was gone. Elrond replaced it beside the bed, along with the glass.
A moment later his arms were full of a very tipsy Thranduil, mouthing at his neck and shoulder.
“Mmm... you taste nice. I would rather have you.” Thranduil said, and attempted to push Elrond down onto the bed. Despite his strength and fumbling, Thranduil was extremely easy to handle like this, and before long, Elrond had Thranduil beneath him again, pinned to the bed. He smiled, then blew out the candle.
“I have gone blind!” Thranduil declared imperiously, attempting to sit up. Elrond held him down easily, just managing not to laugh out loud.
“It is dark,” he said calmly. “Now settle. We are going to play a little game.”
“Oh, Elrondlas!” Thranduil sighed happily. “A game? From you? I accept!” He sounded enthusiastic enough, and he wriggled his body in such a decidedly erotic way, Elrond could not contain a pleased sigh. “What are we playing?” Thranduil asked.
“We are going to re-enact that night,” Elrond said. “Only this time, you are going to tell me exactly how you felt. Do you understand?” Thranduil hiccuped.
“I love you,” he slurred drunkenly, attempting to reach up and pull Elrond down to him.
“Yes, yes. Did you hear me?” Elrond demanded, a little exasperated, easily holding Thranduil's wrists against the bed. Perhaps he had overdone it slightly with the wine. A moan drifted up to him out of the darkness.
“I was telling you how I felt...” Thranduil said, reproachful. Elrond smiled.
“Good. Can you remember being there that night?”
“Ada was called away, so I sneaked in,” Thranduil said, then arched up. Elrond could feel his erection against his thigh. “Elrond...” he moaned. With a little laugh, he rubbed against Thranduil beneath him, until the King moaned again.
“How is that?” he queried.
“I was afraid,” Thranduil said, his voice small and lost, as if he was actually reliving it. “I thought it would be like a dream, but it is too much...” He paused, shivering. “You feel dangerous to me. Heavy. Hard and hot.”
“I should tell you it is me!” he gasped. “I will!”
Before he could say anything else, Elrond kissed him thoroughly, tasted the wine before he broke away. Beneath him, Thranduil drew in a series of small breaths, as if Elrond had stolen it from him.
“This next part, I have already done tonight.” Nevertheless, Elrond dipped his head to kiss Thranduil's neck, and the King helpfully inclined his head to give Elrond more room.
“I care not,” Thranduil gasped. “Do it again... please...”
Elrond obliged, biting him in exactly the same place, hearing Thranduil's panting breath stall suddenly. Letting go of Thranduil's wrists, he urged his lover to embrace him, which he did eagerly, pulling Elrond closer. He undulated his hips and Thranduil uttered a broken cry.
“And now?” Elrond asked when he was done, licking over the bruise, which must be even worse than before.
“It hurts,” he hissed, “and you... oh, I want the pain and I do not know why it feels good,” Thranduil said, all in rush. Elrond did not reply except to encourage him to spread his legs, so that he could settle properly.
“That is it,” he praised. “Very welcoming...”
“I am afraid! Please don't hurt me. I want to tell you, but I dare not now.” As Elrond listened to Thranduil's words, his heart clenched a little. For all of Thranduil's confidence, it was all too easy to imagine how frightened he must have been then. “You would hate me for this, and rightly so,” he said softly, in regret.
“What were you afraid I would do if you revealed yourself?” he asked, wondering how the loss of his virginity could have seemed the better option.
“You would be so angry with me, and you had already dismissed me. You would make me sit up with you until ada came home, and you would have told him all that I had done, and he would hate me too.”
Elrond rewarded him for the confession by lowering his hand to Thranduil's erection, gripping him and pulling at him slowly. “Ai... please...” Thranduil moaned.
Though he could not clearly remember all that transpired between them, Elrond was sure he had said plenty to his lover in these moments, thinking him to be Oropher. “I said many things then,” he noted, still slowly caressing Thranduil's cock. “I warned you how I would take you, how I would fill you. How did that make you feel?”
“More...” Thranduil groaned. “Why won't you go faster? I need it...”
With a surprised laugh, Elrond quickened his hand, shaking his head. “You didn't listen to a word, did you?”
Thranduil was very nearly there. Elrond suddenly let him go, hearing almost the same cry of dismay as he had back then. “But when I did this you must have thought of it,” Elrond said, using a hand to hold himself in the perfect place to claim Thranduil before pressing forward.
With a cry of alarm, Thranduil frantically moved away, getting several inches up the bed before Elrond pulled him back down.
“Turn over now,” Elrond said, rolling Thranduil onto his front and not giving him much choice in the matter. He reached out blindly for the oil, somehow managing to avoid the empty wine bottle and glasses. In the dark, he sprinkled some onto his hand, then made to penetrate Thranduil with one finger.
The King gasped, his body tightening instinctively as if to refuse the touch. “What if you know when you touch me? What if you can tell I am an imposter?”
“I'll make you feel good,” Elrond whispered wickedly, sliding that finger in despite the resistance, allured and excited despite himself, despite Thranduil's words of reluctance.
“Oh, it hurts! You mustn't do it!” Thranduil cried. “Please!”
Elrond only smiled, gradually opening his lover with that one finger, getting deeper and deeper. “So tight,” he commented, feeling his cock twitch eagerly to be inside the close, hot embrace of Thranduil's body.
“And if you hurt me that way, and I have to tell, who else will my ada send for but you?” Thranduil's voice was small and quiet, and he was right, of course. All the more reason to continue, and ease the way.
“Relax for me,” Elrond instructed, not giving Thranduil any kind of reply, feeling it get easier.
“I can take this,” Thranduil said, as if persuading himself. “I can let this happen. This is all right. Mmm, yes,” he said, as Elrond's finger went deeper still. “It feels different now... nicer.” Now he was far enough, Elrond bent his finger slightly, touching upon Thranduil's prostate. The King jerked on the bed in sudden pleasure. “Oh! How are you doing that?”
Elrond took his time, teasing a little before removing his finger, and beginning the whole thing again... this time with two fingers. Beneath him Thranduil became accepting, even eager, pushing back against his fingers for more stimulation as if trained by Elrond's touch.
At last when the King's body was thoroughly relaxed and open, slippery with oil, Elrond moved into position, longing to take him. “And now?” he asked, just prodding at that entrance with the head of his cock. Thranduil moaned beautifully, all traces of his former fear were gone. Only desire remained.
“I want you, pengolodh,” He moaned, almost pressing back onto Elrond's cock. “Yes...” There was something tender and trusting in his voice now. “Teach me...”
All of a sudden there was another echo. Legolas in Imladris, in the night, eager for lessons. Elrond had taken him, had been his first, and just as with Thranduil, he realised now he hadn't hurt either of them.
There was such a feeling of deep love and joy in him as he took Thranduil then, while beneath him the King made exclamations and called out his name as if it were the first time Elrond had ever done it.
“Ai! Elrond!” he cried out, as dramatic as Elrond could ever want, and he rested for a moment, enjoying it to feel Thranduil's body fluttering around him in pleasure.
“You can stop playing the part now,” he said, forgiving, with a smile. “It is over.”
“I am not pretending,” Thranduil replied, his head buried in the pillows now so that his voice was muffled. “Continue,” he demanded, moving his body to urge Elrond on. “Please.”
“Thranduil...” Elrond moaned his name, beginning the slow back and forth again in the dark, knowing it would be over too soon. “Meleth nín.”
After a minute or two, he eased back, allowing Thranduil to his knees so he could reach around and touch. “Oh, yes... just like that,” Thranduil sighed on an outward breath, thrusting into that hand as Elrond continued to make love to him. “You are mine. Aren't you?”
“For all time,” Elrond responded, remembering when the adolescent Thranduil had insisted it was so. He smiled when he felt Thranduil's body stutter around him, and the warmth of the King's release on his fingers. Elrond let it take him too, and then they slept in each other's arms for the rest of the night.
In the morning, Elrond could not help staring at the bruise on Thranduil's neck at breakfast, dark purple and angry. He should prepare something for it. Perhaps. Besides that, Thranduil did not appear at all well. In fact, at times he even had trouble lifting his head from the table.
“Your aching head is entirely your own fault,” Elrond observed, as he tapped at the edge of his boiled egg with a little silver spoon. Thranduil groaned.
“You needn't hammer it home,” he replied resentfully, and Elrond smirked.
“It's a little late for that, wouldn't you say?” he commented mildly. Thranduil stared, shook his head, then sighed.
“I think you should leave the jokes to me,” he said pointedly. Elrond raised an eyebrow as Thranduil dropped his head onto the table with a little thud.
“I require a healer,” Thranduil announced. As Elrond stared, his attention was drawn to a shadowed corner where Galion lurked, in case his Master should need anything. He had a hand to his mouth, apparently overcome by a fit of silent giggles.
Something dark came alive in Elrond again. Despite a thousand recipes, there was really only one cure for what ailed Thranduil, and so he poured a large glass of clear water, pushing it across the table. “Drink it all down,” he said, rather satisfied with himself when Thranduil cursed.

~ finis ~

Author's Note: Thank you for reading – I hope you liked it! Especially you, bigredbutton.
Please leave a comment for the muses!

Translations:
celebmîr nín – my silver treasure
ai – ah
meleth nín – my love
ellon – male elf
Ilúvatar nín – my God
ada – dad
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The Teacher - Missing Scenes