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The Teacher	By : pip Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 14764 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter Thirty

III 112

“Tell me you didn't have a roofless house built just for this,” Elrond said in amusement, as his eyes searched the the evening sky. They'd been here together, in the bed, while the dark of night crept up on them. It was late, and the balmy sweet summer air was like perfume. Elrond breathed deeply.

“I wanted to see the stars,” Oropher replied. “Now find it and point it out to me so that I know how to find it when you aren't here!” Elrond laughed indulgently. They were laid side-by-side on the bed. To be truthful, the bed was really all the small building possessed. Elrond continued to scan the deep blue sky, and then he saw it: The Evening Star. The light of the Silmaril his father Eärendil wore upon his brow shone bright enough over the Undying Lands to be seen in Middle-Earth when the sky was clear, or so said the legend.

“There,” he said at last, smiling, pointing so that Oropher would see it, not taking his eyes away from the light. “See how bright it is? My Ada's star...”

“Oh, yes, I see it,” replied Oropher, and Elrond turned to find the blond elf's gaze on him instead of the sky.

“Oropher! You're not even looking!” Elrond accused with a playful shove and a roll of his eyes.

“Yes. I am. I am definitely looking, half-elf,” he said suggestively, and Elrond laughed right along with him, suddenly getting the joke.

“Flatterer!” he accused, then rolled over to cover Oropher's body with his own. They weren't really here together to stargaze, after all. They never were. “Or worse still, since I know you, a tease,” he announced, and moved against Oropher's body suggestively until his lover sighed and closed his eyes.

“He accuses me of teasing!” Oropher said suddenly, to no one in particular, perhaps to the stars.

Dipping his head, Elrond kissed his lover in the moonlight, and Oropher kissed him back out there on the hill, neither of them aware what trouble time would bring...

Elrond sighed as the dream faded, that long ago night seemed as clear as if it were yesterday. He raised his head as the kiss ended, waking, still tasting it on his lips as his eyes focused. For just a second he believed he was still there as he looked down into a familiar face, blond hair, laughing eyes. But then it couldn't be. Green eyes.

“Thranduil?” he said in confusion, suddenly noting how intimately they were laid together. The dream had left him hard and Elrond moved back and away quickly, shaking his head.

“Elrondlas,” Thranduil said, and Elrond felt a thrill race through his mind as he heard that name. For over a century since the end of the war, he'd been visiting here. Sometimes, it was almost as if Thranduil and Nimbrethil had cast a spell upon him that he could not wake from.

“How long have you been there?” he asked, almost dazed. “I was dreaming...” His heart felt full suddenly as he remembered it. Oropher. Then it began to flit away, taking the sudden hurt and pain with it. Elrond let it go, sat on the side of the bed.

“I stayed too long with you this time,” Thranduil said behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder that felt heavy and warm. It was rare for Thranduil to disturb him in these rooms, and yet his body began to burn with desire, imagining Thranduil taking him here, on this bed, while the torches cast their flickering light over them both. “I could not help it. I wanted you, and since you continue to refuse me, I could not get you any other way, peredhil.”

“What do you mean?” Elrond said automatically, and then the words sank in. Thranduil had been asking him for the same thing over and over during his last few visits here, something it was impossible for him to give, never listening to his refusal, never giving up. Ordering, demanding, cajoling, pleading, even begging. It was as if he'd rekindled an old desire that should have died long ago. Elrond had not enjoyed seeing it return, since every time he thought about being with Thranduil that way, even if just to please him, something in him revolted against it. “Thranduil, what have you done?”

“I sometimes come to stay here with you while you dream.” No, that couldn't be! Elrond thought suddenly, because his dreams when he slept in this bed were all of Oropher. The things they did, the love they shared. He had a sudden vision of himself in this bed, with Thranduil, asleep and dreaming, touching him as he breathed Oropher's name.

“No... you wouldn't,” denied Elrond, his blood running cold, and yet he knew these weren't idle words. “You didn't.” He was almost begging, his hands were shaking, and he looked at Thranduil.

“You kissed me, and said something about the stars,” he said, then smiled and sighed.

He hadn't been woken by Thranduil's presence, and that was impossible. “How?” Elrond demanded, and Thranduil looked slightly put out.

“The elves we joined with when we came here had a history of their own. Among that history they had some knowledge of the woods and the things that grow within it,” Thranduil explained. Then he merely waved a dismissive hand, as if it didn't matter. “But you know all this. You have written books on their lore since.”

Yes, he had. There were woody plants that grew by the river, whose sap encouraged sleep and dreams. Elrond had also found it to be an excellent treatment for pain in small enough doses. As he thought on these things, he found himself looking at the jug of water he kept by the bed. It was delivered fresh to him every night, just before he slept.

“How long have you been doing this... how often?” His mouth was suddenly dry.

“A while now. Every time you are here. Why do you care so, lass nín?” Thranduil asked breezily, as if this were a mere trifle. As if it were just one of the many other things that Elrond submitted to when he visited here. Maybe, to Thranduil, it was.

“I never thought, or suspected,” Elrond said, shocked. From his place on the edge of the bed, he stared down at his feet.

“Because you did not want to,” Thranduil said, still so self-assured, pulling at his shoulder to bring him back. Elrond followed the will of that hand through sheer force of habit. He turned to face Thranduil. “You enjoy the dreams, and I enjoy them too.” He sighed with desire. “You are so passionate when you dream of him.” Thranduil leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, lingering there before reclining back down on the bed, as if to tempt Elrond to follow him.

“I have to stop these visits,” Elrond said aloud, mostly to himself, as if realising it for the first time. While what was between them was still love, it must stop. He could not give Thranduil what he wanted. There was a foreboding in him that would not allow it, and Elrond could not ignore that. That foresight had been right in the past again and again. Over time whatever was between them would darken further. He saw it now, so clearly. This relationship they shared was too unequal. It was utterly consuming. It tempted him because it excited his mind to drown in it, to be nothing sometimes but Thranduil's will and desire made real. And to an extent, Nimbrethil's. But this? This was real darkness, and Elrond found he had no appetite for it.

“Are you sure?” Thranduil asked him, and there was pain in his eyes that Elrond had caused. “Stay for a while longer, with us. Forget your submission, and embrace a different point of view. I want that from you so much you can't know. And for so long.”

Elrond shook his head. “Thranduil, that is impossible. I cannot do it. I mean what I say. This is over.”

“No. You will continue with me,” Thranduil said imperiously. “Do not pretend you don't enjoy these diversions.” Then the lines of his face softened, and his voice lowered. “Lay with me. Take me. Know my body the way I know yours. Make this love between us real, Elrond, please,” he entreated.

Elrond extricated himself from Thranduil's grip and got up from the bed, pulling on a robe. All of a sudden, he felt the need to hide his nakedness. “I will not. I should have given you up a long time ago.” The war was over, at least for now, and his submission to the new King of the Greenwood should have ended with it. Should have died there, and left him at peace. Why did he keep coming back?

“Do not be angry, Elrond. You gave it to him. Why not me?” Elrond shook his head at the petulant tone. Impossible.

“Jealousy? Is that what this is about?” he asked in disbelief, folding his arms in front of his chest.

“So you consider me to be petty?” Thranduil demanded, finally sitting up, his eyes dark. “I will admit to envy. Can you not love with my name on your lips?”

Elrond sighed. “You already have my love. It is different between us, you know that.” He remembered an earlier time, when he'd been aware of this desire in Thranduil before. Now, as then, of course Elrond loved him, and he tried to make Thranduil see it. “Different is not the same as diminished,” he argued earnestly.

“Do not try to trick me with your words, because words will never satisfy me!” Thranduil snapped, some kind of deep frustration in him that Elrond could not understand or reconcile. “You will continue this. You are mine.”

“You have been stealing from me,” Elrond said, and he had not the heart to remember the dreams he'd had of Oropher in this place. Dreams that Thranduil had watched him experience. Thranduil knew him now as Oropher had known him, and if felt like a violation.

“No,” Thranduil argued. “That is not it.”

“Yes, it is.” Elrond was extremely upset. His dreams were private, were cherished. And that he was Oropher's son just made it that much worse. “Those times were ours,” Elrond said softly, grieving, turning away to gaze longingly through the open door into the study where Oropher's books were. “This has to end.”

“Ah...” Thranduil cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said in understanding, and Elrond felt Thranduil stepping up close to his back. “I have always known what resides in here.”

The casual admittance was like a blow to Elrond on top of what had already transpired. “You knew?” For how long? Did he know before that disastrous day? Elrond had so many questions that for a moment his mind could not even form the words.

“Ada...” Thranduil said warmly, remembering, his voice coming from a place just behind Elrond's shoulder, his hands on Elrond's waist. “He thought he was being so careful. I discovered his writing shortly after he began it.” So long! Elrond gasped. All those conversations they had shared, discussing Oropher's motives, and Thranduil had been lying to him throughout, just like Oropher had. Though he knew they had not conspired, it suddenly felt as though between them they had pulled him to pieces. Elrond could not help recalling that day when Thranduil had found him on his knees beside Oropher's body. And everything that had happened between them since... what did that make it?

“I have always known that you visit him as much as you do me. I do not resent that. I gave you these rooms on purpose, so that you might find some measure of peace here.” Elrond barely heard the words. Something inside him was aching, and he thought it might be his soul.

“He isn’t here,” Elrond replied, his voice hollow.

Thranduil's lips traced the shape of his ear, and despite everything he sighed, wishing that he had never woken up to these awful truths, wishing that Thranduil would take him somewhere quiet and spend all day and all night making him forget, that there really was some magic spell that could make all of this go away.

“Is that why your visits are fewer with each year that passes?” Thranduil murmured with a touch of melancholy regret. His hands moved down from Elrond's waist to his hips, and he rested his chin on Elrond's shoulder. “Take me and Master me,” he said wickedly. “If you are angry, then hurt me. I will beg you to do it again and again. I will thank you for it. I swear I will do whatever you wish.”

“I wish nothing of the kind,” Elrond said coldly, stepping away from the warmth of Thranduil's body.

“Really, nothing?” Thranduil sounded hurt. “Call me by his name if you will then. I do not care. But be with me. Please...”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Elrond snapped, hating that Thranduil would even suggest it, whipping around to face him, pulling the robe around himself like it was a kind of protective armour.

“Don't you know how long I have yearned for you? I need this. I need you.”

“You do not 'need' me. You have your own story to live.” And as he said it he knew it was true. A child had been born to them in the opening decades of this new age, as if he was hope, a child Elrond had hardly ever seen. They had called him Legolas and it had taken Elrond long enough to come around to that. Thranduil insisted it was intended to honour him, but it felt like a bad joke, especially now.

“Who are you to say what I want or need?” Thranduil asked quietly. Elrond didn't bother to answer him. There was no point. “As if you had ever taken the time or trouble to find out.”

“I have my own forever, and she is the most beautiful thing,” Elrond said, and as he spoke he felt the blessing of her love even here, in this place, while his heart was hurting. “There are children on our path, waiting for me to tutor and teach them – ”

“You should not be so single-minded, Elrond,” Thranduil said gently, coming close to him again, slipping his hands beneath the robe Elrond wore and pulling him close. “When he is old enough, I had hoped you would tutor my Legolas.”

Elrond huffed, but did not step away as Thranduil bent his head to kiss his neck. “You guard him so well I barely know him. And what could I teach him that your own warriors and scholars do not know?”

Thranduil's fingertips were tickling against his lower back, making him sway forward into the warmth of his embrace. The kiss on his neck became a bite before Thranduil licked him there. “Since he was named for you,” Thranduil purred seductively, “I had thought you could teach him of this.”

“No!” Elrond pushed Thranduil away, so offended at the idea he felt sickened. “I will not! What kind of suggestion is that? What is wrong with you?” Elrond shook his head in misery. “Do you think I am some family possession to be passed down from generation to generation?”

“No. Rather it is the other way around, Elrond,” Thranduil said, his voice sombre. “Our unfolding lives are but chapters of a single story before your eyes, and still you endure while we fade or pass into myth. Do not abandon me, I beg you.”

“Don't you see you go too far?” Elrond was exasperated, and he walked quickly into the study before Thranduil could come close to him again. He did not think he could bear Thranduil's touch now. But the King followed him, dogging his footsteps until he was backing away, pressed against the shelf that held Oropher's journals. Thranduil stopped short of touching him, his hand falling away as Elrond shrank from it.

“You can leave, I will not stop you, but you are still mine, and you always will be. Every time you dream of him now, you will remember me.”

Elrond felt faint at those words. “Do not say that! Take that darkness back, for your own sake as well as mine,” he warned. “If you must curse me, do not involve him.”

Thranduil only laughed harshly. “You speak as though you have no faults, but I see them. You will never hear me, will you? Not if I begged you for a thousand or more years. You are blind and stubborn. But I still love you. I always have.”

“Do not continue with this, Thranduil.”

“You left him alone when he needed you the most. I was there. I saw it. And now you are set on leaving me too because I want you? I do not understand the reticence in you after all this time. It grieves me, more than you know.” Thranduil frowned, and then waved a hand at him. “Go, then, only do not try to tell yourself I am cold and indifferent.”

“Must we part on these terms?” Elrond asked quietly.

“They are the only terms you will get from me until you give me what I want.”

“I love you,” Elrond said, and he did still mean it, even then.

“But not enough,” Thranduil said bitterly. “I want you. I want us to be equal before each other. Will you deny me forever? If there is darkness here, Elrond, it is not of my making. Only you can end it.”

“You wilfully misunderstand everything I say,” Elrond protested.

“Now I am wilful! I am not going anywhere! I will still be here when you want to come back. And you will come back,” Thranduil predicted.

“No. I do not think so. Not this time. This... this is goodbye.” Elrond saw Thranduil coming close to him again, and closed his eyes.

“Elrond... please...” Elrond didn't move, didn't speak, and when he did eventually open his eyes, Thranduil was gone.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Well, there we have it. I hope that makes sense to those of you who are following this story, and I hope you enjoyed it. I'd appreciate any comments on this chapter in particular, especially if anything doesn't come across very well.

The next chapter is already mostly written, and they get to enjoy themselves a lot more there. I'll be posting that in the next two or three days. Bye for now... :)

Translations:

peredhil – half-elf

lass nín – my leaf

Ada – father
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The Teacher