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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.

Chapter List
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IMPORTANT Author's Note: It's necessary for me to point out to those of you who are long-term readers of this story that I have added the incest tag. I do not know if the story will end there, but frankly the characters are going to get so close to it that I'm adding the tag now so as not to unsettle anyone. If you continue reading, thank you, and I hope you enjoy this next little bit.

With thanks to TAFKAB for help here with the plot. My Thranduil muse has been insisting on a more serious BDSM scene, and an attack on Legolas was suggested as the catalyst.

Chapter Thirty-eight

Eventually, when another week or two had passed, and Legolas had reappeared from the forest, Elrond did return home to Imladris. Thranduil was much happier, though his grief over Nimbrethil would always linger. There was nothing Elrond could do to change that. Yet at least he seemed to be more relaxed, and less isolated. Thranduil knew they would continue together. It was what Elrond wanted too, and he would not give Thranduil up now, or ever again.

Legolas accompanied him back to Imladris, and the journey past the spiders was just as unpleasant the second time around, though once past there, the nights they camped together were so pleasurable Elrond wondered at himself. Had he really denied himself this when it had been offered freely? Yes, he had. Bearing in mind Celeborn's welcome advice, he began to change his opinion on certain things, deciding that while there was time, he would share as much of himself and his heart as he could with the three of them: Celebrían, Thranduil and Legolas.

The Prince stayed for a week or two, and Elrond entertained him gladly in all ways, finding Legolas almost as playful as Celebrían at times, until he was quite certain they conspired in teasing him. Elrond pretended he didn't approve, but in truth he enjoyed every single moment. Yet soon, that too was over, and Legolas left, repeating his vow to clear a path between the two realms. Indeed, Elrond suddenly realised this was why he cut his visit short. He was eager to begin. Elrond would not delay him. He could not deny it would be wonderful to have just such an easy route, especially since the White Council was certain to meet again as time drew on.

Over the coming years, that path did come to be, and Elrond visited both Thranduil and Legolas as often as they visited him. It was a new thing for him, inviting lovers into the home he shared with Celebrían. He hadn't even extended such an invitation to Oropher when he'd lived here alone, and now he realised he should have done, when it was too late.

Celebrían herself was not always present, and Elrond fell into a kind of understanding. The dance became clearer to him. It was always there, behind them like a backdrop. How was it they none of them got in each other's way? Elrond could not quite see that clearly, but he loved, and was loved in return, and it was perfect. There was more than enough to go around.

His relationship with Thranduil remained intense, in a way that kept Elrond deliciously off balance, so that what was between them seemed constantly new, always exciting, ever evolving. It enlivened him, both his submission and his mastery. They switched often, and Elrond found himself doing much more than indulging Thranduil. He came to enjoy those times when Thranduil was at his mercy, and if he'd been asked he perhaps couldn't even have said why. Part of it was Thranduil's complete trust in him, clearly. But to enjoy giving him pain? Elrond did not understand that part, yet enjoy it he did. There was no doubt.

Over time, he became as knowledgeable as Thranduil himself about punishment, pleasure and pain. The King trained him in it, after all. Long hours they spent, only this time Thranduil was the teacher and Elrond the pupil. Thranduil even instructed him in the use of the most wicked thing in his collection: a long single tailed leather whip. It required as much careful handling as a sword. Before he'd mastered it, Elrond had actually managed to cut deeply into his own hand at least twice.

Even when he was proficient, Elrond had only used it very sparingly. That whip was reserved for times when Thranduil was most in need, when his thoughts had turned sour and dark. It seemed to cleanse him of them, to rescue him, but compared to the other toys they played with, Elrond never did enjoy using it.

The White Council met over the following decades, and Galadriel confided the beginnings of her mistrust of Saruman to himself, Thranduil and Mithrandir in secret meetings between them that were also attended by Celeborn. Indeed, at the beginning, she had wanted Mithrandir to lead them, but he refused to do so. He shared Galadriel's misgivings, and was clearly determined Saruman should not know of them.

Though Legolas usually attended at Imladris with his father, he was not a member of the Council, and while they took part in endless meetings, he often spent his time riding out with the twins, exploring, especially once Sauron's orcs began to appear on the passes of the Misty Mountains. The three of them became great friends, and Elrond could only assume the servants of the enemy must flee in terror when they saw Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas bearing down on them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Orcs from Mordor attacked Osgiliath, and it was so unexpected that the White Council gathered to address it. Thranduil could not arrive in Imladris in time for that, so Elrond agreed to take the minutes from those discussions with him into Mirkwood. He journeyed over the Misty Mountains, and took the clear road that Legolas had engineered all the way to the palace. It still took him three or four weeks, even though he hurried, for he knew his visit would be a pleasant surprise.

When he finally entered the palace, tired and travel-weary, he was greeted by Legolas, who was uncharacteristically quiet. Elrond kissed him in welcome, then cupped his face with one hand.

“Legolas?” he asked, and the Prince gave him a small smile. “What has happened?” he asked, knowing immediately something was wrong.

Legolas grabbed his wrist and shook his head slightly, keeping the smile. “It was nothing. I had a near miss in the wood a few weeks ago. I had to be brought back to recover. But, Ada, when he heard about it, he...” Now he was not smiling. Now he sighed. “He is not the same, Peredhil. It's almost as if he had lost Naneth all over again.” Legolas frowned, and Elrond knew that he must have already made sense of Thranduil's reaction in his heart.

With a sigh of his own, Elrond pulled him close. “I am sorry, Legolas,” he said tenderly.

“Why would he not tell me, Elrond?” Legolas said desolately, his voice a quiet murmur of loss and grief. “So many years, and never a word about her fate. Even now he does not speak. Am I so little to him that he will not even say it?”

“It is because he fears for you that he is silent,” Elrond replied. Legolas stepped back, away from his embrace.

“I am sorry,” he said then, troubled. “You have travelled too long and far to be faced with this upon your arrival.”

“Legolas. I come here to see you both.” Elrond shook his head. “Do you think I could rest when I see that something as heavy as this assails you?” He took Legolas' hand, and the Prince finally smiled again, though it was full of sadness.

“Come with me. I will see to it that you bathe and are fed, at least. We can speak after that.”

So saying, he pulled on Elrond's hand without another word, leading him from the entrance hall.

Legolas did as he promised, and when he was refreshed, they sat together in a cosy room with a settee in front of a fire. Tapestries of beech trees were draped over the walls like curtains, so that it felt like evening. The fire burned brightly. Legolas leaned on him, and Elrond stretched out so that Legolas could lie against him, his head on Elrond's chest while he stared into the fire. Elrond combed his fingers through Legolas' hair, waiting for him to speak.

“I know he fears for me,” Legolas said at last, his voice small and somewhat dreamy. “But I need him to say it, Elrond, all the same. I need to be told. It is not fair to hide such a thing. Instead he insists she is merely missing, even now.”

Elrond swallowed. “He loves you very much, Legolas.”

“He cannot save me from it. She is gone. Not knowing for certain is... it is a peculiar kind of torture.” He stopped speaking, and Elrond listened to him cry, holding him close, allowing him to let it out. It occurred to him he'd never seen Legolas weep. Legolas had a lightness of spirit and disposition that did not suit tears. Eventually, he quietened, and his voice was roughened when he next spoke.

“I searched for her so desperately and so long, Peredhil. You cannot know how driven I was. My heart demanded it. I continued to look for her even when I knew she couldn't possibly be found alive. For many years, I kept thinking perhaps I would find her. That I would find something. Anything.”

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Elrond did not know what to say. He closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around Legolas, as if to protect him.

“For years after that she haunted me. I remember looking for her in the eyes of others. Sometimes I was sure that I saw her among the trees, beckoning, but when I ran to her, she was gone.”

Elrond listened to this part with a deep sadness.

“Oh, I know they were tricks of my own mind. I was so determined to find her, I made it real. But it was all illusory. I made her appear in bits of light and broken shadow. That is over with too, now.”

At last it seemed there was nothing more to say, and Elrond continued to run his fingers soothingly through Legolas' hair long after he had fallen into reverie. The fire burnt lower, deepening the shadows in the room. Legolas lay heavy and warm against him, breathing steadily, his hands rested flat on the front of Elrond's shoulders.

Elrond had a good view of the door, but he wasn't paying attention, so he wasn't aware of exactly when Thranduil appeared there, only that he looked up and saw him. Their eyes met. Thranduil stepped forward, gliding across the room in the near darkness to the settee. He looked down at Legolas, then fell to his knees by the side of Elrond without a word.

It was a such a short distance, to move his hand from Legolas to Thranduil, hardly any space at all between them. Between all three of them. Elrond would have contemplated it if he had the time. It wasn't an unwelcome impression. On the contrary. It felt like harmony.

He touched the top of Thranduil's head, and pulled him forward to kiss his hair. “I know what you need, Celebmîr nín,” he said quietly, understanding. “Help me with Legolas, and I shall go with you.” He shifted underneath Legolas, as if to move away, and the younger elf stirred.

“Elrond,” he said, breathing in deeply, clutching at him as if he didn't want to let go. Thranduil looked up from where he had been kneeling and understood more was required of him than sudden surrender. Thranduil gently took Legolas' nearest hand.

“Let Elrond up, ion nín,” he said, so tenderly that Elrond was surprised.

Legolas awoke a little more, and he refused to move, stretching his neck up and covering Elrond's lips with his own. It was a deep and lingering kiss. His kisses were always so sweet upon awakening. Elrond could not help but respond to him, but then turned his head away with an effort, aware of how close Thranduil was and that he could see. Indeed, Thranduil was still holding Legolas' hand in his. “Legolas,” he whispered, while the younger elf pressed ardent kisses to his throat, making him swallow in awareness. “Your father is here,” he said, hoping Legolas would take his meaning.

“I know.” Legolas allowed Elrond out from under his weight, sinking back down onto the settee with a sigh. “He has come to take you away from me.” He did not look at Thranduil at all, but kept his cool blue gaze fixed on Elrond. “Look after him well, Peredhil.”

Elrond smiled. “I will seek you out, Legolas. I promise,” he said quietly, stroking the back of his fingers over Legolas' cheek.

“Sleep here, ion nín,” Thranduil murmured then, soothing, apparently completely unconcerned at seeing his son kissing his lover. “You will be quite safe and undisturbed until morning. I will ensure it.”

Thranduil pulled a warm rug from the back of the settee, tucking it around Legolas lovingly. “Thank you, Ada,” Legolas said, and within moments his breathing had settled again. Elrond was stood up now, Thranduil still kneeling as he looked upon his son.

“Come, Celebmîr nín,” Elrond said, holding out his hand. “With me. It is time.” Thranduil rose to his feet and took Elrond's hand, and then together they left Legolas in peace.

Once out in the corridor, Elrond found himself pressed back against the wall as Thranduil kissed him, in the same manner of his son just moments ago. Elrond made a sound of protest as Thranduil's tongue slid into his mouth, and pressed his palms against Thranduil's chest. All he achieved was to find his wrists pressed against the cold wall, and Elrond all but melted at this subtle dominance.

When he had taken his fill, Thranduil pulled back, licking his lips. “I can almost taste him on you, lass nín,” he said, his voice hushed, as if the intimate and cosy atmosphere from the room had spilled out into the corridor where they were. “In you...” he said, quite deliberate.

“Thranduil, don't,” Elrond said.

“Does it disturb you?” Thranduil asked, then continued before he could answer. “Would you deny one of us then, even now?”

Elrond did not answer. He couldn't. He was afraid to, because the answer was one he could not even admit to himself. How very like Thranduil to force him to face it. And yet, Elrond realised something else. That this was a ploy. Thranduil was not quite himself, Legolas had told him so.

“I am not sure that I have ever seen real fear in you,” Elrond said. “Even in battle. But I see it now.”

Thranduil only smiled. Elrond sighed.

“You nearly lost him,” Elrond said, in order to remind Thranduil of it, hating himself for doing it, but he had yet to observe the strangeness that Legolas had described seeing in his father. All of a sudden, it seemed as if Thranduil crumpled before his eyes, and he let Elrond go, turning away.

“I will not!” Thranduil said, his voice hard, more to himself than to Elrond. “I will not let him go! He will not go out there again.”

“You cannot keep him prisoner here, meleth nín,” he said patiently. “Legolas is not a child, and he is beyond your protection.” Elrond reached out, laying a hand on Thranduil's shoulder. He was full of tension, slightly hunched over with it. Elrond squeezed at that tension with his fingers.

“He is my child. He will do whatever I say.”

“Then I will counsel him to ignore you,” Elrond replied coolly. Thranduil would be reasonable in this. “I will not allow you to fall, Thranduil. Too much may be at stake.”

There was silence between them then, and Elrond wondered if he'd need to repeat his previous sentiment. He would not give ground here. This could not be allowed to continue.

“I need you, aníra-nín. I need your careful, precise hand,” Thranduil confessed quietly. There was no doubt what he meant, and Elrond drew in a silent breath. He did not sigh, though he felt it. The whip.

“Then trust in me, Celebmîr nín,” he said. Thranduil turned around and embraced him. Elrond allowed that for a moment. “I will take this weight from you.”

To be continued...

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please feed my muses! I will reply to comments here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/55964-pippychicks-lotr-fiction-review-responses/
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The Teacher