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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Author's Note: Okay, things to say. This is really spectacularly long, be forewarned. It was written for me, by me – yay! I have used bad language. Potential gratuitous overuse of the word "Ada." It is set when Legolas returns home from his lessons with Elrond in Imladris. Also, this is AU to the main story. This did not happen, but it could have done...

Extra Lessons 2

The journey back to his home had taken much longer than the journey to Imladris, Legolas was certain. Mostly, he thought it was because some of the time he'd been more than happy to drift into pleasant daydreams while his horse walked, swaying easily below him. The retinue he took with him would never dare to suggest he hurry. He was the Prince, and they were his servants, after all. Was Elrond, too, his servant? Legolas liked the thought, couldn't leave it alone, kept thinking it until he was sure it was worn out of all connotations.

The world around him had changed. Or, wait, it was he who had changed. Legolas was aware of his own beauty, the same way he was aware of his station. Before this he hadn't been ignorant to the furtive, admiring looks of others. None had ever dared to touch him, so he really had been a true innocent when he'd stood before Elrond that first time. Only the parting instructions of his father had prepared him for what was to come. He'd passed his majority only a short time ago. He was an adult, yet it seemed to him that he had cast off the last of his adolescence at Imladris.

Now, he even saw the servants in a new light. He had been given the gift of experience all at once. Not for the Prince of the Greenwood, fumbling in the dark, grasping towards a competence in matters of love. He appreciated what he'd been given keenly. If he wanted to take one of these elves for a lover, he would be assured and confident. He would have them calling his name into the spaces between the trees, helplessly begging for more. Yes. It was more than a gift. Legolas felt his heart stir with deep love for Elrond. Admiration and respect, too, for Legolas thought he might understand what capitulation to his father's wishes had cost the Lord of Imladris. Or so he thought, for of course he couldn't hope to understand that at all.

When he arrived home, despite his thoughts about having attained some kind of maturity, he still ran giddily through the stone corridors and halls in search of his parents. Laughing, casting off his cloak and throwing aside his riding gloves on the way, leaving bemused and breathless servants to pick them up.

“Ada! Naneth!” he called, excited, wanting to see them now, suddenly. He'd never spent such a long time away from home in his life. When he came upon them, they were stood in one of the large formal robing rooms, and his father was fixing his mother's hair with tiny jewels that shone like starlight. He was stood behind her, and they were both staring into the full length mirror, into each other's eyes. They broke away from each other and turned to him as he entered the room.

“Naneth!” Legolas shouted happily, catching her up in his arms and twirling her around. He was taller than his mother, and had been for some time. She laughed and allowed it, until he set her back on her feet. She smiled and looked up at him with a kind of pride.

“So you are home, penedlothia,” she teased deliberately, and Legolas giggled at her. “Did Elrond look after my little ethuilas then?”

“Not so little anymore, Naneth,” he said, for what seemed like the thousandth time, bending slightly towards her to kiss her cheek. “And he did! Ohhh...” Legolas sighed happily, thinking of a hundred, or maybe a thousand things. “He was so wonderful!”

Suddenly, she placed a finger against his lips. “Ah! You must not gossip, unless it be to your father. He will expect a full report, I think.”

That made Legolas turn towards Thranduil, and he stood tall and proud for a moment or two, then gave in and embraced him too. “Ada,” he said, feeling at last as though he were truly home. “Thank you so much,” he breathed happily, sensible that his father had arranged it all for him, thinking of the great gift of it.

“Yes, well,” Thranduil said, with a small smile. “You will tell me everything later, Legolas. But for now, why don't we eat together, and you can tell us all about the beauty of Imladris?”

So saying, Thranduil led his family out towards their own private dining room. And on the way, Legolas described the graceful white arches, and the rooms that were open to the valley, and the waterfalls. He even told them of Celebrían's slender grace and the mirrored perfection of the young twins Elladan and Elrohir. But in his heart and soul, all of these things were mixed in with endless pleasure and the warmth of Elrond's touch, though he did not speak of it. At least, not then.

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

Much later that evening, when Legolas had been around greeting all of his friends, and telling them about Imladris and the snowy majesty of the mountains, he found himself alone. He was in his own bedchamber, lounging in a satin robe while he wrote in a leather journal.

He'd meant to note down as much as he could about the things he'd felt and seen and touched and tasted, but instead when he blinked and came around, he found he'd been doodling, writing variations of Lord Elrond's name next to his own. Legolas sighed at himself, and was about to tear the page out and try again, when there was a sharp, insistent knock on his door.

Jumping up, he left the journal on the bed, and went to answer the summons, though there was only one person it could be. A little nervous, Legolas imagined all the things his father would want to know, and opened the door.

Thranduil lounged against the doorframe, arms folded, tall and regal. He was dressed in a similar fashion to Legolas, and as always he was so beautiful that Legolas could do nothing but stare for a moment. Thranduil suddenly smiled. “Stand aside, ion nín,” he said, and Legolas did so quickly, realising he was blocking the doorway.

His father had been in his rooms with him many times, but it was not something Legolas ever seemed to become accustomed to, and he blushed a little when Thranduil picked up his journal, his eyes skimming over the page. He smiled secretly as if what he saw were amusing, but then put the journal out of the way on a set of drawers.

“So how did he begin with you, ion nín?” Thranduil asked directly, coming to stand before him so that Legolas could feel his body heat. Legolas licked his lips, and looked into Thranduil's eyes.

“Well,” Legolas said, nervous, though he couldn't have said why. It was as though he were not thinking far enough ahead. “We were stood close together like this, and I kissed him first.”

Thranduil drew in a deep leisurely breath, then reached out to hold Legolas' face in his hands. His father's touch had felt like this once before, as if some dangerous power thrummed in his very fingertips. Legolas gasped, watching as his father inclined his head, eyes closed. Surely he did not mean to! Legolas felt himself trembling. Then his father's lips brushed against his with a little breath of satisfaction.

“Like this?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Legolas, and though he knew that what he said next was encouragement, he could not stop himself. “Then Elrond said: 'Taste me with your tongue.'”

Legolas saw Thranduil pull away from him a little, his eyes widening. He felt helpless to stop what was happening between them, and didn't know if he wanted to welcome or deny it. Then, it seemed as if his Ada had made up his mind, and he kissed Legolas again, deeply this time.

His lips parted, perhaps eagerly, for his father's tongue, and Thranduil was not like Elrond at all. His father tasted him deeply, his tongue exploring Legolas' mouth so assuredly that Legolas remembered his father, Thranduil, was the King of this place. It felt so right, as if all of his life he had been waiting to get here, to this moment. It was a strange feeling, similar to how he'd felt with Elrond.

Legolas moaned into his Ada's mouth helplessly, his knees shaking so that he feared he might even fall. He longed to reach out his hands and touch, even if it was just to ensure he remained standing.

Surrendering to that, he reached out, his hands resting on Thranduil's hips. Legolas let a little of his weight rest there, and inadvertently pulled his father forward, feeling the shock as their bodies pressed together between the satin of the robes they both wore. Legolas moaned again, and this time Thranduil made a sound of genuine pleasure.

When the kiss ended, Legolas looked at his father, feeling his face hot with forbidden desire and his lips relaxed as if he longed for Thranduil to sample him again. For just an instant, Legolas realised how much trouble he might be in. His father looked like he wanted it too, and Legolas closed his eyes to escape the impression. To be what Thranduil desired, to be the recipient of all his attention. Legolas sighed at the thought.

Thranduil chuckled, and Legolas felt that amusement pierce all the way through him. He opened his eyes as his Ada dragged a thumb over his lips. “Well, now you look quite different, ion nín,” he noted. “You make me want this very much,” he said, as if deliberating.

Legolas' thoughts were a jumble of guilt and desire. Did he? Was this all him? Did he make his own father want to...? Legolas gave Thranduil a look of mute appeal, wanting to deny it, and yet he knew he was aroused at the kiss. It wasn't like any kiss that Elrond had shown him, and he wondered now if he had learnt as much as he had supposed over the last few weeks.

If his father wanted to possess him that way, then Legolas would let him, and at that thought, Legolas swallowed hard, understanding that it was already too late. He remembered what came next too, how Elrond had kissed his neck and then licked at his ear, and he found himself looking at his Ada there, wondering if he would moan and tremble if Legolas did that to him now.

He didn't dare. There was something about Thranduil's presence, even before his own son, that made him reticent to tease. Perhaps, he thought, if he teased like that, his father would lose all control. Just the thought of it made Legolas' heart beat faster, imagining himself pinned down and helpless while his own father took him hard, making him like it, making him beg for more.

“What happened next, ion nín?” Thranduil asked, too softly, and he smirked as if he knew all the thoughts in Legolas' head. Legolas glanced around his room, and pointed to a wickerwork chair that was the right height.

“Please sit, Ada,” he said, feeling afraid and uncertain, sure now that Thranduil did not just want to know, but would require a demonstration. But then Elrond had taught him this too. Legolas wondered about doing it with someone else. Would his Ada taste different to Elrond? Would he be the same size, the same exact shape even? What if he could not do it?

Legolas felt all these questions surge in him as Thranduil moved easily across the room to sit in the chair. Thranduil flirted with the ties to his robe, letting the sash slip through his fingers, and suddenly Legolas understood that his father knew what came next, that a part of his Ada had planned all of this. Legolas had a vague idea of the contents of the letter he'd delivered into Elrond's hand, but he hadn't seen it or read it. He'd known they were instructions. Now, as well as being Elrond's instructions, they were also to be his.

Legolas was extremely unsteady, his legs weak as he made his way to the chair, sinking to his knees awkwardly as Thranduil finally gave up toying with the sash and undid his robe properly. “Show me what you have learned, ion nín,” he said, “and if you are skilled enough to make me spill in your pretty mouth, you may save yourself from a very thorough, deep, fucking.”

Legolas whimpered and closed his eyes at those dark words, but they also aroused him so much he felt like the air had drained from the room. “Though you are so beautiful, ion nín, perhaps even then...” Thranduil said, this time letting the threat remain unspoken and heavy between them.

“Ada, please,” he said, keeping his eyes tightly closed, though it was not a protest. He drew in a breath, remembering all of the deeply spoken instructions Elrond had voiced while he practised. “How am I to concentrate if you tease me so?”

Thranduil merely laughed in delight as Legolas opened his eyes and studied what was before him. He licked his lips, less out of nervousness than to wet them deliberately. He rested one hand on his Ada's knee, and reached out with his other to wrap his hand around the girth of his father's cock. It was hot. Hard and thick and long, the same as Elrond, but perhaps with a slightly different curve to it.

Did he have to make it the same as it had been for him? Legolas did not think so. This was a test, going by what his Ada had said, so he decided to do what he thought would show the most of what he had learnt. He moved his head forward, but instead of licking or sucking at Thranduil's cock, he moved his mouth lower, and reached out with his tongue to gently nudge at his balls, breathing hotly on them before drawing one into his mouth to very lightly suckle.

Thranduil sighed above him, and Legolas made sure to move his hand, stroking his Ada's cock at the same time as he tormented him further down, swirling his tongue over the shape of them. When at last he was done there, then he used the flat of his tongue to sweep up from there to the tip of that column of straining flesh. He dipped his tongue into the end, enjoying the taste that invaded his mouth.

Legolas let the tip of his tongue explore his Ada's foreskin, while he continued stroking with his hand, up and down, firm pressure, until Thranduil let out a strange kind of needy moan. Taking this as a request, Legolas stopped playing, and licked his lips again before sealing them over his father's cock and taking him deep into his mouth, sucking him in, rubbing at the veins with his tongue now.

He gave Thranduil a few of these shallow passes into his mouth, still working the base of his cock with his hand before he felt hands on his head, pressing him to go further, deeper. Legolas let Thranduil guide him now, and his father was not rough with him, but he was very insistent.

When he felt the head of Thranduil's cock nudge down the back of his throat, Legolas relaxed, and above him his Ada groaned in obvious pleasure. It made Legolas feel strangely good.

“You really have learnt this,” he said, his voice even deeper than usual, and then moaned again. “Oh, Legolas...”

His Ada didn't have to force Legolas to take it all, he did so willingly, easily, having spent long hours on this pursuit. Dimly, he remembered how Elrond had ended up during those sessions, and felt just a little guilty. But it was worth it if it meant he could undo Thranduil so easily as this. Legolas let Thranduil have as much as he wanted, and was surprised when he felt himself pulled back by his hair, and his father's cock fell from his lips.

“Ada?” he questioned, having felt that he was close, and wanting to achieve it. Wanting to please. Only a second later realising that his father fully intended to carry out the threat he voiced earlier, no matter if Legolas had been able to undo him or not.

Thranduil was breathing heavily and fast, and his eyes were dark, but he patted his knee. “Sit on my lap, Legolas,” he said, his lips curving into a smile. “Let me see you and touch you, hmm?” He chuckled as Legolas obeyed him, then sighed. “I can only imagine the pain Elrond endured to teach you that.”

Legolas gapsed as he sat down, his back against his father's chest, because the robe he wore was thin and he could feel the thickness of his Ada's cock pressing into the crease of his bottom. “He called me Oropher,” Legolas said, hearing that his voice was slightly breathy as Thranduil's arms encircled him, hands untying the sash of his own robe.

“Then he called me by your name,” Legolas confessed. “Then after that, Master.”

With a gasp, Legolas felt Thranduil nudge his legs wider, so he was straddled over his Ada's thighs, facing forward. He felt his father's arousal all the more now, and he gripped the arms of the chair tightly, looking down because even when he pointed his toes, his feet would not reach the floor.

Then, one warm hand gripped his arousal, seeming already to be moving on his hardness, and he cried out. “Ada!”

“Oh, I am sure he did,” Thranduil said with enjoyment Legolas could hear. His own body was rocking in time with his father's hand movements, moving against that hardness behind him again and again. It felt so good! Thranduil was leaning forward, pushing him so that he bent slightly in the middle, their hair mixed together, tumbling down over his shoulders as his Ada nuzzled at the back of his neck. Legolas could feel his teeth, his warm breath like a tickle.

“Ada...” he moaned in a low voice as that hand tugged at him, demanding and quick.

“I won't waste time on this, Legolas,” Thranduil said, his voice strict. “I want you very relaxed for what I'm going to do with you next. Do you understand?”

“Yes! I understand, Ada!” Legolas managed in between the squeezing of that fabulous hand. “Oh...” he moaned, panting now, feeling his father draw his orgasm with the inevitability of rushing water. “Please... please...” Inside his body, the tension wound up to a coiled spring set to a trap, and as it sprung, Legolas was still pleading breathlessly for his father's touch.

Legolas watched, relaxed and languorous after his release, while Thranduil wiped the pearl of his orgasm off onto the edge of the robe he wore. Then, he felt it pulled from his shoulders, Thranduil's fingertips leaving a trail of fluttery excitement over his skin even now.

“So very easy, Legolas nín, with merely one of my hands,” taunted Thranduil warmly. “But worry not. I will make you practice control whenever you are with me.” Then Legolas realised it had been another test, this time one that he had failed, but how was that fair!

“Ada,” he said, meaning to raise a protest now, but then Thranduil pushed him forward from his lap so that he regained his feet.

“Show me what Elrond did next, ion nín,” his father said, and there was a note of genuine pleading in the request that made Legolas forget his complaint.

Slowly, Legolas made his way over to the bed, aware that Thranduil watched him, and lie down on his front, his legs spread slightly, head resting on folded arms on the pillows. “He lay like this,” Legolas said, sensing that his father needed something from this he didn't quite understand.

“And he said: 'I offer myself to you. I trust you will confide my obedience to your father.'” Legolas paused, and though he could not see, he could hear that Thranduil had got up from the chair and was now stood over him where he lay on the bed. “I told him I would. That you had asked for it.”

“Very good, Legolas,” Thranduil said, and there was something in his voice. Regret, perhaps. “I do love you. You know that, do you not?” Legolas felt his heart contract, not quite in pain.

“Yes, Ada. I love you too,” he said simply, for it was the truth. He felt his father sit down on the side of the bed, a little too heavily.

“And what of the simple touches I taught you before you left. Did you use those on him?” Thranduil wanted to know.

Legolas remembered then that last night before his departure, when his father had made him lie on his bed like this and touched him in an entirely new way. Something that had made his heart beat thick and his breath falter. He understood now he'd felt desire. That was why it had felt so dangerous. But if that were true why did it feel dangerous again, even now, when he knew what it was?

“What about this one?” Thranduil asked before he could reply, sweeping his hair to one side with a hand and brushing lips over the back of his neck.

“No, Ada,” he said, feeling a shiver go all the way down his body.

“This?” And Thranduil drew fingertips up lightly over the back of one leg, turning them towards his inner thigh. Legolas sighed and spread his legs wider still, wishing his Ada would touch him further.

“Yes,” he said, remembering that Elrond had reacted exactly that way.

“And this?” Thranduil said then, sounding pleased, placing a gentle kiss to the bottom of his spine that made him feel like he sank several inches deeper into the softness of the bed. Legolas moaned in reply.

“Mmm...” he agreed. Thranduil laughed.

“I'm going to teach you something Elrond did not now, Legolas,” Thranduil said seriously. Legolas moaned again, as Thranduil's fingers teased between his legs, nudging at his balls from behind. A minute or two later, when he saw his father drizzling oil onto his fingers, he understood the words, and he sighed.

“He did teach it to me,” Legolas said softly, with love, remembering.

“He did?” Thranduil's voice sounded strange. His father's hands faltered. Oil dripped onto the bed, soaking into the fine cotton, spreading outwards. Legolas frowned, the sight making him remember how nervous he himself had been. It was unlike his Ada to be so uncertain. In anything.

“Yes. Shouldn't he have done?” Legolas said, worried now.

“Tell me what happened,” demanded his father harshly, and Legolas winced at the tone of his voice.

“We woke up in the night, and I reached out for him,” Legolas said, speaking quickly. “He rolled onto me, and he said something about me not being tired, and asking for it, and then he bit my neck and his weight on me felt so good! I wanted it, and he held me still. So I told him to.”

“How? How did you tell him to?” questioned Thranduil quickly.

“I said: 'Teach me'” Legolas recalled, feeling aroused all over again at reliving the experience. “And he said he would.” Thranduil said nothing, so Legolas continued in a rush. “I was frightened, but he was touching me in such a way I could not help but encourage him, and then he was inside me, and it hurt at first, but then he did something that made it feel so good. I wanted it.”

There was nothing but silence. Legolas turned his head to look, afraid of what he might see, but his father was sat facing away from him. Eventually, Thranduil drew a deep breath.

“I do not need to do this. Elrond did everything I asked and more.”

Legolas did not understand really what ailed his father. He knew that his father missed Elrond. But he did understand the import of his words, and he sat up on the bed, sneaking his arms around Thranduil's waist from behind.

“Would you not have me because I want you to, Ada?” he asked quietly, pressing against him eagerly, chest against his back. Thranduil's hands rested on his where they were around his middle. He had oil on his fingers, a reminder of his intentions. Legolas remembered realising that his Ada had planned this between them, via the instructions in the letter.

“Would you not have me because you want to, Ada?” he asked then, and laid the side of his face against his father's soft, silver hair, so like his own. So beautiful.

It was too late for refusals. He had not thought far enough ahead for them, and he was glad. Let this be where they were together. Legolas wanted it so much now, and if it was denied him he might lust and hunger after it for the rest of his life.

“Please, Ada,” he said at the last, desperate with love and desire, and something in his soul that Thranduil had woken the first time he touched Legolas that way. The way a father should not touch a son, and yet – did it matter? Did it matter between them? “Please,” he whispered. “Le melin.”

When his father turned to face him, there was no uncertainty, and Legolas kissed him hungrily, pulling him down the bed. “Take me, Ada! I want to feel you inside me.”

“So eager,” Thranduil chided then, smiling. “So it would seem I do need to teach you some patience, at least, ion nín,” he said, reaching again for the oil.

“Yes, Ada,” Legolas said, feeling a kind of warm joy. “Teach me.”

“Lie down again, Legolas, and let me get you ready,” Thranduil ordered, and Legolas complied with a moan, feeling something flutter inside him. This time there was no hesitation, and his father soon had him writhing, fingers inside him, touching him deeply and expertly. He made it feel so good Legolas was soon hard again and pleading.

“Do not beg, ion nín,” said Thranduil, his fingers stilling, suddenly intense. “You do not beg. Not even for a King, do you hear me?”

Stunned at the instruction, Legolas quietened. “Yes, Ada,” he breathed. When it was done, Thranduil turned him over, and his beauty was so great in these moments, Legolas was in awe of him. Legolas was aroused anew, needy and fascinated by him, reaching up to touch, tracing the shape of Thranduil's pectoral muscles with his hands, then tangling his fingers in the length of his hair as it hung down between them, pulling. No begging, his father had said. That did not mean he could not command. Legolas gasped at the thought.

“Be with me,” he ordered, without a trace of pleading, and Thranduil's eyes flashed in lust. He moved so that Legolas' legs were draped over his shoulders, and leaned over him heavy, pressing determinedly inside him with an intensity in his eyes that even Legolas had rarely seen.

Gasping at the sensation of his father filling him, Legolas could not speak until he could trust his voice, and all the while Thranduil stared down at him, seemingly amused by his struggle.

“Take me,” he insisted. “I am yours.” Legolas began to enjoy these words, every one seemed to spur his father on while they stared into each other's eyes. Lost in each other completely.

“Claim me,” Legolas demanded, thrilled with every movement, feeling Thranduil so deep inside him now. He bit his lip hard.

“Master me,” he said, and Thranduil's eyes narrowed. He growled like an animal and became still. The sound of their frantic breathing was all that could be heard for a long moment or two.

Then Thranduil moved again, the thrust was so hard and almost brutal that Legolas cried out in surprise. “Legolas!” Thranduil said, his hands holding Legolas down and still, forcing him to accept. Legolas felt his eyelashes flutter at this. His Ada felt so good, and he could not escape even if he wanted to.

Again that hard, sharp movement, as if his Ada was making a point of it. “Ion nín!” he said this time, and Legolas began to understand.

“Say it again, Ada,” he moaned softly, keeping the eye contact, showing mercy but no weakness. “Name me. Name your lover.”

“Legolas,” Thranduil said again, on another movement, and this one was not so sharp, but much more of pleasure, at least to Legolas, who moaned and lost his focus for a second.

“Yes, Ada,” he sighed in response. “Again.”

“My heir.” Thranduil's movements were constant and fluid now, and Legolas remembered the threat from earlier. This is what his Ada had promised. A thorough, deep fucking. And Legolas loved it.

“Yes.” Legolas twisted his head to one side, unable to keep the eye contact any more. His father was rubbing against his internal walls slowly now, lazily, making his body heat up and all of his nerves seemed to be strung tightly. He whispered his lust, but did not beg, not even when he felt his father's hand around his cock again, urging him on.

“My son,” Thranduil ground out clearly, still fucking him, still so hard, still meaning every single thing he did. “I do not regret,” he vowed, passionate.

Legolas could not hold on, and he came in his father's hand for the second time, his body arching up, tightening, drawing Thranduil's release from him too, until they were laid together, all tangled up, even their hair.

“Glas nín,” Thranduil said at last, and Legolas smiled.

“We shall have many more of these sessions, I think, Ada,” Legolas noted idly. Thranduil stirred slightly in his arms, head laid on his chest. He grunted, and Legolas thought he would take that as a yes.

“I have always been yours, but now you are mine, too,” he said happily.

“Yes, Legolas. Be quiet now,” Thranduil grumbled. Legolas lay quietly for a few moments in contemplation.

“Ada, do you think that –”

“There are some things Elrond did not teach you. Tomorrow, I will introduce you to gagging,” Thranduil said, patting Legolas' shoulder reassuringly. Legolas knew what they were, of course, and instantly tried to imagine being silenced. He tilted his head, looked at his Ada's face. He was smirking. Legolas gulped.

“Quiet!” Thranduil said, just as he was about to ask what time they would be together. Legolas' eye roamed the room, settling on his desk, and he saw there the letter he had promised Elrond he would deliver into his father's hand. He longed to speak, to tell his father of it, but suspected he would not manage to get the words out before Thranduil silenced him properly in some way. Legolas sighed.

At last he relaxed, Thranduil in his arms, and drifted into a satisfied reverie there, the letter and Elrond all forgotten. He was right where he was supposed to be, as if he were at his very best in Thranduil's embrace. Yes. That was it.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading – I hope you had fun! If you enjoyed this, please leave me a word or two of encouragement. I will reply here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/55964-pippychicks-lotr-fiction-review-responses/

Translations:

Ada – Father/Daddy

Naneth – Mother

ion nín – my son

Glas nín – my joy

penedlothia – blossoming one

ethuilas – spring leaf
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The Teacher - Missing Scenes