Title: The Teacher
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Oropher/Elrond, Thranduil/Elrond, Legolas/Elrond, Elrond/Celebrían, Elrond/OFC
Warnings: Slash, het, graphic sex, bdsm, D/s, bondage, canonical character death
Disclaimer: Middle Earth and the elves do not belong to me – they are Tokien’s and I am just borrowing them for a bit. I make no money from this, and I promise to wash all of the elves down personally when I have finished and give them back.
Summary: A fanciful, smutty take on what Elrond’s story might have been through the ages.
Author’s Note:
First of all, to Binky: Glad you like the disclaimer. I have a sponge and some hot water, and I’m ready to do my bit to respect canon! ;)
I’m really glad you like Oropher too, though I fear I will kill him off soon, probably in the next chapter, depending upon how soon I get to the War of the Last Alliance. I promise that someone will force Elrond to take things more lightly… but it won’t be who you expect.
As for Erestor and his whip… you didn’t warn me he operated on a coin slot – he runs out at the worst times. This month I shall be asking for half of my wages in fifty-pence pieces… *g*
To everyone else: Please review this story. If you do, I promise more smut… much, much more. Possibly more than Elrond can reasonably handle. Is that encouragement enough? Go on and leave a word or two – I will reply to everyone.
Chapter Four
III 140
They walked on together, neither of them speaking for the moment. Elrond was still remembering Oropher from long ago, and Legolas seemed content to let him reminisce as they walked further towards the first of the great trees in the darkening of the day.
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II 2250
Of course, it wasn’t long before Elrond followed Oropher back to Amon Lanc, to convince himself their love was still real and vibrant. It had hurt so much to find Oropher gone that morning, even though he had wanted it, and so at last he surrendered to regular visits of at least twice a year.
Some of those times he visited Lothlórien too, becoming close friends with Galadriel and Celeborn, watching their daughter Celebrían grow from a spirited elfling, to a young maiden with just as much spirit.
One of those times, when he was walking with Celeborn beneath the lofty trees discussing the rings of power, he was astonished to find tiny cherry blossom petals dusting over his clothes. The light showering soon turned into a very definite blizzard, and Elrond found himself shouting out as though a group of orcs had found him, waving his arms about to see through the mass of tiny pink petals.
Laughter tinkled down through the green boughs, as much an annoyance to Elrond as the petals were, and he sighed, looking at Celeborn in amazement. The Lord was laughing as he turned his shining grey eyes up to the top of the tree.
“I think she likes you, mellon,” he observed, covering his mouth with one hand.
“I would hope that next time she likes me a little less,” Elrond said pointedly, shaking his head to free his hair of the last of the cherry blossom, realising with frustration that he had forgotten entirely what he had been saying about Vilya. He worried that it had been something important too.
“Was Lady Galadriel ever like this?” he asked, brushing down his robes impatiently. Celeborn placed a warm hand on his shoulder.
“My friend, in her day Galadriel was a great deal worse.” He smiled nostalgically. “She, erm, really liked me.” He winked, and Elrond chuckled himself then, feeling the annoyance fade as they walked on, coming to the centre of Caras Galadhon at last.
“I shall leave you here,” Celeborn announced. “Galadriel has been eager to see you this time. She has news of Oropher which you should hear before you venture across the river.”
“What is it?” Elrond asked, wondering why Galadriel would tell him about Oropher when she surely knew of his frequent visits there. Celeborn shook his head mysteriously.
“I should leave my Lady to tell you.” For a moment his eyes flickered up to the talan they shared and his fair voice became as a knell. “She is awaiting you.”
Feeling suddenly nervous, Elrond climbed up to the top of the talan with his heart beating hollowly in his chest. Out of breath and agitated, he tried to compose himself while Galadriel smiled at him.
“Lord Elrond,” she greeted kindly.
“My Lady Galadriel. Celeborn tells me there is some unsettling news.” Her eyes widened in slow surprise at his direct questioning, but Elrond did not relent, fearful that he would hear something terrible. The entire atmosphere seemed wrong all of a sudden, and the room darkened – perhaps it was something in the way Galadriel’s smile faded, and he asked again.
“Please, I must know what it is. Is he in danger?”
“That I cannot tell you, Peredhil,” Galadriel said, her voice immediately calming and musical, making Elrond relax despite his worry, as if she was lulling him into peace. The sunlight poured into the talan once more, filtered green through the leaves, making the dust glimmer golden in the air between them, and it transformed the simple wooden structure into a palace.
“Oropher came here, three days ago, with a request. He would not even tell me what was wrong, although it was clear there was something…” she frowned a little. “Something preying on his mind.”
Elrond tried to frame a question, and as soon as he had it, Galadriel was answering him before he could speak. “I tried to glean the truth from him, and all I could discover was fear.”
Shivering at the tone of the Lady’s voice, Elrond shook his head, not understanding. “He is afraid? But of what?”
“Whatever it is, he has seen it. He requested to look into the mirror – begged me in fact, before I could refuse him, and in light of that – I allowed it.”
What did he see? “You already know the answer to that question, Elrond. He saw his fear.” There wasn’t time to be disconcerted by Galadriel answering his thoughts, for she continued.
“After he had seen, he left immediately, pale and shaken, refusing to take my counsel or even time to reflect on the vision.” Again her voice took on the timbre of a prophecy. “Now, when I try to sense the other side, I feel a great upheaval. I believe Oropher is running.”
“Running…” Elrond repeated weakly – but from what?
“Oh, yes – he is running.” Something in the way she spoke made Elrond picture Oropher afraid and running from something, and he suddenly needed to be away, but Galadriel’s next words stilled him. “I hear a word of darkness in my dreams that I must repeat to you. It is this that makes the fair King leave his home.”
Elrond felt the connecting moment as a year while he waited to hear what is was, and when he heard it, he knew nothing was going to be the same. “Nazgûl.”
The sunlight didn’t falter, and the leaves didn’t tremble. Neither did the sound of chattering and laughter from outside fade into silence. Yet for Elrond, although he didn’t understand the word, something else came to mind almost immediately.
“Vilya,” he whispered, unaware he had spoken aloud, instantly wondering if the ring was safe in Imladris when he was away. Galadriel’s eyes lit up in a kind of victory.
“So you feel it too?” she demanded, and Elrond simply nodded. “The sound of it makes me look to Nenya.”
“What does it mean?” Elrond queried and Galadriel smiled, her eyes still alight with discovery.
“I am not sure, Peredhil.” The light in her eyes faded suddenly, and she frowned. “But it feels like carelessnes. My carelessness.”
When Galadriel saw that he didn’t understand, she smiled again. “There were other rings. Those that were not meant for the elves. Do you know what happened to them?”
Elrond began to shake his head, and then he understood what the Lady was trying to tell him. He didn’t wear Vilya – he kept it. He kept it, and listened to its siren song, never quite tempting enough to make him invite the calamity. But if men owned such things…
“They are…” Nazgûl. Although the word didn’t seem to carry power, Elrond was loathe to speak it out loud again, and Galadriel nodded at him.
“This is what I believe. And I believe that Oropher has seen them. I belive he saw them again in the mirror – but I am sure the mirror has shown him what they are, and what they will do. You must gain me this knowledge if we are to be prepared.”
As he stared at her, he felt as though she was moving towards him, and yet they each kept their place. Such a look of hunger – almost greed, and Elrond swallowed.
“Ask him what he saw,” Galadriel murmured musically.
“Ask him,” Elrond repeated, almost hypnotised, “for you.”
“Yes,” Galadriel answered. Was it cunning or concern he heard in her voice? But then it didn’t really matter. Nodding in agreement, Elrond swiftly rose to his feet.
“I must go to him – catch him before he leaves.” Grasping Galadriel’s hand, Elrond kissed it lingeringly, making the Lady laugh.
“Good luck, Peredhil.”
“Farewell, Lady Galadriel.”
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Without stopping, Elrond urged his party to follow him on and took his horse east of Lothlórien to cross the river. It took little under an hour, but once there, before them was open country before the trees took over again, and Elrond galloped across the grassland towards Amon Lanc, pausing for nothing.
Following the same path he had taken so many times before, Elrond almost didn’t see the scenery over the next hour or so as he encouraged his steed to go faster, yet as he came closer to the line of trees, the first hints that all was not well seemed to leap out at him. Not one elf worked in the fields by the side of the forest. No children played in the meadows or in the long golden corn. And as he slowed and took his horse into the woods, there were no guards to mark his progress.
The wood was silent as he neared the hill, and when he got there, what he found disconcerted him even more. Everything looked perfect, except that there were no people. Clothes were hung out to dry between the trees. Baskets half-full of fruit rested on the ground as if their owners would come back to carry on. Peering into the windows of cottages, Elrond saw tables set for dinner. Some of them even had fires that were still lit – but there wasn’t a living soul to be found.
Quietly, respectful of the hush that had befallen Amon Lanc, Elrond turned his horse and headed back into the woods, searching for some sign of what had happened. Oropher was running, and it seemed as though he had already left.
One elf he found when he neared a small isolated hut hidden amongst the trees, and he greeted the stranger quietly, only for him to cry out and turn in fear, his back to the door and his arms spread out as if to protect his home. When he saw Elrond he relaxed somewhat and smiled shakily.
“What has happened here?” Elrond questioned, almost fearful himself at the elf’s reaction.
“We were left behind,” the elf replied. “We couldn’t move – not then.” A female voice called out from inside, and the elf looked to Elrond nervously. “Excuse me a moment.”
When he came back outside, he carried a small bundle in his arms, and beside him walked a beautiful silver-haired elfmaid, pale and exhausted, and Elrond knew why these two hadn’t left with the others.
“What is the reason for it?” Elrond asked, jumping from his horse swiftly to encourage the lady to mount and save her strength. The elf gave him a look of gratitude and passed the new babe up to his mate before falling into step beside Elrond.
“We flee,” he admitted. “There has been trouble in Amon Lanc these past two months.” At Elrond’s questioning look, the elf elaborated. “Strange dreams or nightmares, if you are lucky.”
“And if you are not lucky?”
“Then you are not dreaming.” Elrond shivered, and the elf continued. “The King went to Lothlórien, and came back with a new word.” Elrond suddenly frowned, for he had a good idea what the new word was. “He said we have to move immediately.” At that the elf looked up at his Lady, already drifting into reverie in her exhaustion, although she held onto the baby securely. “I only hope we weren’t too late.”
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III 140
Elrond shook his head to clear it, remembering that uneasy, long-ago day, and looked around him at the trees. “I didn’t realise we had come so –”
He stopped when he saw Legolas, just as lost in thought as he had been, a dreamy expression on his face as his hand reached out to touch the trees as he passed, looking up into their boughs as though they would bless him.
“You have a kinship with the woods,” Elrond noted, and Legolas visibly shook himself, coming back to the present too. “I knew your grandfather from the beginning, when the people of Mirkwood were the people of Amon Lanc. You lived out in the open then, one could look up from the green of the hill to the stars above with nothing in the way.” Elrond smiled now as he looked up to the sky where the first stars were beginning to twinkle.
“As I remember, your grandfather had a house built without a roof so that on fine nights he could sleep beneath the stars.” Elrond wrapped arms around himself, remembering that small stone structure and its bed as if it were only yesterday they had slept there together. They had slept there after the marriage of Thranduil… eventually.
Elrond found himself describing that long-ago day to Legolas; the perfection of the ceremony, how in love Thanduil and Nimbrethil were, the merrymaking afterwards, until Legolas cut him off with a curt laugh.
“I know the history of my people, Lord Elrond – even that of my father. My education has been very thorough.” Elrond smiled at the Prince’s quick defence – he hadn’t been trying to teach. “I was even taught of Imladris, and of yourself.” At that Legolas stopped and smiled too, obviously teasing.
“But I yearn for home,” he continued, more seriously, absently caressing the bark of one of the trees as he spoke. They turned to look back towards Imladris, nestled in the valley before them. “It is perhaps a silly sentiment considering your years and the many places you have known,” Legolas paused, and Elrond followed his line of sight to find himself staring at the waterfalls that lent Imladris its character. “Or perhaps not.”
He had seen a much younger Legolas over the last few minutes, and Elrond considered that the trees were to be thanked for that. But then as if he had conjured it, that same feeling came over him again when Legolas caught his eye, and he found himself unable to look away, remembering the contents of Thanduil’s letter to him. Every single word, in fact.
“Legolas,” he began, not certain how to continue when the young Prince came to stand before him like that, looking into his eyes, bold and unashamed. Perhaps even curious.
“When will we begin?” he asked, and Elrond devoted thought to it for a moment or two.
“I shall need to free myself from certain obligations,” he said slowly, deliberating. “Three days hence, in the evening, I shall call on you.”
Legolas lowered his eyes in agreement, but he didn’t move away, and Elrond held his breath as the blond beauty studied him. His hands twitched at his sides, as if he longed to hold the Prince to him – or perhaps to cast him away. But he closed his eyes, and after a moment or two he felt the soft tickling touch of lips against his – barely a kiss, and yet when he opened his eyes he was alone.
Sighing, Elrond turned to go back to the Last Homely House alone. The Prince had walked further into the woods – in the dark. They were strange, the woodland folk, and yet he wasn’t really unhappy to be alone. Three days he had said, and it wasn’t really time he needed to see to his duties, but time he needed to come to terms with his memories.
When he stood before Legolas with Thanduil’s words in his mind, ready to serve them both, he wanted to be at peace with himself again.
To be continued…
Translations:
mellon – friend
Peredhil – half-elf
talan – the wooden platforms that nestle in the trees of Caras Galadhon
nazgûl – ringwraith (black speech)
Author’s Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it. Please review – constructive criticism appreciated too! :)