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Tending Elrond's Heart	By : kathmco Category: -Multi-Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 3677 -:- 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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Title: Tending Elrond's Heart

Author: Emmess

Rated: NC17

Genre: Fluffy romance

A/N: Warning: This chapter is not so fluffy. It contains some graphic violence, so reader beware.

Tending Elrond's Heart

Chapter Six

Treachery

"It is done."

"She understands it all now? Are you certain, Erestor? I have no wish for her to be unpleasantly surprised come the Solstice Celebration." Elrond was pacing, a sure sign of his interest in his ward, if ever Erestor had seen one.

"Elrond…it occurs to me that you may have more than a platonic interest in the Elleth's education…" Erestor said, wincing even as the words fled his mouth, knowing full well what Elrond's reaction to them would be. Still, he felt it necessary to say them.

"Erestor! That is ridiculous…whatever gave you that impression? She is my ward…she has suffered greatly at the hands of her aunt, and I wish her no more pain. That is all!" Elrond retorted, although his back still faced his Advisor, and Erestor was sure it was because Elrond knew that Erestor would see the truth in his eyes. He watched as Elrond strode to the window, never turning to look at his Advisor.

"Be that as it may, Elrond, she has been informed of the reasons and rituals of the Celebration, and understands the part she will play in them."

Elrond remained silent, his eyes on the gardens far below, as Erestor bowed and left him to his thoughts.

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

Ethuilrost was in a horrid mood, having had to scrub the floors of her house on her hands and knees, a task she found deplorable. As she slid the soapy, sopping rag around the stone tiles, she muttered curses at her niece, at the Lord of Imladris himself, and at every god that had played a part in bestowing upon her this indignation. Imagine, her scrubbing floors like a common scullery maid - it was unthinkable, and yet…here she was, elbows deep in suds, on her knees on the hard stone floor.

"That ugly little mouse! This is all her fault…I cannot imagine the lies she must have told His Lordship about me…and he believed her! He believed a common, trashy little orphan over a Lady of his realm! Out of the goodness of my heart I took her into my home when her parents sailed…I should have snapped her neck and thrown her in the river! Now look at how I am repaid for my kindness…forced to work like a drudge while she lives like a queen in the House of Elrond!"

Her voice filled with venom, eyes wild as her rage grew, spittle flying to mix with the water on the floor. "Taking my possessions…that wretch of an Advisor, too cowardly to come alone - he had to have an armed escort! Taking the things that belong to me! To me!" She sat back on her haunches and howled like a wolf to ceiling in her fury. "No one take what is mine! No one! Even. I will get even…I will show His Lordship the error in his judgement in taking a conniving wench into his home, and heaping the blame for her circumstances on me! I will show him how she really is…that she has no more loyalty than an orc!!"

She flung the rag has hard as it could, although its wet slap against the far wall gave her no satisfaction. Kicking over the bucket, she stormed away, not watching the water cascade over the floors.

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

Several days later, a hooded, cloaked figure stood in the shadow of the House of Elrond, watching. Promises of riches had brought him here…the sight of the wisp of an Elleth as she flitted among the flowers kept him there. His eyes followed her every move from above the coarse cloth tied over his nose and mouth.

His task was to be a simple and enjoyable one. For him, at least - the Elleth might think otherwise. She was lovely…he freely admitted that, and almost felt badly about what he was to do to her…but business was business, and his coffers had been ringing hollow as of late. It had only been luck that had brought him to the great Elven city just as a certain Lady was looking for a hired hand. Humans were rare here, but not unheard of…still, he had no wish to be seen by the Elven inhabitants of this House, and planned to vanish from the city altogether as soon as his task was done and the promised gold paid.

Fingering the serrated dagger in the deep pocket of his cloak, he smiled as the shadows of the night lengthened - the time would soon be right for him to initiate the attack. The plan was simple - grab the Elleth, carve seven simple letters into her forehead, and leave. Eyeing the young one again as she drifted closer to his hiding place, he wondered if he would have enough time to indulge himself with her…at no additional charge to his employer, of course. The thought of her writhing beneath him, bleeding and whimpering as he took her excited him. His cruel mouth twisted itself into a semblance of a grin as he felt his loins tighten, his fingers tightening on the tang of his knife at the same time.

She had wandered within reach, bending to gently touch one of the very few new leaves on an otherwise barren plant, a small smile gracing her face. Moving quickly, and with the silence of one used to earning a living by stealth, he grabbed her, covering her mouth with his hand, dragging her into the shadows.

Her green eyes widened with fright as he lay atop her, his body weight holding her still, his hand still covering her mouth. Removing his hand, he replaced it with his mouth, roughly smashing her soft delicate lips, bruising them. She tried to pull away, but was unable to dislodge the weight of him. Replacing his hand on her mouth, he ripped at her bodice, exposing the soft flesh of her breast, dimly glowing white in the darkness, his free hand exploring.

A sound from up above froze his movements. Someone on the balcony above them, perhaps taking in some night air before retiring…still, too close for comfort as far as he was concerned. He whispered to her that he was sorry he couldn't continue with their tryst, before pulling a deadly looking knife from his pocket, holding it before her eyes to be sure she saw it. The Lady who had hired him had been quite specific about the young Elleth being awake and aware of what was being done to her…privately he thought the Lady was quite mad, but again, business was business. A mad Elleth's gold was as good as anyone else's.

With deliberate, deep strokes, unmindful of the Elleth's screaming into his hand, he carved the seven letters into her forehead as he had been instructed. He did notice that by the time he began the third letter, the Elleth had fainted. Just as well…it saved him from having to knock her out before he left.

Wiping his blade against her gown, he rose, looking down at her once, before slipping away into the blackness of the night, as lights flickered within the House, it's keen-eared inhabitants alerted by the muffled cries from the garden.

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

No one spoke to Elrond. No one dared. Never had they seen him in such a black rage. Silent, his eyes glowed with an anger that could melt iron, every muscle in his body in constant tension, hands balled into fists that might very well smash into the first set of lips that dared address him.

Erestor and Glorfindel followed him into his study, closing the doors behind them. Silently they watched the Lord of Imladris plow one of those iron fists into the mahogany desk, cracking the highly varnished wood, and probably a knuckle or two in the process.

"How? By all that we hold holy, how did this happen to her in MY OWN HOUSE?" he bellowed, turning those anger-blackened eyes on his two friends.

"We know not, Elrond…she has said that her attacker was human, that she had never seen him before," Erestor replied, much more calmly than he felt, for he, too, was angered almost beyond words.

The expression on Glorfindel's face nearly matched Elrond's. The Slayer was ready to march through the city, beating information out of any that came within reach until he found the one who had done this to the young ward. Elrond was tempted to allow him to do so, and only Erestor, who still maintained a vestige of sanity had prevented it.

"I want him found. I want him found, and brought to me alive. Is that clear? I care not what means you find him by, but I WANT HIM FOUND NOW!" Elrond thundered, sweeping the top of his desk clear, glass, quills, and ink bouncing onto the stone floor.

"He shall be found, Elrond…Elladan and Elrohir have roused every guard in Imladris and are actively seeking him…although I cannot say with certainty the condition they will leave him in when they find him," Erestor replied. "Elrond…you should not be in here."

"What? You are right, Erestor…I should be out with Glorfindel beating confessions out of anyone who even looks guilty!" Elrond retorted, his rage blinding him to reason.

"No…" Erestor softly corrected him, tempting fate by placing a hand on His Lordship's arm. "You should be with her. She needs you, Elrond. She needs to see that you still care for her, regardless of the word carved into her flesh."

Elrond stopped in his tracks, his eyes locking with the deep indigo pools of Erestor's. The rage left him as swiftly as it had overtaken him, tears welling in his dark blue eyes. "She suffered all of her life, Erestor…who would seek to heap more upon her?"

"Only one person I can think of…" Glorfindel said, his own rage still running rampant. "Ethuilnost. Who else hates her as much as she does? Who else, in some twisted, demented way, feels she is owed retribution against the young one?"

"We do not know that for sure, Glorfindel…we can't act unless we know for sure," Erestor said, throwing his mate a pleading look to calm himself.

Elrond took a deep breath. Placing a hand on Erestor's shoulder, he said, "I will go to her. You are correct, as always, Erestor. Glorfindel? Go with guards to Ethuilrost's house. DO NOT touch her. Bring her to me, and we will interrogate her together."

Erestor shuddered at the way Elrond said the word, "interrogate," but was pleased none-the-less that Glorfindel would not be allowed to pummel his way through the city looking for answers.

Elrond left without another word, heading for the House of Healing where Merenant lay, once again, recovering from her wounds. Entering the white room, he looked tenderly upon the frail form of his ward, lying buried beneath the thick white comforter, her eyes glazed in the deep sleep he had sent her into, when he had carried her bleeding from where he found her in the garden.

Tears continued to well from his eyes, as he wondered who would be cruel enough to carve that word into her flesh. The deep wounds nearly touched bone, and now that the blood flow had been staunched, and her forehead cleansed, they stood out starkly against her pale skin.

Traitor.
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Tending Elrond's Heart