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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
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: This is a work of fanfiction. I do not own the elves within or middle earth. They belong to Tolkien, and I am just borrowing them for a short while. I make no money from this.
Summary: A fanciful, smutty take on what Elrond’s story might have been through the ages.

Author’s Note: Thank you to my two lovely reviewers, Chaotic Binky and lissa!

Thank you both for your wonderful comments – I hope you’ll enjoy this new chapter.

Chapter Five

III 140

When Elrond reached his room alone, he locked the door and collapsed onto the bed in a fit of useless worry. He was going to need some time to himself over the next couple of weeks. I will speak to Erestor in the morning, he thought as he lay and curled his hands into fists on the satin covers, inhaling the slight perfume that still lingered despite her absence. Celebrían. But this was no time to think about her, and instead he let the memories come again, closing his eyes to aid his imagination as he recalled what came next…

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II 2250

It hadn’t been so long since the two were left behind, Elrond found that out almost immediately. Ivoriel had already been in labour when the last of the wagons and horses departed. Now they kept a slow pace to conserve the lady’s strength, and Elrond talked for a while with her husband, Ruidir, while they travelled.

“I know the word of which you speak,” Elrond said, recalling Ruidir’s description of the King’s return from Lothlórien. “It was given to me only a few hours ago by the Lady of the Wood herself. The –”

“Do not repeat it!” Ruidir cried out in alarm, looking around them as if at any moment they would be set upon. He shuddered.

“They are clothed in black,” he continued quickly, answering questions Elrond hadn’t even begun to ask. “You cannot see their faces. But they speak…” Ruidir looked to his mate, asleep on the horse as it plodded gently on – Gildin was a considerate steed, and Elrond was suddenly grateful to have brought him instead of one of the more spirited mounts he owned. Gildin was so named for his colouring rather than his temperament.

“I cannot describe the sound of it,” Ruidir said quietly, giving up on what he had been trying to say. “You would think me insane.”

“You have seen them then? Heard them?” Elrond questioned persistently. He knew Ruidir didn’t want to talk of it – at least not until they were safely caught up to the others – but he knew he must ask these questions. Elrond had to know what he faced if they were marked and followed.

“Yes, from afar. But their voices carry – as if they speak directly to your soul. It almost hurts to hear them. They sound like the ending of all things.”

Elrond walked in silence for a while after that, his thoughts troubled. So this was what Oropher ran from. Had they visited him? Elrond hated the thought of it, and he needed to see his lover so much it felt like a physical ache.

Still, it was a full day before they were to come upon the slowest of the wagons, struggling through the mass of trees in this wilder part of the wood. They made camp that night alone in the same uneasy silence, Elrond not venturing far as Ruidir cared for his mate and his child, speaking softly to them in the warm glow of the fire. The lady was awake now, and Elrond was pleased to see that she had regained some colour.

“You are Lord Elrond of Imladris?” she called out quietly, making Elrond come back into the light of the fire. He bowed, realising then that Ruidir had not recognised his name.

“My Lady,” he said formally, and then smiled. “I have already examined the child while you slept,” he admitted. “Congratulations – he is strong, and will be a source of pride for you both.”

“We must have been blessed by the Valar to have you as our saviour,” she said softly, gazing down at the child in her arms, then looking to Ruidir with such love that Elrond turned away again.

“Can I beg one more favour from you, Lord Elrond?” He turned back, and still Ivoriel was smiling at Ruidir.

“Of course,” he said gently, so as not to disturb the moment of peace.

“Will you give us a name for him?”

Elrond gasped at the honour, and shook his head slightly. Ivoriel looked up, and there was a calm confidence in her that Elrond admired. “Without your aid we would not have been able to leave for several days,” she pointed out, “if at all.” Elrond knew that very well. There had been no horses to bring with them, and it would have taken at least a week before Ivoriel was ready to attempt a walk of this magnitude.

They were not just left, Elrond thought in sudden shock – they were left for dead. He covered his shiver with a cough, but when he looked at them both, he saw that they already knew the truth, and the conclusion he had only just reached. The fear of Ruidir when they talked earlier made sense now, and Elrond swallowed thickly.

“Please,” Ruidir said encouragingly, looking at Elrond a moment longer before he turned to share a smile of joy and hope with his mate.

Looking around him, Elrond chose the first thing that came to mind, and used it. It was appropriate, since the people of Amon Lanc were moving into the forest, and he smiled as he spoke. “Then he should be named Fêrvrand.”

“Thank you, Lord Elrond,” Ivoriel said warmly, looking down at the babe again. “I am sure he will love it.”

After a short rest while they waited for the dark to retreat, they were on the move again. Once more Elrond and Ruidir walked beside Gildir as he carried Ivoriel and the child further towards safety.

Elrond examined both mother and baby more thoroughly that morning, since even the strain of travelling on horseback was really too much to expect of the lady, but Ivoriel seemed strong and glowing. Hope had a lot to do with it. His knowledge of healing even then had been extensive, his learning in Lindon strengthened by his experience during the war in Eriador. Hope was one of the greatest healers of all.

After the sun started its downward slide towards the horizon, they came upon the others, and Elrond stayed long enough to make sure Ivoriel was made as comfortable in one of the wagons before his own needs began to make themselves known again.

They parted there, with hope and heart, Elrond promising to seek them out later when they arrived. Then he mounted and whispered a command to Gildir that had him rushing fast up the line of moving elves in an attempt to reach his fleeing lover.

Still it took several days for Elrond to reach the place that would become Oropher’s home. He took breaks at night so that Gildir could rest, accepting water and food with gratitude from those who he camped with. He was recognised more often than not, though more for the colour of his hair than his name.

They kept west to avoid the mountains, and then bore directly east to cross the river that flowed from them. Gildir and Elrond were both exhausted by this time, but he pressed onwards, encouraging his steed with grateful praise as Gildir waded through the river at the side of a hurriedly constructed and temporary ford.

Eventually Elrond arrived in what would become the home of Oropher and Thranduil, just in time to hear the King giving his people a speech of welcome and thanks.

He dismounted and gave his horse to those who would care for him, making his way to the back of the throng to listen, his brow furrowing at the half-explanations and Oropher’s further plans. Some of this must stem directly from whatever he had seen in the mirror, and Elrond felt a sudden strange need to go back to Galadriel and tell her what he heard. He stayed put though, listening until the end, and by then he was determined to see Oropher personally, because the layers of words couldn’t hide one thing – the King was terrified.

Elrond couldn’t remember if he had ever known such a thing of Oropher, and counted only their closeness as the reason he was able to see it at all. Nothing in the King’s bearing or manner suggested it. He stood straight and proud before his people, regal – as a King should be. But his words…

“…know how arduous this journey has been for you all. I know there have been losses on the way, and many of you grieve. But I also know of the plague and the curse that began to take hold in our former home, and I could not bear to see it grow. The shadows…” At this Oropher looked down for the slightest moment, and the darkness of the cave behind him made his small action stand out.

“I saw… I looked into Galadriel’s mirror, and I…” The cave took hold of his uncertain words and echoed them out at the crowd even though they were quieter, and Elrond shivered along with those close to him. Oropher’s entire attitude had changed when he looked up again; a kind of pained honesty so plain to see that Elrond felt his heart ache, and he longed for Oropher to see him and take strength from it.

“My friends,” he began, his booming voice suddenly powerful again, “there are dark times ahead of us. We must strive to make our home here, to make this part of the Greenwood our refuge and our stronghold while we prepare in the years to come. I led you here because I know you will be victorious in this endeavour. I led you here because nothing awaited us in Amon Lanc but defeat. I led you here because life without hope is no life at all.” Oropher fell silent and his lips twitched as if he was going to smile. Nervous mutterings sprang up in the crowd before Oropher spoke again, silencing them all.

“Our lives are not measured as the lives of mortals. Our continuing story is as unfettered by time as that of the enemy. We are ageless. We may plan, and we may prepare – it is one of our greatest strengths and capabilities. Today we retreat, in order that we win tomorrow. You know the threat of which I speak. Dreaming has not been easy for you of late, but now we shall be haunted no more! And centuries from now we will know such a victory that our dreams will pale beside it!” He paused, and the crowd remained deathly quiet before him.

“We will reclaim our home!” he shouted at last, and then the gathering erupted into cheering and applause. When it died down, Oropher smiled and nodded at the assembled elves, seeming to give everyone a personal look, so that Elrond felt sure Oropher must have seen him in the crowd – but he hadn’t. And it was the one thing that made Elrond certain that beneath the words was fear. If Oropher had really been looking – even if he had been vaguely taking it in – then Elrond with his dark hair would have stood out like a red rose in the snow at the side of all these silver-haired elves.

“And so it begins,” Oropher said in the sombre manner of a pronouncement. “Let the woods outside our borders become dangerous and the darkness encroach. Let it be known that the river that guards our western border is cursed and magical. Even our cousins should be afraid to venture here – and when that is so, and the outside world knows and cares little who we are or what we do, we shall build an army of such might that our enemy will fear when they are made to face us.” The blue eyes flashed suddenly and his fist clenched as he raised it.

“And we will show them no mercy!”

The cheers erupted again, and this time Oropher let them continue as he walked from the raised area in front of the cave from which he had spoken. He paused to speak with Thranduil, his proud and noble face showing no sign of fear – but Elrond knew it was there.

Fighting against a sea of bodies, Elrond tried to reach his lover before he went out of sight, peering over the heads of others to make sure he was going in the right direction.

The crowd surged with him, and Elrond felt himself going with it helplessly, feeling claustrophic all of a sudden when he realised he was in the middle of something that resembled a stampede.

“Oropher! Meleth nín!” he called out again and again, and the swelling of the crowd reached a cresendo that Elrond abruptly found himself free of. A line of elves kept the crowd back from the King, and Elrond was suddenly admitted into wide open space when they recognised him, stumbling at the sudden freedom as Oropher turned to look at him.

“Elrond! How did you get here?” Elrond didn’t answer, choosing instead to show his feelings by taking Oropher into his arms and kissing him. The King chuckled.

“Public displays of affection, meleth nín?” he asked in good humour, his hands reaching up to hold Elrond close to him.

“I followed you,” Elrond said when he regained the strength to speak. “For days… I am so exhausted, but I had to see you.”

“What is it? Has something happened to you?” Oropher questioned suddenly, such worry in his eyes that Elrond almost laughed at the proof of his love.

“No, do not worry,” Elrond said hastily. “But something has happened to you.” Elrond glanced back at the crowd. “Where can we go to speak freely?”

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“So that is it?” Elrond questioned in vague disbelief. Oropher had taken them to a secluded copse of trees and now they sat on the warm grass in the sunlight.

According to Oropher, he couldn’t make sense of what he had seen in the mirror, and so he couldn’t describe it, but he felt clearly that there were two choices – to stay or to go – and he had chosen the latter.

“And what of the first choice?” Elrond asked in frustration at the half-answers Oropher was giving him. “Why are you running?”

“I have never run from anything in my life, half-elf. This is not running. We will face the evil, and we will…” His voice broke a little and he shook his head. “We will vanquish it!”

“Do you believe me to be a fool, after all of this time?” Elrond said softly, more a statement than a question, and he felt the look of anguish Oropher directed his way as if it was a sword piercing his flesh.

“No, half-elf. I do not. But I cannot speak of this.” Oropher sighed and shrugged. “I could not speak of it to Galadriel, and I certainly will not speak of it to those who are dear to me.”

“And what of your son? Do you intend to tell him why you have gone for this ill-planned and monstrous charade?”

“No, I have not and I will not. It is not in his best interest to know. I have told him no more than I tell you.”

Elrond ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he got up and started to walk back and forth, noting how the fresh grass crumpled beneath his feet.

“Do not pace, half-elf,” Oropher said in amusement. “It is distracting.”

In disbelief, Elrond looked to the King. “Distracting?”

“Yes,” he replied, “you keep blocking the sunlight.” A very wicked urge came over him then, and he stood deliberately so that his shadow fell over Oropher’s fair form.

“And now?” Elrond prodded, a smile coming to his lips that he couldn’t help as he watched Oropher close his eyes and lie back on the grass with a satisfied sigh.

“Yes, that’s better.” Falling to his knees, Elrond crawled until he was resting on his hands and knees above the elven King. Oropher sneaked one eye open slightly before closing it again with a smirk. “Much better.”

Before the lust could take hold of him, Elrond had one more question that he assumed Oropher wouldn’t answer. “Why here?”

“You saw the caves, didn’t you?”

“Yes…”

“They extend far underground. Thranduil plans to make our home there; a kind of palace, if you will.” Elrond raised an eyebrow.

“Do not think that just because I have my eyes closed, half-elf, I cannot see you giving me that look again. If you doubt me then ask Thranduil about it. Only do it later.” Oropher reached out and pulled Elrond down to him then, and they shared a kiss that felt like home, even in this strange place to them both.

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Much later, Elrond decided to follow Oropher’s advice and seek out Thranduil. There were many reasons. The chief among them being that they could pool their information to try and find out what Oropher was hiding, and Elrond could ask him about the caves. Surely it was not a serious thing? Elves underground? It was not right!

When he found the Prince, however, he saw something else that troubled him.

Thranduil and Nimbrethil were stood beneath the trees at the side of a peaceful stretch of the river, looking at each other, their lips so close that they must be breathing the same air. He was about to call out but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way they held each other – such an intimate moment – and Elrond was reluctant to break into it.

Instead, like a thief he watched them for a moment, stepping behind a particularly leafy bough as Thranduil’s large hands cupped Nimbrethil’s face. They were so in love; it made Elrond smile, and he wondered again why Thranduil was considering living underground. Surely it wasn’t really what he wanted?

A sudden, sharp crack made him pay attention again, and he gasped when he saw Thranduil put a hand to his face as if in shock. He must have said something wrong, Elrond thought in amusement, remembering how fiery Nimbrethil could be, and continuing to watch the scene play out before him.

Almost too slowly for it to be real, Thranduil fell to his knees in front of his wife, burying his face in the folds of her skirts as if in regret, but Nimbrethil simply stepped backwards spryly. She said something then, and Elrond couldn’t tell what it was, but he saw Thranduil close his eyes and nod. He bent his head then, lowering his entire body to the ground, and Elrond held his breath in shock and fascination as Thranduil kissed Nimbrethil’s feet.

Stunned, he looked to Nimbrethil, and saw such a gleeful, malicious smile on her fair face that he almost surged forward to warn Thranduil of it. In the next moment, he was glad he didn’t, because at a further instruction from Nimbrethil, Thranduil raised himself up again, sitting back on his heels and looking up at his lover from beneath his eyelashes.

He must see it, Elrond thought in confusion. Why is he still on his knees? Then, without ever looking away from his mate, Thranduil’s hands moved to the front of his breeches and he undid the laces there to take himself in hand. Elrond gasped, and then immediately feared the two would hear him; but of course that was impossible since he couldn’t even hear the words they spoke to each other.

Perhaps it was just as well, because after that Elrond moaned. He saw Thranduil stroking himself – even from this distance – still looking up into Nimbrethil’s eyes in adoration. At another word from her he let go and leaned back still further, putting his hands on the ground behind him to take his weight.

It didn’t seem right to watch such things, or even to know that they existed. It was vulgar, and yet Elrond couldn’t deny he was excited as he waited to see what would happen next. He shifted from foot to foot, aware that he was becoming hard, and not knowing exactly why.

In the woods before him, Nimbrethil bent over Thanduil, reaching out with both hands to grasp hold of the Prince’s tunic. With a sudden violent motion, she pulled her hands apart, tearing Thranduil’s clothes in the process and exposing the pale skin of his upper body. Elrond made a sound of surprise, realising he could see Thranduil’s nipples standing proud of his chest. He felt his own body answer the sight as Nimbrethil stood up straight again, and he looked at Thranduil.

The Prince of Greenwood was leaning back on his hands, his chest bare whilst the rags that were his clothes fluttered around his sides. His member was on show too, freed from the confines of his breeches by his own hand, and Elrond saw that to Nimbrethil, Thranduil was entirely on display. On his face was a look akin to fear, his lips moving to form words that Elrond couldn’t hear, though he tried.

Nimbrethil looked down, giving her husband that same disconcerting smile as earlier as Thranduil looked up at her, and the Prince’s eyes fluttered closed as if in pleasure.

“This is no argument,” Elrond muttered to himself, the words completely unecessary as he pressed a hand to his breeches, feeling his own aching shaft hard and aroused against his palm. But he didn’t turn away, instead watching with hungry eyes and mind to see what would happen next.

Daintily, Nimbrethil rid herself of one of her shoes and raised her leg, her bare foot peeking out from beneath her skirts. Then, very slowly, she pressed that same foot to Thranduil’s chest, almost seeming to step on him as the Prince opened his eyes again.

Once more words were exchanged, and Elrond would have given anything to know what they were as Nimbrethil’s naked foot moved lower, sliding over Thranduil’s chest until it rested on his hard member. Still, she didn’t stop moving, and her foot began to move in slight circular movements as she and Thranduil looked deeply into each other’s eyes.

It was such a strange sight, and yet so arousing Elrond could hardly breathe. He touched himself desperately now, swearing as he undid the laces of his own breeches so that he could touch himself as he wanted while Nimbrethil dominated Thranduil so completely before his eyes.

The Prince was in such a vulnerable position… if Nimbrethil wanted to she could hurt him, and Elrond saw that Thranduil knew that very well. His gaze was full of love, lust and fear, yet he didn’t make any attempt to move away or end it as Nimbrethil continued to tease him with her foot.

When it didn’t end in resolution, Elrond groaned in want, his member so hard in his hand that he felt he might find release anyway. Slowly, Nimbrethil slipped her foot back into her shoe and stepped back, saying something to her husband in the manner of a command. Thranduil answered her – no more than two words – and then Nimbrethil walked away, leaving him bare and unsatisfied on the grass.

Elrond felt the moan that Thranduil gave as his own while he spilled in his hand, his seed warm and wet against his palm. The sindar Prince seemed almost broken now as he toppled over to rest on his side on the ground, clutching his torn clothes around him like a sheet as he mumbled to himself. Elrond could see his still hard member resting on his thigh, and he swallowed thickly, wondering how it was that the Prince wasn’t touching himself.

After some minutes of Thranduil lying on the ground shaking, he sat up and to Elrond’s astonishment, he tucked his aroused member back inside his breeches and did them up. The scale of the self-denial was staggering, and Elrond sighed as if in disappointment.

When Thranduil finally got to his feet, all of the vulnerability Elrond had seen was gone. With his torn tunic fluttering around him in the breeze, the silver threads mingling with the silver strands of his hair, he seemed even more daunting and magnificent – almost as desirable as his father. Elrond watched in silence as Thranduil strode away quickly, calling out something as he went that sounded strange to Elrond’s ears… Mistress…

To be continued…

Author’s Note: That’s it for now. Thank you for reading – I hope you enjoyed it. Comments and constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. :)
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The Teacher