Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

The Voyeurs	By : pip Category: -Multi-Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1513 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Middle Earth, Lord of the Rings or any of the characters. Everything belongs to Tolkien. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-The Voyeurs
- 1
Author's Note: Just a bit of (probably boring) silliness, written for BronxWench's birthday. I hope you enjoy this, and that you don't mind me allowing the universes of our stories to mesh a little bit. Happy Birthday! I hope you've had a wonderful day.

The Voyeurs
The halls were uncommonly deserted for this time in the evening, his own footfalls echoing back at him as he strode down the corridors. In his arms Erestor carried several sheets of parchment that he could not bring himself to leave behind in the library. It was not ancient, but it did require translation, and Erestor found the stories they held so engrossing he had determined to read them at his leisure in his own rooms, leaving the library early for once.
Sighing at himself, he rounded a corner and then saw something extremely unusual. In fact it was so shocking he stopped dead and simply observed.
The two twin sons of Lord Elrond were pressed together around Glorfindel's door, hunched over, both of them trying to look in the keyhole at the same time. Around five hundred years old, already well past their majority, they were yet children to Erestor's eyes, and at first it did not occur to him what they might be hoping to observe.
“What is happening? Let me look,” hissed one, clearly trying to be quiet so as not to disturb Glorfindel. Though Erestor knew the twins could not be here on any legitimate business, not with the way they were sneaking about it.
“Wait!” the other whispered. “I can't see anything when you push me like that. There is something hung over the door and it is in the way. A robe or something...”
At this point, Erestor considered it pertinent to clear his throat, and alert the two to his presence. As one, they both stood up straight as they turned to him, eyes wide and startled.
Although he had offered, Elrond had not engaged Erestor personally tutor his sons when they were elflings, yet they both were well aware of his position and station in Imladris. The twins looked at each other in silence, then slinked over to him as if in conspiracy, some silently agreed plan. When they reached him, they slid their palms over his chest, walking around him in a way that was decidedly creepy.
“You wouldn't tell ada, would you, Erestor?”
One of them tutted, plucking at the pages of parchment he held in his arms. “Removing material from the library, Counsellor? That is forbidden, is it not, muindor nín?”
“Yes... do you know, I believe it is.”
Erestor raised an eyebrow. Really, that was more than enough! Who did they think he was, to be addressed in such a manner, and touched without consent or invitation? Erestor hissed sharply, an aggressive and forbidding sound from behind his teeth, and both of the twins froze. Quick as a snake, Erestor shot out his hand, dropping the paperwork, catching one of the sons of Elrond easily, thumb and forefinger squeezing and twisting his ear.
“Ow!” he cried out, much too loudly. Erestor's eyes flickered to Glorfindel's door, and he heard the other twin running away down the corridor. He smiled grimly.
“Well, well. It seems you are abandoned, pen neth,” he said quietly, and the ellon trembled. “Spying on our greatest hero, then presuming to silence me? You are in dire trouble indeed.”
“I –”
“I do not wish to hear your excuses,” Erestor whispered harshly. “The only question is what to do with you now. I should tell your father of this, and let him decide your punishment. I should alert him to your misdemeanours in public,” Erestor continued, and the ellon turned pleading eyes upon him.
“Which one are you?” The young elf hesitated. “Speak!” he ordered, cruelly twisting the ear he still held.
“Elladan!”
“Very well, Elladan,” he said, keeping his voice purposefully calm. “In a moment I am going to let go of your ear. When I do that, you should gather up the parchment you caused me to drop, then take it to my private suite. You know where that is, do you not?”
Elladan nodded as far as he was able, given the way Erestor was holding him.
“Good. You will await me there, and we will discuss this.” He paused. “Now.”
As he let go, Elladan immediately fell to his knees, picking up each sheet of parchment, his cheeks and ear tips burning bright red. Without a look or a word to Erestor, he turned and hurried down the corridor in the direction of Erestor's rooms.
When he was gone, Erestor strolled down the hallway after him, lingering for the briefest moment outside Glorfindel's door. What he heard made him stop, and press his ear to the door.
“Natyë celva!” A voice said, speaking Quenya of all things, and Erestor knew it to be Glorfindel. Oh, it was quite clear what the twins had been trying to see. Erestor had a feeling he wouldn't mind awfully seeing the blond warrior in action himself.
“Áva pusta!” And who else could that be but Gildor? Erestor was happy for him. The mapmaker had been alone for far too long. They had become friends, since he spent as many hours in the library as Erestor himself until quite recently.
“Verca yaulë!” This hardly heard whisper caused Erestor to smile and catch himself eavesdropping. He walked away quietly, leaving the lovers to each other. They were good for one another, and perhaps he might allow Glorfindel to keep that chest of toys he had begged to borrow. After all, he had many more.
He walked onwards, but then determined not to follow Elladan to his rooms directly. Perhaps it would work just as well to have him sweat a little. The insolence of youth! Instead he ventured to a door which led outside and looked out over the valley as the dusk was just deepening into night. A couple of guards were posted nearby, and he looked them over with a keen eye. They both stood straighter.
When he reached the first of them he paused. Erestor knew many of the guards. They came to him some of them, from time to time, and he was happy to indulge them with games. “When does your shift end?” he queried the first, an elf he knew well, who was sweet and yielding when handled with proper care and attention.
“An hour, Sir,” answered Taltiavas. Erestor nodded.
“If you would attend me, then, in my rooms,” Erestor said. “I am sure I can relieve you of your cares for a short time.”
“Yes, Erestor,” he said, still looking straight ahead. And not only that, Erestor thought tenderly. I will smooth your roughened edges and soothe your fëa, Taltiavas. It was not love, but it need not be. Erestor was content with his life as it was.
“Very good.” He turned on his heel and made his way back inside. It would not take long to deal with Elladan, then he could read a little before preparing the items he would need for Taltiavas. He was an elf that did not require pain so much as freedom from responsibility. Erestor could give that freedom to him for a short time, with the proper restraints.
When he reached his rooms he strode inside, his face stern. Elladan awaited him as he had commanded, having lit several lamps. The pile of papers was neatly ordered on his desk. He leafed through them as if disinterested.
“Did you read through these?” Erestor questioned coldly.
“No, Erestor,” Elladan said, too quickly.
“So it is a coincidence that they are in the correct order?”
Elladan blushed. “Well, I just looked to make sure...” he said, his voice trailing off as he realised he had been caught lying. Erestor walked around him, and saw Elladan begin to turn in order to face him.
“Stay where you are!” he rapped out, making the youngster jump. Erestor sighed silently and settled upon his desk chair, so that Elladan would hear the creak of the wood. “Stand up straight, Elrondion.” He watched the youth's posture change as he stood tall, shoulders pushed back.
“I will ask you several questions, and I suggest you answer truthfully,” he instructed. Elladan nodded.
“How came you and your brother to be outside Glorfindel's door?”
After a short pause, Elladan swallowed, then began to speak. “We – Elrohir and I – saw Glorfindel and Gildor in the garden. They were kissing in the shade of a tree, and then they ran back to the house. They were laughing. We followed them at a distance.”
“For what purpose?”
“We were... curious,” Elladan answered, his voice faint.
“You and Elrohir are over five-hundred years old. You are innocent to the ways of lovers?” Erestor felt his lips twist into a cynical smirk.
“No, Erestor.” The youth's shoulders trembled a little at the admission.
“Explain yourself more succinctly, if you can,” he said.
“We were curious about Glorfindel and Gildor in particular,” Elladan responded.
“Why?”
“They are happy,” Elladan replied simply, and behind him Erestor smiled. That at least was true, and somehow it made his heart warm to see even the sons of Elrond had noticed it.
“You wish to partake of it?”
“Yes.”
“Even though their happiness does not belong to you?”
“I am sorry,” Elladan said quietly, in real regret.
“Very well. Turn around and face me.” Elladan did so, and Erestor pretended not to notice the telltale flush to his skin, nor the way he breathed, fast and shallow. “Now apologise for your lack of respect to me,” he said, his voice measured and quiet, threatening.
“I am sorry, Erestor... for my lack of respect,” Elladan repeated faithfully, when Erestor waited. He leaned forward in his chair and pointed to the floor at his feet.
“Why don't you do it on your knees?” he suggested, and was not at all surprised when Elladan followed his command easily.
“I am s-sorry for...” Elladan stammered, clearly coming face to face with a sensation he'd never felt, looking up slightly into Erestor's eyes, unaware of his own invitation. Erestor almost pitied him.
“You are prideful and arrogant, but most of all childish,” Erestor judged, “unworthy of my time or attention. Get out of my sight.”
The young ellon fled Erestor's rooms quickly, clearly completely confused by his response to the reprimand, yet even at five hundred years, Elladan would need many more centuries before he could draw Erestor's interest.
Erestor read for a short time, then doused some of the lamps, lighting candles instead, pouring out some sweet honey wine for his guest, and selecting some likely chains for their session. Glorfindel could keep the toys. He was making Gildor happy, and everyone in Imladris had noticed it.

Translations (Quenya):
Natyë celva – you are an animal
Áva pusta – don't stop
Verca yaulë – wild cat
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The Voyeurs