Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 8/36
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: Middle Earth
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own these settings or characters, and am making no profit from the writing and sharing of this story.
Warnings: BDSM, twincest, angst.
Betas: None
Cast: Erestor/Elladan/Elrohir
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Erestor and Elrohir have a talk, and Elrohir thinks.
Notes: This was an idea that struck me a while back when I was tossing around ideas on what to do when I'd finished with Glorfie and Erestor. Seems I haven't quite gotten Erestor out of my system. This is NOT the same Erestor as the one I wrote in my previous series.
It was only marginally easier to spend his days in Erestor's company, but Elrohir was slowly adjusting. He no longer stared at the letters, lists, and notes that came across his desk as if they were written in an unfamiliar language, and it was once again becoming apparent that he was doing something in the office besides gazing off into the distance. Erestor had not chided him for his behavior, had not mocked him or shown any amusement at his expense. His father, on the other hand, had asked him if he was feeling quite alright. That had spurred him to resume his previous efforts much more successfully than Erestor's quiet patience had.
"It's a lovely day, Elrohir, too lovely to spend indoors. Would you care to have lunch with me in the gardens?"
"Sounds good." Elrohir congratulated himself on his even tone. He did not want to have lunch with the chief advisor, did not want to idle in the gardens with him. He also was not a coward. Inwardly he smirked. -You lie in his bed, and that is fine, you let him do whatsoever he wishes, and that is fine, too. But you behave like a frightened rabbit when he sits decently at his desk, and have heart palpitations when he asks you to lunch.-
The kitchen maids packed them a basket lunch, and Elrohir carried it, intentionally taking the lead as they set out. The path he took led them to a small gazebo near enough to the house to be visible from his father's office window, yet distant enough to afford them conversational privacy. Erestor smiled as he took a seat at the table; his dark eyes sparkled as he glanced knowingly toward the Last Homely House. Elrohir refused to blush or look away from his amused gaze.
"Perhaps you should have brought a chaperone, too? Your brother, maybe?" Erestor grinned. "Oh, but that wouldn't work, now would it?"
Elrohir said nothing, began to unpack the basket. Without thinking he made up plates for both of them, removed the carefully wrapped glasses and bottle of wine, poured them each a drink. Erestor thanked him as he passed him his plate and silverware, and Elrohir glanced up sharply.
"Do I impress you as being utterly mannerless as well as being the sort to molest young elves during my lunch break?"
Elrohir smiled sweetly. "Forgive me the insult to your manners, but you must admit that you do have a history of lunchtime molestation."
Erestor laughed. "Point taken." He picked up a slice of bread and began buttering it. "Still, it's not something I make a habit of."
"Let's cut to the chase." Elrohir gazed at him levelly as he raised his glass. "What do you want?"
Erestor chewed contemplatively, taking the time to think as he swallowed, sipped at his wine. The youngest twin was not going to dance, not going to fish obliquely for answers. Erestor knew that he and Elladan had talked frequently, and he also knew that what Elladan had to say was not of much help to Elrohir. It was for this reason that he had decided to invite the young elf to the garden; now all that was left was finding the right words to answer his questions.
"What I want… What do you think I want?"
Elrohir shook his head impatiently. "No, I'm not playing."
"Neither am I." Erestor sighed. "Perhaps this was not one of my better ideas." He said to himself more than to Elrohir, but he saw the frown of incipient anger on his companion's face. "No, I'm not trying to play you. But you want to know."
Elrohir waited, said nothing. It was a trick Erestor had taught him, and one that he had seen Erestor himself use to good effect on an almost nightly basis for the past week.
"I love Elladan, and Elladan loves me and you. Do you see?"
"I don't see a damned thing."
"No, you don't." Erestor said with controlled vehemence. "Mainly because you refuse to look at what's directly in front of you. Does it look to you as if Elladan is being forced to do anything he doesn't want? That he's being taken advantage of? And how long are you going to continue to tell yourself that you come back every night to protect your brother from my depravations?"
Elrohir colored, wiped grease from his fingers with a cloth napkin. The roast meat on his plate no longer held any appeal. "He is not thinking clearly."
"And you are?" Erestor looked skeptical. "I think you deceive yourself, melethron nin."
"Don't call me that!" Elrohir said, and a flash of anger sparked in Erestor's eyes.
"Fine, I won't. And I won't insult you by implying that it's the ardor of my love making that makes you lose control; we both know you have more self control than that. But what is it, Elrohir?"
"This is not about me."
"Really? I would have sworn that it was you whom I woke up beside this morning."
"You don't love me!" Elrohir blurted. Erestor's eyes widened, and the younger elf blushed scarlet.
"Ah, so that is what's troubling you." He said softly. His dark eyes were warm, sympathetic. "Still, I am not sure I understand since you doubt that I love Elladan, also. And that doesn't explain what the draw is."
The color had faded from Elrohir's cheeks; his expression was once more inscrutable. Erestor hid his smile. -You're good, Elrohir,- he thought admiringly, -but you are so very young.-
"You know he loves you?" Elrohir asked, and a small smile ghosted about his lips.
"Yes."
"No doubts." He folded his napkin, laid it over his plate. "Because of what he does for you."
Erestor looked at him condescendingly. "You know better than that. Love and sex are not the same."
"You're getting quite a bit more than sex, though."
Erestor shrugged. "I'm getting quite a bit from you, as well."
Elrohir nodded, his expression unchanging. "Be that as it may. Still, at the least you know from this that he trusts you, trusts you implicitly. Is that trust well founded?"
"Yes." There was no cutting edge to Erestor's tone now, no mockery in his voice. He looked at Elrohir levelly, sincerity clearly revealed in his dark eyes. "I would never, ever betray his trust."
"Then that is well enough. For now." There was the faintest hint of bitterness in his voice, but Erestor let it go. "Shall we return?"
"Yes." Erestor rose, watched as Elrohir swiftly re packed their basket. "Do you want the remainder of the afternoon off?"
Elrohir cast him a glance that was somewhat patronizing. "No, I don't think that will be necessary."
"Good. There's quite a bit left to be done."
~*~*~*~
He watched his brother enter the dining hall with Glorfindel, laughing at something the blonde warrior had said. Not for the first time Elrohir wished that it had been Glorfindel whom Elladan had taken a fancy to, golden maned, lion hearted, gentle spirited Glorfindel who would not have put them in such a situation. It would have been natural for Elladan to have developed a crush on the beautiful weapon's master, would have been so cliched as to have been the obvious choice for a physically active, aggressive elf just reaching his majority. Perhaps he even had been Elladan's first choice; ethical behavior and his vows to their father might have prevented Glorfindel from allowing such an infatuation to develop.
The routines of daily life felt skewed to Elrohir, the thrice daily gathering of the household about the dining table felt oddly normal. He and Elladan would tell their parent's about their day, Elladan with more enthusiasm than the day's events usually warranted. Arwen would pester him, Erestor, and Elrond for news from abroad and details of political happenings; she was clearly destined to become a stateswoman or ambassador though she had yet to reach her coming of age. Then general conversation would ensue, topics growing and shifting, splitting into groups and then overlapping. No one would have guessed that three of them held a secret that would shock the entire household to silence, would shatter crystal and douse the fires, bring the roof beams of the house down in a protesting shriek of horror.
He had thought about what Erestor had asked. The advisor had not come right out and said it, but Elrohir understood what had been implied. He came back because he liked what he saw and felt, however much he also hated it. His anger with Erestor was at least partially misplaced; he trembled with lust and loathing at the sight of pain inflicted, not out of offense at his brother's treatment but because he wanted to be in Erestor's place. So much easier to spend his days in fury, to feel the near constant urge to wrap his hands around Erestor's throat than it would be to turn those feelings inwards toward himself. And then at night he could let it all go, become someone else. Not Elladan-and-Elrohir.
Not that all of his anger was misplaced. He cast a swift glance to the end of the table where Erestor was laughing along with Elrond and Elladan. If it hadn't been for Erestor he could have happily gone through eternity without ever knowing that his brother tasted like honey and wine. He would never have known how incredibly delicious he looked when his body was arching away from the lash, how his sweat tasted, how utterly delectable he was in his willing helplessness when left blindfolded in a silent room.
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