Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 25/36
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: Elrohir takes the offensive. Melpomaen takes Elrohir for a night out on the town.
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.
As the week progressed, matters improved in the chief advisor's office. Elrohir had reached the conclusion that the main difference in his duties was that now he sat at Erestor's desk to do them. He did not have the authority to handle most of the matters that Erestor would have dealt with as a matter of course, and as Melpomaen had so succinctly pointed out on his first day, his main task was the delegation of letter writing and paper filing.
At one point he had broken down and asked Melpomaen about that. What exactly was the point of this exercise if he really wasn't accomplishing any more than he normally did? The unflappable secretary had glanced up from his work briefly and replied that it gave him an opportunity to see a bit more of the inner workings of Imladris. After all, it wasn't as if Erestor had the time to show him every bit of paper work that crossed his desk. Elrohir had nodded and given up on trying to make conversation for the day.
In his darker moments Elrohir imagined that Erestor and Melpomaen must have gotten along famously in this office between Erestor's cool silence and Melpomaen's disinclination to speak. At least he had been familiar with Erestor's reticence, and for most of the time they had worked together it had been a comfortable silence, one he had not been afraid of breaking. Melpomaen's cool aloofness had been unexpected; Elrohir had anticipated enjoying the company of an elf a little closer to his own age. Two hundred years was not a great age difference among adult elves, but this one carried himself with the mien of an ancient.
He supposed it was remotely possible that Melpomaen resented him. Not that he had been given the great privilege of spending his days seated on leather upholstery rather than a cushioned wood chair, but his entire presence in the room. Melpomaen had been rather unceremoniously ousted from his position upon Elrohir's coming of age, and was now working for several of the lesser councilors until both Elrohir's and Elladan's training was complete. Still, it was hard for Elrohir to believe that an elf could be that petty. It had been no secret nor any surprise that the sons of Elrond would be learning the business of Imladris, and certainly Melpomaen should have expected it.
"Is something troubling you, my lord?" The secretary's tone was even, evincing no interest whatsoever in the answer. Elrohir wondered impatiently why he bothered to ask. For a moment he thought of Elladan, and of how Elladan handled most matters through pure frontal assault. He glanced at Melpomaen, refused to wilt under his flat stare, wished he was Elladan. The secretary raised an eyebrow, quirked it into an elegant arch that reminded him of Erestor, that set his teeth on edge. --To Mandos with diplomacy.-- He thought viciously. --The Valar hate a coward.--
"What's wrong, Melpomaen? And quit calling me `my lord.'"
Melpomaen blinked. "I believe it was I who was inquiring after your welfare, my l- Elrohir."
"No, dammit, I've had an awful week preceded by an even worse three months, and I don't feel like dancing. What's the matter? Is it that father put me in charge? If you can call this being in charge." He grimaced. "Because if that's all there is to it, you're more than welcome to the desk, the whole damned office if you'd like." He bared his teeth in a rapier smile, feeling peculiarly exhilarated. If this was how Elladan felt when he charged thoughtlessly onto the field of verbal battle, Elrohir could understand why he did it.
"No, no, not at all." The eyebrow had returned to its more usual position, and surprise flared in the usually cool, dark eyes. "This week has been trying for me, also. Erestor was not the only councilor to go with the delegation to Lothlorien."
"Of course not." Elrohir muttered, glancing back at the letter on his desk. Half of the work Melpomaen was attending to was not even this office's; of course the older elf would be feeling stressed as well.
"I'm sorry to hear that you've been having difficulties even before this came up."
"Difficulties." He chuckled sardonically. "Yes, I suppose that's what you could call them." Sighing, he pushed the letter off to the side. "I apologize, Melpomaen, for speaking so uncivilly to you. I'm out of sorts; it's all the excuse I have."
"No offense taken, Elrohir." A speculative light flashed in Melpomaen's eye, and he offered a friendly smile. "Perhaps we could get to know each other better? Drinks after supper might be a good place to start."
Elrohir considered. He was morally certain the secretary was not making a pass at him, which made the choice easier to make. In all truthfulness, he had little desire to spend more time in Melpomaen's silent, and undoubtedly socially boring, presence. Still, he would have to work with the elf for another three weeks. It couldn't hurt.
"Bring Elladan along, if you'd like."
"I doubt if Elladan would be much interested in talking shop -unless of course, we decided to talk about Imladris security. I'll be there, though."
"Good. I'll meet you by the fountain out front, and then I'll take you to a place I know of."
It was Elrohir's turn to raise an eyebrow.
"Not to fear, Elrohir Peredhil." The look of amusement had returned. "I promise not to take you to any dens of iniquity."
~*~*~*~
Taverns were not a usual part of Elrohir's experience though he knew that Elladan had been known to visit them on a few occasions. This one was owned and operated by humans, and since it was within Imladris's city borders he knew it had to conform to at least the most basic standards of propriety. Even so, it looked like a den of iniquity to him, and the last place that Melpomaen would go to spend his free time.
"Nice, isn't it?" The older elf asked, smiling broadly. "You won't find one so pleasant anywhere else in Arda, at least among human kind where the women dance on the tables and the men spit on the floors." Elrohir's eyes widened, and Melpomaen grinned. "Well, sometimes there are women dancing on the tables here, too, but at least we'll be spared the rest."
"Nice." Elrohir echoed uneasily, and Melpomaen clapped him on the back, steered him toward a table at the back. The place was dark and smelled of ale; the rafters hid behind floating rafts of gray smoke. There were no chairs or stools at the bar, and Elrohir noted that though several men stood at it, there were no women. They kept to the tables, playing cards, drinking, and laughing with as much zest as the men. A few men and women were playing darts at the other end of the long room, and judging by their performance they were either very drunk or Glorfindel had severely understated the humans inferiority to the elves in matters of vision and aim.
"Melpomaen!" A woman squealed, and Elrohir looked up, eyes wide and startled as a hunted rabbit's. She stood by the table carrying a large, round tray so covered in empty and half empty glasses that its cork surface was barely visible. He had noticed several others like her, all wearing red, slim skirted dresses with midnight blue, lace-up bodices and red breast panels. He'd guessed they were serving women, but he was too amazed at the scene to congratulate himself on his correct observation.
"Greetings, Candi, you look lovely tonight." Elrohir supposed she did, if one was human and favored voluptuous blondes with round eyes and cheeks. The woman laughed merrily in response to Melpomaen's flattery, however, briefly squeezed him in a one armed hug.
"You always look just darling, Melpomaen, and you know we miss you when you're away. I see you brought a new friend tonight." Her too bright gaze flickered to Elrohir, and he restrained the urge to cringe.
"Yes, this is Ellar, a co-worker of mine."
"Well, pleased to meet you, Ellar." Candi flashed a smile, and settled her tray on an abundant hip. "What can I get for you two? The usual?"
"That'll be fine, Candi."
"Alright, then." She disappeared into the crowd, red skirt switching extravagantly as she made her way toward the bar. Elrohir flicked his tongue nervously over his lips, glanced back at Melpomaen.
"You come here often, then?"
"Yes." The older elf smiled, settled down at the table. "It is nice to have a place to go where one does not see all the familiar faces, a place where one is not required to be the respectable secretary of the redoubtable Chief Advisor of Imladris.
"Oh, I can see how I would go out of my way to visit a place where I'm referred to as looking `just darling.'"
"That's Candi." His eyebrow was lifting into its familiar, irritating arch. "You can see my point, though, can't you?"
Actually, he could. Elrohir nodded slowly. "I suppose there isn't much you could get up to here that would attract much notice."
Melpomaen grinned across the table, shook his head. "This is nothing, Elrohir. Just humans having a good time in their own simple way. I find that the simplicity of it has its own attractions."
Elrohir could agree with that, too. There had been precious little simplicity in his life for several long months. Then Candi was back, reappearing from out of the smoke and grouped bunches of drunken humans.
"Here y'go." She set their drinks before them with a thud that nearly slopped the contents of the tankards onto the table top. "Anything else for you two?"
"No, thank you, Candi." Melpomaen answered, and she smiled brightly, making dimples.
"Well, I'll be back to check on you before you have a chance to miss me." Again she was gone, this time with her tray balanced on her hand over her head. Elrohir watched her go, then returned his gaze to Melpomaen.
"I do not think I shall be in any danger of missing her."
Melpomaen laughed, took a long swallow from his tankard. Elrohir took a sip. The drink was sweet and light, sweeter than what he would have chosen on his own if he had any familiarity with human beverages. His next sip was less cautious, and Melpomaen smiled approvingly.
"That's ordered special, and arrives via an extremely circuitous route." He shrugged, flashed even, white teeth. "I'm actually paying for it twice since I make no demands on it beyond having it available when I stop in, but I find that preferable to drinking alone."
"I can understand that." Elrohir tossed back a few more mouthfuls. His cheeks felt hot, and he could sense sweat standing on his brow. "No one likes to be alone."
"Indeed not."
They chattered about inconsequentials, anything and everything but the affairs of Imladris. Candi came to refill their tankards several times, and Elrohir was silently amazed that the taciturn secretary could have so much to say, or be such entertaining company. Some of the stories he regaled him with were even more scandalous than those told him by Erestor, and a few of them were about Erestor - not to mention Glorfindel, Elrond, and Celebrian.
"Do any of them ever come here?" He asked, and giggled at the image of his lady mother ordering a drink from one of the slatternly barmaids and then perhaps playing a game of darts. In some distant part of his mind Elrohir was aware that he was very, very drunk, but it didn't seem to matter. Melpomaen seemed only a bit tipsy, and he was having too much fun to care.
"No, none of them, though I wouldn't be surprised were I to bump into Glorfindel some night. He has some rather… unusual tastes."
"Oh?" Elrohir asked brightly. He had discovered his inner gossip monger, and was in no hurry to turn his back on it. Melpomaen laughed.
"Enough of that, or I'll get myself in trouble. I wanted to ask about you, how you're doing."
"Me? I'm doing fine." His smile broadened. "Wonderful, as a matter of fact."
"Well, you said you'd had a terrible few months, and I'm curious. What is it? Your parents? It must be difficult, being a prince." Elrohir opened his mouth to refute the title, but Melpomaen waved his hand impatiently. "Oh, yes you are, whether they choose to use the title or not. Prince of Imladris."
"No, no, it's not that." Elrohir glanced dizzily around, hoping no one had heard Melpomaen's drunken declaration. No one had; the other patrons were too intent on their own business. "Though it does grow tiresome. Particularly a few weeks back, when father confined us to the immediate vicinity of the house for spending the night out without leave. And we weren't even out!"
"Really! Where were you?" Melpomaen leaned forward expectantly, elbows on the table. Elrohir blinked, took another sip from his tankard.
"Never mind."
"Ah, so you were with your lover!" Melpomaen's eyes widened with glee. "And your brother, too?"
Elrohir choked, blinked back stinging tears as he tried to clear his windpipe. "If that's what you want to call him… lover, I mean, not Elladan…" He wheezed, and Melpomaen nodded sympathetically.
"Ah, so that is the problem."
"Taking advantage of Elladan is what it looked like he was doing to me. Then, no, I thought it was love. Didn't like it." He stared blearily at Melpomaen, trying for solemnity. "Still, I figured Elladan's able to make his own decisions. Now he says he can't, that he's leaving him but he's going to do it gently. Unobstru… obsu… trusively. Nonobstrusively." He nodded seriously. "And that's where I come in."
"How awful." Melpomaen shook his head. "But I thought you said he was your lover."
"Oh, mine too. Long story."
"I imagine it is. But how are you supposed to help him let go of Elladan unobtrusively?"
"Well, see, that I can't tell you."
"Ah, well…" He blinked as Elrohir's eyes rolled back and the young elf fell forward onto the table top. "Well, I think you've already told me everything I wanted to hear." With a sigh he rose, waved a cheerful goodbye to Candi as he hoisted the unconscious elf out of his seat and headed for the door.
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