Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 26/36
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 wakes up in the wrong room. Elladan and Elrohir have a talk with Melpomaen. Bedroom discussion ensues, followed by implied sex.
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.
"Where in the name of Mandos were you last night?" Elladan's voice cut through the pleasant comfort of reverie jarringly. Elrohir tried to burrow further into the pillow, but Elladan's voice gave him no peace. "I waited up for you in the parlor playing cards with Lindir, and then when I gave up a little after midnight I found you already here in bed! Unconscious, I might add, and smelling like a brewery."
Elrohir's eyes flew open, his expression transformed into a mask of pure horror as he took in his surroundings. Elladan's rooms. He had been out drinking with Melpomaen, and had apparently passed out. And Melpomaen had returned him, not to his own quarters, but to his brother's.
"Oh, dear Elbereth have mercy on us!" He cried plaintively, and Elladan blinked, confused. His tone had carried more amusement than anger, but now that faded into concern.
"What's wrong, brother?"
"Elladan, I was out drinking with Melpomaen. In a tavern."
Elladan's eyes widened, and he nodded respectfully. "I'm sorry, Elrohir."
"No, no, that's not the problem!" He ran his hand through his hair, catching his fingers in skewed braids. "I must have had too much to drink, and he brought me back. Here. Not to my rooms, but here."
All color drained from Elladan's face. His knees gave way and he abruptly sat on the bed beside Elrohir. "Dear Elbereth, brother, what did you say to him?"
"Too much. I don't remember everything, though." He sat upright, buried his face in his hands. "Enough for him to put two and two together, obviously."
"And it's equally obvious that he wants you to know that he has." The ashen hue was lifting from Elladan's face, and his expression had become stony. "Do you have any idea what he wants?"
"None. I can't imagine what he would want from me."
"Well, let's see, we are the sons of the Lord of Imladris."
Elrohir shook his head. "I don't see him being interested in money or possessions, and he knows I can't acquire much in the way of land or power for him. It's not sex." His cheeks reddened as he looked down at his lap. "He could have had that easily enough last night if that was his aim."
"Perhaps he has more interesting tastes." Elladan's tone was cold; Elrohir glanced over at him sharply. His brother's dark eyes were distant, frostily contemplative. Elladan would know, after all, about odd tastes and the methods some would stoop to in order to attain them.
"I truly don't believe that's it."
"Bathe. Get dressed." Elladan said abruptly. "I think we need to pay a visit on your secretary."
~*~*~*~
They found him in the gardens reading a book by the pond. Sitting cross legged in the grass he looked almost like an elfling; one almost expected to see the cuffs of his tunic falling over his knuckles, his pant legs bagging over too large boots. Elladan's eyes narrowed, and he signaled for Elrohir to approach him. Taking a deep breath, he walked forward to confront his silently reading nemesis.
"Good morning, Melpomaen."
"And to you, Elrohir." He glanced up over the top of his book, smiled. "Did you have a good evening? I would have asked you last night, but you were somewhat indisposed."
"I was rather surprised to find myself in Elladan's room this morning."
"Really?" Melpomaen's expression was knowing. "I'd think you'd be used to it." He shrugged, set the book aside. He began to turn back to Elrohir but was brought up short by the cold touch of sharpened steel at the nape of his neck.
"We haven't had a chance yet to meet in a social capacity, Melpomaen, but I'm sure you won't mind if we talk now." Elladan spoke conversationally from behind him. To his credit, Melpomaen's expression was as cool and impassive as ever; he might have been sitting at his desk instead of being held at knife point in a distant section of the Last Homely House's gardens. Elladan settled down in the grass behind him, his body shielding the knife from view, his lips level with the secretary's ear.
None of his dismay showed in his expression, but Elrohir felt a chill as his gaze moved to his brother's face. This was not the Elladan he knew, not his brightly smiling, convivial brother, light of laughter and soft hearted, unwilling to harm another's feelings let alone do them physical harm. Elladan's face was cold, utterly without feeling. It was the face of a warrior - no, not even that. It was the face of an assassin, and Elrohir repressed a shudder at the sight of that beautiful, emotionless face.
"Surely you have some reason for your actions, Melpomaen. We would know them." Elladan spoke softly, chillingly. Melpomaen turned his head to meet his eyes, did not wince at the increased pressure of the blade against his neck.
"My reasons are my own. I am sure that Elrohir will not wish to speak to anyone of my favored places of entertainment."
"Not good enough." Elrohir said abruptly. He dropped down onto the grass in front of Melpomaen, adopted a casual pose that he hoped would fool any observers. "You have to know that is not an even trade, that the one does not cover the other."
"You think not?" He returned his gaze to Elrohir. "It doesn't matter; it's all that I'm offering. Take it or leave it. Those are your choices, unless you consider cutting my throat on the Last Homely House's lawn an option."
Elladan swore softly. The knife snicked into its sheathe, and Melpomaen shifted his position so that he could face both of them. "Is Lindir involved? Did you set him to keep me busy while you were off with Elrohir? Or was he the one to put you up to it?"
Melpomaen arched a slender eyebrow, shrugged, said nothing.
"We could have you sent away."
"That would be inadvisable, I think. In more ways than one." He smiled, lips stretching tightly, humorlessly. "If it is any consolation, I could care less about what you two do together, nor am I inclined to speak of it to anyone."
Elrohir and Elladan exchanged looks, thoughts conjoined in a rapid fire, silent conversation. It was evident that Melpomaen had won this round. In spite of the cold fury that had encompassed Elladan, he was not a murderer. Elrohir had given the older elf far more ammunition against them than they could muster, even considering their position and status. They could only take Melpomaen's word, depend upon his silence. Elladan rose to his feet swiftly, stymied anger evident in every taut muscle of his body. Elrohir followed suit. "It is good to know that you are of a liberal conscience." Elrohir said smoothly, eyes narrowed. "Indeed. Perhaps I will speak to you later, Elrohir." Elladan glared, started to speak, but Elrohir waved him to silence. "Perhaps. We bid you good day." "And to you." Melpomaen's amusement was obvious. Elrohir swallowed back his anger, turned on his heel. Together he and Elladan stalked back toward the house.
~*~*~*~
"Should we question Lindir?" Elrohir asked as he paced the length of the room. It was his room rather than Elladan's, somewhat larger since it had originally been intended to be shared by two people. Elladan lay on the bed glaring at the ceiling, barked humorless laughter at Elrohir's question.
"Why? We won't get any more from him if he does know anything, and if he is innocent we will only be alerting him to the fact that something is going on."
"I suppose you're right." Elrohir pressed his fingertips to his forehead. "That went… phenomenally badly."
"You think?" He ground his teeth, turned his head to scowl darkly at his brother. "May I ask how this came up in casual conversation, Elrohir? I mean, how exactly does one go from court gossip to discussing the affair one is having with one's brother?"
"It wasn't like that, Elladan!" Elrohir turned to face him. "I never said that in so many words, but… he is a cagey one. And I was drunk."
"Ah, now there's an excuse." Elladan rolled his eyes. "And what exactly did he mean, that he would talk to you later? Let me guess - this is more business that must be taken care of around poor, dear, hopeless, and none too bright Elladan."
"No! I don't have any idea what he was talking about, but it seemed to me that we'd be better off saying as little as possible." He sighed, shifted his gaze to the window. "As it is, we may well have said far too much."
"What do you mean?"
Elrohir bit his lip, cast his brother a sideways glance. "As I said, I never told him anything, not in so many words. Returning me to your room…" He sighed heavily, shut his eyes. "That might have been nothing more than a test of his supposition."
Elladan stared speechlessly. "You might have mentioned this sooner."
"Yes, I might have, dammit, but I didn't remember! Everything happened so quickly, Elladan!"
Elladan sighed, rose, crossed the room to his brother. "It is alright. I'm none to pleased at the moment, but I do love you, Elrohir. And he won't tell. That much I was able to… understand… from him."
Elrohir nodded. It came as no surprise to him that Elladan would find this issue important enough to bend his talents toward hearing more than Melpomaen's words.
"What does he think?"
"You know that I cannot hear thoughts. But I can say that though at the time he was furious, he has been unhappy for a long while. For some reason our indiscretions bring him joy." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly, half way between angry relief and disgust. "There truly is no inclination on his part to speak, though I think that at the moment he would have been more than happy to beat both of us to bloody pulps."
"Well, that is not an unusual feeling when someone has a knife to one's neck." Elrohir's lips compressed. "Why did you do that, Elladan? You frightened me."
"I'm sorry, brother. I'd hoped to frighten him." He pulled Elrohir into his embrace. "As to why… well, I don't know. I cannot ever recall being that enraged. Or disliking anyone so much. He could have done anything to you last night, Elrohir. That does not sit well with me."
Elrohir felt a giddy lightness at his brother's words. For too long he had felt as if it were his task to protect Elladan, to take care of Elladan. He had seen too little of his brother the hunter, the warrior, the fearless one in more than matters of the heart. That Elladan might have similar feelings toward him came as a pleasant surprise, knowing the Elladan was not thoughtless of him filled his heart with joy. It had seemed to him that Elladan merely accepted with childlike trust that he could handle everything. It sent a pleasurable thrill though him to realize that sometimes and in some instances Elladan was not content to simply float.
"Perhaps it is you who are my elf knight."
"Me?" Elladan's eyes widened; he stepped back to look at Elrohir, abashed. "No, not I."
"I think you are." Elrohir smiled. "But be that as it may, please do not do such a thing again. That was… unsettling."
"As you wish." Elladan kissed him gently, soft lips conforming to his twin's. "You know I cannot deny you. See? I have even forgotten that I was angry with you."
Elrohir grinned, stepped closer. "There is nothing you would deny me, Elladan?"
"Nothing at all." He answered, and Elrohir purred.
"Come back to the bed, then, and prove it."
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