Title & Chapter Number: Lû Vinui 6/10
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Hith a Naur
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from the Tolkien world. They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Warnings: Slash
Betas: Silvara & Ilye
Cast: Erestor/Lothvaen, Glorfindel/Thranduil
Timeline: SA
Spoilers: None
Summary: Lothvaen joins the staff of the House of Elrond in the newly founded valley of Imladris and finds the Chief Councilor to be a challenge worth accepting. Thranduil meets the Balrog-slayer when the Seneschal is sent to Greenwood to aid Oropher and the attraction is instant.
Notes: Lothvaen is a Sindarin name I have given to the fanon character 'Figwit.' 'Figwit' is not an appropriate name for an Elf and the name 'Melpomaen' (a common used name for this fanon character) is an incorrect translation of the name 'Figwit.' 'Lothvaen' means 'clever flower' since 'clever' is another word for 'wit' (Sindarin does not have a word for 'wit') and 'flower' is used in place of 'fig' (since Sindarin does not have a word for 'fig'). A fig is actually a flower, which is why I chose 'flower' for the name.
Lothvaen is referred to as a 'whip.' This does not reflect upon his bedroom proclivities. It is a British political term, a position within Parliament. We also have a similar position in the US as does South Africa. ^^ It just means he has more responsibility and a higher paycheck.
Imladris, Echuir - 1921 of the Second Age
Thranduil sighed as he stood on the steps leading into the Last Homely House. He watched Glorfindel spar with another Elf and felt his body stir. This was pure torture. He turned from the scene and began to stroll along the hallways of Elrond's vast home and let his mind wander.
He missed the woods of his father's realm. The Prince felt practically useless within Elrond's employment. His only responsibility was to train the archers every other day, which left Thranduil with many free hours to fill. The Prince spent many of those hours with Glorfindel's Captain, Haldir. The Elf was engaging, and Thranduil was constantly awed by how much knowledge of history the blond Sinda possessed.
He made a left turn down a hall and found he was facing one of the two staircases that connected the floors of the house. Thranduil knew that the one large room to his right was the main dining hall, but he had never come behind it. His feet had brought him to the hallway that housed the offices of Glorfindel, Erestor and Lord Elrond. Thranduil's conscience tugged at him and he sighed. He needed to speak with Lord Erestor and apologize for his immature behavior on the training field.
Thranduil passed by the office he knew to be Glorfindel's, since it had an entrance on both the South and East hallways. Erestor's would be the next office and Thranduil approached the open door of the Chief Councilor's office. The Prince knocked on the doorframe and waited.
"Come!"
The Elf-prince strode into the office and bowed slightly to the seated Noldo. "My Lord."
"Prince Thranduil," Erestor said coolly. "How can I help you?"
Thranduil looked around the well-appointed office and noted the empty desk across the room. "Where is your secretary, my Lord?"
"Lothvaen has been promoted to the position of Councilor. He has his own office now." Thranduil could hear a deadness in Erestor's voice that he had not noticed before.
"May I speak with you, Lord Erestor?"
Erestor sighed and put aside the parchment he had been working on. "Sit down, Thranduil." The Greenwood Elf pulled one of the simple, straight-backed chairs in front of the large, dark wood desk and sat. "Now, what is it you wish to speak to me about?"
"I apologize for my actions on the training field, my Lord. It was not my intent to insult you." Thranduil, through much self-discipline, kept eye contact with the Noldo Lord.
"What was your intent, then, pen-neth? Were you attempting to stake your claim on Lord Glorfindel? I assure you, there has never been --and never will be -- anything between the Seneschal and I that should worry you." Erestor allowed a cold smile to form on his lips. "Glorfindel may be one of the most irritating Elves I have ever met, but he is a trustworthy warrior, and you do him an injustice to have thought he would play with your emotions." The Noldo relaxed in his chair, his glittering eyes never leaving the slightly colored face of the Prince before him.
Thranduil cleared his throat. "I still offer my apologies, my Lord. What is between Lord Glorfindel and I does not concern you, and I should not have attempted to vent my frustrations upon your person."
Erestor nodded. "Apology accepted." He picked up his quill once more and brought the parchment back to the center of his desk. "If you do not mind -- with Lothvaen no longer assisting me, I have much work to do before dusk."
"Aye, Lord Erestor." Thranduil replaced the chair and bowed again before exiting the room. The Prince exhaled a sigh of relief when the afternoon sun warmed his face. The office of the Chief Councilor was decorated in rich browns, reds and greens, but Thranduil had felt chilled in the presence of Erestor. The Elf set him on edge, and he could not fathom why.
He shook his head and walked down the hall, in the direction of Glorfindel's office. Thranduil smiled to himself when he saw the door slightly ajar. His would-be lover was done with the training sessions. Perhaps they could steal a few moments together before they were interrupted. Again.
~*~*~*~
Glorfindel looked up from the report he had been reviewing and felt his mood lighten considerably. Just seeing the face of his Prince caused him to smile. "Good afternoon, pen-vaelui."
Thranduil closed the door and approached the desk. "Good afternoon, my Lord Seneschal."
"Is there something I can do for you?" Glorfindel pushed back from his desk and went to stand up, but Thranduil quickly seated himself in the Elda's lap.
The Prince took Glorfindel's mouth, hungrily kissing the full lips. Glorfindel brought his arms around the Wood Elf's slim waist and pulled their bodies into closer contact. At times, Glorfindel was still amazed by how quickly Thranduil could bring him to full arousal. After only a few moments of having the archer's body resting on his thighs and the Prince's long fingers threaded in his hair, Glorfindel was moaning his need.
Glorfindel slid his hands under the thin silk shirt Thranduil had chosen to wear for the warm day. On his days of rest, Thranduil usually wore very casual clothing and Glorfindel smiled against the lips of his lover. "You do not make it much of a sport to undress you, melethen."
Thranduil panted, his hips moving of their own accord against the hardness he felt through Glorfindel's leggings. "Perhaps I have had enough sport, my Lord. We have been interrupted, disturbed, put out, and left dissatisfied long enough. If it means I walk the Last Homely House clad in nothing but my mithril circlet, then so be it." The Prince attacked Glorfindel's lips once more, drawing the Balrog-slayer's tongue into his mouth and suckling it eagerly.
The elder Elf shifted beneath Thranduil's weight; his leggings had become uncomfortably tight. Thranduil chuckled and moved his hands from Glorfindel's hair, slowly down the warrior's lithe body. Glorfindel arched beneath Thranduil's skilled hands and he allowed his head to fall back against the headrest of the chair. The Prince continued his downward course while leaning in and tasting the flesh of Glorfindel's neck. Glorfindel's eyes closed and he let out a deep moan when Thranduil's hands finally released the hard shaft from its confines at the same time as he bit into the Elda's neck, sucking and marking him as the Prince's.
Glorfindel had never felt such intense desire as he did when the Prince touched him. "Aniron le," Glorfindel groaned when Thranduil released his throat and he could once again look into the jade eyes.
Thranduil's lips curved seductively as he looked at the passion-dilated eyes through thick, dark lashes. He traced Glorfindel's swollen bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and stroked Glorfindel's arousal with long, sure strokes. He had just swiped his thumb over the drops of clear fluid that leaked from the tip of Glorfindel's cock when there was a sharp rap at the office door.
"By the Valar!" Thranduil complained quietly.
After a few moments, the knock came again. "My Lord Seneschal?" Erestor's voice came from the other side of the door. Glorfindel looked at their state of undress and knew they had little time to right themselves before Erestor simply entered the room. Thranduil did the only thing he could think of: he slid from Glorfindel's lap and knelt under the large desk. He would be safely hidden from any visitors.
Glorfindel shifted himself close to the desk and whispered, "Retie my leggings!" After a moment, Glorfindel called, "Enter!"
Erestor and Elrond came into the room and Glorfindel wished that Manwe would open the very ground his desk sat over and swallow him whole. "My Lords."
The two dark-haired Elf-lords sat at the chairs placed before Glorfindel's desk. "Glorfindel," Elrond said with a slight bow of his head. "I wished to discuss with both of you..." Glorfindel lost track of the conversation after that, because it was then that Thranduil wrapped his hand around the still-hard shaft protruding from the Elda's breeches.
His back went stiff and he tried to listen, to look interested in whatever Elrond was explaining to him. But, when Thranduil's hot, wet mouth plunged down over his weeping sex, Glorfindel knew he was lost. It took all his self-control not to close his eyes, not to moan his delight in feeling the intense suction of the accomplished Prince's mouth.
Thranduil set a punishing pace, working as much of Glorfindel's cock as he could with his lips and stroking the remaining length with his hand. Glorfindel felt faint, and he knew his increased breathing had become noticeable.
"My Lord, is something ill with you?" Erestor sat forward in his seat and looked at his friend with concern.
Glorfindel shook his head. "Forgive me, my Lords, but I think I have just-" His voice hitched when Thranduil slid his tongue into the slit at the tip of his length and he cleared his throat. "I think I am just weary from the morning session with the new recruits. Perhaps I will finish this report and then retire for some rest before the evening meal."
Elrond nodded, his brow creased with worry. "If there is no change in how you feel by supper, please come to the Healing wing and see one of the Healers."
The Seneschal knew he was close to his release and he tried with all the self-discipline he could muster to stave it off for just a few moments longer. "Aye, meldir, I shall do that."
Erestor and Elrond stood, bowing slightly to Glorfindel. "We shall see you this evening?" Erestor asked, looking once more at Glorfindel's flushed face.
"This evening," he managed.
Then the room was blissfully empty and Glorfindel slid his chair back from the desk enough to see the blond head of the Prince working his shaft with a wanton disregard of their location. It took only a few additional moments of watching the Wood Elf and hearing the enthusiastic moans that reverberated up his thick flesh before his hands were buried in the younger Elf's head, holding Thranduil still and he thrust himself into the warm slickness. He spilled himself down the Prince's throat and cried out the Elf's name, panting in exhaustion.
Thranduil cleaned the evidence of Glorfindel's passion from his lips and smiled up at the Seneschal.
Glorfindel chuckled, breathing heavily as he brushed the stray tresses from Thranduil's face. "You are talented, melethron. But, perhaps we could choose a more... appropriate venue next time?"
"I found this one most inspiring, my Lord." A mischievous glint sparked in the depths of Thranduil's oak eyes and Glorfindel knew he was in love.
"It is almost time for the evening meal. I do not believe I have the strength to offer you the same relief you have offered me." Glorfindel stroked Thranduil's cheek lovingly and leaned in to kiss the Prince sweetly, tasting himself on Thranduil's tongue.
When they parted Thranduil shrugged. "I seem to have become used to going unfulfilled."
Glorfindel laughed. "My poor Prince!"
~*~*~*~
Lothvaen nervously tapped on Elrond's door, feeling awkward for coming to his Lord's private chambers. He chewed his bottom lip fretfully, not understanding from where his unease came. Lothvaen did not consider what he was doing prying; he needed to know about Erestor and Glorfindel could not help him. Other than Erestor himself, Lord Elrond was the only one left he could seek answers from.
Elrond opened his door and the shock on his face at seeing his newest Councilman on his doorstep must have been obvious.
"My Lord Elrond? Do you have a few moments this evening so that I may speak with you?" Lothvaen hid his shaking hands in the long sleeves of his robes and tried to keep his anxiousness out of his voice.
"Of course," Elrond said, moving aside and inviting Lothvaen into his rooms.
Lothvaen looked around the main room, his eyes taking in the décor of his Lord. The room was decorated in rich, dark tapestries and fabrics; warmth radiated from the chamber and Lothvaen felt immediately at ease. The scent of medicinal herbs permeated the atmosphere and Lothvaen thought the room suited the Lord of Imladris perfectly. It was inviting, but there was an underlying current of power, of mystery to the room and Lothvaen knew he had made the right decision coming to Elrond.
"Please, sit." Elrond motioned to a sitting area near a cold hearth and Lothvaen nodded. He chose one of the plush, overstuffed settees and crossed his legs at his ankles, resting his hands tightly in his lap. Elrond sat in the high-backed chair opposite the young Noldo and tried to understand why Lothvaen radiated a sense of unease. "What is it you need to speak with me about, Lothvaen? Are you not happy in your new position?"
Lothvaen shook his head. "No, my Lord, I am honored to have been chosen. The purpose behind this visit is more of a personal nature." He took a deep breath and looked directly at Elrond. "I would like to know about Lord Erestor."
Elrond raised one eyebrow and regarded the Elf before him. He had watched Lothvaen over the years, had known of the young Noldo's attraction to Erestor. Elrond had known this discussion was coming, ever since Erestor had come to his rooms in an emotional mess some weeks ago babbling about his secretary, the bathing chamber and the ensuing mental confusion. Elrond had done his best to soothe Erestor's concerns, to ease his fears, but he knew that from then on, Erestor had kept the young Noldo at arm's length. Elrond sighed. "Lord Erestor is a private individual, Lothvaen. Perhaps it is he you should be speaking with."
"I cannot do that, my Lord. He has become... uncomfortable with my presence." Lothvaen finally looked away from the wise grey eyes that regarded him with a calm knowledge.
"Why is that? I have never known Erestor to be troubled by many. In fact, short of Lord Glorfindel, Erestor has always treated those around him with a quiet respect."
Lothvaen wrung his hands in his lap. "He does not treat me with any less respect than anyone else, but, we have had some personal dealings which left him unhappy with me."
Elrond crossed his legs and relaxed into the comfortable chair. It seemed he would be detained for quite some time. "Unhappy with you?"
"The day Lord Glorfindel returned from King Oropher's realm, I was aiding Lord Erestor in his chambers. I prepared him a warm bath, since he was soaked through from the rain. I... kissed him."
The Peredhel chuckled. "A kiss? I must admit, it has been many, many years since one has had the courage to kiss Erestor." Elrond became lost in his thoughts for a moment, remembering the feel of the Councilor's lips against his own. They had kissed only once, but it was an experience Elrond kept close to his heart. He shook himself from his memories and smiled gently. "A kiss is hardly something to feel ashamed of."
"It did not stop at a kiss, my Lord." Lothvaen felt his face color with his embarrassment.
Elrond had not been told the details of their encounter from Erestor; the Noldo had been too distraught and Elrond had not wished to push the issue with his friend. Now, he worried that things had gone much further than Erestor had wished, and he fought not to jump to an incorrect conclusion. "Did you bed him?"
Lothvaen could hear the change in his Lord's voice. Glorfindel had been right: the Lord of Imladris loved Erestor dearly. And now he thought Lothvaen had taken Erestor to bed unwillingly! He frantically shook his head, his eyes wide and pleading. "I did no such thing, my Lord! I know what you may think I did, but I did not. I merely..." Lothvaen searched for the best way to word his actions. He lowered his eyes and when he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. "I pleasured him with my mouth."
Elrond nodded, his heart feeling slightly relieved. "And he allowed this?"
"That is where my confusion stems from, my Lord." Lothvaen stood from his seat and began to pace slightly. "He responded to my kisses, he did not stop me from kneeling before him. It was only once the act was done that he seemed to... recoil. When he realized I might ask for the same in return -- or more." He looked down at Elrond. "I care greatly for him and my intent was not to force him to do anything he did not wish to do. My pleasure came from his, and I did not ask for him to perform any act upon me. But, he jumped into the pool and told me it was 'nice' but 'inappropriate' and it was not to happen again."
The Elf-lord thoughtfully tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair. He could imagine Lothvaen's reaction to being dismissed so after performing such a deed for someone he admired and cared for. Perhaps the fallout between Lindir and Lothvaen had something to do with what had occurred between Erestor and Lothvaen. Elrond put that to the side of his thoughts, though, and concentrated on the matter at hand. "And you would like to know what from me, meldir?"
Lothvaen sank back down into the cushions of the settee. "I would like to know why he rejected me in such a manner. I want to know why he has never had a lover and why no one in Imladris -- save you --knows anything about him. I want to know how to reach him. I have loved him for centuries now, but he does not allow me to enter his heart. There is also a darkness about him sometimes, something that frightens me... I want to know who he is."
"You ask for a lot, Lothvaen. Some of the answers you seek I cannot give you. But, I can offer you some information. I urge you, if you seriously wish to hold Erestor's heart, to ask Erestor for the answers to the questions I cannot answer." Elrond stood. "Before I begin, I was going to pour myself a goblet of wine -- would you like one?"
The young Noldo nodded. "Please."
After Elrond had settled back in to his seat and taken a few sips of his wine, he began his story. "Erestor was born shortly before Fëanor left Aman with his sons. He was but a toddler when his father took him from their home and fled with the Noldorin host. He has always idolized his father..." Elrond said wistfully.
"Who was his father? Did he survive the journey?" Lothvaen quickly drained his glass, his heart beating faster. Erestor was old, much older than he had thought.
Elrond smiled. "Erestor's beloved father was Amras, one of the twin sons of Fëanor. His mother did not live long after they began their revolt. He does not remember her and there is a sadness within his heart because of this."
"Amras... Erestor is of the House of Fëanor?" Lothvaen's shock amused Elrond.
"Aye, he is the last. He was born in Aman, Lothvaen. He and his cousin, Celebrimbor, came with Fëanor and his sons. He was just thirty years of age when they made it to the northern shores of Lake Mithrim. He was taught how to wield a sword before they ever reached that lake. He fought alongside his kin when the Orcs came; their camp had not even been completely set." Elrond stopped for a moment, sipping his wine. "Would you like another glass, meldir?"
Lothvaen held up his hand, declining the offer. "He fought against the forces of Morgoth..."
Elrond nodded. "He did. He was there when Fëanor took his last breath; he sparred with his uncles after Fingon returned Maedhros to them. Erestor, son of Amras, has seen much in his life. After Thingol gave the lands of East Beleriand to the Sons of Fëanor, Erestor went to live with his cousin and his uncles in Himlad."
"Why did he not reside with his father?"
"The twins went into the wilds of Beleriand. They had seen enough death and chose to remain hidden until the Siege was over. They felt that Curufin was best suited to raising the child. After all, Curufin had been raising Celebrimbor with only the aid of his siblings for years. After only a few years with Curufin, though, Erestor was sent to live with Maedhros." Elrond looked away, draining the last of the liquid from his cup.
"Why?"
Elrond shook his head. "That tale is not mine to tell. But, that is where the hurt began for Erestor. And it only compounded as the years wore on. He has blood on his hands that he cannot wash himself of, and it has festered within him for many years." Elrond's stormy eyes met the deep violet of Lothvaen's and he spoke in earnest. "His heart and soul have been fractured, Lothvaen. He fears anyone who could help repair the hurts he has suffered. He fears *you*."
"I do not understand, my Lord." Lothvaen's brow furrowed and he closed his eyes. "I wish I did, but I do not."
"You will." Elrond stood. "If you wish for any more answers, you will have to seek them from Erestor. He will not give them up easily, and I encourage you to press him for them." Elrond brushed his fingers against Lothvaen's cheek and smiled down at the perplexed Noldo. "He does love you, he wants you, but he cannot bring himself to allow you that complete control over him. For Erestor, that control is all he has."
"I do not wish to lord over him," Lothvaen said heatedly.
"What you wish is scarcely the issue. It is what Erestor perceives. It is late now, Lothvaen. You should go to your rooms." Elrond moved back to allow the Noldo to stand and he escorted him to the door.
"You have been most helpful, my Lord," Lothvaen said and he bowed slightly. "It is obvious, though, that the root of this matter lies with Erestor. I will speak with him."
"I wish you all the luck of the Valar." He smirked at Lothvaen as he closed the door on the Elf. "I do believe you will need it."
Lothvaen turned from the shut door, walked across the hall of the family floor and entered his small suite. Now that he had spoken with Elrond, he understood why he had been given these quarters by the Peredhel. They were situated next to Erestor's, and it seemed Lord Elrond saw much more than the average resident of Imladris thought.
The young Noldo smiled to himself and he stripped out of his robes. Yes, Lord Elrond had been, and continued to be, most helpful.
End Chapter Six
English/Elvish:
Pen-vaelui : Lustful one
Aniron le. : I want you.
Melethen : My love~ Next Chapter ~
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