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Nine and a Half Weeks Chapter Two: Who?

Summary: When Elrond is short a courtesan for the fifteen year exchange, what will he do? Pimp out his daughter -- that's what! In this chapter, Elrond is given a startling flash of inspiration: Parody, D/s, SI, slash, anal, bdsm, f/f, m/f, m/f/m, solo and general bad taste. NC-17
Introduction: Please Read First


Disclaimer: Not my garden. I just play in it, so I feel free to trample the flower beds, tear up the grass, and let my dog take a dump in the gazebo.

Chapter two: WHO?

Elrond sat in his dining hall perusing all the elves of his court. None would suit the purposes of his current dilemma. They were either too plain, too lacking in wit, or too cursed intelligent to agree to be sent to Mirkwood as a concubine.

Morie smirked at him as she removed his plate. "Have you considered our conversation and our predicament, My Lord?"

"I have, and I may just have to suck it up and relinquish my favorite, Firiel, to that Sindarin rustic, Thranduil, for a time."

Morie leaned across the table, a gentle smile on her lips. "There is another way, My Lord, but it may take some convincing, and we have not much time."

"Have you a plan, then, my queen of courtesans?" He smiled at his own joke and Morie mirrored it briefly.

"Perhaps." Her voice was sly. "Who among your court is randy enough to bed a new Elf every night?"

"My sons, but we need to send a female."

"Well, then who is just like that, but of the correct gender?"

Morie smiled and leaned back in her chair as the Peredhel Lord's eyes widened and he took in a sharp breath. He stared at her, huffed out the breath he'd taken, and said the name as though he had never heard it before.

"Arwen."

Morie nodded. "She's never been to Mirkwood. They do not know her there. In fifteen years, you can deal to have her back."

"She is my daughter." Elrond said firmly, as though reminding himself of the fact. "I cannot simply order her to take down her hair and slap on a collar!"

Morie shook her head. "Oh, yes you can. This is bad fanfic after all. We'll just have to come up with some lame way of making her to agree to it."

"Then it cannot be." Elrond felt frustration wash over him, to have had a solution so close and yet so far away. "I cannot see her giving her consent for such a thing."

"Can you not? I think she may be convinced." Morie reminded him. "We have two weeks, My Lord."

Elrond frowned at the beautiful maiden -- ah, not exactly a maiden, because she had been a sex worker for Eru know how long, and had been swived by pretty much every elf in Middle-earth and a few of the other races besides -- who sat across from him. "How long have you been a manipulative wench, Morie?"

She smiled proudly. "From birth. There is a reason why courtesanship was the right choice for me, My Lord."

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "What, exactly, do you have in mind?"

"Lets try to change Arwen into what I am. We have two weeks, and our readers are none too particular about plot as long as it leads to a boatload of hot elf-smut."

* * *


Special thanks to
Faithful Servant: For listening to me think out loud. It's your job; you have to.
Aglarond13: Thank you for reading! Hmmm...not much of a surprise, was it?
Double Trouble: It gets even better, I promise!
Gorthaur: Thanks for reading! Now if we can just convince Arwen that she WANTS to go to Mirkwood and be shagged endlessly by Wood-elves....

Chapter Three: Manipulations