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Summary: When Elrond is short a courtesan for the fifteen year exchange, what will he do? Pimp out his daughter -- that's what! This chapter contains egregious Arwen teasing: 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

Nine and a Half Weeks in Mirkwood
By Acharn Lend

Disclaimer: Not my garden. I just play in it. Let's go rip up the perennial borders, shall we?

Chapter 4: Pains

Arwen was in a bad mood. As punishment, she had spent the day helping Elrond's Cellarer inventory the stocks of oil which seemed to keep the social intercourse of Imladris moving freely. Rivendell went through barrels of the stuff. It was hard, dusty work, and the Cellarer, Doron, had been far too handsome to work with comfortably in the close confines of the cellar. She seemed always to be bumping against his taut muscled chest at every turn and brushing against his body in passing. By the end of the day, she was in a heated state.

There had been no time before the evening meal to do anything about it, and the after dinner entertainment, a demonstration by the two courtesans, Morie and Fianal, of the latest terpsichorean style from the court of Cirdan at Mithlond -- Dirty Dancing, they had called it -- seemed almost calculated to torture her

The last straw was when, after returning to her room and searching through her lingerie drawer for a 'very special' bath toy, she found it missing. How could she have been so careless as to misplace it? Arwen almost wept with frustration as she fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning on her way down to breakfast, she almost ran into another elleth.

"You pardon, Lady Undomiel. I was too busy with my own sad thoughts to watch where I was going."

"Nay Firiel," Arwen replied, "I was distracted myself. Is there aught I can do to help you?"

Her father's favorite shook her head. "It is not your problem, My Lady. The lot of those of us who wear the collar can sometimes have its sorrows. Pray excuse me."

Arwen watched the lovely elleth go. Turning back, she spied Morie regarding her with glittering silver eyes.

"Her heart is breaking, My Lady. Your father informed her of what must be this morning. She will be sent to Mirkwood for a period of fifteen years."

Arwen sighed. "Is there no other way, Morie?"

"The Laws of Exchange are strict, Arwen, and they exist for a reason."

"What reason would that be, Morie?" Arwen enquired innocently.

Morie blinked. "I don't know. But I'm sure it's a good one, being a lame plot device and all. Imladris owes Mirkwood a female courtesan this time around and it's necessary to advance the plot. Firiel must go, that is . . ." Morie leaned close to lay a gentle hand upon Arwen's shoulder, "unless someone would volunteer to go in her stead."

"And there is no one?"

"None so far who are stup -- ah, willing to take on the duties of a courtesan, that they might be sent." Morie sighed prettily. "It is so sad for poor Firiel!"

Arwen pondered for a moment, her heart moved to pity. "Tell me, Morie, for curiosity's sake, just what are the duties of a courtesan?"

Morie ducked her head, letting the curtain of her hair hide the sly look that had come across her face. "Come, My Lady. We will walk in the garden and I shall tell you everything you need to know."

The two ellith strolled off, Morie's left arm companionably around Arwen's waist, and her right one behind her own back. None were there to descry that her fingers were carefully crossed.

* * *

Bada-bing! The plot thickens!

Again, special thanks go to :

Faithful Servant: Your support and inspiration has been essential to me, mellon. You will be rewarded.
Double Trouble: Yes, Arwen is a spoilt elfling and she's going to get some character building -- in the form of a hot Elvenking!
White Lady: Sorry, no girl on girl action this chapter. Nor next chapter. Put away that sword!
Librarian: Glad to see you on board. How long can Arwen hold out? Well, you ought to know!
*Half Elf: Oh, do try to develop a sense of humor! However, your concerns will be addressed.
Gorthaur: Poor Arwen! I have so much sympathy for her. Mwoooohaaaahaaaahaaa! (Sorry, tried to keep a straight face when I said that.)

TBC in Chapter Five: Decisions (Really Stupid Decisions)

*I am informed that 'Half Elf' is the screen name of a real person who, according to 'Bard' is 'one of the good ones.' Be advised that the Half Elf mentioned in these author's notes is a certain peredhel gentleman who is understandably annoyed with his portrayal in this tale.

No offense is meant to the other 'Half Elf,' to whom I now respectfully dedicate this chapter by way of apology. Won't she be thrilled!


May. 17th, 2009 11:30 pm (UTC)
You know, I never can make up my mind if I find the story itself more amusing, in this, or the meta-parody, as in the included replies to the comments of the 'readers'. As much as I loved the parent story of this, and as much as I still regret it was abandoned, I will maintain that I think this parody excellent, and hilariously funny. Very well done! ;)