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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! In this chapter, Arwen learns the tricks of the trade: 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. Such pretty flowers -- let's douse them with herbicide!


Chapter 6: Buh Bye, Princess!

The next two weeks passed in a flurry of activity for Arwen. She and Elrond had agreed that her taking of the collar should be done in secret. Arwen's nursemaid from childhood had agreed to the fiction that she was to be turning courtesan and going to Mirkwood in Firiel's stead. Arwen's absence was to be explained as an extended visit to Lorien. In the matter of the collar, Elrond had found a trusted smith that would forge the object in secret. It would be soldered on the morning that the courtesan escort left for Mirkwood by way of Lothlorien.

The moment the oath had been sworn, Morie had changed, becoming a stern taskmistress and treating Arwen as an equal, nay, as a pupil, as she taught her the intricacies of her new position.

"Stand straight. Legs apart," she chastised again. "Remember, you will always be watched. Any time another is in the room, you must always be aware of their eyes upon you."

"But Morie, eyes are always upon me, since I am one of the most beautiful elves in all of Middle-earth! I am used to being watched."

"Well, this will change. They will watch you for a different reason, elleth."

Arwen felt a chill at these words. Had she made a mistake in agreeing to do this thing?

"Eyes up! Stop daydreaming!" Morie ordered , her voice cutting into Arwen's musings. "I can assure you, King Thranduil will not tolerate such behavior. When you are in a room with him, your attention should not deviate from him for a moment."

Arwen shivered. "What is he like, Morie? You were in Mirkwood for a time."

"Aye. I served under King Thranduil. And atop King Thranduil. And seated in chairs, braced in doorways, and laid over various pieces of furniture. Once, even, aboard a galloping horse. That was MOST memorable! You will love him. What you must make sure of is that he loves you."

Morie scowled. "Now, posture! Lower your head, and grovel ... Good. Again."

* * *


Elrond presented her with her formal contract and the trade contract with Mirkwood. Arwen had skimmed it through, surprised to note that she would be receiving twenty-five copper pence per year of service, to be paid at the end of her contract, provided she fulfilled the terms.

"I know," Elrond had said, as his daughter looked at him, questioning. "The going rate is eight pounds of gold per year, but I had intended to continue your allowance. while you are in Thranduil's realm."

"At the rate of two bits per year, I would almost find it more dignified not to be paid at all," Arwen observed dryly.

"That might be, but according to the ancient rules laid down by Saelbeth the Lawyer, we have to pay you something to avoid the slavery problem. The Valar might not take kindly to elves keeping slaves," Elrond said with a quick laugh. "Now sign here. No need to read that fine print. You'd need a magnifying glass anyway, and I've lent mine to Figwit. You have nothing to worry about. You are being sold to elves; noble elves of a noble realm, and nothing could possibly go amiss for you."

"You are most generous, Ada," Arwen said sardonically as she put her signature to the contract. Elrond merely harrumphed and tried to hide the look of guilt in his eyes. He then dismissed a very happy Princess, who thought, 'Whoopee, I'll have almost enough to bespeak a new embroidery hoop when I return from Mirkwood!'


* * *


When the border patrol reported the approach of the guarded train from Mirkwood, Arwen could not help but feel a tinge of fear as she tidied her room in preparation for her long absence. Morie came to help her pack what she would need.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" Morie asked.

Arwen sighed. "I confess, I have not. I have considered many, but none truly describe me but my own -- Arwen."

Morie laughed. "Since you have thought of none for yourself, may I have the liberty of naming you?"

"Why, of course Morie. What do you suggest?"

"The name you bear now, Arwen, bespeaks a noble maiden, a fragile, unattainable beauty like unto the Evening Star. That is the last thing that will describe what you will be for the next fifteen years. You will need to be strong, Arwen, and immune to hurt." Morie reached out to stroke the stone walls of Arwen's bedchamber. "Stone is strong, as your heart will have to be. I suggest Sarnwen, maiden of stone."

Arwen nodded. Then Sarnwen I will be."

"I have a gift for you," Morie continued, reaching into her own baggage and pulling out a book bound in green leather.

"Hey, wait!" exclaimed Arwen spying something familiar in amongst Morie's goods. "Isn't that my very own 'Sword of Elendil 5000' bath toy? It went missing last week, and I'm certain it never left my chamber."

"Nay, do not be silly! Tis mine own 'Sword of Elendil 5000.' Would I go sneaking through your lingerie drawer, bent on thievery?" Morie quickly stuffed the dildo out of sight. "Now, have a look at my trap -- er, gift to you."

Arwen examined the little book and smiled. The paper was clearly of Erestor's make, and it reminded her of all she would be leaving behind.

"I took the liberty of inscribing it for you," Morie said with a cryptic expression.

Arwen turned to the flyleaf and read:
"Dear one, over the next years, let your thoughts that you cannot speak aloud light upon these pages as if you were whispering in my ear. Leave nothing out. When and if we are both free, think of me kindly. Given in the spirit of friendship in which I have always held you. Morie"

Arwen wiped a tear of emotion from her eye. "I shall spill all the indiscreet and potentially dangerous feelings I experience into this little journal, and I am sure the release will do me much good. Thank you, Morie."

"Good," replied the courtesan. "Now, to the smithy."

In the forge, Arwen took a low stool and nodded to her Elrond as Morie looked on in silence. "I am ready, Father."

She blenched a bit when the smith presented the collar to her. It was of cunning Noldorin work, of solid mithril, light as a feather so as not to burden her slender neck unduly. The bright silver metal had been given a patina so as to resemble leather, with a row of evenly placed spikes left bright, interspersed with three heavy rings . To Arwen's mind it resembled one of the collars her brothers used on their orc hunting mastiffs. "Ada, what is with this design?"

"It was Elrohir's idea," Elrond said with some discomfiture. "Don't give me that look. I know this was supposed to be a secret, but I had to let your brothers in on it. I couldn't have them going to Lorien over the next fifteen years and wondering why you weren't there."

"Oh, great!" Arwen said, rolling her eyes. "Now I'm never going to hear the end of this from those two. Oh, what the hell, let's get this over with!" She lifted her hair, baring her neck to the smith.

The collar was placed around her neck and held tight with tongs. As the smith lowered the burning brand, welding the metal together, Arwen yelped in pain and noticed Morie rubbing her own neck with an enigmatic smile. The memory was forever seared into her mind -- the roaring of the furnace, the smell of the scalded flesh, and the knowledge that she had brought this on herself. "For Firiel," she whispered softly to herself.

"We're done. This looks good," the smith said, giving Arwen the eye. Evidently, there was just something about a woman in a collar.

Her cloak was brought to her and wrapped high around her neck to hide the new emblem of her calling. And none too soon, for the escort from Mirkwood had arrived in the courtyard. A lovely elleth in a silver collar dismounted her horse and knelt before Elrond, holding out her contract to his waiting hand in a formal gesture. Arwen noticed her two brothers craning their necks and drooling all over their shoes.

"Okay, time to get going you three," Elrond said, his eyes barely leaving the new courtesan. "All aboard, have a safe trip now. Morie, it's been a pleasure -- we have to do it again some time. Lalie, enjoy your new life in Mirkwood-- I'm sure you'll take to it like a duck to water. Glorfindel, take good care of my daughter. And Arwen, have a great time at Grandma's. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

The mounted train pulled out, Arwen riding at the front with Lord Glorfindel, and the two 'courtesans' Morie and Lalie riding near the back. Lalie's hair was loose, and she was cloaked as Arwen, so that none might see she wore no collar. Arwen held back a tear. She had no idea why she was feeling so sad for herself -- she had been away from home many a time and for far longer.

Ah, but never under such circumstances, she told herself, for beneath her cloak she no longer wore the rich gown of a pampered Peredhel Lady. She wore the simple linen dress of a servant and the collar to go with it. And the collar whispered; courtesan.

Before the train had reached the stone bridge, the morning air was cleft by a shrill shriek. "YOU BITCH!"

Arwen looked back to discover the cause of the commotion and beheld Firiel pounding after the riders, her unbound hair flying wildly and her fists shaking. The look in her eye was pure murder as she tried to catch up to Morie. "You knew I wanted to go to Mirkwood for thirty years, not fifteen. You told me you'd talk Elrond into it, and this is how you serve me! Lying, conniving, duplicitous WHORE!"

She hadn't the chance to say much more, as Elladan and Elrohir ran after her and caught her up laughing. "Adar said if we caught her we could have her for the night. Bye, Arwen; have fun in . . . Lorien."

The burn under the collar flared into fresh pain as Arwen craned her neck round to look at Morie. On the little courtesan's face was a self satisfied smirk.

Arwen turned her face forward and rode in silence. There was no turning back now.

* * *


Bada-bing!

Oh no! Was our pampered Princess set up? Who could have seen such a thing coming? But it's all for her own good, as Thranduil and his Silvan warriors will show her what she's been missing all her immortal life.

Special thanks to:

Faithful Servant: Thank you for being there and keeping me on task, my friend.
White Lady: Yes, it is a long journey from Rivendell to Lorien and then on to Mirkwood. Plenty of opportunity for those ellith to 'comfort' one another on the trail.
Aglarond13: I hope you liked the metal work in this chapter. Hot, eh?
Double Trouble: Be patient, you'll see some action in the very next chapter, I promise.
Man of Craft: Welcome aboard. Yes, you may watch this story unfold through your palantir, and I promise you that after the light and fluffy tones of the first chapters, things will get much darker. Bring on the angst!
Half Elf: Have you ever heard the saying; Don't like, don't read?

Chapter Seven: Becoming Courtesan