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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 takes a bath and makes a mess of things. 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. Not very respectfully.



Chapter 9: Faux Pas

Arwen had sensed, rather than seen Eliene's reaction to her identity, yet to her credit, the little Lorien courtesan maintained the discreet fiction that they had just met.

"We are now both exchanged to Mirkwood," Arwen said to make conversation. "Have you ever been there, Eliene?"

"Once, long centuries ago," the tiny elleth replied. "My father handled the trade missions to the Greenwood, and once, he took me along. The wood was fairer then. It was before the shadow fell."

They rode on in silence, before Arwen broke it again. "What do you suppose awaits us there?"

Eliene sighed. "What little I know comes from the courtesans exchanged. I hear tell that one of us will be given to the crown prince, Legolas. It is custom there, in exchange for an old debt -- a slight or insult on the part of a courtesan, they say." She shuddered.

"Is this Prince Legolas in some way . . . repellant?" Arwen ventured.

"I do not know. Those Lorien courtesans who have been under his control return home changed. Most leave the collar at first opportunity, and several have sailed. None will speak of what they endured at his hand. All I know is that I would far rather be given to Thranduil than to his son." Eliene sighed again. "Yet, it is not mine to hope. We courtesans must do as we are told and go to whom we must."

Arwen was silent. This was a facet of the job that Morie had skipped over. Ragging on her about how unevenly she had buffed her nails and quizzing her endlessly about the names and numbers of her sexual partners had been so much more important.

* * *


The trip north, again, went smoothly. The route took them up the Anduin, veering far to the west as they passed the orc country around Dol Goldur. They crossed the Great River at the Old Ford, and proceeded northeasterly, heading ever closer to the dark line of the trees that made up Mirkwood.

On the third day up from the ford, Glorfindel reined the train in. "On the morrow, we reach the Forest Gate, and we will come within the purview of King Thranduil's realm."

After an evening repast, the Golden Lord approached the two courtesans. "It so happens that there is a convenient and geologically anomalous hot springs nearby where you two can rest and bathe before taking up your new lives tomorrow. I shall guard you, chastely averting mine eyes while you ellith do whatever you do when alone together."

Arwen and Eliene exchanged a silent look, barely avoiding an eye roll. "Well, I suppose a bath would be nice," Arwen said. "How about you, Eliene?"

"Don't mind if I do," the little elleth replied.

The two of them followed Glorfindel to the spot he led them and hung their clothes on a branch, trying their best to ignore the flash of golden hair and glittering blue eyes that were all too visible from behind the nearest shrub.

Arwen could not help noticing the Lorien elleth's delicate beauty. "A fine pair we make, Eliene; dark against light, tall against diminutive."

"Yes," Eliene laughed. "Mayhap Thranduil will be inspired to make us bookends in his library rather than bed partners. Although I hear his appetites in the bedchamber surpass his love of learning -- by an hundred leagues!"

Arwen laughed at Eliene's bawdy joke. "I'll wash your back if you wash mine, " she said companionably.

"Good idea. I'll go first."

Arwen turned around and submitted herself to Eliene's ministrations. The sensation of the little courtesan's hands on her back was not entirely unpleasant. Most pleasant, actually, judging from the heavy breathing that was coming from the shrub at the edge of the copse. "Your turn," she said brightly.

They switched positions and Arwen began to soap Eliene's back. Running her hands over Eliene's sleek shoulders gave her ideas, as did Glorfindel's increased grunting from his bush. And truly, the entire situation, facing a new and unknown life, made her feel in need of some comfort. Comfort she suspected Eliene was in need of as well.

She ran her hands around to the front of Eliene's chest, cupping the tiny breasts and rolling the nipples in a twisting clockwise, counterclockwise motion that had always obtained enthusiastic results with other ellith in the bath before. Intent on her twiddling, she failed to notice her companion go stiff.

"Sarnwen. . . . Sarnwen! What do you think you are doing?"

Arwen froze. "What's wrong?"

Eliene broke away and scooted to the opposite side of the pool. Immediately, the sound ot Glorfindel's rapid breathing ceased as well. Eliene looked back at her with hurt eyes. "Do you know nothing?"

"What?" said Arwen, genuinely confused.

"Who trained you?" Eliene whispered.

"Morie, but . . ."

"Ai, why does that not surprise me?" Eliene said harshly. "Do you not understand? Must we not endure enough unwanted touching -- more than enough -- without inflicting it on each other?"

"Unwanted? You mean we cannot refuse, even if the touch is loathsome to us?" Arwen was horrified.

"I guess Morie left that part out, eh?" Eliene's voice was bitter. "What part of 'succor, comfort, and obedience' did you not get, my spoiled little darling? Or did you think that because you are the daughter of a great lord and the most lovely elleth in all of Endor, that we all would fall all over ourselves to be with you? Well, maybe under normal circumstances we would, but let me tell you, Miss Embodiment of Luthien Tinuviel Herself, once it's your job, this 'great joy' of having sex gets old really, really fast."

Eliene jumped out of the water, grabbed her dress and stalked off toward the camp. Arwen was left with tears stinging her eyes from more than the soap. Was it true? She had always assumed her lovers desired her as she had them. Was it only because of her pampered position? And the courtesans -- did they submit, unwilling, even though their faces smiled? What sport or gratification was there, then, in enjoying their favors? She lay back in the water and pondered.

"Good going, Princess, er, I mean Courtesan," the Balrog Slayer said sourly, emerging from his bush. "The one friend you might have had in Mirkwood, and you just insulted her."

"Blow me, Glorfindel," she said absently.

* * *



Bada-bing! We're on the borders of Mirkwood, and soon the fun will start in earnest! Screw Earnest -- the fun will start in Arwen!

To my faithful readers:

Faithful Servant: Yes, I know I should be ashamed of myself. *wink*
White Lady: There ya go! I hope it satisfied. If not, well go find a horse. Or a Steward of Gondor. Whichever.
Double Trouble: We're almost there. Be patient. On a serious note, you two are really starting to frighten me.
Aglarond13: Here's a roll of paper towels. But, truly -- save it for the forthcoming chapters.
Man of Craft: You have no idea how hard it is to type with an 'arrow' poking you in the back. Bear with me.

* * *


L.T.: Adar! Eew!

T.O.: Sorry, my son. Look sharp -- you get to be in the next chapter.

L.T. Oh, be still my heart!


Chapter Ten: The Halls of the Elvenking