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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! Musical appreciation night in the halls of Mirkwood's king. 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


Not my garden, I just play in it. Ah, but isn't it full of such lovely flowers to play with? Uproot them. Line 'em up. Spell out dirty words with them. Sorry, still no sex in this one.


Chapter 15: More To Being A Courtesan Than Lying on Your Back. Or Your Stomach. Whatever.

Firdal was waiting for Arwen at the baths, and they bathed together, washing each other's hair and oiling each other's skin. Arwen was amused to find herself rubbing oil into the chest of the handsome ellon, while he did the same favor for her, working it into her breasts and thighs.

Strangely enough, she was not at all attracted to him, looking at him more as a brother (although let's not go there, folks) than a love object. Was this because they both wore the collar? Or because, for once in her immortal life, she had finally had her fill.

She was still puzzling about it through an uneventful dinner, during which Prince Legolas did not make an appearance. As most of the diners cleared away, Thranduil motioned to his courtesans. "Let us have some entertainment for Lord Glorfindel on his last evening here."

"I know the entertainment I'd like," Glorfindel said salaciously. He had partaken heavily of the Dorwinion, and was deep into his cups.

"Nay," Thranduil laughed. "The only taste of sweet Sarnwen's tongue you shall have, my Lord Balrog Slayer, is in the singing of a song. You can sing and play an instrument, can you not, my pet?"

She blushed modestly. "My voice is fair enough, and I can play the harp a bit."

"If you do it as well as you play the bone flute, we shall be happy ellyn," quipped the Elvenking with his usual rapier wit.

Firdal brought her a harp of ebony, strung with silver, and she sat down and cleared her throat. The song was a bit improper, but just the tone for this hall, she thought.

An elleth is a hive of bees
In yonder flow'ry garden.
To her they come with laden thighs
To ease them of their burden.
As under the hive the comb doth lie,
And under the comb is honey;
So under her waist, her belly is placed,
And under that . . .


Thranduil was looking slightly bored, but she thought the next verse might catch his fancy.

An elleth is a mine of gold,
And oft it is her pleasure
To let them dig within her mold
And roll among her treasure.
As under the rock the vault doth lie
And under the vault is money,
So under her waist her belly is placed
And under that . . .


Thranduil had perked a bit at the mention of gold, but Glorfindel had put his head down on the table.

An elleth is a flowing spring
That's filled with water sweet,
That doth refresh each withered thing
Lies trodden under feet.
Her belly is both white and soft
And downy as a bunny,
And many ellyn wish full oft
To play but with her . . .


Dammit! Glorfindel had begun to snore. Arwen looked into the corner and saw one pair of eyes upon her. Galion's. For you, Master Seneschal, she thought.

An elleth hath the magic ways
Of late she'll take such pains,
That she might pleasing spirits raise
And lay them down again.
Such power hath this tripping doe,
This pretty little honey,
That many would their lives forego
To play but with her --


"That's fine, Sarnwen," said Firdal, snatching the harp from her as a smattering of polite applause arose from the listeners. "But this is Mirkwood." He struck harp and began:

I know an elleth who's eight foot tall,
Hey nonny, nonny no!
She left footprints on my . . . ceiling,
Hey nonny, nonny no!


Immediately, the audience perked up, and after one hundred and six verses in the same vein, the applause was not polite -- it was deafening. And it was salted with whistles, catcalls, and foot stomping. Firdal followed this with:

Ai, ai, ai ai!
Your adar's in love with a torog!
So give me another that's just like the other,
And waltz me around again, Rumil!

Ai, ai, ai ai!
Your mother sells ice cubes at the Helcaraxe . . .


There were one hundred and thirty verses of that one, and had it not ended, Arwen would have run full tilt, head first, into the stone wall of the dining hall just to stop the torture. Firdal poked her in the shoulder as the applause died away and he set aside his harp. Her eyes uncrossed barely in time.

"All this fine culture has aroused mine appetites," Thranduil said, wrapping an arm around her. "Glorfindel you have Firdal again. I'm not quite willing to share my little toy quite yet. Come to Mirkwood next year and things might be different." But he gave a wink in the butler's direction. "Galion?"

The Seneschal held a delicate hand to his lips, covering a yawn. "Nay, my Lord, as inspiring as Sarnwen's song was, I've had a hard day in the cellars. Some other time?"

Thranduil bid him goodnight. He turned to Arwen with a predatory look. "Let us to my chamber, my sweet!".

* * *


Bada-bing!


I know. Dull, But rather essential. That's two chapters with no sex -- I'm off my game, but we'll make up for it in the next chapter, won't we, Presciousss?


To my Devoted Readers:

Faithful Servant: I'll make it up to you, honestly! You just have to trust me. Seriously -- I'm running out of clean underwear.
Aglarond13: Right -- Mirkwood's greatest archer! Yawn. Not all that surprising.
Artanis: If you send me some naked tapestries of yourself, I MIGHT write some Legolas/Sarnwen action into future chapters. *wink*
Gorthaur: You're still with us! Fear not -- things will get uglier soon. Being a courtesan is a way for a spoiled princess to begin to look at others in a different light. With abject fear! Hahahahah!
Denny: Maybe Glorfindel will have a chance at Arwen. Although he certainly blew his first one. Lala. And yes, I mean to show that the various realms have different rules concerning the Courtesanship. So of course, Arwen wouldn't have had a clue what she was getting herself into. This innocent and charming tale is actually a prelude to another, starring Glorfindel and the twins, everyone's favorite combo. (Sorry Double Trouble) I'm trying to establish this Bizarro Universe as best I can. Go back and read the Elrond/Arwen scene again and see if you can figure out what's really happening. (here's a hint: Morie can be a manipulative little wench! :D) Perhaps for the slower thinkers among our readership, I should go back and underline.

TBC in Chapter Sixteen: More Questions