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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! As the story becomes familiar, Arwen bravely serves Mirkwood. But will this earn the respect of the prince? Not bloody likely! 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. All together now -- let's spit on the blossoms!

Chapter 19: Party Crashers

Thranduil sat at the head of along line of revelers, a cup of wine in his hand and his crown of leaves slightly askew on his golden head. It had been a long evening.

"Ow, curse it!" Arwen swore softly as she stepped on an acorn for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. Bare feet had their drawbacks in the midst of an oak forest, and she wished that Prince Legolas had lent her his boots while he was at it, along with his jacket.

How many trays had she carried this evening? She had lost count, somewhere after serving the Elvenking his tenth cup of Dorwinion. She was exhausted, and the sweet music of the harps and the merry laughter rang as a dirge in her ears.

All on a sudden, a small figure about the size of an Elven stripling child stepped into the clearing. The music and laughter ceased. Someone kicked the fire, which shot up on a shower of sparks, and the clearing was plunged into darkness. Arwen promptly tripped over a root and fell flat on her face.

"Courtesans should stay in the bedchamber where they belong, and not be running around in the dark," grumbled Prince Legolas, lifting her about the arms and setting her back on her feet. Arwen would have glared at him, save that it was too dark to see where to aim the glare. She puzzled as to how he could have located and recognised her, for it was as black as the inside of a torog's belly in the pits of Moria on a moonless evening, but he was already off, as a shriek split the night.

"Ai! A dwarf! Foul, nasty little creatures -- get it away from me!"

Someone lit a torch, and Thranduil was revealed, lying half on top of a dwarf in a blue hood with a silver tassel. The dwarf was out cold, having fallen under the spell of sleep that was designed to protect the revelries from such intrusions by strangers, but the Elvenking, who seemed to have tripped over the prone body in the dark, was wide awake and having a hissy fit. "Eew! I touched it!"

"There, there, Adar," Legolas said soothingly, rushing to pick his father up. "It is unconscious and it can do you no harm."

Too late. Thranduil ran to the edge of the clearing and commenced to being violently ill into the nearest bush. This produced a sympathetic reaction among the Elven onlookers, and the feasting site emptied very quickly.

"It is his one phobia," whispered Master Naeglin into Arwen's ear. "He simply cannot abide the Naugrim. But he will have himself under control by the time he sobers up and the dwarf has awakened."

"Well, that ought to do it," Arwen observed dryly. She had never seen anyone that sick, not even her brothers on the occasion of getting into their first cask of Mead and smoking all of Mithrandir's pipeweed in the same evening. "Sober him up, that is."

Naeglin laughed at her jest and clapped her soundly on the back, making her wince and very nearly cry out. "Oh dear, I had almost forgotten our earlier games. Hurt you, did I?" He went off with a wicked grin.

The pale haired prince was on one knee at the edge of the clearing, examining the ground by torchlight. "There seems to have been more than just this one, by the look of these tracks, but they have run off into the woods. Twill be a job to track them in the dark."

"Leave it until morning light," said Thranduil, approaching on unsteady feet. "You can take a party out then. Meanwhile, let us bring this one back to my throne hall where I might interrogate him."

"What could bring a party of them into our woods, Adar?" asked Legolas. "Tis suicide to wander unguarded through Mirkwood with the spiders and the orcs in abundance."

Thranduil shrugged. "Nothing the Naugrim do can ever surprise me anymore. But we can be assured whatever brought them hence, it is not good."

"Forgive me, Father," Legolas continued, bowing his head in chagrin. "I cannot imagine how they were allowed to come so close to our revelries. I have been remiss."

"And I as well. It was more my duty than yours, and I was off busy 'playing' when the dwarves crept up on us." Naeglin said meaningfully. "Shall we both resign our posts and spend the rest of our days flagellating ourselves?"

Arwen saw the prince's eyes widen briefly, then narrow as he sniffed in disdain. "Ah, no thank you, Master Forester! I shall bring the remaining members of the Dwarf's party in tomorrow, and we shall get to the bottom of this wretched affair." And then his face pinched as if he had just realised that 'getting to the bottom' was not, perhaps, the best choice of words to use around his sadistic former tutor. "Glavras, fetch me some hithlain," he said, walking off quickly.

The still unconscious dwarf was bound, and the party returned to the cave. "Go to the baths and clean yourself, Sarnwen," the Elvenking directed. "I will be some time with the questioning of this dwarf, and you needs must be sweet smelling and ready to attend me when I have finished. Right now, you look like a street urchin in one of the cities of the Edain. Although, I must say, you make a pretty boy. Is that not my son's jacket you are wearing?"

She nodded.

"It suits you," he said, "but I do not think Galion will be pleased." He strode off toward the throne hall.

She went down to the bathing pools, wondering what her lord meant. Master Naeglin followed.

In the baths, there were always tubs of warm water set up for those who were truly too dirty to enter the pools themselves. "Allow me to wash your back first, Sarnwen," said the Forester insinuatingly. "I fear we broke the skin earlier. Had I known you would be wearing clothing again before the bleeding stopped, I might have been more circumspect. Or maybe not . . ."

Arwen gave the meek and teasing answer Morie had taught her. "Ah, but a courtesan's lot is never to know what the day or the night will bring."

"True," said Naeglin "Very true." He ripped the jacket from her tender back.

"Ai! That hurts, and not in a good way!" she exclaimed.

"Twas a good way for me," he replied. "May I say, Sarnwen, you wear the collar with a grace I have seldom seen before. Not even when I wore it myself."

Himself? Naeglin had been a courtesan? Was this the wiser, stronger, kinder elf she would become at the end of her fifteen years? Arwen shrank as hot water hit her welts and caused fresh pain.

Yet, Sarnwen the courtesan smiled at the words of praise as she sank into the waters of the bathing pool. They warmed her heart more than did the waters.

* * *


Bada-bing!

My dearest readers! Thank you so much for sticking with me for so long!

In Professor Tolkien's masterwork, The Hobbit, we never really learn how it was that a pack of noisy, dratting dwarves could sneak up on the canny Elves of Thranduil's realm. The answer is to be found here: substance abuse. Heavy duty substance abuse.

Gorthaur: YAY! I'm so glad you liked it! I wanted to capture the essence of Arwen in that chapter The delicate nobility, with strength beneath! And it sounds like I succeeded. And crushed it under my boots. :D
Don: Bear with me This chapter is less action oriented, but there's a lot of interplay happening that's necessary for the plot to work. Plot? What plot? The next three chapters are all good to go, so even if I suddenly come to my senses and stop inflicting this upon the world, you'll still get your weekly update. :)
Denny: Thanks, Steward! I'm so glad you liked it! I was worried that the bondage scene might be a bit much for some of my readers , but I guess I underestimated you lot. As I write, I ask myself, "What am I seeing? If it was in front of me (or happening to me) how would I describe it?" I'm happy to know it works. Was it as good for you as it was for me?
Double Trouble: Worried about the sexual encounter? Was it too much? I know it was a bit more intense than what I've put in this story so far, but once Naeglin got started, he didn't really want to stop. Truthfully, I didn't try too hard to stop him, either. Besides, I needed the last scene in this chapter to work. :D Are you getting frightened now? Beginning to see the error of your ways? Serves you damned right.
Artanis: Ah we shall see about Legolas and Arwen relationship, won't we? *more evil laughter* :) But seriously, I'm glad you liked it. It was my favorite, so I had the jitters when I posted it, thinking omiEru, everyone will hate this! Sooooo relieved to be wrong! Soooo relieved to be posting at a site where concrit is discouraged and everybody cheers me on!

* * *


L.T.: At last! A little reality! Of course Galion would not be pleased about having to remove bloodstains from leather, but of all the elves of Arda, he is the best at it. Almost two full Ages of experience.

T.O.: Let us hope he is equally gifted when it comes to red wine . . .


TBC in Chapter Twenty: Honey, I Embarassed The Kid