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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! We finally learn what the Thangorodrim was going on. Parody, D/s, SI, slash, anal, bdsm, f/f, m/f, m/f/m, solo and general bad taste. NC-17
Introduction and Chapter List: Please Read First

Nine and a Half Weeks in Mirkwood
By Acharn Lend

Disclaimer: This is not my garden, I just play in it. My little play is now come to an end.

Chapter 28: Some Revelation Is At Hand

"Well, all's well that ends well," said Thranduil, as he and his army watched the trail of dust that marked the retreating orcs. "You can get up now, Mithrandir. Time for some explanations. I am most curious to learn what that snare of The Enemy was, that I should be inspired to do something so un-elflike as keeping sex slaves in collars and trading them as property. Where is that courtesan, by the way?"

"Never fear, Adar, I left her safe in my tent."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. "In your tent? I can see that you and I must have a little talk, my son about using your position to obtain special privileges. Ai -- your tent?" He turned pale as both he and Legolas regarded the flattened remains of what had been the Elf camp before the orcs charged through. Anything inside those tents had been pounded into jelly under the trampling feet of the orcs and their wargs.

The prince bowed his head and laid a hand to his heart. "Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath," he whispered sadly and was echoed by his father.

Arwen was enjoying the unique experience of being present at her own funeral so much that she was tempted to let it go on for a few more minutes, but pity stayed her hand. "I'm all right, you two," she said, pulling off her helm and stepping forward.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Gandalf, recognizing her immediately. "This is going to take some explaining. . ."

"Elbereth be praised!" cried Thranduil, grabbing her into his arms and kissing her smack on the mouth. Then he threw himself on his knees in the dust in front of her and bowed his head in abject apology. "Oh, Sarnwen, I am so very sorry for my disgraceful behavior toward you! There is naught to say in my own defense, save that I was not myself. Forgive me, I pray you!"

Legolas whistled through his teeth. "Oh, it gets even worse, Ada. Do you know who this is?"

"I care not," Thranduil replied. "No one deserves such treatment -- not the humblest stablehand or serving wench!" He rose and looked at her with beseeching blue-green eyes. "I would make you amends, Mistress Sarnwen."

"Make that the Lady Arwen Undomiel to whom you would be making those amends, Adar."

The Elvenking let out a miserable groan and went down again, laying his forehead against Arwen's knees. "Oh, Valar, I am so very fucked!" he said so softly that only she could hear.

"My Lord Thranduil, I would say that the feeling is mutual," she laughed in spite of herself.

"We all of us have much to answer for," said Gandalf. "But the ways of The Enemy are subtle. I myself saw nothing amiss until I happened to remove Narya in the men's room of The Balrog's Bollocks a fortnight ago come next Orbelain, and only then did I realize that the great Elven-lords had been whoremongering for centuries! Thus was the cloud that the Three Rings of Power had cast over my reason. I am much afeared that the One Ring, that which they call Isildur's Bane, has awoken in the darkness and corrupted the Three. Sauron would distract us all with lust and buggery while he spins his foul plots!"

"Aha!" exclaimed Legolas, "A diversion!"

'Great call, Captain Obvious,' thought Arwen. But the diversion had worked, and how! The great Lords and the Lady of the Elven realms would have diddled while Middle-earth burned.

Gandalf stared at Legolas in bemusement, "Have I ever told you Thranduil, that you have one very astute boy there?"

"Nay," said Thranduil dryly. "But what of myself? I had no great Ring of Power to cloud my mind!"

"But you had one of the Seven that were originally given to the Dwarves," Mithrandir replied. "Slipped onto your hand through fell trickery."

"I've been wearing a Dwarf Ring all this time?" exclaimed Thranduil in horror. He began to scrub his left hand vigorously against the fabric of his breeches.

"Aye. Twas a simple thing to remove the enchantment from Elrond and Galadriel, thus freeing their people, by applying a special spell of protection -- 'Naur Ten Ent-ii Vairas' tis called," said Gandalf. "Nenya, Vilya and Narya are all scanned, repaired and safe to use again. But for you, O Elvenking, there was naught to do but get it off, which meant coming here myself."

"Which meant an extra week or so of Adar 'getting it off,'" Legolas observed sardonically. "Could you not have come a bit sooner, Grey Pilgrim?"

"Nay, I had a bit of business to conduct in the southern part of the wood -- now that we all had wakened up and realized who exactly it was that had set up housekeeping in Dol Goldur and was lowering the property values." The old Wizard sighed. 'Elrond and Galadriel were all hot to trot once the Rings were fixed, but I still had the very dickens of a time convincing Saruman. I don't know what HIS problem was!"

"This is not the first time an Elven realm has practiced the foul system of collaring courtesans," Thranduil observed. "Upon this occasion, it was the influence of that evil Noldo jewelry, but how do we account for Gondolin, which gave us the Little Black Book in the first place?"

"Ah," said Gandalf. "In that sad case, it was the influence of Maeglin, corrupted by Melkor himself and sent back to undermine the great realm of Turgon. After Gondolin fell, the Black Book was preserved to be an example and a warning to others. Alas that it instead became a 'How To' manual for the subversion of our morals to Sauron's foul ends!"

"Right . . . Prostitution For Dummies," Legolas muttered sourly.

"I have a question," said Arwen. "Why was it that Prince Legolas here seems to have been the only elf who was unaffected?

Mithrandir looked at her blankly. "Beats me! Perhaps twas some inborn resistance to Rings of Power and suchlike?"

"I'm sure it will serve me in good stead in years to come," said Legolas, jerking his chin meaningfully at poor little Bilbo Baggins who had wandered up. "In case Isildur's Bane is ever found and a fellowship of poor schmucks has to be scraped up to escort it to Mount Orodruin." He waggled his anomalously dark brows suggestively, causing the halfling to take shelter behind Gandalf. "I mean, a natural immunity could be very handy in the presence of Rings of Power!" At this point, he was all but waving his arms in sign language.

"That is hardly likely to happen," said Gandalf, busy cleaning his fingernails. "But I will keep you in mind, young Thranduilion, if such a group is ever needed."

Legolas rolled his eyes and sighed. "Why do I even bother?" he asked no one in particular.

"You are not going to Mordor, young ellon, and that is final," Thranduil said. "You are staying right here in Mirkwood for the next Age. That is, once you have escorted the Lady Undomiel home to her father, with my compliments."

"Perfect!" said Legolas. "Every time you have an embarrassing mission to Rivendell you can send yours truly."

"Sounds good to me!" Thranduil said heartily. 'Now, Mithrandir, you can make yourself useful and use a great blast of magic to remove the collar from this noble elleth. Tis most demeaning, and I am at a loss to understand what sick fuck thought it up."

"Maeglin," chimed Legolas, Arwen and Gandalf, as one. Gandalf touched his staff to Arwen's neck, and the weld on her collar split with and audible ping. Thranduil wrenched it open, pulled it away and dropped it into the dirt.

"Anybody be wanting this?" said Dain, coming up out of nowhere. The three elves shook their heads in horror. "Good, then I'll take it. I can melt it down into something nice."

"And on that subject . . ." said Thranduil, "I'd like that Ring back, Gandalf."

"Adar, you cannot mean that!" exclaimed Legolas, shocked.

"It must be destroyed, my son. As my amends to Lady Arwen, I shall personally take it to Mount Doom and drop it in, that no further innocents may be ensnared." He sighed. "Alas, I know the way all too well."

"No need for the long hike, O Elvenking," said Gandalf, placing the wrapped ring in Thranduil's extended palm. "The Dwarven rings are of a lesser nature and can be melted by dragon fire, or even in a forge of the Naugrim. There is one of those already up and running in Erebor, unless I miss my guess."

"Then to the Lonely Mountain I shall go," said Thranduil.

"You do know, Adar, that you will most likely have to bend over for Gloin in return for the use of that forge?" said Legolas with a wicked smile. "The last I heard, you were definitely NOT his most favorite Elf. And I am certain that Balin will be only too happy to fetch him a box."

Thranduil paled visibly and gulped. "If that is so, it would only be fair and meet. Never let it be said that a Scion of the House of Oropher cannot bend over and take it like a man when justice requires it." He drew a deep breath. "I should be back in about a week. Merry be the Greenwood!" He squared his shoulders and marched steadfastly off in the direction of the mountain's gate.

Legolas shook his head and smiled fondly as he watched him go. "That's my Pop! Now, Arwen, let's get you home."

He whistled for his horse, mounted, and took her up behind him. She clasped her arms about his waist tightly as they rode off westward. "Arwen, dearest," he said carefully, "would you mind putting your hands just a little bit higher? I may be a chaste and noble Elf-prince, and all of that, but I am made of flesh and blood."

"Wow, Legolas, you like girls after all!" she exclaimed. Before moving her hands she could not resist making a quick check. Yes, he was his father's son.

"I like girls very much indeed,' said Legolas. "It is just that I do not get much opportunity around here. And I am acutely aware that I probably missed my one and only chance with you before things got back to normal." His voice dropped. "I did have a shot, didn't I?"

She laughed and whispered the answer into his ear.

"Dammit!" said Legolas.

* * *

A fortnight later, they cantered across the bridge into Rivendell. They had made a brief stop at Thranduil's caves to pick up Arwen's remaining luggage, where they learned that Firdal and Eliene had joyfully bonded the moment the Elvenking had removed the Ring. A delighted Prince Legolas had made them a wedding present of an antique escritoire reputed to have belonged to Daeron of Doriath, in need of only a slight amount of repair. The happy newlywed couple was now busy seeking out a furniture repairman and trying for an elfling.

As they rode under the archway into the courtyard of the Homely House, a dark-haired boy looked up from his play.

"Cute kid," Legolas observed. "Who is he?"

"Just some stray Mortal Adar took in," Arwen replied. "I never paid him much mind. And I'm not about to pay him any now. I plan to make a quick pit stop here to pick up some gowns -- any color but cream -- and then I'm heading to Grandma's for a nice ten year long vacation. I'll tell you one thing, though, that youngster is going to have some grey in his beard before I feel like having any sex again."

"Ai, tell me about it!" Legolas said. "After all I have had to watch, I think I might be put off sex for good. Or at least until I find healing in the Undying Lands. And yet, already I feel the past fading as if it were an evil dream. Perhaps in time we shall all forget and return to normal, as if it had never happened."

"Yeah, that'd be nice," said Arwen, hopping down from the horse. "Are you coming in, Legolas? Have a little drink with my brothers? Sing a few songs? Drain the lizard?"

"Nay, I had best be getting back to Mirkwood. Adar will be needing me. With any luck, I should reach home right around the time the projectile vomiting is over with."

"He really has a 'thing' about dwarves, does he not?"

"I fear so," Legolas replied. "They are his one true phobia. I don't see it myself -- I think the Naugrim are rather cute. Even though they are short, hairy, and they have an unusual odor about them."

Arwen laughed. "Good-bye, Prince of Mirkwood. Thank you for everything -- especially teaching me that cherry stem trick on the ride home."

"Farewell, Lady Undomiel. May we meet again in happier times. And the next man who sees you naked . . . well, he is a very lucky man." Legolas winked, whirled his horse, and with a parting nod to the small boy playing in the dirt of the courtyard, he rode away.

The child watched him wide-eyed, then ran off yelling, "Nanaaa . . . what were those elves talking about . . .?"

Arwen went inside, savoring the sights, sounds and smells of home: the richness of the ancient tapestries, the odor of baking lembas, and the gentle strains of 'Tra-la-lally' drifting in from the Hall of Fire. In the entryway, she met Glorfindel. "Mae govannen, Lady Arwen. I have been concerned for . . . ah, where have you been again?"

On the stairs, she met Figwit and the dark-haired Mirkwood elleth. "Mae govannen, Lady Arwen. May I introduce my wife, the lady Elesse? We were wed two weeks ago in a double ceremony with Fianal and Tathryn."

"My blessings to you and your lady, my dear Master Figwit," she said, and continued to the second floor. She paused in the doorway of Elrond's study. Her father was there, writing at his desk, resplendent in a sapphire hued robe of silk. Mirkwood silk, which was known to be the best in all of Endor. (Buy some today, the quality is of the highest and the prices are very reasonable.) Vilya glittered brightly on his finger. Arwen sighed. "Well, Ada, I'm back."

* * *


Faithful Servant: Not coming out? Have you tried Oxy-Clean? I had a hard time getting that red wine stain out of my hair too, if you'll recall. I was strawberry-blond for a week! See what happens when we fly off the handle before the tale is done? What do you mean, my Chief Healer and my son's Lieutenant are not pleased by their roles in this story either? And, mellon, what is a 'union?'
Aglarond13: LOL. Like Thranduil/Gloin would ever happen! That's as preposterous as Legolas/Gimli!
Don: I hope I have explained myself adequately and made amends. Of course Elves are ethereal, asexual creatures who would only enjoy the act of sex under the dark influence of The Enemy. You can head on back to your ivory tower and leave us to our own devices. Bye-bye, now! :)
Lady Abendstern: You make a good point that it is not technically correct to refer to Arwen as a 'princess,' since her father is not a king, but simply the Elven-lord of Imladris. However, as 'Don' would be the first to tell you, if Celeborn could be referred to as a 'Prince of Doriath,' merely for being a kinsman of Elwe Thingol, then the lady Arwen, who is related to and descended from almost every important Elven ruler in Beleriand, might surely be termed a princess of the Eldar, no matter how admirably modest her Noble Sire might be in his own title. Arwen Undomiel will always be a princess in the eyes of yours truly, and you may take that to the bank, Vanimelda! You have been an incredibly good sport, and I thank you for keeping Isildur's Heir at bay while I finished this tale.
Elfstone: See above. Are we straight, Gwador? Because elf blood is very corrosive, and I would hate for you to rust out the blade of that oversized family heirloom of yours. :D
Double Trouble: Unfortunately, what I just told 'Lady Abendstern' would make the infamous Peredhil Twins 'princes' too. But one cannot have everything.
Silver Tree: Well look who finally came out of the talan! Miruvor ran out, did it? Let me assure you that anything you read in these pages is pure fantasy and bears no relation to persons living, dead, or imaginary. The events are entirely fictional, as your dear, chaste wife will agree. Because I know that, unlike Half Elf, you CAN raise an army.
Artanis: You'll back me up on that, right? I know your Marchwarden will!
Half Elf: Has your family filled you in on the jest at last? Good. And I see you have read 'Mail Ghoul.' Are you beginning to see why I am so touchy about certain forms of fiction? And why I drink so much? My late father had a favorite saying -- vengeance is a dish best enjoyed cold. And I have found this dish to be mighty tasty.

I now submit a Modest Proposal to you, old friend, and to you, my kinsman -- That we band together to form The League Of Extraordinary Elven-lords to fight this slander against our honor wherever and whenever we find it, by the appropriate means. For behold, the pen IS mightier than the sword! I would suggest that our first step be to repair ourselves to the local extension of the University of Gondor for a course in Creative Writing. From the above effort, it should be apparent to all that I am gravely in need of such. What's that? Of course Cirdan can be a part of it, although I notice he does not often appear in our homosexual frolics with one another, and I have yet to read an Evil Cirdan fic. (It must be that beard that puts the fangurls off.) The more the merrier, I say!

With that, my friends and readers, I, Acharn Lend, bid you all a gracious good night. Merry be the Greenwood while the world is yet young!

* * *

T.O.: Well, all's well that ends well.

L.T.: End? Did I hear that blessed word, end?

T.O.: Aye. It is all over with, my son.

L.T.: Praise be to Elbereth! Ah. . . Adar, do you think that I might be allowed to join this League of Elven-lords? For as you know, fanfiction has caused me much grief. I have been paired with every male from Aragorn to Treebeard, and the prospect of being mated to Bill the Pony makes me wish to flee into the arms of a Mary-Sue!

T.O.: Truly, Leaf, do you wish to run the risk to your person of taking that Creative Writing course and associating with all those nubile co-eds?

L.T.: Ah, on second thought, I will leave it to you. However, if you ever write me into another of your literary masterpieces and make me ambiguously gay again, I swear I will sail straight to Valinor! And I will take the Dwarf with me!

T.O.: That will no doubt put an end to all those idle rumors!

L.T.: Ai!!!! Why do I even bother?

T.O.: Hush, my son. After so many years, have you not learned when I am joking? Have some wine. It is good for the nerves.

L.T.: Bring it on, Adar! I don't mind if I do . . .

The End


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Aug. 25th, 2012 04:44 am (UTC)
So Much Awesome :D
Dear Thranduil Oropherion,

This is one of the most hilarious and memorable fanfics I have ever read! You are one of the most skilled writers whose works I've had the privilege of reading.

The way you weave movie quotes into your story is outrageous! Not to mention the running dialogue between a certain Elven-lord and princeling. I've lost count how many times I've actually laughed out loud reading some of Thranduil's responses to his reader's comments. I think I've figured out most of the screen names but I'm not sure about Don and Elfbeatermagenta. It is a marvel at how closely you keep to the storylines of the books and movies. You are truly an inspirational writer! I think I shall finally read the Silmarillion after reading this :)

Merry be the Greenwood!

Aug. 25th, 2012 02:47 pm (UTC)
Re: So Much Awesome :D
Wow -- this is a pleasant surprise after a week of spam on this journal. Here I opened the alert expecting to have to delete another attempt to sell me Viagra or knockoff designer bags, and instead someone has actually read and enjoyed this obscure story. Thank you so much!

To answer your question -- Don is short for Oxford Don, that is, JRR Tolkien himself. Elfbeatermagenta is just a spoof on the handle of one of the fans of the original story, Boybeaterblue. I wonder what that person's tastes in literature might have been? ;P

It actually got easier once I could break from the storyline of the original tale and wrap it all up. By all means, read The Silmarillion. It helps to get the taste of this tale out of your mouth. LOL

Anyway, it made my day to know that someone is still getting a kick out of this turkey. Thank you again!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )