Queer as Elves

Title: Queer as Elves 2/?
Author: Eawen Penallion
email: cross_stitcherire@yahoo.com
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/eawen_penallion/
Website : www.3scribesofimladris.com
Type: FPSlash, sort-of-crossover
Pairing: Erestor/ Rúmil
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, silliness!
Beta: Nienna, who keeps me on target…
Disclaimer: all rights to the LOTR characters belong to JRR. Tolkien - I'm only playing with them. All rights to the characters and stories of QAF belong to Russell T. Davies, Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman, and Showtime.
Timeline: Third Age, around T.A. 1000
Feedback: Yes please,
Archive: OEAM, AFF, LJ, anywhere else, please ask

Summary: Erestor is a sexual predator - no excuses, no promises, no regrets - until under the soft glare of a flaring torch he meets a very tenacious young blond ellon…

Author's note: This is combination of two of my obsessions - my long-standing love of LOTR and my more recent exposure to Showtime's 'Queer as Folk'. This little story utilises the QAF plot of episode 1, series 1, but set in the LOTR universe. Still, I have tried to twist it so that it doesn't disrupt the LOTR logic too much.


Chapter 2


Rúmil had expected for the day to be interminable, for he longed only for the night when he would see Erestor again. Instead he had found himself absorbed by the events of the day - his lessons, his new friend, his new home here in Imladris - and his first ever enemy.

To say that Cylleruion did not like him would have been a gross understatement. The stocky youth's father was apparently one of Erestor's rivals in Elrond's council and his position gave him some immunity against deserved reprisal, a position that Cylleruion took advantage of in his own juvenile jockeying to stature amongst the young elves of Rivendell. However, he knew he had gone beyond the bounds during his humiliating encounter with the Chief Councillor of Imladris that morning. Since he could obviously not be revenged upon the ancient lord the boy had found an equally desirable target for retribution in Rúmil. Snide remarks in the corridors, and books and quills 'accidentally' knocked to the floor during lectures and studies would only be the opening sallies of the war against him, the Lórien lad knew only too well. In other circumstances Rúmil would have regretted this turn of events, for by no means did Cylleruion resemble a troll - but in comparison to Lord Erestor any charms the other boy held paled into insignificance.

In sharp contrast, Arwen had become a welcome confidant. Her long-time acquaintance with Erestor had proved to be a veritable wellspring of information for Rúmil, yet Arwen lacked the one piece of intimate knowledge that he craved. When would Erestor admit him to his bed again?

"It was beyond belief, Arwen," the young student enthused. "So - hot. So intimate. So gentle. I asked to go slowly and he did. He was so considerate of me. It was perfect!"

Arwen nodded her head eagerly, fascinated by this unique insight into the character of an elf who had been but an intimidating and detached presence in her life up to this moment. The Chief Counsellor was well known for his brusque and cutting comments, ill-suffering children and fools alike. Save for the intense and erudite education into politics and history that he had taught in deference to their positions as the offspring of Elrond and Celebrían, Arwen and her brothers might as well have been abstract pieces of furniture scattered about the Last Homely House. Only as they had reached the intellectual level of adults had Erestor acknowledged them as anything other than a dreary chore.

"So," she asked wide-eyed. "Are you now his… betrothed?"

"No!" replied Rúmil, startled by the question. He hesitated and then grinned sheepishly. "Well, not yet - but maybe…?"

"But do you love him?" the maiden pressed, caught up in this unexpected romance of her new friend. Rúmil paused in thought but then realised that it took no thought at all.

"Yes! I do!"

"And? Does he love you?"

The question hung in the air, throbbing and palpable until Rúmil finally answered, his eyes sparkling in fervent remembrance.

"He said he did - right before he came within me!"

His excited laugh mingled with Arwen's embarrassed giggles.

"When are you going to see him again?" she asked.

A determined yet happy look danced upon Rúmil's face.

"Tonight! Definitely tonight!"

****

Erestor yawned.

Mentally.

Internally.

He would never have embarrassed his Lord by exhibiting such crass and disrespectful behaviour in public but - Valar, this was such a *boring* meeting! Yet *another* trade agreement with yet *another* fat human burgher from yet another pitifully tiny, self-important human town.

Humans!

Were it not for the fact that Elrond considered himself to be a 'bridge' between the First- and Secondborn; were it not for the constant leeching of Elves from Middle Earth in their dribbling exodus to the Undying Lands; were it not for the necessity of mutual protection of the two races in their resistance to the Darkness; and were it not for the fact that Erestor had practically exhausted the pool of available and willing ellyn in whom he could impale his cock - then he would say 'To damnation with them all'! And why not? If the elves who inhabited the hidden haven of Imladris only knew of his history with regard to the humans they would not only understand his disgust of Men but would applaud his negligent relations with them - but they did not. Not many, anyway.

So he sat back and smiled at the one human who had caught his eye, and who in return was casting furtive glances his way. The man was hirsute like many of his race, but the pink tongue had flicked out more than once to lick nervously at lust-dried lips. Oh yes - he was a certainty.

The rambling negotiations washed over Erestor, coming to a mutually satisfactory end. Boredom notwithstanding, Erestor had followed every word and was well pleased with the performance of his junior counsellors. The two parties drifted from the room in amicable conversation until only the auburn-haired elf and the bearded man were left. The man bowed, imbuing little grace in the movement.

"A good morning's work, my lord," he said uncertainly, his words probing for Erestor's intentions as gingerly as a toe would test the heated water of a steaming bath. Erestor smirked. This man was about to feel the heat of his need, of that he had no doubt.

"That is what we are here for," the elf said smoothly. On seeing the confusion on the man's face, Erestor elucidated. "To - facilitate - pleasant negotiations."

The man's head jerked at the elf's implication, obvious only to one who held similar inclinations. His breath quickened and Erestor knew he had hooked the man. He now proceeded to reel him in.

"It is in our - interest - to ensure that mutual… desires… are met," he purred examining the man's eyes then slowly sliding his gaze down the hard body to the even harder body part. The dilated pupils, short breaths and evident bulge told him all he needed to know.

The elf dallied no longer. Sliding a slender finger into the belted waistband he tugged hard, pulling the man into an adjacent room - a large, dimly-lit closet where he knew they would not be disturbed. Carelessly slinging the man against a wall Erestor quickly pressed his slim body to the man, trapping and surprising the man with his deceptive strength. The man's eyes widened at the forward behaviour of the counsellor, so untypical of the usual grace of the Firstborn.

"J-just so you know," the man babbled, "I do not kiss - and I - I am a … dominant partner!"

Erestor smirked triumphantly, grasping the man's bearded chin firmly and he forced the human to face him.

"Oh, riiight…" he drawled - then plunged his mouth forward, attacking the full lips, parting them with his questing tongue and plunging it down the man's throat; ravaging the man's mouth into submission. Once he felt the man melt into his first-ever defeat Erestor deftly spun him to face the wall and yanked his belted trousers below his hips. With one hand he grasped both wrists and pulled them high above the shaggy head, using the other to unlace his own leggings.

Erestor freed his swollen member and, with one swift thrust, the Chief Counsellor of Imladris drove home to the man precisely how much he had underestimated the formidable elf - then he proceed to thoroughly educate him as to the exquisite pleasure of his mistake…

****

As swiftly as the day had passed, Rúmil now felt the evening drag interminably. He had returned to the company of his brother for a private dinner in their rooms, full of enthusiasm and high spirits, buoyed by his lessons of both the day and the previous night. As they ate he had artlessly rattled off tales of his more acceptable pursuits, failing to notice the grim countenance of the Marchwarden. Still, Rúmil eventually recognised the silence and trailed off uncertainly.

"Haldir? What is wrong?"

The archer leaned back in his chair, his fingers playing with the slender crystal stem of his wine glass. Rúmil felt his intense scrutiny and fought not to flinch under the unremitting stare. The steely blue eyes held a controlled anger that worried him, and the boy's fingers rose to play nervously with the long strands of his loosely bound hair. Finally Haldir spoke.

"When, precisely, were you going to elucidate why I found a pile of pillows in your bed this morning when I came to rouse you? What excuse you have for not appearing at the breakfast table? When should I expect to learn why you seem to have worn the same clothes two days in succession? What *possible* explanation can you give me as reason for your secret, nocturnal expedition into the environs of Imladris - and on your first night here?"

Rúmil thought fast and frantically, the searing ice in Haldir's speech indicating the depth of his ire. The same admirable attributes that made his eldest brother such a formidable Marchwarden - his perception, his perseverance and his piercing intellect - now sought to trap Rúmil into confessions that the young elf had no intention of making. His mistake had been to arouse his brother's suspicious nature and now if he were to have *any* hope of pursuing his counsellor, Rúmil would have to soothe and lull those suspicions. He had no intention of being dragged back to Lothlórien anytime soon.

"I was too excited to sleep," he began warily, "and yet I had no desire to have you raise the alarm in the middle of the night. That is why I arranged my bedding as such. I - I did not mean to be absent all night but I fell asleep as I sat in a gazebo in the gardens and I only woke up with the dawn's light…"

Rúmil could almost feel his tongue swelling to fill his mouth as the lie tripped off it, but he desperately wanted to allay Haldir's dire misgivings. He cast about for something to distract the ellon, drawing forth all his knowledge of his brother's character to use in his manipulations.

"I did make a new friend today?" he blurted unexpectedly. "The Lady Arwen!"

Rúmil inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Haldir's face clear. Yes, he *knew* that snip of information would be more pleasing to the ambitious Marchwarden. Haldir shared with their counsellor father a belief in the superiority of the lineage and appreciation of the rank they held within the elven nobility. Any movement on Rúmil's part to enhance their social stature was sure to meet with Haldir's approval. Rúmil did not delay in pressing his advantage home.

"In fact, she has invited me to study with her this evening. She said that Lord Elrond would not mind if we used his private library in the family wing." He paused and placed as deliberately wistful smile upon his lips. "Ai, I can certainly see why they call her 'Luthien Reborn'…"

And thus it was that Rúmil found himself once again in the company of Elrond's daughter that evening. Arwen had fallen easily with Rúmil's plans for she had quickly become enamoured of the perceived romance between the Imladris elder and the Lórien youth. She had agreed eagerly to cover for her new friend and had set to her task of inscribing for him their lesson plans - whilst the blond boy slipped away, down the hillside and into the night.

****

The Woodman's Inn had attracted a busy clientele by the time Erestor and Glorfindel arrived that evening. Glorfindel's mood was somewhat sullen due to being delayed by (so he felt) unnecessary formalities with visiting dignitaries. Normally boring in the extreme, they had become doubly onerous when Celebrían had, in malicious delight, introduced to him the weighty daughter of the Burgher of Bree. The girl had positively oozed with simpering adoration, amongst other body parts, and only with Erestor's timely intervention had Glorfindel escaped a dubious plot by the young female to bed the seneschal.

"Butt plug? Is that all that you could come up with, 'Res? My presence was urgently required because of a *butt plug*!?"

Erestor grinned widely at the memory of the distaste so evident upon Celebrían's face, his tongue pressed firmly to the inside of his cheek.

"Our Lord and Lady were overplaying the 'benevolent overlord' crap. I've told the bitch many times that Elrond needs to get that big stick out of his ass. I only offered her something to replace it."

Glorfindel groaned.

"Yes, but did you *have* to hand her a nine-inch wooden dildo?"

Erestor shook with laughter. "Oh, but my dear 'Fin - it is a work of art! Faelon said that he carved it after I fucked him; it was inspired by my 'bee-ooutiful' cock!"

"And did you *have* to tell her that too?" the golden elf wailed.

"Yes!"

The counsellor laughed as he saw first outrage then amusement cross his meldir's face, knowing full well that he would always be forgiven. Throwing a strong arm about the broad shoulders of the warrior and leaning his dark head against the blonde's, the two friends entered the tavern to begin their night at play.

"Oh damn!"

Glorfindel looked up at the dark-haired elf in inquiry. "What? What ails you?"

Erestor nodded in the direction of a fair head, sitting enthralled by Lindir's vocal performance upon the small stage. As if he had sensed the counsellor's entry the youth turned towards them, a sweet and welcoming smile upon his face.

"Suilad!" he called brightly from the nearby table. Erestor groaned.

"Oh great - just what I need. The boy… what was his name?"

"Rúmil," spat Glorfindel, annoyed both at Erestor's melodrama and the irritatingly broad grin upon the boy's visage. "Rúmil! If I can remember it - and *I* didn't even fuck him - why cannot you?"

"Because I did?"

Whatever vile oath Erestor had been ready to fling at the lad was stalled by the bright sunshine that he saw in that smile. Instead he strolled reluctantly towards him.

"So, pen neth," he said in a condescending drawl. "How was playschool?"

Rúmil winced slightly at the mocking reference to his youth and fought to frame an appropriate response. It was for naught for at that moment Lindir joined them, flushed from the accolades that had accompanied his performance.

"Well played, Lindir," Glorfindel complimented the bard. No one in the elven realms could compare to the white-haired elf for either range or sweetness of voice, or such tender skill upon any instrument to be found in Middle Earth. Lindir knew this and did not indulge in false modesty.

"Oh my dear, I was *fabulous*!"

Erestor snorted mildly, his usual response to Lindir's fluttering excesses, but he bore no malice against the musician. There was a greater depth to the bard than Lindir generally displayed and Erestor respected this. Instead he cast his eyes around the room, registering the lacklustre quality of its patrons. He turned back to his companions, ignoring the lustful glances that he knew had been laid upon him.

"Let us be gone from here," he said shortly, turning to leave. Glorfindel's hand caught at his sleeve.

"Why leave so soon? We have only just arrived."

"I have had everyone here."

The words were tossed lightly into the mix, but everyone knew the truth of them. Erestor's voracious appetite was infamous, as was his 'one fuck only' rule. Rúmil blushed as he realised that the beautiful memory was but a notch in Erestor's bedpost, then the flush deepened when he saw Glorfindel glance at him, his brief stare full of envy.

"You have not had me!" the golden lord spat bitterly.

Erestor raised a slender eyebrow and a smile danced wickedly upon his lips. Glorfindel groaned, understanding the intimation.

"It does not count!" he protested, drawing open-mouthed stares from Lindir and Saelbeth. The bard positively gleamed with unbridled curiosity.

"Ai, you *must* tell!"

"No!"

Erestor ignored Glorfindel, an amused moue curving his lips as he proceeded to revel in embarrassing his friend.

"It was not long after Glorfindel's rebirth when he was but a neophyte in Gil-Galad's realm, a pure innocent in a lascivious court. Mudolwen had reclaimed him as a long-lost son and was smothering him in her abundant affection."

Rúmil watched and listened as the others nodded sagely at this anecdote. It was obvious that they knew the elleth of whom Erestor spoke. Rúmil kept his silence, not wishing to be expelled from his precarious position on the perimeter of the group.

"Anyway," Erestor continued, " 'Fin and I were alone in his chambers as he waxed lyrically over the profound attention that Ereinion was paying to him - well, you know how he was with regards to blondes - "

"Do I ever!" laughed Lindir.

"Well, I soon saw that 'Fin had not been left - unaffected - by Ereinion, and a certain portion of his anatomy was - burgeoning..."

" 'Res, you can stop there!" Glorfindel protested. Erestor ignored him, reveling in the rapt attention his slow discourse was engendering.

"Sooo.. I offered to aid him, and he me - for, as you know, Gil had that effect on a person ... Well, I stroked 'Fin's cock so slowly, the pressure building in increments, until we were *this* close -"

Instinctively the edhil bent forward in their eagerness as Erestor indicated, with fingers brought close together, the proximity of their completion; unconsciously panting as they imagined the erotic moment...

"When Mudolwen entered with fresh bedding and ruined all!"

Erestor's explosive denouement broke the spell, causing the friends to laugh with him as Glorfindel protested once more.

"We did not finish, therefore it does not count!"

The laughter broke forth again and Rúmil sat open-mouthed, surprised that such prominent and respected ellyn could be so frivolous in their private lives. In his naïveté he exclaimed, "Ai, Gil-Galad's court at Lindon - that is almost ancient history!"

The companions fell silent, immediately looking at Erestor, waiting with bated breath for the reaction that they knew would follow. The tall elf looked sharply at the youth, his mood somewhat darkened.

"Not so long ago!" he snapped. "*I* was there! And I am not ancient!"

Rúmil, caught in an innocently-spoken remark, fumbled over his response. "I suppose, not *that* old..." His embarrassment increased at Lindir and Saelbeth bent in unrestrained mirth. Erestor glowered.

"How old do you think I am?" he asked in irritation.

Rúmil looked at the dark-haired elf, so beautiful in his fearsome inquisition. Glancing at the ellyn about him he saw that their lips were pursed in eager anticipation of his answer - an answer they obviously thought would not please the prideful counsellor. The boy's mind went blank and his stumbling tongue betrayed him.

"Er - six thousand years?"

The shock on Erestor's face was as an illumination of his vanity for the Noldo was secretly fearful of any signs of aging, even the mild maturity that older elves gained. With a snarl he swiftly repudiated the added millennia.

"Orc shit! I am but three thousand years upon this earth!" he spat at the helpless boy.

Rúmil paled, knowing well that he had displeased the senior elf. He made to apologise but Erestor brushed him off. The ellon had quickly recognized that his outburst had seriously endangered his offhand reputation and he now raked his piercing eyes over the gathered revelers, seeking to divert attention from his slip. He curled his lips in anticipation as his gaze landed upon a young trader from Edhellond. Ah, he had noted *that* one on a previous visit by the coastal elves. He turned and placed his glass upon the bar behind him, bestowing a condescending smirk upon his friends.

"Duty calls, mellyn nín," he drawled and within a knowing nod of the head to the young trader, he captured his prize and motioned him out of the tavern.

The three older elves looked with sympathy upon Rúmil, noting his obvious distress at his unwitting error and his abandonment by the beautiful counsellor. Even as they all left the inn to pursue the pleasures of 'Melethryn', Glorfindel looked back at the saddened boy.

"Ai no, Glorfindel!" Lindir hissed as he saw the direction of the seneschal's gaze. "Do not take upon yourself the consequences of Erestor's leavings." He nodded his head towards Rúmil who stood alone, aside, miserable.

"Aye," Saelbeth concurred. "He imposes upon your friendship overmuch."

It was true; in his love and friendship for Erestor the golden lord behaved out of his normally confident and authoritive character but still - the lad was so young...

Thus it was that the two elves walked in unlikely companionship back to the main house where Glorfindel guided Rúmil to a side passage to the rear of the edifice. Here they entered a small but bustling hall, a room that was warm, well lit and welcoming and filled with chattering elves. The occupants were seated at long tables, partaking of hearty broths, cut meats and freshly-baked breads that issued forth from the attached kitchen. Rúmil looked at Glorfindel enquiringly.

"This is not the hall where we dined this evening," he commented. Glorfindel shook his head.

"The inhabitants of Imladris congregate in the Main Dining Hall for breakfast and dinner, and the main kitchen caters for those large repasts in their immense ovens and roasting fires. However there are many elves whose duties do not allow for fixed mealtimes - the patrol guards, the farmers, the traders - and so this smaller kitchen is always open to them for heartier fare than is served to Lord Elrond." He hesitated for a moment. "It is also a place where those of us who embrace the duality of our natures can be free to... express ourselves within the confines of Imladris without fear of disgust from those who do not understand us. Mudolwen rules in this hall and she will brook no outbursts of intolerance here."

It was on that note that from the kitchen emerged an elleth. Rúmil's eyes widened in astonishment, for the elleth was like none he had seen before. The Firstborn of Ilúvatar were renowned for their gentle grace, extreme beauty and elegant bearing. *This* elleth had strangely strayed from the norm. At best she could be called comely, shorter than most of her kin and lacking the slenderness so characteristic of elven kind. Her red hair, so much brighter than the usual muted tones found in some of the Noldor, was tumbled upon the crown of her head and wrapped in a scarf of sparkling rainbow hues. Her gown was similarly bright, but sadly clashed with the scarf. On seeing Glorfindel with Rúmil her face lit up.

"Well, boys - how goes your night?" Her eyes travelled over Rúmil, making him feel as if he was a prize bull at the cattle market. "My, you *are* a pretty one! All the ellyn are watching *you* tonight, pen neth!"

A disbelieving Rúmil quickly glanced about him to check the veracity of her remarks.

"Now," she continued, "What may I bring you? You younglings need *some* of your nourishment off a plate!"

"We are only here for food, not to give you fodder for gossip, Mudolwen. I will have the stew, but without the remarks, and the boy will have the same."

Mudolwen nodded, not taking the seneschal's sharp tone amiss. Rúmil gaped after her.

"I have never seen the likes of *her* before!"

Glorfindel curved his lips in a wry smile. "Mudolwen *is* somewhat unique..." He looked down at the youth and hesitated for a moment. In another time - and in another situation - he could have liked this young ellon, but...

"Look, Rúmil, about Erestor -"

Rúmil looked up, disappointment in his eyes.

"I came especially to see him, but he does not want to know me! I thought..."

"That you would be his lover?" Glorfindel shook his head. "One thing that you need to know about Erestor - he does not take 'lovers' in the long term. He does not 'do' love."

Rúmil shook his head, reluctant hope still evident in his eyes. "You know not what he did last night - how he kissed me, how we loved… You do not know…"

"I know this - Erestor looks after himself, first and last. He is his own ellon - no excuses, no apologies, no regrets. You were with him for one night - do not expect anything more." The boy looked down sullenly and Glorfindel perceived rebellion in him. "And when you leave here do *not* go after him, eh? It is as he said in the inn - he has had you."

Mudolwen returned at that moment, laden with bowls of thick, appetizing stew.

"Eat up, pin nith! You have to keep your strength up!"

Rúmil was surprised when Glorfindel looked up at the elleth, a gentle and grateful smile upon his lips - and even more so when the ancient Vanya leant over to kiss her on the cheek.

"Hannon le, naneth estannen."

"You are welcome, 'Fin nín," the female responded. They both turned to look at Rúmil with indulgent smiles upon their faces. Cringing with embarrassment, the youth smiled weakly…


****

Erestor preened, well satisfied with his appearance in the looking glass. His expected visitor may have been just a human, but that would be no excuse to let his standards slip. He turned once more to view the tight black leggings and silver-shot tunic that skimmed his tone body. Yes, he was still the most handsome male in Imladris - of any race. A banging on his chamber door brought him back to the present. He strolled slowly to grasp the handle upon the heavy oak wood, his loins stirring in anticipation of a night of bodily pleasure. He gave the door a sharp pull.

"Valar, what are *you* doing here!"

The boy - Rúmil, yes that was his name - stuttered as he fought to frame a reply.

"S- sorry, I just -"

"You cannot arrive at my door unannounced."

Rúmil seemed taken aback by the rejection in Erestor's voice.

"I just want to talk! Please..?" The youth made as if to enter the room, but Erestor played his hand upon the slim chest, barring his way.

"There is nothing to talk about." A movement in the dim light of the corridor alerted him to the presence of the visitor he *had* been expecting. The muscled human nodded to him assuredly.

"I see I found the right room," the man uttered confidently, the deep tones reminding Erestor of the reason that he had cut this male out of the crowd at 'Melethryn'. Unconsciously he licked his lips, evaluating the well-toned body he intended to fuck this night. He found himself well pleased.

"Who is this?" The man ran his gaze over the boy who stood dumbstruck at the door. "I have no objection to another, but not a child."

Erestor narrowed his eyes. The boy was no child - he knew that well from the night before. There had been something wild, something untamed about his Glawaren that had embellished the night beyond a casual encounter. Still…

"He is just going," he purred, longing to shut the door upon the boy and shut out the hurt he saw within those sea blue orbs.

"You don't even *know* him!" the boy exhorted angrily.

"Well, I was hoping to get to," the counselor slurred, lust igniting even as he continued to admire the human. "Now, scamper back to your room, little boy, and leave the adults to play."

The arrow shot home, piercing the boy's ardour. With a whimper Rúmil turned and hurried down the corridor to the outer exit, shaking at the easy and callous dismissal. Erestor turned back to the man, intent on claiming his prize.

"That was not a very kind thing to do."

Erestor's eyebrow arched, in an unconscious imitation of his lord's, startled at the man's compassion for his youthful pursuer. "Who *are* you, Father Rhíw?"

The man just stared at him. Erestor exhaled heavily. Elbereth! The trouble that boy caused! Surely the man would not leave just because he had been unkind to an infatuated brat? Yes, quite possibly - and his member was reminding him that it had not been attended to for some hours.

"Fine! I will go speak with him! And you - do not…touch anything whilst I am gone," he snapped.

The boy had not gone far, had barely made it outside this wing of the house and Erestor found him leaning dejectedly against a tree near the bottom of the path. As soon as Rúmil realized that he had been followed he pulled himself away from the trunk and started down the path.

"Do *not* walk away from me," the dark elf called as he walked after him. "I have just left a stranger in my chamber to come talk to you - so, talk!"

Rúmil halted, but did not turn to look at him. Erestor came directly behind him. "You need to understand something -" the ellon began.

"You do not 'do' relationships."

Erestor nodded at the words, knowing full well from where they had originated.

"You have been talking to 'Fin."

The boy could contain his hurt no longer. "You truly *will* fuck anyone! He is human, and brutish, and *ugly*!" A sob came through even as he desperately tried to control his breaking emotions. "And I - I really lo-"

"Rúmil!" Erestor broke through, leaning towards the slender boy, forcing him to retreat against a low wall so that he could not escape the words that would complete the cracking of his heart. "I - have - had - you," the dark elf enunciated. "Last night we wanted each other - edhel to edhel. It was fun. That is all."

"That is *all*?"

Erestor shrugged. "What else?" He sobered, knowing that this was a lesson he had to teach Rúmil - to teach him as well as he had taught himself, so many centuries ago. "Listen well, pen neth. I do not believe in love. The physical act is all that ever matters to me. Love is just an excuse others use, to do what I do - to fuck without a pretense of an emotion that is not real. In and out - pleasure without pain - honest and open, and without the hurt that comes from the discovery that the 'romance' and the 'true love' were naught but a well-worn cliché. If you want to accept those values, then bow to convention and choose a pretty elleth and be wed."

The boyish figure began to tremble. "I do not want that! I want you!"

"You cannot have me! I am too ol-" He broke off, biting the tongue that had almost revealed his vanity once more. "You are too young for me - you are but fifty, and I am two thousand years old."

"Three!"

Erestor acknowledged the hit with a wry smile, nodding in admission. "Very well - three thousand. All the more reason." He began to back away, for to linger would give the youth more of a chance to argue and for some reason Erestor knew that that would be a danger to him. "Now, go home and do your studies, pen neth."

Rúmil watched his retreat, his eyes filling with tears that blurred his vision of the beautiful ellon. How he wanted Erestor! It *was* love, he knew it! And he knew that he could have made Erestor love him, if the dark elf had but given him a chance. Weeping openly and with his face crumpling as he cried, Rúmil of Lórien turned and ran into the night, too late to hide his shame and grief at the final loss of hope.

The dark counsellor stood and watched the fleeing boy, valiantly trying to dismiss the unusual pangs of conscience that had stung his otherwise unacknowledged heart. Trying to ignore the admiration he felt for the tenacity of a mere child and refusing to admit to a poignant wish that he could have said anything but what he had.

He turned and walked back into the house - away from the complexity of sweetly-offered love, to the comfortable anonymity of two panting bodies linked in mutual, uncomplicated fulfillment.

TBC

Elvish:

ellyn - male elves
ellon - male elf (sing.)
meldir - male friend
pen neth - little one
ellyn - male elves (plural)
pin nith - young ones (pl.)
Hannon le - thank you
naneth estannen - 'named' mother
' Father Rhíw ' - Father Winter/Santa Claus!
elleth - female elf (sing.)
mellyn nín - my friends


Elvish Names from the Sindarin Name Finder, http://www.councilofelrond.com/index.php

Mudolwen : Deborah ('working maiden')
Faelon : Justin