Feud

Title:Feud
Author:narcolinde, robey61@yahoo.com
Pairing:Legolas/Elrond
Rating:NC17 overall
Warnings:AU, OOC
Disclaimer:Characters, events and locations recognizable from the works of JRR Tolkien are the property of his estate. This story is intended for enjoyment, not profit.
Thanks:First to all the loyal readers who enjoy this story, most especially reviewers! Second, to my absolutely fantastic new beta, Sarah, whose careful attention and insight improves the quality of this story immensely!

Chapter 22: Thang Helch [Cold Obsession]

Legolas' frame jounced under the shearing sobs that convulsed his lover's shoulders, and tensed against the fingers clutching his sides so tightly that there would be bruises.

Those fingers, their sensitivity refined by the Noldo's healing gift, intimately expressed every mood and emotion within the Elf Lord's being, when he so chose. Legolas had learned more of his new lover through them than from all the words spoken since their meeting. Passionate fingers, they had stroked him with a gently seductive caress one moment and penetrated him with brutal violence the next. Demanding, those ten digits had drawn truth from his soul wherever they made contact with his skin, imparting the strength and self-assurance of their owner in return. From them he had felt the prurient lust, the conceit and condescension of long-held power, the Noldo Lord's simultaneous senses of curiosity and superiority over the cultural divergence between them. All of this lay harbored in his lover's mind, yet Legolas also believed he sensed genuine concern and compassionate sympathy with each touch from them.

And now, a terrible anger and abysmal despair escaped from beneath the pressure of the biting fingertips, and Legolas knew the origin of these sensations, recognizing the same determinant within himselis vis very day for the first time.

Legolas said nothing, for what words could he possibly offer to compensate for such overwhelming loss and grief? He could do no more than provide a solid purchase to cling to as the swells of sorrow bued hed his distraught companion in the gloomy ocean of loneliness where he had been adrift for over a thousand years.

The archer shivered at this visualization and felt ashamed to be so upset for his own woe, borne so short a time in comparison. He could scarcely comprehend what it might mean to carry on living with such an unbearable burden, and wondered at the magnitude of the promise that had required such sacrifice. His admiration for his lover expanded while he contemplated the strength of character keeping this covenant demanded.

Legolas squeezed tighter, nuzzling the noble elf's hair with nose and cheek, and began to sing an old song Malthen used to render to him when he was an elfling, either fearful or sad. It was a litany for Tawar, of all things, but it was what came to his mind and the canticle was at once uplifting and serene.

When the hymn was finished Legolas found that he had begun rocking gently in time to the melody. He continued to do so, and hummed the psalm through again in its entirety for he did not want to relinquish the sense of peace that had filled his spirit as the song had left his body. He noticed that his lover was calm also and the tears had ceased to flow, and the claw-like grasp upon his body relented.

Legolas felt the healer's hands reach up and brush across his shoulder blades and then run down the groove where his vertebrae divided him, coming to rest in relaxed comfort in the dip at the small of his back. Each inhaled and released a cleansing breath, together, and then leaned into one another, heads to shoulders, in sublime harmony.

"I am so sorry," Legolas breathed again into the Elf Lord's ear and felt him pull away just slightly.

"Sorry?" his lover's voice held a strained quality the younger elf despaired to hear, filled with morose portent, and he only nodded his assent against the Noldo's shoulder.

The transcendent moment thus faded and was abruptly brought to a close by the healer's sensile fingertips tripping with the subtlest impact up Legolas' spine and down again. The tickling sensation made him jump and crowd himself up against the healer, and they both gasped at the heat in the contact, Elrond in desire and Legolas in discomfort.

A sharp stab of pain shot up through his pelvis, the result of the sudden shift after too long a time seated awkwardly, legs bent to his side in an effort to prevent too much weight residing upon his rear. The Wood Elf shifted a bit and worked one leg round to bend the other way, granting a little relief.

Elrond slipped his hand down inside the back of the leather breeches and tenderly squeezed the soft curve of one cheek. Legolas leaned up to let the palm cup his fleshy muscle.

{So trusting,} Elrond thought and drew his hand back out to run it through the golden tangles of the unruly mane. {Why?}

He could not help his reactions to this elf. The combination of his scent and the sound of his voice was overwhelming, and the sudden contact, chest to chest, was intoxicatingly erotic. Elrond was already nearly fully erect.

If only he had not spoken those words, all would be pleasing indeed. The healer dragged his fingernails against the marred skin, replaying the simple sentence in his mind, as Legolas wriggled under the stinging caress.

{He is sorry? This elf feels sorry, for me? Aye, sorry for me, enough to say it twice!}

He dug his fingers into the Wood Elf's sides and gritted his teeth, gratified when Legolas winced a little but did not pull away.

{Singing to me, as if I were a child! As though I needed the comfort of such maudlin words! He pities me, as if I were weak and in need of his concern!}

Elrond felt a swell of rage engulf him, acutely aware of his absolute degradation in having been reduced to a shaking mass of wailing and tears. He had not cried in centuries, and yet had succumbed to whatever sorcery this wild elf possessed. How easily he had been manipulated! So readily he let his lust drive him to lay bare his soul to this, this hecilo!

In mild surprise he felt his desire fueled by his acrimony, and Elrond's lips quested along the younger elf's jaw line, dabbing the tip of a red tongue against the skin, discovering the uneven ridge that reported an old break there. If anything, his spurt of anger made his gluttony for the taste of the disgraced prince stronger.

He rebuked himself even as his heart leaped to feel the lithe body sigh into his urgent tonguing.

{I need no charity from any elf, much less some young and nameless cast-off!}

He could not believe it! He was the Lord of Imladris, descendent of nobles from three races, and the keeper of Vilya. His parents were the guardians of the last Silmaril. He had been Herald to the High King, and had witnessed the victory of the Last Alliance.

This primitive was but the bastard child of a backwoods Sylvan female and her house-servant! Not even spawned of noble blood, much less a son of kings, and he had the audacity to imagine he could present himself as equal and lend comfort through his pity!

The Noldo removed one hand from the Wood Elf's pliant back and snaked it up between their torsos, seeking the tender flesh of the nipple he could feel pressing against his own. His fingers closed on it tightly and he heard the exhaled cry and felt the feral elf fight the urge to pull back. Elrond pinched harder and twisted and this action resulted in a short cry of pain and an attempt to wrest the fingers away.

{Oh, that is better. True suffering is infinitely more rewarding than cold commiseration,} Elrond thought and smiled, catching the archer's hand as it sought to interfere with his. {Let him demonstrate the depth of this lenity he feels compelled to express!}

He raised the hand up and turned it over, guiding the wrist to his lips to lay there a soft kiss. The Elf Lord's eyes met his young lover's in ferocious voracity, and Legolas did not turn away.

It was not difficult to understand what the Noldo wanted, and Legolas obeyed, getting up on his knees and shifting to seat himself in his lover's lap. He controlled the ache accosting his insides, willing his pulse to slow and the constricting muscles to loosen, thoroughly kissing his love as he waited for the discomfort to subside.

He withdrew his hand from the healer's hold and wrapped his arms around the Elf Lord's neck, shoving away the lengthy black locks to claim a blushing ear tip with his lips. He sucked noisily and breathed gently on the inflamed cartilage. Responding to his partner's rapidly rising arousal, the feral elf blatantly flexed against the stiffening penis pressed against his groin.

Elrond groaned and pulled Legolas in closer, kissing down his neck to his shoulder where he paused and greedily bit the skin and made his lover blench.

"Ah, Legolas!" the Elf Lord whispered and licked across the purpling spot. "So full of contradictions!" A mocking lilt betrayed his mood, but the Wood Elf assigned the bitterness to the ancient hurt, never perceiving that the intent of his honest compassion had been so completely misconstrued.

So, Legolas did not bother to respond. He knew well what was expected and was happy to be able to drive the memory of the sorrow from his lover's heart, if only for a few moments. Such distractions he had often performed upon Malthen's body on his return from a trip to Lorien with Ningloriel.

That juxtaposition of past and present made his stomach squeeze for a second and he froze, but his Noldo lover smoothed sensual palms in seducing circles upon his back to counter the edgy twitcnd Lnd Legolas let the disturbing dejavu ease away.

Nimble fingers reached for the fastenings of Elrond's leggings and loosened them, while impatient, insatiable lips never ceased their persistent osculations of the Lord's flushed ear and slender neck. Legolas let his hand slip inside the opened flap of leather to discover the heat of the restrained flesh. He trailed his digits across the prominent vein and caressed the smooth softness of the skin where the cock was still bent over, confined at the thigh beneath the fabric.

It was exhilarating to deny himself the sight of the swelling shaft and Legolas' heart rate doubled as he searched for the velvety point of the head. He was panting and only getting a few licks onto the ear near his mouth as his eyelids sunk low and he imagined what his fingers were seeking.

Elrond was blowing out a throaty growl with every searing breath, and grew even harder in anticipation of what his young lover would do. He let his teeth nibble around the shoulder bite; he wanted very much to tear into that spot again, but refrained. As the archer's hand teased him, he sent his own to investigate the abused nipple. He lightly stroked it with the back of his curved knuckles letting each ride over the damaged tissue.

Legolas gasped and rocked forward, his cock flexed in involuntary response to the stimulation. He rested his forehead against the Elf Lord's shoulder as he waited for the sharp needling discomfort to fade, relishing the flooding warmth filling his groin in a tingling track from his breast to his balls. His hand stopped exploring.

Elrond could feel the furrows of tension in the face pressed against him, could actually hear the racing pulse hammering through the slender torso under his hand, could fell the warmth of quickened breathing drifting into his ear, and smiled.

The young one was willing to suffer much to assuage his lover's grief, it seemed. In fact, the expanding fullness corresponding to his own testified to the wild elf's enjoyment. This was something Elrond had not personally encountered before, a partner who needed to endure physical distress in order to experience sexual ecstasy, and he felt himself reacting with heightened titillation.

{Where}, he wondered, {is Legolas' limit? What would it take to change the pleasure of pain into pure torment?}

He waited, just resting the back of his hand against the injured teat, until the younger elf relaxed again and resumed his attentions to the noble genitals still pinioned under the leggings. The Elf Lord hummed a satisfied response to the delicately massaging fingers pushing along his thigh, following the length of his imprisoned member. His lover tremulously touched the tapered tip, emitting a whispery exclamation of appreciation as he did.

This was the moment Elrond had anticipated, and he brought his desire to sample the creamy skin again to fruition, savagely sinking teeth into the reddened oval even as he overturned his hand and yanked mercilessly on the sore tit as though he would rip it off.

Legolas' cry of agony subsided into a compressed sob tinged with his awakened cupidity. He held his entire body so tautly that he trembled against his lover. Slowly his mind registered the sensation of a tongue languidly lapping and sucking up the beading blood where dull pangs emanated from his shoulder. He found that a palm had replaced the cruel pincers at his breast, covering his afflicted nipple so that only the very tip tapped against the warm healer's hand every time he exhaled. The pressure was just enough to send an exquisite twinge of terrible delight straight to his penis with every breath.

Legolas' next perception was of the wetness slowly coating his fingertips. He realized he was still fondling the slippery head and could no longer contain either his tremors of excitement or his need to see the unfamiliar contours of the shorn shaft again. With a swift movement he pulled free his hand and pushed the Elf Lord down. The Noldo's palm fell back to cushion the descent, and he ceased imbibing of his young lover's wound as he leaned back. The fallen prince took advantage of the new position to slide himself off and the leggings down and Elrond lifted his hips from the floor to assist him.

With his legs stretched othe the Lord of Imladris watched as Legolas seated himself on his heels between them, shoving the thighs wider to sidle closer to the healer's inviting organ. Elrond made his weighty member twitch and thrilled to the sound of the archer's reactive sigh. He held his breath as Legolas reached for the proudly firm protrusion; not daring to move as the slender hand grabbed his cock and tested its impressive diameter approvingly.

Elrond's awareness tunneled down to only the evocative fingers winding their way up and down his erection, his focus centered on the thumb dragging through the blunt and parted point, his interest locked on the Wood Elf's obvious fascination. He looked back sharply to his lover's face; Legolas had started to make a very soft cooing cry and his lips were practically dripping as his eyes remained fixed on his own hand slowly pumping down the healer's turgid shaft.

Elrond chuckled, eyes aglitter, and Legolas lifted up his eyes, dreamy and dazed in his longing.

"You like it, pen-rhovan?" Elrond's husky words inquired amusedly, and Legolas nodded, returning to his open admiration of what he was holding.

"None of my other lovers were like this," he said breathlessly. "How is it so, with no skin covering?" he could not help asking, and ringed the lip around the head with thumb and forefinger as he did.

{Lovers, plural. How many, I wonder? What a wanton little hellion he is!} Elrond pondered, but aloud he answered mundanely: "It is removed at birth, the custom of my House. The mark that proclaims our unique heritage, and sets us apart from the kinslayers in our past and the lesser clans of our kindred."

Legolas glanced a smile up into his lover's eyes before diving low to devour the naked head on the engorged cock. Alternately sucking and lapping, darting the tip of his tongue down into the leaking slit and slathering the resultant mix of saliva and milt under the ridged lip, Legolas pleasured his lover.

Gratification sounded from Elrond's chest in an extended and rumbling roar of approbation. He braced himself on one arm and let the other carry his hand to the back of his lover's head, shoving roughly down upon the crown to force his erection deeper.

Elrond cried out with malicious gusto as Legolas choked around the shaft, his throat constricting and pushing against the intrusion, his arm reaching round to tear the hand away. But he could not hold his balance and his palm slapped resoundingly back upon the wooden deck and Elrond retained control.

Determined to satiate his impassioned resentment, the Noldo repeatedly jammed his rigid penis up into Legolas' resisting mouth even as the wild elf tried to push away.

"Relax yourself!" the Elven Lord grunted between pants of salacious wrath. "Breathe and swallow, hecilo!" he managed to shout between ruthless thrusts.

Legolas grew frantic upon hearing this slur uttered in his lover's voice. He struggled to extricate himself, squirming against the constant force of Elrond's grip at the back of his skull, but realized he could not do so without using his teeth to harm the healer. The unfortunate elf had no wish to cause hurt when his desire was to give comfort, and so desperately sought to do as he was ordered, knowing the invasion would be easier to endure if he could. It was not a new technique to him, but the Noldo was not giving him enough time to adjust and he was sure he must pass out if he did not draw air soon. He had to exert a concerted effort to quell the strengthening impulse to retch against the grossly corpulent obstruction in his esophagus.

Elrond was fully aware of the difficulty Legolas was under and pumped even harder against the resisting muscles and straining tongue. He delighted in the exquisite friction of the spit-slick orifice, the distress of the writhing body under his restraining hand; the suppressed and swallowed, gagging whimpers issuing from his lover. It was more erotic than he could bear and he came quickly, ejaculating into the convulsing gullet.

"Valar!" he shouted to the Powers as he saw his semen seeping from the corners of the misused, maroon mouth.

He gave a final and vicious heave of his hips, eyes sparkling with sadistic exultation, as Legolas desperately tried to accept the warm, viscous extrusion and thwart the compulsion to dige hge his stomach's contents. With a long sigh of contentment Elrond at last released his hold.

Legolas gulped and coughed and scrambled to the edge of the talan, vomiting forcefully as he tried to suck in enough oxygen to calm his body. He sagged against the floor and let his head hang over a bit, just his cheek resting on the rough wooden boundary, and simply, gratefully breathed. As his head began to clear, he heard his lover's smug chuckle behind him.

Legolas shook as though his soul had been sliced with a blast of frigid winter's wind and shut his eyes against the stabbing chill. He felt as though he was back in the supply room with Ailinyéro, or rather that the loathsome elf was somehow here and had at last completed his grotesque assault.

He could not face the healer; he was not in command of himself. With desperate panic Legolas feared he was going to cry and struggled to forestall at least this embarrassment from betraying him. He could hear his own belabored and ragged breathing and the pounding vibration of his heart and concentrated on these, blocking out the soft and musically mocking laughter from the other elf. His throat burned and suddenly contracted as acidic bile flowed up to fill his mouth and he was driven to cough the vile liquid out to the ground below. His lover was speaking, but his own strident heaving made it impossible to understand the words, and Legolas had to just ride out the misery, an all-too familiar reaction to the realization of having allowed himself to be used.

When the fit was over, Legolas tried to fold his body up, rolling to his side and curling his lanky limbs to protectively surround the aching in his thorax. He did not understand how things could go so wrong so quickly or what he had done to provoke such a cruel response from his lover. Lover, could he even use this word to describe the other's relation to him now? Surely there was no love here, but he had thought there was understanding and acceptance at least. This felt more like vengeful hatred.

Did the healer not feel the real sympathy Legolas harbored towards him? Why was this Noldo not able to appreciate his lover's desire to ease his anguish? How was it that only Legolas' suffering appeared to allay that pain? This was too much like the sickening delight his old tormentor had indulged and Legolas did not see what he did to inspire such venomous animalism. It was as though some intrinsic quality he could neither identify nor change brought it out in everyone who came to know him.

{Too many questions that never receive answers,} Legolas thought and fought to prevent a very small sob from giving away his troubled emotions.

The loudly reverberating thunk as the waterskin struck the wood at his back sent Legolas shying away in startled surprise. He pulled up and gazed from it to the healer, who was still speaking to him from within a grinning, self-satisfied smirk.

"No need to be so distraught, pen-rhovan," the Noldo was saying. "With more practice you will improve, I am certain! It was enjoyable nonetheless."

Legolas stared at him blankly. He felt hollow inside, and invisible. This elf could not see him, could not hear him, could not ever understand him. He quite suddenly wanted these Noldorin elves gone from his woods. And he wanted very much to go home.

Grasping the container with a burst of anger, Legolas rapidly swirled and spat a mouthful of water over the talan's side, wiping his chin with the back of his hand in disgust. With the sudden recognition of a tremendous thirst, he downed the remainder of the fluid and then threw the leather pouch back at Elrond, aiming for his face. But the Elf Lord's reflexes were swift and he snatched the empty bag out of the air easily, sniggering at Legolas' reaction.

"The day is nearly spent; we can safely travel only three hours now before the Orc patrols begin. We must hurry if we are to renew our supply of water before tinnu," Legolas said with grim determination and slowly rose to unsteady feet. He bent to pick up his quiver and reacted as the movement initiated a spasm of pain. Elrond noticed.

"You will not be able to travel for three hours without rest! We can wait to refill the water skins in the morning, let us return to the larger talan," he said the words as a command would be spoken and began gathering up his belongings.

"The nearest water is two hours from here; I will go there. Do as you wish," the wild elf replied coldly. Legolas returned the cherished letter, still concealed in his clenched fist, to its place in the quiver before strapping the implement down securely to him. He did not watch to see what the Noldo was doing as he moved into the branches.

"Ai, you are upset!" Elrond had to make haste to keep up. "If it is about the 'lack of experience' remark, I did not mean that unkindly; I was but joking with you, pen-rhovan!" This dissembling was not rewarded with any discernable reaction from his retreating guide.

But Legolas' stomach lurched ominously upon registering this offhand dismissal of what had just happened. Surely, this healer knew his rage had nothing to do with thetefuteful jeers, callous though they were. Legolas decided that he need not speak to this elf ever again.

He reached the old guard's talan and returned Erestor's inquiring expression with one of such glowering fury and turmoil that the seneschal recoiled a step. Legolas moved over to the pile of arrowheads left on the deck and, kneeling carefully, picked them up. He spoke softly as he did so, contradicting the meteoric demeanor of his countenance.

"Collect your possessions; we must go now."

"Why, what is wrong?" Erestor asked, looking form one to the other as Elrond stepped onto the flet. The Elf Lord shrugged and gave no further response, and seeing this Legolas scowled at the Noldor.

"What is wrong is that you are in a place you do not belong, ill-equipped to meet the dangers here!" he snapped and strode over to heft one of the battle swords from its sheath. "These are useless in the trees, and I do not believe the two of you are enough to confront an Orc horde on foot!" He was not about to speak of what had truly upset him.

"The two of us have faced worse, I assure you!" Elrond's comrade-at-arms sniped back. This earned a sneering tilt of the Wood Elf's head accompanied by a dark laugh.

"Indeed? In that case get you down and go!" he challenged with a wave of his arm towards the shut trap door. "The ladder is there in the box, help yourselves!"

"Enough of this! We have no intention of leaving Mirkwood! Now, will you lead us to water or not?" Elrond's words exploded, an irritated eruption into the consolidating tension, and Legolas flashed him a brief gloat of victory over the matter of the water.

Legolas turned then and stared pointedly at the healer's companion until that elf became very red of face and worried for his fate. Erestor looked over to his Lord for guidance but he was glaring at the archer's back with derisive contempt. At last comprehension dawned; Legolas was not speaking to Elrond. The seneschal felt the urge to cry out the most vile oath he could summon up, but there was still the wild elf to contend with, standing there waiting for him to either concede or use the ladder, and so he bit back his choice reply.

"I am sure there is wisdom in your warnings, Legolas," Erestor began again in a more conciliatory timbre. wevewever, we must find a way to continue our mission regardless of the personal danger to ourselves. We are out of water; do you know which way to the nearest stream?" he concluded in the politest words he could muster.

Legolas listened in dismay. Of course the advisor would agree with his superior about remaining, even though he had argued against their scheme in private. However much they might disagree, they were friends and shared a common goal and similar views. With a sickened heart, he recalled the first conversation concerning him he had heard between the Noldorin elves. The advisor would soon know all the details of the experience the archer had just endured with the healer. A brief shadow of shamed horror passed through him as he glared at the lesser-ranked Noldo.

Erestor shifted in discomfort as Legolas continued to stare into his eyes, and wished he could not see the anguish there as the feral elf sought to determine the truth of the apology offered. He instinctively reached out but Legolas stepped back quickly beyond range and tore his gaze away.

"I will take you to refill your water supply, and to a safer region where there are several woodsmen's villages. Your mission here is at an end," he said with finality and did not wait for either of them to argue as he stepped out into the trees and moved off. He was traveling at less than his normal speed, but within minutes was gone and as usual no wake betrayed his passing.

"What have you done? You were supposed to calm him and apologize!" Erestor scolded as he rounded on his friend. He had heard Elrond's clamorous shouts of satisfaction and had a fairly good idea of some of what had transpired. Why this would lead to such intense alienation of their feral companion was, however, unclear.

"He is overly sensitive! It is ridiculous; he does not recognize a capricious remark when it is spoken!" said Elrond, defensive in response to the accusation. Many experiences of both despair and joy he had shared with his friend over the millenia, but his descent into blubbering weakness and the galling sourness left by the Wood Elf's pity he would never reveal. His retribution upon the banished prince, however, he was quite eager to divulge.

"Oh, I see. You have insulted him again!" the seneschal eyed the Elven Lord in disbelief.

"It was not an insult! He tendered me fulfillment and I accepted. If he was a bit clumsy and could not accommodate all of me down his throat, how am I to blame for that? I merely told him his inexperience had not hindered my enjoyment too much," Elrond replied. He knew, of course, that fellatio was his comrade's preferred means of obtaining release and his most ardently held fantasy concerning the wild elf.

"He gave you oral sex and you," Erestor swallowed, hard, before he was able to continue, "and you, you mocked him?" The seneschal could scarcely breath as the mental image of Legolas' lips surrounding his friend's eagerly surging cock took control of his mind. "Did you," he took two breaths, "did you . . ."

"Oh yes, I did, deeply, forcefully. He almost lost consciousness!" Elrond answered the unfinished question gleefully, seeing the difficulty his companion was having. Erestor's pallid countenance warned that he might himself faint, and the Elf Lord laughed complacently to see it. "Ah, Erestor, the look on your face! Do not be so disturbed! Why, I have simply returned the favor you extended to me; I have infuriated him so much that he may wish revenge upon me!"

"And how is it beneficial to me for him to despise us both? Now the two of us will be the recipients of his disgust; it seems he was correct, the mission is in failure," Erestor countered. He felt betrayed to have gone through so much unpleasantness just so that Elrond could pursue a personal grudge.

"No, the main fram our our plan is not unhinged. In fact, it may be more likely to succeed now than previously. He will want to punish me, and you may indeed profit by his anger. Perhaps you can convince him that the best way to retaliate is to let you fill his wet, torrid, and overtly sensual mouth with your painfully deprived and long-neglected member!"

For a moment the predatory wolf's gleam returned to Erestor's eyes as he gazed out into the trees with a thoughtfully calculating expression. The possitieities were certainly interesting. Then he shrewdly returned his regard to his friend. Elrond did not willingly share his lovers. In fact, as he remembered it, revealing their relationship to Thranduil had been a form of reprisal against Ningloriel for refusing to give up Maltahondo when Elrond demanded it.

"And what is it you expect in return for this boon, my Lord?" he asked cautiously. "While that is an appealing opportunity, I still do not see how it would stabilize out stratagem."

"What I want is nothing you should find too difficult. Simply talk to him afterwards; see if he will gossip with you a bit about Thranduil's treasure horde."

"Why should he talk to me? Being angry with you does not translate into confidence in me. He is unlikely to divulge anything of a personal nature now!" the seneschal really saw no logic to this argument.

"He will talk if it seems to have no bearing on Thranduil's Kingdom, or this Tawar concept he worships," Elrond reasoned. "Everyone likes to talk about themselves; he does not appear to have had anyone in his life interested enough to allow it! Ask about the sort of things that you normally would when trying to get to know someone. You do want to get to know him, after all! Surely that is not too great a sacrifice for the pleasure you will experience."

"Oh, and Erestor, I assure you it will be beyond even your most graphic imaginings!" Elrond smiled around these last, slippery words.

Erestor smiled back, yet uneasiness remained at the fringes of his thoughts. Somehow, none of this rang true. That one persistent fact was inescapable: the Lord of Imladris had never shared a lover that he could call to mind. The Elf Lord almost seemed to be challenging the feral elf, or testing the strength of his character, or trying to destroy him. Whichever was correct, he could not fathom what Elrond's real intentions might be.
Tbc