Carandol The Matchmaker

Carandol The Matchmaker 3/?

Author: Sebastian
Email: sebastian.s@btinternet.com
Archive: AdultFanFiction.net. Anyone else, please ask so I know where it is.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Carandol (OMC)/Legolas (eventually), Glorfindel/would ruin the plot, Erestor/wait and see, Elrond/half the garrison from Dol Amroth, Elladan & Elrohir/jabouabout anyone who asks.
Genre: Slash. Humour (Almost)
Warnings: AU, sex, bad language, more sex…even worse language……..A little bit of Erestor bashing to start with. (Sorry babe, I love you really.)

Summary: Carandol is visiting Imladris on an extended visit from the Havens. He decides to interfere in a fewes’ es’ love lives whilst he has some self-discovery of his own to do.
Timeline: Third Age, before the Fellowship.

Disclaimer: I only own Carandol and his machinations. Tolkien’s estate owns everything else. No infringement of copyright is intended. I bow to the master. This offering is written purely for fun and no profit is being made. Sigh…

Translations:
Caran – red
Dol - head
Ada - father


Chapter Three – Party Games

I have been avoiding Erestor.

Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not that I’m afraid of what he might try to do to me next, but rather what I would like to do to him now. I can’t believe he would pull such a stunt.

Well, I can actually, its just the kind of underhanded, evil, devious…

“Ah, there you are Carandol.” Elrond approaches me looking completely nackered, and joins me on the garden bench.

I look him up and down and can’t resist a grin. “I couldn’t find you,” And now I know why. “I see the group from Dol Amroth have arrived then.”

“Yes.” Elrond says. “But I needed some air and my bedroom seems a bit… crowded.” Elrond looks at me. “So what’s this with you and Legolas then?”

I gawp at him and blush a bit. Must stop all this blushing stuff, it clashes with my hair.

“What have you heard?” I am suspicious, rightly so, if Erestor has had anything to do with it.

“Erestor said…”

See? I knew it just had to be the advisor.

“…that you and Legolas spent some time together, in your room.”

“Erestor wasted no time, did he?” I half mutter, but Elrond hears me anyway and gives me the eyebrow.

I suppose I don’t really mind Elrond knowing that I had a male Elf in my bed but I don’t want to consider the consequences if the twins find out. Erestor is bad enough. The twins…well…they will be wanting an Elf sandwich for breakfast, lunch and tea. And I am not ready for that. I’m not ready for any of this. The thought of not being under the influence of Erestor’s mixture is worse than thinking I am. It relieved me of all responsibility, something I’m quite happy with, and was a very convenient security blanket. Who do I blame now?

I stand up. I’ve made a decision…(I think.) I need to deal with this. I have to go and look at a few tasty little fillies and feel my todger working in the approved manner again. I look at Elrond and he looks as if he could do with a little something as well. Perhaps three months’ sleep.

“So what time does the party really start?” I ask, keen to get going with my new plan.

Elrond stretches and stands with me. “When I can get the garrison out of my room.”

We start to walk back to the house, Elrond a little stiffly.

“You surprise me, Elrond. I always thought you were up for anything.”

“Almost anything, Carandol. But I think I shall have to start drawing the line a bit. I’ve always appreciated a good, decent, full bloodied orgy, but I can’t put up with this.”

“With what?” My curiosity is piqued and I follow Elrond to his rooms.

“That,” Elrond eventually answers, opening the door with a flourish.

By the prick of Aeglos! There are bodies everywhere. All male and in various stages of undress. A group of them are lounging about on the floor watching another group of males performing peculiar acts and gesticulating.

“Strip…charades?!!!”

“Quite,” nods Elrond. “I have nothing against party games as such, but its rather offputting to have someone using bits of you for a description of Mount Orodruin, when all the mountain wants to do is spit lava and erupt!”

And that fascinating visual imagery instantly makes me think of Legolas’ fine and upstanding Tower of Ecthelion. I mentally slap myself and consider that someone should really do something about Elrond’s penchant for bonking conventions.

But then I start to think that some of the guys are actually worth looking at and I try to decipher what the group could be miming now. As they bend over, the Rings of Power come to mind….

Oh no! My brain is not onl only thing that’s inspired. I look down at my groin in dismay. So much for Elf-maids.

I sigh and look up. And the scene is so absurd I start to giggle and as the group who are still miming move over a little, I see the twins, dear, sweet, debauched, depraved Elladan and Elrohir. I might have known they would be at the bottom of all this…to coin a phrase.

I shiver. They grin. Elrond clears his throat.

“Not entirely my fault, as you can see. We should have invited you,” he says. “You seem to be quite taken with my sons’ creative excursion.”

I groan. Your sons are not taking me anywhere.

“And you would have been especially good at the charades, Carandol.” A voice from behind me makes me shudder again. Erestor. Who else.

“I’m not going to make an exhibition of myself.” I say, insulted.

“Too late,” Erestor says with a nasty gleam in his eye, and runs a finger down the front of my leggings, which are becoming rather bumpy.

“Don’t do that.” I say quickly, and pull away. “Anyway, what are you doing here?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Actually, I’m looking for you, Carandol.”

Why can’t I keep my mouth shut.

“Why?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“What about?” I ask in a guarded voice.

“Not here. Somewhere less…exposed.” Again he looks down at my crutch and I really wish he hadn’t said that. The word ‘exposed’ rolls smoothly off his tongue while he looks at me lasciviously.

“Oh, very well.” I suppose we have to clear the air…after I’ve thumped him. (I said ‘thumped’…right?)
I turn and follow him down the hall as Erestor leads me swiftly to his study and closes the door quietly. Why does the click of his door sound so sinister?

His dark velvet robes brush against me as he moves to sit beside the fireplace and beckons me to join him. I sit on the opposite side of the room and he laughs at me. Creep.

“Tossed any good salads lately?” I ask. I’m not really just passing the time of day. Erestor must be the best tosser in Imladris.

He looks at me as if I’ve just left something nasty on the carpet.

“Well?” I ask, wanting to get this over with. “What did you want to say.”

“Carandol.” Erestor’s voice is soft and soothing and just as deadly as one of Ungoliant’s offspring, although, to be fair, he doesn’t look quite as repulsive. Well, alright, if you twist my arm, I can honestly say that Erestor is very striking and I take the opportunity to study him properly. He sits back against the cushions, relaxed and self-assured, long fingers indolently draped over the front edge of each arm of the chair. Long, glossy dark hair falls to slender hips and his eyes are a very dark brown, framed by black eyelashes. As I look upon his full red lips, I realize he is extremely sensual. Didn’t notice before….

“You needed to learn a lesson.” Erestor’s voice brings me up sharp.

“Lesson, what lesson?”

“A lesson in self-discovery.” Erestor looks smug. Stuff the red lips, now I remember why he irritates me so much. “The salad dressing was merely my opportunity.”

Of all the insufferable…

“And you learnt well.”

…pig-headed…

“For now you are aware of some of the delights of male coupling.”

…arrogant…

“Which you were too bigotted to even consider before.”

“Bastard.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You heard. Bastard. You took advantage of me.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started yet, my dear Carandol.”

“Don’t you ‘dear’ me!” I stomp my way to the door, then turn around and face him.

“And don’t think a half an hour with Legolas means you’ll get your hands on my meat and potatoes, either!”

And as I open the door I can just hear him say, “Oh, but I might, Carandol, and your gravy besides.”

* * *

I stop for a few slugs of something in the kitchen to calm myself down before I brave the Hall of Fire. When I arrive, its quite a novel experience to see so many guests more or less fully clothed, and wonder how long it will be before the evening deteriorates. There is a pleasant mix of company here tonight, males and females, Elves and men, drunk and sober, shy and extrovert…Elladan and Elrohir...?!

I wander over to them as they are looking over a couple of guys from Minas Tirith.

“How did you two manage to get down here so fast?” I ask and they turn and grin at me.

“Well, after you left it was time for the prizes.” says Elrohir leaning towards me.

“And I suppose there were two of them.” I say, leaning away.

“Of course,” says Elladan, coming closer on the other side.

“We had to give them a little something,” says Elrohir, following my move.

“For being so good.”

“And so imaginative.”

“From where I stood they left absolutely nothing to the imagination,” I state, and duck suddenly.

As they fall against each other, I try to sneak off.

“Not so fast, Carandol. We want to hear about you now,” Elrohir says as he gets hold of my arm. “You and a certain Mirkwood Prince.”

Oh, Eru…they know.

“What have you heard?” I ask, warily.

“Everything.” Elladan says, winking.

I don’t like that wink.

“Who told you?” For one awful minute I think that Legolas has given them all the dismal details.

“Ada,” confirms Elrohir, and nibbles at my ear.

Elrond? I shudder. “Stop that. And I’m not going to tell you anything.”

Elrohir giggles and moves away from me. “Then we’ll just have to persuade the delicious Legolas instead. Won’t we Elladan?”

Elladan smiles and the two cross the room to pin down the prince…and they’ll probably try to pin him down most of the night.

Not sure I like that idea.

I look around the room again and spot Serafir talking to Lindir and Glorfindel. What a pity I seem to have lost interest in that department. She was always very talented with both of her….

“Hello. You must be Carandol…I’ve heard of you.”

I spin round to face a young male Elf. “Really? It must have been about me and the dragon then.” Do I really sound that disinterested? Shame, he’s rather cute…in…er…a very masculine sort of way…

“About you and the dragon?”

“It’s only an ugly rumour.” I brush it off nonchalantly.

“Er…no, it wasn’t that.” says the cutie, looking puzzled.

“Oh.”

The ego takes a dive.

“No. Erestor said that if I wanted a good time I should come to you?”

“He said what?!”

“He said you’d show me a good time.”

I am dumbstruck. I am outraged. I am… going to rip his balls off!!!…

“Look, perhaps you’d better amuse yourself somewhere else.”

“But I’d rather amuse you.” says the Elf seductively and moves closer. He’s definitely been taking lessons from Erestor.

I back away and bump into something solid. It speaks.

“You should let him, you know, he can be very entertaining. I thought you would appreciate some light relief, Carandol, you seemed very wound up earlier.” Erestor’s insinuating voice is making my blood curdle.
“If I want to relieve myself, Erestor, I’ll do it without your help.”

Erestor snorts and I know I’ve said the wrong thing and turn away from him rudely. Big mistake. Bum’s in his direction now which he takes advantage of by stroking.

The other Elf sniggers.

That’s it. Party’s over. I need to get away. A holiday maybe. Mirkwood perhaps. Not exactly relaxing, but an acquired taste. And as half of the Mirkwood warriors appear to be in Imladris at the moment, I’m sure Thranduil could use a hand, even from me.

I look around the room to locate Elrond before he is in no condition to understand any kind of speech, except body language, and I am just in time, for I can see the fiendish sparkle in his eye from this distance. I plough my way through the crowd and grab him by the arm.

“A word, Elrond, please.”

“Oh, all right, Carandol, but make it quick will you, Gildor is just about to demonstrate the effects Ent-draughts have on Elven physiology.”

I’m not sure how Gildor intends to explain this to him, but I’m sure Elrond will enjoy it. After all, he is a renowned healer so he’d be interested in this kind of phenomenon. And that’s just a polite way of saying he wants to see Gildor get his kit off. I’m very nearly tempted…

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re what?”

“Leaving, for Mirkwood.”

“But you hate Mirkwood. And you’ll miss the party. We’ve got the rest of the week yet.”

“Don’t care, need to get away. I’ll take Glorfindel with me. He’s always keen to visit Mirkwood,” I lie.

“But your lessons?”

“That’s why I’m taking Glorfindel. And even without him you’ve got plenty of warriors and soldiers here to keep Imladris safe.” If any of them can still focus that is. “And, anyway, you’ve got Erestor to see to things.”

“And that’s another thing. Erestor will not like this.” Elrond looks around for his advisor, who, for once is nowhere in sight.

“Well, Erestor can go and stick his…” but remaremainder of my obscene sentence is lost in the noise of the crowd and the Elven music which has either become a little more raucous or I’m getting a headache.

I look around and find Glorfindel and move over to him so that I can remove him from Serafir’s company. He is not amused. He will be even less amused when I tell him where we are going.

***

“No.”

“But, Glorfindel…”

“No, Carandol. Why in the name of Varda would I let you persuade me to go with you to Mirkwood?” grumbles Glorfindel, as he twists out of my grip, looks thoroughly pissed off and pulls me to the side.

“My charm?” I ask, optimistically.

“Doubtful.” Glorfindel answers.

“My threats?”

“Possible.”

“My bribery.”

“What bribery? You haven’t even had the decency to offer me anything.”

“Ah, but the fair Serafir will be joining us in a couple of weeks and we will be staying in Mirkwood for some time.”

“Well, there is that, I suppose,” says Glorfindel, a little less gloomily. “And also Legolas…” And he looks at me with a leer, a real one.

“Not you too.” I say and sigh heavily.

“Oh, come on, Carandol. Everyone knows you shagged him rotten.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“We all heard you.” Glorfindel says in disbelief.

“I didn’t get that far.” I pause, and images of half of Imladris sniggering at the grunts coming from my room make me blanche. “I don’t think I’ll make a habit of it,” I continue lamely.

“Why not? How far did you get anyway? Or didn’t you like it?”

Should I lie? Better not. He’d see through me immediately. “Yes.”

“Just…yes. Is that it? I’ve heard the delectable Legolas is quite something. Perhaps not as rampant as his father, but…”

“Thranduil? He likes males? I always thought…”

“My dear Carandol. Thranduil likes almost anything.” Glorfindel smirks. “And he can have almost anything, too.”

I glance at my friend. He’s probably right. Thranduil is definitely one of Eru’s most glorious creations.

“You, for instance?” I can’t resist asking Glorfindel if he is on Thranduil’s list.

“No,” he answers, softly. “We only ever spar together.”

Is that regret I see in his eyes?

And then, very slowly an idea starts to take root in my mind. Maybe…just maybe, I can help him out and give him the chance to really wield his weapon.


TBC…

Notes:

1 Aeglos was Gil-galad’s spear. (Hands up who thought I meant something else. Well…really!)

2 Mount Orodruin was the volcanic Fire Mountain (literally ‘mountain of red flame’) and stood on the plain of Gorgoroth in Mordor. It was named ‘Mount Doom’ later by the people of Gondor. The mountain used to erupt every time Sauron rose, and I’m sure Elrond would have paused to ponder on this analogy when he was in a similar state…! Hmmm.

Health warning: A regular dose of Ent-draught helped the tree herders grow big and strong and hard. I have no idea what it does to Elves, but as Gildor is already a large Elf, its possible that it adds considerably to his… height.


Sebastian