Carandol The Matchmaker

Carandol The Matchmaker 5/?

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/just about 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 few elves’ 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:
ada - father
nana - mother


Chapter 5 – Of the king’s inclinations and twins in the mood.

Although he has only just arrived in Imladris, relatively speaking, already Legolas’ room smells of him so evocatively that I take a deep breath and make appreciative noises. Glorfindel gives me his ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing’ look and I smile at him in embarrassment.

“For Mandos’ sake Carandol, leave your libido outside for a bit.”

I nod sheepishly and sit in a comfy chair. Glorfindel sits cross-legged on the furry rug and Legolas sprawls on the huge bed displaying himself rather brazenly in the process. I hope this is for my benefit but I wish he wouldn’t lie like that.

I cross my legs.

“So, why are we here, Carandol?” Glorfindel asks.

“Well,” I begin. Voice is a bit strained. I begin again. “Hem…now, I thought perhaps that Legolas could tell us about the king’s propensities.”

“His what?” asks Glorfindel.

“Look, my friend, if I have to leave my urges outside at least you could try and keep up.” I look over at him and he looks a bit dubious. “Come on, Glorfindel. I know you said that Thranduil likes almost anything, but he’s got to be more picky than the twins. Don’t you want to know what the king likes in his lovers?”

“Carandol, I don’t just want to shaft him. I want to…you know…get to know him a bit first. I only know him as a king.”

“And then shaft him.”

“Well, yes,” then he sighs. “But I can’t seem to get past all his other admirers.”

“And what about all yours?” I ask, remembering quite a long line of Glorfindel fanciers.

“Oh, well, they’re just the usual…you know.”

I don’t. “Glorfindel, you’re beginning to…”

“Wine?” says Legolas and elegantly removes himself from his position.

“No, I’m not,” Glorfindel contradicts.

Legolas sighs, and moves towards a table on which are several bottles of Mirkwood’s finest.

“Actually, contrary to popular opinion, ada is extremely fussy. Just because he’s…a bit of a sexual athlete, doesn’t mean he hasn’t got taste.” Legolas states, and pours out three generous glassfuls of some sinful-looking dark red liquid.

Sexual athlete?! Gods…wouldn’t I like to see him toss his caber…

“So, really what you want is to have some quality time with my father, yes?” Legolas asks, “although, I must say, he is not easy to approach.”

We both agree and Legolas hands out the wine.

“Alright, let me see.” The prince takes a large gulp of his drink and moves back to recline on the bed.

I re-cross my legs.

“He’s had both male and female lovers. But since nana sodded off to Valinor he’s stuck with males.”

I shift my position. Why did he have to say ‘stuck’?!

“And he likes them… big.” Legolas rema


“Well, that’s alright,” I say, “Glorfindel’s hung like a warg.

Glorfindel chokes on his wine. “Carandol!”

Then he grins, a wide, satisfying beam.

I was right then…

“Truly?” asks the prince, leaning forward and taking more interest in the proceedings.

“Legolas!” I say loudly, to get his attention. “And how is that going to help Glorfindel ‘get to know’ him?” I ask, bringing us back to reality. “I mean, he can hardly start a conversation with…’would you like to see my willy?”

Legolas laughs, a sexy little chuckle, and I have to shift my position again. “Oh…sorry… no, I meant big, as in…tall and well built.”

There’s silence for a bit while Legolas looks thoughtfully at Glorfindel’s large frame. “I think you should stop wearing your robes for a few days, at least while ada is here.”

And we both gawp at Legolas until we realise he doesn’t mean prance about naked. What’s in this wine anyway?

“Relax a bit, you know, be friendly and wear something casual.” Legolas casts an appraising eye over Glorfindel’s body again.

“Something a little more…revealing. After all,” Legolas continues, “how can he see what he’s getting under all those layers?”

“Oh, come off it Legolas, surely, that’s not important?” Glorfindel argues.

“You want to get his attention, don’t you?” asks the prince.

“Of course, but…”

“He’ll find out later what a sweetie you are.”

Especially when he sucks on your pink stick of rock… *

Legolas has a point. There are so many gorgeous elves to choose from, especially now that we’ve got a few visitors. And many of them be be trying their hardest to tempt Thranduil into any compromising position they can get him in to. I mean, look at Erestor on the dance floor.

No, maybe not.

“And my father would’nt like you throwing yourself at him either. I mean, did you see Erestor earlier?”

Please, I’m trying not to think about it.

“Couldn’t miss him,” says Glorfindel, scoffing. “But, whatever he was trying to do, it didn’t work. Thranduil left with someone else, and Erestor had to fend off the attentions of a large beefy Gondorian landowner. Balar, I think his name is.”

Mmm…now that’s something interesting to file away for later.

Glorfindel looks up. “So, I’m wearing a tunic and leggings. Then what? I can’t just hang around Imladris waiting for him to pass by and check out the goods?”

Why do I get the feeling he’s not taking this seriously.

“Of course not. He’ll notice you whatever you’re doing. He’s probably noticed you already, Glorfindel. You’re very lovely, you know,” says the prince, and I frown at him again.

Legolas glances at me and then resumes. “He tends to take his time with elves he really likes, so you need to persevere. Look, you’re going down to breakfast, right? You’ll see him then, so make an impression.”

“He’ll be at breakfast?” my friend asks.

“Oh, yes. Ada has the constitution of a troll. Obstinately tough, even after a night of bingeing.” Then Legolas gives Glorfindel an evil smirk. “And he doesn’t need the sun to come up before he goes rock solid.”

Oh, pah…lease!

“More wine?”

* * *

Breakfast is not such a lonely event as I had thought it would be after last night, though, there are some noticeable absences. The twins are probably still picking bits of bush out of their behinds and Elrond, whose also missing, must have been playing ‘changing the guard’ most of the night. And I haven’t seen Erestor anywhere. Not that I was looking, mind you, but I’m still curious.

Thranduil strides in, looking refreshed, healthy and disgustingly cheerful. Someone got laid then. Then Legolas appears.

See…we didn’t spend the night together. Right now, I’m not sure if I’m pleased or not about that. I had to take two doses of the green hangover stuff to fool my body into thinking I hadn’t poured a skinful of that lethal Mirkwood red down my throat.

Legolas also looks wonderful. Is there something in Mirkwood that gives its sons an unfair advantage when it comes to over-indulging? Compared to them I must look like an orc’s breakfast…I should do…I feel like one.

“Good morning, my lord…Legolas.” That will probably have to be my only attempt at normality. I only came down to breakfast to give Glorfindel some moral support, although being ‘moral’ is probably the furthest from his mind at the moment.

They both greet me and help themselves to generous platefuls of food from the sideboard.

As they sit down at the table, Glorfindel appears. Yes he’s bleary-eyed and probably as hung over as me, but…oh my!

My friend is wearing the designated tunic and a pair of scandalously tight leggings. He’s not going to attempt to sit down, surely?

I watch in fascination as Glorfindel moves to the table. His stride seems to have lost its bounce. Gods, what we do for love! Then I watch Thranduil, and, yes, he’s noticed. Good.

“Did you have a good night, Glorfindel?” the king asks, smirking at Glorfindel’s stiff movements.

Glorfindel bends down to sit. I hold my breath.

“Not really.” Glorfindel answers, in a voice a little higher than normal.

He sits and I exhale…

“Really? You seem in some discomfort. Or, perhaps you should loosen your clothing a little, my friend, and give your body a chance to breathe. Don’t want to cut off your circulation, now do we?” The king smiles benignly.

…and I choke.

“I’m fine, thank you, my lord.” I can feel Glorfindel stiffen beside me… his manner, that is.

“No need to be so formal, Glorfindel…especially not looking like that!”

“Ada?!” Legolas admonishes his father.

I pour Glorfindel a cup of tea and cannot fail to notice that he’s trembling a little. Perhaps he’s cut off more than just his circulation...

“My apologies, Glorfindel, I’m not used to seeing you dressed like this. Did you pick up someone else’s leggings this morning?”

“Ada!!!”

So much for Glorfindel showing off his bread basket. I could really spit at Thranduil at this moment, if my mouth wasn’t so dry.

“You look a little peaky. Perhaps some exercise will do you good, Glorfindel. You ought to go for a ride after breakfast, if your duties permit,” the king suggests, totally unconcerned. “Of course, you’ll have to change first,” the king states, “wouldn’t want to frighten the horses.”

I stare at Thranduil as he’s watching my friend. There’s a glint of something in his eyes and I realise the king is playing with him.

Now, Glorfindel is a very easy-going kind of bloke whose extremely slow to anger, but if Thranduil continues to make personal remarks about my friend’s choice of attire, or his nocturnal habits, then he’s not going to take it well.

And I’m not going to stop him. Stupid Sinda.

Glorfindel stands, a bit too quickly, and winces.

Thranduil looks at him and smirks. “Do you need a hand, Glorfindel?”

ide idea. Give him a nice genital massage, he’s probably sore.

“No, thank you,” he says, unbendingly.

Thranduil looks up as Glorfindel carefully turns towards the door. “I appear to have rubbed you up the wrong way, my friend.”

Well, no you haven’t, actually, and that’s the problem…

* * *

Now, call me pessimistic, but I don’t think this is going to work. Convincing the king that Glorfindel is probably the best thing since the Rohirrim discovered raised pommels, is going to take too long if I don’t intervene. What I need is some way to get the two together.

Wait.. a.. minute, why not go for the direct approach and invite them to meet each other somewhere.

Oh, it couldn’t be that easy, surely?

And while I’m at it, why not do the same for Erestor. I’m sure it would make his Gondorian very happy.

Oh yes…this is too sweet.

But, hold on, I can’t invite them personally, they’d be sure to think it was a set-up … I’m not really known for my magnaninimity…cute buttocks, yes…

Letters…that’s it. Two, carefully written invitations, one for Thranduil and the other for Erestor, although I shan’t tell the advisor who he’s going to meet. Don’t want to spoil the surprise.

I’ll ask Lindir, yes, he can keep his mouth shut. Unlike Elrohir! I’ll get him to invite Balar and I’ll tell Glorfindel.

This’ll work.

Now then, what to write…

* * *

Imladris can be a bit of a warren. Apart from the inhabitants going at it like rabbits, the passageways are almost identical.

Lucky I know my way around.

“Hello, Carandol, what are you sneaking about for?”

I quickly hide the notes in my tunic pocket and turn around.

“Er…hello, Elrohir. Nothing, just…er…admiring the… tapestries, you know…” For the first time I look at one of the ancient embroideries depicting a swan ship coming to safe harbour.

“Tapestries…you?” Elrohir looks at me suspiciously. “The only artwork you ever look at has two legs and no clothes on. You’re up to something.”

“Me? Of course not, what could I possibly be up to in the hallway?”

“I don’t know, but you look guilty of something.” Elrohir moves closer and peers at me.

Right on cue, I turn pink.

“I thought so,” says Elrohir. The twins never miss anything, unless they’re unconscious.

Elrohir strokes my face with a soft, sensual, touch. “Such a pretty colour. Does the rest of you blush like a rose?”

Well, there’s no way I’m telling you the other reason I’m called ‘red-head’!

Without thinking, I move my hand over my crutch. Something else Elrohir doesn’t fail to notice.

He laughs. “My, my, Carandol. Do I make you so uneasy?” He covers my hand with his. “Or excited?”

“We know you’ve been taking lessons,” says Elladan, turning the corner and standing beside his brother.

“Lessons?”

“We’d like to see what you’ve learned,” says Elladan moving behind me.

“Nothing,” I fib.

“Nothing? I doubt Eärendil would agree with you,” smirks Elladan, and proceeds to grip my hips and rub himself against my bum. “Isn’t this what you did to my father’s statue?”

Oh, no, don’t tell me we had an audience. “How…?”

“You were so hot, we had to molest poor Lindir again,” Elrohir says and begins to nibble at my neck.

“We were just repaying the compliment. After all, you had your eyeful of us,” Elladan says in a low voice and rubs at me again. I try to wriggle free. It doesn’t work.
“And we always like to watch Legolas in action. He’s so deliciously decadent,” says Elrohir, moving up to my ear tip.

I shudder. “Please…I…” I say, and the twins cease their movements for a moment.

“You need something?” asks Elrohir. He quickly pushes his hand under my fingers, loosens my laces and works his way inside to rub more forcefully at my thickening cock. I look down at it in dismay.

“Nnnnn…No…I… I only wanted to give Thranduil a message.” I manage to explain.

“Is he expecting you?” asks Elladan, and I can feel his hard shaft rubbing against my crack through the thin leggings.

“No…but…”

“Then we have plenty of time,” says Elrohir, and he removes his hand and and takes mine to stroke it over his rigid cock.

Almost as an afterthought I look around me furtively just to make sure we’re alone.

“A bit late to be circumspect?” snorts Elladan and reaches forward to rub my smouldering shaft as he works himself even harder behind me.

No…don’t want to be clipped… oh…er… !

I know I’m getting flustered and say stupidly, “Look…we…I… haven’t learnt this bit yet…” and pull my hand away and try to turn to see Elladan.

Suddenly, they both move away from me, at the same time, then laugh at my surprised expression.

“Just wanted to play with you a little.”

“We wouldn’t hurt you.”

“You’re not ours, after all.”

“What?!” Now…wait a minute…

“And, you’re on the wrong floor,” says Elladan, pulling my tunic back over my disappointed swelling and my rather relieved bottom and stroking my buttocks slightly. “Thranduil’s room is at the end of the passageway one flight down.

“You can go that way,” adds Elrohir, pointing, “past the wall- hanging you admire so much,” and he raises one eyebrow.

I look at the embroidered ship and think about how my white ensign was just about to shoot up my flagpole before they started talking practicalities. I attempt to clear my head and try to return to half mast.

“Really?” I say, breathlessly. “I could have sworn this was the right one. I remember that urn.” I say nodding at a monstrous-looking artefact on one of the hall tables while unsuccessfully trying to poke myself back into my leggings.

“Present from Grandmother,” says Elladan, making a face. “We moved it from the guest quarters as it was too embarrassing.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” I say and start to walk… backwards… and very uncomfortably towards the embroidery and the stairway beyond.

I turn the corner and lean against the wall, trying to return to some semblance of normality. As I take some calming breaths I feel thankful they had been in the passage after all, or my little scheme might have turned out a bit dodgy.

* * *

It’s a few hours later, I’ve had a work out with Glorfindel, as I really had to rid myself of some pent up frustration. I’ve also spoken to Lindir about the invitation, and he needed no convincing since Erestor thrashed him ferociously at unarmed combat, although how Lindir managed even more physical activity is beyond me. I’ve had a relaxing bath, so, now to polish up the trophy.

I look down at my semi-tumescent friend. Sorry, you’ve been a bit neglected today, except for the twins trying to stir up trouble. And don’t try to hang your head either, we both know what the problem is…Legolas. Now, that’s got you interested, hasn’t it?

I take hold of my companion and lift him gently as he’s not yet fully able to support himself. Oh, this is hopeless. I haven’t seen Legolas since breakfast and I’m beginning to feel as if I’m just being used, and not even used properly. But I won’t be part of Legolas’ goods and chattels…a baggage, maybe.

I look down again. And you’re not really in the mood now are you?

I rouse myself, dress quickly and make my way downstairs to the salon and pour myself a little pick-me-up. This time I check the bottles carefully to ensure that I’m not going to guzzle anything nasty.

“Hello, Carandol. And how are you this evening?”

I tense a little. “Fine, thank you Erestor. And you?”

“Oh, musn’t complain.”

Well, that’s a first.

Erestor joins me by the drinks tray. I look sideways at him. And then look again. His hair is loose and falling in beautiful abandon down his…tunic? So, he’s dressed himself especially for tonight then has he. I’m impressed. This Erestor is certainly an improvement, visually, anyway.

“You look…eraxedaxed, Erestor.” And that’s about the best I can come up with.

“Thank you. You don’t normally spoil me with compliments, Carandol.”

“No, I don’t. Why ruin something so perfectly malevolent.”

“Really, Carandol, surely we can dispense with the pleasantries.”

Something unreadable passes his eyes. Not that I can really read him at the best of times. But this wasn’t one of his specials.

I look more closely at him and he catches my eye.

“You also look…nice…Carandol.”

What’s this?

“Meeting someone…special?”

“Maybe,” I hedge. “Are you?” I ask, to take the attention off myself.

Erestor smiles. “Oh yes…this evening promises to be very memorable.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

His expression is disconcertingly suggestive and I feel myself becoming uncomfortable. Then he moves to one of the sofas, and I can only admire his slim, elegant form, which we’re not normally a party to when he wears his layers of material. He sits, and I watch him stretch his legs; long, lean and tightly muscled.

I smile in appreciation.

“Something amuses you, Carandol,” he says, and it wasn’t a question.

“No,” I say, too quickly. I lie so well when it suits me. But sometimes I go red afterwards and ruin it.

I go red. He notices.

“If you have something to say, then say it.” Erestor says, impatiently.

I finish my drink and stand.

“I’m not in the mood for an argument Erestor.” I move towards the door. I hesitate and turn. “All right. It occurred to me that I’d never seen your body before.” I know I haven’t said that right, but oh, who cares.

“And you like what you see,” and again, its not a question.

Silence.

“Close your mouth, Carandol, you’ll mess up your tunic.”

Oh here we go. The voice he uses for unruly elflings. And now I can’t be bothered, and I turn and open the door.

“Unless, of course, you want to do something more interesting with it.” he continues. I turn back, and there’s that look, the one from the dance floor. “A pretty mouth should be put to good use.”

“And you know all about oral provocation, don’t you?” I say, drily.

“Naturally.” And he laughs, softly.

I know I can’t win with Erestor, especially when he’s in this mood, so I leave, wondering evilly if he’ll still be able to laugh when the hefty Gondorian farmer pulls out his plough to groove a bit of ridge and furrow in Erestor’s arse.

* * *

As I walk down the path to the place of Glorfindel’s execu…er …assignation, I can’t help wondering where Legolas is and wishing it was me with the heavy date this evening. I’m torn between appearing desperate and going to find him, and worry that I may discover him with someone else.

I sigh. I feel so deflated that even my member is flaccid. It normally jumps when I think about the prince.

I reach the pavilion and look around. All is quiet. The lanterns hanging from the columns have already been lit so I feel the seat cushions to make sure they’re dry and check that the wine hasn’t been pinched.

It must be nearly time now.

“Psst!’

What the…

“Psst…Carandol.”

I lean over the parapet. “Glorfindel, what are you doing in the bushes?”

“I’m not coming out until I know he’s arrived.”

“He’s not here yet, but come out anyway.”
Glorfindel picks his way out and I see he is now wearing looser leggings. Such a pity, the others really did something for him, apart frurniurning him blue, of course.

“So, Glorfindel,” I say, “are you ready for this?”

“Not really, but I thought I’d better be here, just in case he comes.”

“Come on, Glorfindel, aren’t you just a teensy bit excited?” He stands staring at me and I know this is going to be hard work.

“I met him earlier and we talked for a bit.”

“With Thranduil?”

“Yes.”

“Well…was it good or bad, or…?” I’m tempted to ask him if it turned ugly as well, but perhps he can only cope with a small multiple choice at the moment.

“Fine.”

“Don’t be so irritating.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Carandol.” He smiles softly. So, is that a ‘he’s wonderful’ kind of smile or one of those ‘I really don’t want to talk about it’ ones.

I settle on the latter. “Glorfindel, what happened?”

“Not much, really. He apologised for his remarks at breakfast, but I still don’t think he’s interested, Carandol.”

“Why, what did he say?”

“We were just talking pleasantries, you know, gossip, and that, and then he said he was fed up with all the rumours flying around Imladris about his appetites. He then said something about it being a great fallacy.”

“Are you sure you heard right?” I have to ask, it sounds a bit similar.

Glorfindel raises his eyebrows.

“Look, you just need the right setting, that’s all, somewhere romantic. This pavilion’s perfect.”

Glorfindel is still looking at me in disbelief.

I change the subject, ightighten his mood. “I’ve also managed to set Erestor up with someone. Actually, I think I’d quite like to fix him up with a gangrenous goblin. They have more revolting habits than even Erestor has heard of. They might get on just fine. But I couldn’t get one at short notice so I’ve got the next best thing. I should think the entertainment is just about to…”

“Good evening, Carandol.”

I jerk up from the parapet and turn around swiftly in shock. Oh no, it can’t be….this is all wrong…what’s he doing here?

“And there I was thinking you didn’t care, my sweet.”

A soft, seductive voice washes over me as he moves towards me slowly.

“This was an invitation I could not resist.”

My mouth goes dry as I back away from him and I hear a snigger from the bushes as Glorfindel makes his escape.

Dark eyes glow in the dim lantern light as he slowly stalks his prey.

I am alone with him.

The perfect predator.

Erestor.


TBC…

* Confectionary note: I don’t know if you have sticks of rock where you live, but here, in the UK, the stick of rock is a traditional seaside sweet treat. Originally they were about a foot long, an inch thick, a disturbing shade of cerise pink, and flavoured with peppermint. They come in all shapes, sizes and flavours now…as do all good things! Oh, and they had the name of the tourist resort printed through them so you could read it with every bite…’Present from Imladris’ for example.

Sebastian