Back Passage

Title: Back Passage
Author: TICS
Rated: NC17
Genre: Humor, slash
Names that have not been changed to protect anyone: Erestor/Rumil, Haldir/third elf from the left.
Summary: Erestor gives newbie Rumil a lesson in mechanics.
Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the elves, not the places, not the concept...nothing. Well, I DO own a copy of every book the Professor wrote...but I hardly think that gives me a proprietary interest...I'm just playing, and will put them back neatly where I found them.


A/N: I take no credit for this bunny - that goes to Nightley and her ficlet “Whoever Said Elves Were Vanilla.” Thanks, Nightley! *rubs Neosporin over the bunny-bite on her ankle*

Back Passage

Finally.

Just when Rumil had become certain that the Valar possessed some kind of sick, twisted sense of humor and had managed to stop time, it had finally arrived. His Begetting Day…and not just ANY Begetting Day, either. No, today was his Day of Majority. Today was the day when he could walk out of his quarters with his head held high and the entire world would know at one glance that he, Rumil o Lothlorien, youngest brother of Haldir and Orophin, was an adult. No longer would he be chased from the warden-gatherings because it was his ‘bedtime.’ No longer would wine glasses be held out of his reach because he was “too young.” No longer would his brothers fall silent in the middle of a joke because he was within earshot. No longer would he constantly have an adult peering over his shoulder watching his every move. No, today all and sundry would recognize him as a fully adult member of the community.

Funny, but he didn’t feel a bit differently than he had yesterday.

For some strange reason he had thought that the moment his eyes cleared of reverie this morning he would suddenly and miraculously be the recipient of knowledge previously kept from him as inappropriate for his youthful ears. Instead, he found himself every bit as puzzled and clueless as he had been the day before, when he’d been an elfling.

It was frustrating.

Ordinarily he would have sought out the wisdom of his friends – his age-peers whose insight had often shed light on mysterious and puzzling questions in the past. For example, it had been his friends who had shared with him the fact that drinking wine while eating lembas could make one’s stomach explode. Or, if a black cat crossed your path and you didn’t immediately spin in a circle three times and spit in all four directions of the compass then someone dear to you would fall over dead. Very important and useful information to be certain, and Rumil often wondered why such nuggets of wisdom were kept from elflings - one would think that Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel would wish to keep Lorien’s elves from exploding or falling over dead. He had resolved that when he had elflings of his own he would never keep such valuable information from them simply because they were young.

Regardless, seeking out his age-peers was out of the question at the moment, since he had been dragged - kicking and screaming - along with his brothers on a trip to Imladris. Sent by Lord Celeborn with a missive for Lord Elrond, Haldir had insisted that Rumil accompany them. Ordinarily the opportunity to travel outside of the Golden Wood would have thrilled the youngest brother, but not this time…he had wanted to be home for his Begetting Day. Now he was stuck in a strange place with no familiar faces to go to with his questions or with whom to celebrate his newly acquired adult status. To make matters worse, Glorfindel had taken Haldir and Orophin out to the Imladris borders to use some sort of “back passage” – whatever that was - and Rumil had no idea when they’d be back.

Frustrating…absolutely frustrating.

Sighing, Rumil got out of bed and stretched, twisting his spine to work out the kinks put there by the unfamiliar, incredibly soft mattress of the bed he’d been assigned to during his stay at the Last Homely House. He was used to his simple pallet at home, and although he had luxuriated in the bed’s cloud-like softness when he had first lain on it, this morning his spine groaned in protest and he moaned aloud in sympathy for his twisted vertebrae.

Looking down, he grinned at the sight of his elfhood, stiffened with his need to eliminate his night-waters and thought to himself that one of the best parts of becoming an adult was that he would be free to use it for something other than the purpose of eliminating body waste, and he had every intention of doing so at the first available opportunity. Briefly, he wondered if the twins were at home – they were close to his own age.

He chuckled when he remembered that not very long ago he’d had no idea of its purpose. He’d thought that it was uncomfortable and unsightly, rose at the most inopportune moments, and he simply couldn’t fathom a use for it. Surely there had to be a better method Eru could have thought of for waste management. His friends had had some interesting ideas on the subject, the most thought-provoking being that it had something to do with procreation, although on that subject Rumil had had his doubts. How could such a body part spit out an elfling? It seemed ridiculous at best and incredibly painful at worst. No, he’d thought it more likely that it was simply a body part whose function was known only to Eru…like ear lobes or eyebrows. Of course, it did do that thing…that thing that Rumil had discovered quite by accident and had kept to himself – even from his friends – and explored only at night, when alone, under the privacy of his coverlets. But he was quite certain at the time that his was the only elfhood to do such a thing since no one had ever made mention of their own doing it…and he was certain that if his friends’ elfhoods could do what his did, they would have talked about it.

It was only about ten years ago that he’d stumbled across Haldir and an Elf whose name he didn’t know coupling inside one of the storage buildings that lined the practice field. Mesmerized by his brother’s silver head rising and falling like the tide in the vicinity of the other Elf’s groin while the anonymous Elf did the same to Haldir, as well as the moans that they both tried desperately to keep quiet, Rumil had watched silently from a dark corner of the supply hut. At first he’d been certain that the Elf must have committed some horrible transgression against the March Warden because it looked to him as thought Haldir was attempting to bite off the other’s Elfhood, but since the Elf was doing to the same to Haldir, and Haldir NEVER allowed anyone to do anything to him he did not desire – one never got the upper hand on Haldir in a tickle-fight for example, Rumil soon became convinced that this was a desired and pleasurable, if slightly messy, activity. That night, he’d asked Haldir about it, and the red-faced warden had explained the act in halting detail along with the strict warning that Rumil was not to seek to engage in such an activity until he was well over a hundred years old.

Of course, Rumil soon figured out that the “hundred year old” thing was simply his older brother being his overly cautious, over-protective self, and that Rumil would be free to do as he pleased once he reached half that age.

Which was today.

He used the chamberpot, splashed some water over his face from the basin on a nearby dressing table, threw on his tunic and leggings, and spent some time braiding his hair into the warrior braids that he was finally allowed to wear as of today. Not having had any previous experience in braiding his own hair before, they were lopsided and uneven with stray hairs popping out all over the place. He spat into his hand and tried to smooth the silver hairs down, slicking them into place, but it was of no use. He finally settled for shoving them back behind his ears, hoping no one would notice.

Leaving his room, he padded barefoot down to the kitchens in search of something to shove down his gullet and silence the grumblings of his empty stomach, all the while surreptitiously watching the faces of the elves he passed, looking for some indication that they recognized his newly reached status as an adult. All he saw were a few raised eyebrows, but he feared they were aimed more at his wild and unruly braids than at his new exalted status. Perhaps he should wear a sign that read, “New Adult. Don’t Mind the Hair.”

After grabbing a sweet roll in the kitchen (and dodging the hands of the cook as she tried to slap his away from the newly baked tray), he wandered in the direction of the Hall of Fire, not entirely certain of how one went about finding a partner to copulate with – he’d learned that term, as well as several other more crass ones from his friends, but preferred to use “copulate” since it sounded more adult – or where to find such a partner. Did one simply walk up to an Elf, introduce oneself, and make the offer? Or was there some ritual involved? Haldir hadn’t gone into those specifics, and Rumil had been too busy at the time trying to absorb what his brother HAD told him to think to ask. His friends had offered some other interesting ideas on the subject of “copulation,” including something involving the use of one’s hand – which Rumil believed, since he’d been using his hands on himself for sometime now – and something involving the use of one’s rear end – which Rumil refused to believe, since it sounded far to painful and unsightly to be a practice engaged in by choice. They also had discussed – at great length and which had bored Rumil to tears since he found he had absolutely no interest in them whatsoever – the use of an elleth in such an activity. Regardless, Rumil was every bit as bewildered on how to initiate such an encounter today that he was an adult as he had been yesterday when he’d been a child. He thought that perhaps he should amend that sign to read, “New Adult. Don’t Mind the Hair, and Would You Like To Copulate With Me?”


Walking down the long hallway toward the Hall of Fire while lost in his thoughts, Rumil froze at the sound of Erestor’s voice calling his name. Just the other day Elrond’s Advisor had cornered him for over an hour, plying him with tedious questions about the tutoring system in Lorien. The last thing Rumil wanted on his Begetting Day was another lecture.

“Rumil…what has been done to your hair?” Erestor asked, taking hold of Rumil’s sleeve and pulling him into his office. He lifted one of the sloppily tied braids in his hand. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?”

Rumil blushed, but managed to look affronted at the same time. “No…I braided it.”

“YOU braided it? Today is your Day of Majority, is it not? I believe Haldir mentioned it…”

“Yes, sir…it is.”

“And your brothers left you alone to braid your own hair for the very first time? Where did they go?” the Advisor asked the young Elf.

“Glorfindel took them to the borders to use the back passage,” Rumil answered. He was surprised to see the blush that suddenly colored Erestor’s face.

“Oh he did, did he…tell me, Rumil…does Lord Celeborn routinely allow those under their age of Majority to take lovers?”

“WHAT? Er…I…no...of course not…I never…um…” Rumil stammered, shocked by the question. “Why would you ask me something like that, Erestor?”

“Because these knots you have attempted to braid into your hair are Lovers’ Knots, Rumil. Really, your brothers should have explained all this to you by now…I’ve a good mind to give them a solid tongue-lashing when they return…and don’t think for one moment that Glorfindel won’t hear about it from me, as well!” he answered, although mostly to himself. “You patterned these knots after those that Lord Celeborn wears, did you not?”

“Yes…should I not have?” Rumil asked, suddenly afraid that he had committed some terrible mistake, and realized that those raised eyebrows of the elves he had seen that morning were indeed because of his hair.

“We tie different knots in our hair to say different things about us, Rumil…so that a casual observer might have enough information about us to risk striking up a conversation. For example, these open circular knots, like the ones Celeborn and Elrond both wear, indicate that they are involved in relationships… in their case having taken wives.”


Erestor deftly unbraided Rumil’s hair, then picked up several long, silvery strands and re-braided them. “When a young adult is unattached, as you are, we use a thin side braid tight to the skull…like this…tell me, Rumil…do you favor ellith or ellyn?” He asked, pausing for a moment awaiting Rumil’s answer. Erestor chuckled, thinking that if Rumil turned any more red, he’d match the velvet drapes that covered the windows of his study. “Come now, Rumil…this is not a difficult question, and it is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Uh…er…” Rumil asked, not quite able to meet the Advisor’s eyes. He wondered briefly which Vala he had offended to be having this conversation with the dark-eyed Advisor. “Ellyn,” he finally answered, although so softly that only an Elf would have been able to hear him.

“Ah…then you will use two thin sidebraids. One braid indicates a preference for ellith, and two, a preference for ellyn. Three would indicate no preference…those who like both equally,” Erestor explained. He quickly finished one side of Rumil’s head and moved to the other. “Ellith use a more complicated system of gown colors and…well…what ellith use isn’t really a problem for you, so we’ll simply skip that for now. There…go take a look in that mirror. You look wonderful.”

The face that looked back at him from his reflection in the mirror startled Rumil. It was his face, the same one he had woke to for the last fifty years of his young life, and yet not. This face looked older…more mature, and he knew it was due to the evenly spaced braids that now graced either side of his head. He reached a long, slender finger up to touch one, his lips curling into a smile. He was an adult. Truly. The tiny braids somehow made it seem all the more real. “Thank you, Master Erestor,” he whispered while still staring at himself in the mirror. He looked over his shoulder at the reflection of the Master Advisor, and a thought occurred to him. Erestor would know the answer to question that had been plaguing Rumil all morning. Erestor, it seemed, knew everything. The question now was whether Rumil had the courage to ask him.

Biting his lower lip nervously, Rumil looked down at his bare feet, rubbing one over the other, until Erestor finally asked him what was on his mind.

“Erestor…um…could you tell me…er…how does one go about…er…”

“Go about what, Rumil? Come now, spit it out…go about what?” Erestor asked, eyeing the young Galadhrim. He was quite lovely, Erestor decided…quite lovely indeed. This one was going to be spending as much time warding off potential lovers as he did guarding the borders of Lothlorien, the Advisor mused as he waited for Rumil to ask whatever it was that he had a mind to ask.

Rumil took a deep breath, reminded himself that he was an adult, and plunged ahead. “I was wondering if you’d tell me how one goes about finding someone to copulate with,” he asked, holding his breath and hoping that Erestor wouldn’t burst out into laughter over Rumil’s innocence.

Erestor nearly choked on his own saliva. That was the very last thing he would have expected this beautiful young elf to ask…it had been Erestor’s experience that young ones today knew far more than he ever had at that age…and even HE had known about courtship.

“Well…that would depend, Rumil,” Erestor finally said, knowing that he was smiling but not able to help himself. “If there is someone to whom you are attracted, you might wish to engage him in conversation first…get to know him, let him get to know you. Have dinner together, take strolls together...begin a courtship with that person. Although sometimes the best approach is the direct one, especially if all one wishes is a casual encounter.”

“And what would the direct approach involve, Erestor?” Rumil asked, suddenly aware of how handsome Erestor was, with his thick raven hair and ebony eyes. Rumil’s own eyes became transfixed on Erestor’s shapely lips as he answered.

“Ah…well…body language plays a key role, Rumil,” Erestor replied as Rumil’s own body language told the Advisor exactly where this conversation was going. He decided to let the youngster off the hook and make this easy for him. First encounters were usually bumbling and uncomfortable, and he didn’t wish for Rumil to feel as inept as he himself had those many millennia ago when Erestor had sought his own first experience. “For example, if one is interested in another, one might lean in toward that person, closing the distance between their bodies.” Erestor took a step forward so that he stood well within Rumil’s personal space. “One might also provide physical contact…such as putting a hand on their arm, or touching their hair or face,” he continued, reaching a hand up to gently cup Rumil’s cheek. “If there is no indication that your attention is undesired, a kiss might be in order,” the Advisor advised the wide-eyed Elf. Leaning in, Erestor gently touched his lips to Rumil’s.

Rumil thought for a moment that his first kiss would be his last, because as a fire spread to his belly from his lips at the touch of Erestor’s mouth on his, he thought his heart had stopped. Surprisingly, instead of keeling over he found his arms thrown about Erestor’s shoulders, his hands buried in the masses of thick black hair that hung down Erestor’s back, smashing his lips against those of the Advisor.

Erestor smiled under the assault of Rumil’s lips against his own, and wrapped his arms around Rumil’s slender frame, holding him close and allowing him to continue his brutal attack on his lips for a moment or two longer before taking back control.

He licked Rumil’s lips and when the Elf parted them in surprise, Erestor deftly slipped his tongue into Rumil’s mouth. Rumil, Erestor found, was an apt pupil, because within a heartbeat he had not only accepted the presence of Erestor’s tongue in his mouth, but was kissing him back with a sensuality that was surprising from an Elf with no prior experience.

From the incredibly hard, and surprisingly large, lump that was burning Erestor’s thigh through both Rumil’s leggings and his own robe, the Advisor knew that this first encounter would not last very long for the young Elf. But Erestor was an ancient, patient Elf, and he really had no other plans for that morning…best to get the first time over with quickly, and then concentrate on the finer points of Rumil’s education.

Still plundering Rumil’s mouth – or rather, allowing Rumil to plunder his own, Erestor slipped his hands to the younger Elf’s waist and deftly untied the lacings that held Rumil’s leggings closed.

Rumil gasped against Erestor’s mouth when he felt the Advisor’s hand slip inside his leggings and pull out his Elfhood. No one’s hands, aside from his own, had ever touched him before and the feeling caused his breath to suddenly hitch in his chest. When he was finally able to exhale, it came as a long, low moan.

Erestor, still smiling at Rumil’s reactions to his ministrations, left the sweet lips of the young Galadhrim and knelt before him. He had been correct in his estimation, Erestor saw…Rumil was quite well-endowed. Licking his lips, he drew the head of Rumil’s Elfhood into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the velvety soft tip.

That, it seemed, was all it took.


An orgasm far more powerful than any Rumil had managed to milk from himself before swept through him, and the young Elf screamed as he fed Erestor his seed, his hands threaded in the Advisor’s hair, his own head thrown back in ecstasy.

Erestor managed to catch Rumil before the younger Elf’s knees gave way. He picked him up and carried him to the low sofa that sat in one corner of the Advisor’s office, divesting Rumil of his tunic and leggings before Rumil even had a chance to catch his breath. Setting him on the sofa, Erestor waited patiently for Rumil’s eyes to stop rolling about in his head and focus once more.

“Did you like that, Rumil?” Erestor asked seductively, looking at the silver haired Elf through lowered eyelashes. Taking the strangled noise that came from Rumil’s open mouth as a “yes,” Erestor licked his lips and asked, “Would you like to do more?” Receiving the barest of nods in reply, he slowly kicked off his soft boots and removed his robes until he stood nude before Rumil.

Working as Elrond’s Chief Advisor had not had the adverse affect on Erestor’s physique as some might have thought…climbing those shelves in the library in search of scrolls and carting about those heavy books had kept his muscles in nearly as good a shape as they had been in during his days as a warrior. Still strong and sculpted, he watched Rumil’s eyes wander appreciatively over his frame, the younger Elf’s member already beginning to twitch in anticipation. Erestor was pleased to note that it would not take Rumil as long as he had expected to regroup.

Walking to the sofa, Erestor climbed up, one knee on either side of the still dazed Lorien Elf. With his own considerable Elfhood standing straight and tall before Rumil’s eyes, he whispered, “Taste me, Rumil…taste me as I did you.”

Tentatively, Rumil’s pink tongue flicked out, lapping hesitantly at Erestor’s length. Again, Rumil proved himself to be a bright and willing student, and it was all Erestor could do to keep himself from bucking into his protégé’s hot and moist mouth.

“Slowly, Rumil…ahh…yes…slower, slower…” Erestor instructed, closing his eyes and allowing his fingers to trace Rumil’s delicate ear tips. He reluctantly withdrew himself from Rumil’s mouth, under the protests of the younger Elf. Looking down, he saw that Rumil’s organ was again at full mast, bobbing against his flat belly.

“I wish for you to take me, Rumil,” Erestor said as his own member nodded toward the young Galadhrim. He turned away to rummage through a drawer in his desk, not noticing the confused expression on Rumil’s face.

“Take him?” Rumil thought, cocking an eyebrow at the sculpted cheeks of the Advisor as Erestor turned and walked away from him. “Take him…where? To breakfast? Is he hungry? He didn’t…do what I did…is he finished already?” Before he could manage to ask, Erestor was back holding a small vial in his hand, which he offered to Rumil.

Rumil looked puzzled at the vial in his hand, and even more puzzled at Erestor, who knelt on the floor beside him, his arms and head resting on the soft damask cushions of the sofa, his butt raised and his knees spread apart.

Suddenly, in a flash of inspiration, Rumil realized what Erestor was asking him to do. Evidently, what his friends had said was true…although Rumil still didn’t quite believe it. “Erestor?” he asked, uncorking the oil and sniffing the delicate fragrance of lilac. “What do I do with oil?”

Erestor looked back over his shoulder at Rumil, suddenly aware that the young Elf had no idea of what he should be doing. He suppressed another smile – easily done, since his organ was throbbing with his own need at the moment – and explained how Rumil should prepare him.

Rumil looked back and forth between the vial in his hand and Erestor’s spread cheeks, wondering how he was supposed to fit himself in that very small opening that could be glimpsed between Erestor’s alabaster buttocks. Still, Erestor hadn’t steered him wrong yet, so if the Master Advisor said it could be done, Rumil wouldn’t doubt his word.

Pouring enough oil into his hand to grease the axles of a carriage, Rumil slicked himself thoroughly, then knelt behind Erestor. Carefully, he poured the rest of the vial over the crack of Erestor’s butt.

Erestor moaned, and although Rumil thought it was in pleasure which encouraged the Lorien Elf, in reality Erestor was bemoaning the fact that, from the feel of things, Rumil had no doubt used the entire vial of oil, letting it drip down over Erestor’s scrotum and onto the finely woven rug beneath his knees. It was going to take several washings and beatings to clean that rug, and Erestor already had doubts that the oil stain would come out.

Still, thoughts of rug-beatings left Erestor’s mind when Rumil cautiously slid a finger inside the Advisor’s opening, whistling softly between his teeth at the surprising heat and tightness that squeezed his digit.

Quickly translating the feeling of Erestor’s channel clenching around his finger to what it would feel like when it was clenching around his Elfhood, Rumil’s whistle turned into a groan of anticipation. It was a good thing that Erestor was experienced, because Rumil spent very little time preparing him before removing his finger and sliding his thick organ into that same, tight space.

Instinct took over, and soon Rumil was thrusting himself into Erestor’s body, moaning loudly as a fire blossomed in his belly threatening to overwhelm him. Unwilling to let the opportunity pass as his own need grew stronger with each thrust of the younger Elf against his buttocks, Erestor took himself in hand as he bucked back against Rumil’s advances.

The Advisor found his release shortly before Rumil found his, although his own cry was drowned out by the roar that the Lorien Elf let loose as he came. It would be a wonder if Elrond’s guards didn’t burst into Erestor’s office, thinking that someone was being tortured to death, the Advisor thought.

Rumil collapsed against Erestor’s back, and the Advisor turned, taking the trembling younger Elf into his arms, cradling him and stroking his hair gently. One’s first experience was always intense, and Rumil’s had been no different, as evidence by the shudders that ran through the young Galadhrim’s body and the tears that helplessly streaked his face.

“I love you,” Rumil managed to whisper as he lay bonelessly against the Advisor’s strong chest.

“I am flattered, my young friend, but alas, you do not,” Erestor chuckled, kissing Rumil’s brow. “You feel this way now, but will not an hour from now…this is merely a manifestation of the intensity of your climax. This feeling will fade soon enough…although I pray the Valar that one day you will find someone with whom the feeling will not fade. Now, hurry and dress…I believe that Lord Elrond would wish to see you and wish you a happy Begetting Day.”

Rumil did as he was told, dressing quickly. With a whispered thanks and soft, nearly chaste kiss, he left Erestor’s office, his mind still in a whirl.

As he made his way, still weak-kneed, down the hall toward Elrond’s office, he was thinking to himself that of all he had learned that morning, using someone’s back passage was perhaps his favorite…and he froze in place. Back passage? Suddenly, Rumil was quite aware of exactly what back passage Glorfindel was going to allow Haldir and Orophin to use.

And he smiled, thinking that he’d need to get the golden Balrog-Slayer to give him the same tour.

The End.