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Summary: The Dwarves have been enslaved by the Mirkwood Elves and Elrond manages to save one in a unique way.
~~~
Elrond grimaced behind the
backs of his escort as he was led through the stone archway into the
former King Thranduil's mountain realm. This was his first visit since
the crown prince had declared himself King following his father's untimely
demise. Prince Legolas had promptly initiated a war with the Dwarves
of Erebor and enslaved them, forcing them to mine and smith for the
Elves' profit.�
Looking around the dismal tunnel
through which he walked, Elrond failed to see where King Legolas had
used his slave labor to make improvements the stronghold. The walls
had the same rough hewn look he remembered from his last visit 700 years
previous and the torches set intermittently along the walls gave off
more smoke than light.�
Still, Elrond had no choice
but to deal with the Wood-Elves, for now that the Dwarves were under
their control, no mining, stone or metal work could be done without
paying tribute to the Greenwood. He had come inside alone to meet with
Legolas so as not to subject Erestor and his guards to the unpleasant,
claustrophobic task of dealing with the new King, who Vilya told him
had been instrumental in his father's death. It galled Elrond to have
to deal with this usurper but he had no choice.�
Elrond's escort took him to
the throne room where he entered to see Legolas sitting upon the throne,
a garland of woodland flowers wound in his hair. He looked down his
nose imperiously, obviously no more pleased to see Elrond than Elrond
was to see him. With a nod, Legolas gave Elrond permission to approach
the Royal Presence.�
"Greetings, King Legolas,
I bring you tribute in exchange for metals promised to Imladris in your
last missive," Elrond said, with the smallest bow he could get
away with in light of protocol.�
"What tribute does Elrond,
Master of Imladris, bring?" Legolas demanded, the title 'Master'
dripping with disdainful insolence from his lips.�
"Stores of food, oil,
and wine, as per our agreement," Elrond said.�
Legolas turned to Galion, his
seneschal, who hovered near the throne. "Has the tribute been measured
and counted?"�
"It has not, my king,"
Galion said, glancing nervously at Elrond, "but our exchanges thus
far have never turned up an error."�
Legolas glared at the Elf as
if he would strike him. "It matters not what our previous exchanges
have turned up," he sneered. "As my father used to say, 'Trust
all but always measure the wine."�
The seneschal hurried to do
his king's bidding as Legolas turned cold blue eyes upon Elrond.�
"You will stay until our
business is complete," Legolas said. It was not an invitation.�
"I find myself compelled
to accept your hospitality," Elrond said dryly, making another
shallow bow.�
Legolas raised a scornful eyebrow
and turned to a dwarf standing in the corner. The hairy little man had
escaped Elrond's attention until now. He stood well back from the throne,
his dark hair and clothing making him all but invisible in the dim torchlight.
"Show Master Elrond to his rooms, Gimli, and do not dawdle. I know
how long it takes you to go and return from every room in the palace,
do you understand me?"�
"Yes, master," the
dwarf said, and moved to obey. Chains rattled at his ankles, causing
Elrond to start in surprise. �
"Are those necessary?"
he blurted. The look in Legolas' eyes as he turned his attention to
him caused Elrond to quickly add, "your Majesty."�
"You know nothing of these
creatures," the king snapped. "They would cut your throat
in your sleep if you'd let them, the dirty curs." He glared at
Gimli. "And if Master Elrond gives me a bad report on your behavior,
you will be punished. Have I made myself clear, dog?"�
"Yes master," Gimli
said, his soft, gravelly voice filled with a defeated weariness.�
Elrond followed the dwarf as
he clattered down the hall in front of him, swinging his strong, stubby
arms. It had been many years since Elrond had had any dealings with
Dwarves but though he felt no particular affection for the race, he
held them no animosity either. What Legolas was doing, holding them
in bondage in order to profit from their toil, was vile. Elrond was
vexed that an Elf would act in so base a manner, and also that Legolas
chose to ignore the wickedness of it in order to exact revenge on both
the Noldor and the Dwarves. Thranduil would never have allowed such
corruption in the Greenwood, despite his rustic ways.�
They reached the rooms where
Elrond was to spend what he hoped to be only one night, and Gimli ushered
him inside and toured the meager amenities. "'Ere's the washin'
up bowl, 'ere's the cupboard for your fancy robes, 'ere's the... bed,"
Gimli rasped, and Elrond did not miss the vehemence with which he spoke
the last word.�
"Thank you, Master Dwarf,"
Elrond said kindly. "I am sure I will be most comfortable."�
"May ye be then."
The dwarf gave an awkward little bow. "If ye need anything just
pull that cord up there," he pointed to a tasseled red cord next
to the bed, "an' someone'll be 'ere to see to ye."�
Elrond nodded. "Thank
you, but I am quite used to tending to my own needs. I shall not call."�
"Suit yerself," Gimli
said, and he turned and stumped out.�
Elrond sat on the edge of the
bed and sighed. It was going to be a long night indeed.�
******************�
Later that evening, Elrond
heard a knock on his door and opened it to see a young slave standing
there.�
"The master requests your
presence at dinner," he said.�
"Tell your master I accept,"
Elrond replied.�
He began to close the door
and the dwarf said desperately, "Excuse me, sir!"�
"Yes?" Elrond said.�
"I� excuse me, sir,
but the master means now."�
"I will be along momentarily,"
Elrond assured him with a smile, and began to close the door again.�
"Please, sir!" the
youngster begged, putting a hand upon the door. Through the mass of
hair and braids covering the dwarf's face Elrond could see the look
of terror in his brown eyes. "I'm to show you the way."�
Elrond felt his ire rise once
again but he didn't show his frustration to the unfortunate young dwarf.
Instead, he nodded his assent and followed the slave to the dining hall.
He was shown to his place, well down from the king's table, and he sat
taking in the large room, decorated with woodland flowers and greenery
which looked as stifled by the gloom of the torchlight as he felt. His
appetite was gone long before the food arrived, dulled by the sight
of slaves bustling around, serving and glancing nervously toward the
king as though expecting punishment with their every move. �
A serving slave placed a plate
before Elrond and when drawing back his hand snagged the saltcellar
with his sleeve, pulling it off the table. Elrond caught it deftly but
not before the Elf at his side noticed the indiscretion. The Elf seized
the dwarf by his beard and shoved him against the table right next to
Elrond, making the plates rattle all the way down the board. The other
slaves moved a bit quicker about their tasks, surreptitiously increasing
the noise level in the hall while pointedly ignoring Elrond's table
so the king would not take notice of the commotion. �
"Seven lashes, Drengr,
you clumsy oaf! Report to the kitchens at once, I will check later to
make sure you did not talk the kitchens master into going easy on you."�
"Please, it was only an
accident," Elrond said, "the salt did not even spill."
He set the saltcellar back on the table to show the Elf it had not come
to harm.�
The Elf glared at him for a
few seconds, deciding whether to insult a guest or allow the dwarf to
escape punishment. When Elrond stared at him with a sternly raised eyebrow
he released the frightened dwarf, throwing up his hands in disgust.
"It seems you have a benefactor, dwarf," he growled. "Now
make yourself scarce before I change my mind." He boxed the slave's
ears and shoved him away from the table, turning back to his meal. The
Elf glanced belligerently at Elrond and pitched in, ripping apart a
small game fowl and shoveling it into his mouth, the juices dripping
down his chin.�
"You're a fool for sparing
a slave," the Elf said around a mouthful of bird, "He probably
spat in your wine before he served it. Nasty little buggers, the lot
of them."�
His indignation at the boorish
Wood-Elf growing, Elrond snapped, "When you hold a man in bondage,
he is forced to fight with whatever means is available to him."�
The Elf stared at him, his
mouth half open, the wing of the fowl dangling from his greasy fingers.
When he finally spoke, his tone carried a dangerous edge. "They
are not men, they are beasts. We do them a service by keeping them alive
and allowing them to be useful. We could have exterminated them but
we were merciful - as you were not to our king at the Dagorlad."�
It was with effort that Elrond
managed to hold his tongue in the face of this latest insult, the most
offensive yet. He only managed to restrain his temper by reminding himself
that this wound was older than Mirkwood's present king and would not
be resolved at supper with a surly, half drunk Sinda.�
He picked at his food as course
after course was placed in front of him. The feast was so ostentatious
that Elrond began to wonder if Legolas was not attempting to impress
him with the bounty. Then Legolas' voice lifted above the conversation,
mocking and caustic, "What is the matter, Master Elrond? Is our
fare not grand enough for your elegant tastes? Perhaps roast swan and
hummingbird tongues would be more to your liking."�
A smattering of snickers and
titters rippled through the hall at the king's words and Elrond cringed
inwardly.�
"In truth, your Majesty
your fare is much richer than that to which I am accustomed, though
I thank you for your attention to my comfort," Elrond replied.�
"Ah yes, the legendary
humility of the Lord of Imladris; he who takes in the outcasts and strays
of Middle Earth and gives them succor. Tell me then, Elrond, have any
of those to whom you have provided aid and sanctuary ever returned your
generosity?"�
"In many ways have they
done so, though probably not in the manner you would suggest."�
Legolas laughed heartily. "I
thought as much. When you deal with the Strangers you must always check
your purse afterward. They are infinite only in their devotion to power
and the advantages it affords."�
Elrond had to bite his tongue
to keep from pointing out that the Edain had nothing on Legolas when
it came to a lust for power. Instead he said, "There may yet come
a day when it will take our combined strengths to ensure the survival
of all."�
Legolas snorted. "When
the time comes I am sure the Aftercomers and Hobbits will march swiftly
to your defense." Before Elrond could reply, Legolas turned to
his advisor and made a comment Elrond could not hear. The show obviously
over, the room once again filled with the din of many voices.�
When the dessert wine was served,
a group of jugglers and tumblers sprang into the hall and the evening's
entertainment began. Elrond stayed only as long as it took him to finish
his wine, which he felt the sudden need to consume in three swift swallows,
and then excused himself and retired to his rooms. Legolas gave him
leave to go, not sparing him a second look as the minstrel struck up
a merry tune.�
Elrond found his way back to
his rooms and took off his robes, falling into bed in his underclothes,
his head buzzing from an excess of wine and a surfeit of food. He fell
into a light doze, awaking with a start some hours later, briefly disoriented.
He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment to get his bearings and then
went to the basin, splashing a little water on his face to clear his
head. His stomach rumbled in hunger and he looked at the red cord beside
his bed, considering whether to summon a servant to bring him something
from the kitchens. He discarded the idea at once. Not only did he not
want to trouble the slaves, he also did not want the king to know he
was seeking food after the lavish feast he had just attended.�
Thinking to slip quietly to
the kitchens and grab a crust of bread and cup of water, Elrond threw
on his under tunic and left his rooms. The halls were blessedly empty
and Elrond hoped that, after their revels, the Wood-Elves would all
be abed or at least safely ensconced in their rooms. Though he did not
know where the kitchens were located, he navigated the honeycomb of
tunnels unerringly, basing his best guess of the location on its proximity
to the dining hall. He reached his goal and eased past the kitchen dwarves
who were snoring loudly, sleeping close to the continually stoked hearth
for warmth. �
A half loaf of bread and pot
of honey called to him and Elrond helped himself, savoring the sweetness
of the woodland honey on a chunk of half-stale bread. This feast was
more to his liking than what the king's table had offered and Elrond
sighed happily, his stomach settling to normal at last. Elrond washed
down the snack with a dipper of water from the barrel beside the door
then started back to his rooms.�
Not wanting to be caught wandering
the palace unescorted, Elrond slipped down a hallway when he heard a
guard coming and found himself in the royal wing. He could tell this
from the finely crafted stonework, the style completely unlike that
of any other hall in the palace he had yet seen. The dwarves had outdone
themselves with the simple geometric elegance of the polished granite
blocks, and the hall was lit, not by the dismal torches, but by a soft
light that emanated from white gems set into the walls at regular intervals.�
Fascinated by the workmanship,
Elrond wandered down the hall admiringly, forgetting that he was trespassing
in the king's private area. As he neared a door at the end of the hall,
he heard a shout of pain, followed by a low, anguished moan. Fearing
the king was ill or in danger, and seeing no guards about, Elrond flung
open the door, freezing in midstep at the sight that greeted him.�
Upon the bed lay Galion, the
king's seneschal, naked, his dark hair spilling over the pillow, his
hands twisted in the beard of the dwarf that sat atop him. The dwarf
slave was naked as well, the russet hairs covering his body gleaming
with sweat in the candlelight. The dwarf was riding the Elf's swollen
member, grunting softly, as his own member, fully as thick as Elrond's
wrist and topped with a fist-sized head, throbbed achingly above Galion's
heaving belly. As Elrond looked on in mesmerized horror, unnoticed by
the randy Elves, Legolas crawled upon the bed on his knees and began
to push his gleaming arousal into the Dwarf's already occupied passage.
Elrond could see the Dwarf's eyes well with tears from the pain and
hear his pitiful groaning. But despite his obvious distress, the Dwarf's
turgid member remained hard as stone and dribbled a steady flow of prerelease
onto the Elf below. �
As the two Elves took the unfortunate
slave, Galion yanked the Dwarf's beard, bringing his lips down for a
brutal, biting kiss. Blood trickled from the corner of the Dwarf's mouth
and his eyes closed tightly as though trying to shut out the indignity
of the Elf's attentions. Legolas picked up a sash from the bed and looped
it around the Dwarf's neck, pulling it ever tighter as their movements
rose to a fever pitch. With a shout, Legolas came, his spent arousal
forcibly ejected from the Dwarf's slick passage. Galion came next, his
hands so thickly entangled in the Dwarf's beard that clumps of hair
filled his hands as they were ripped from their owner. The Dwarf, meanwhile,
half strangled by the sash cutting into his neck, his eyes rolling back
in his head as he neared unconsciousness, released a truly impressive
torrent of seed onto Galion's torso. Legolas loosened his hold on the
sash, allowing the Dwarf to gasp in a lungful of air as he collapsed
upon the shuddering seneschal. Galion pushed the Dwarf off him in annoyance
and the little man lay on his back on the bed, his swollen member as
hard as before his orgasm and pointing to Legolas, almost as an accusation.
The king, with a malicious gleam in his eye, leaned over to lick and
suck the head of the Dwarf's enormous penis, making the slave cry out
in over-stimulated anguish as he thrashed upon the bed, covering his
face with his rough hands even as another, weaker, stream of seed erupted
from him.�
Elrond could now see that the
Dwarf's shaft was tied tightly at its base with a thong of leather that
bit cruelly into his sensitive flesh. When Legolas relented at last,
releasing the Dwarf's member, he also tugged loose the knot of the thong,
releasing his tortured penis, which quickly went limp. The Dwarf, who
Elrond now recognized as the one Legolas had called Gimli, lay panting
on the bed until Galion rudely ordered him to "clean up your mess".
Gimli moved to obey, his eyes filling with horror and shame as he glimpsed
Elrond standing in the doorway. The two Elves turned in the direction
Gimli was staring and Galion flushed with embarrassment. He pulled the
sheet up to cover himself, shaking the hair from his fingers, but Legolas'
gaze was unabashed and amused as he moved to the door to greet his unexpected
guest.�
"Ah, Elrond, come in.
I did not expect you to drop by for a nightcap but as you are only half
dressed, perhaps you would like to join our little party. The Dwarf
is good for another round or two, if you don't mind Sindarin seconds."�
Elrond, coming out of his trance
at last, stunned into silence and feeling exposed and suddenly ill,
bolted from the room, Legolas' harsh laughter following hard behind
him.�
He stumbled through the corridors
and, coming upon a privy, emptied his stomach into the nearest hole,
his mind swirling, his knees weak. He wiped his mouth with the back
of his hand and groaned. Straightening up and pulling his tunic down
as low as it would reach, he hurried back to his rooms. When he closed
the door at last, he put a chair beneath the knob to keep any from entering
and collapsed onto the bed, shaking, completely unnerved by what he
had just witnessed. Did the depravity of these Elves have no limits?�
As day dawned, Elrond rose
from his bed fully dressed, having donned his robes hours ago. He opened
the door and strode purposefully down the hall, hoping to get back to
his men unnoticed, when one of the king's guard caught up with him.�
"Where are you going,
Master Elrond?" he asked.�
"I am going to breakfast
with my men. Tell the king as soon as his count is done, we will be
leaving," Elrond replied.�
"The king wishes to see
you in his chambers before you leave," the guard said, "If
you please, follow me."�
Elrond's stomach flipped over
again, but he trailed the guard back to Legolas' rooms, entering when
the door was opened for him. Legolas was standing before the mirror,
braiding his hair, and he turned as Elrond came in.�
"Thank you for coming,
Master Elrond. Please, have a seat."�
"I thank you, but I prefer
to stand," Elrond said.�
Legolas looked at him sharply
then sighed. "Yes, I feared I had left you with a bad impression
last night. That is why I called you here. The count is complete and
you may leave when you will, but I wanted you to know that what you
thought you saw last night is not how things are here. The dwarf is
one of my personal pleasure slaves. He was not being treated in any
way other than he wished."�
"Forgive me, but that
is not how it looked," Elrond said, his eyebrow raised skeptically.�
"You may believe what
you will, but the dwarf volunteered to play the role of my toy. He enjoys
the humiliation, thrives on it. It is one of the reasons he is kept
in chains. I do not know what your lore says about their sexual habits,
but if you believe any of what you saw was done against his will, then
your knowledge of Dwarves is incomplete."�
"Very well," Elrond
said, wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible. "I
accept your explanation. I am not unaware of the� preferences of Mortals.
I apologize to you as well for intruding upon your private time. I became
lost, heard the noise and thought you might be in distress. Forgive
me for overstepping my bounds as guest."�
"No harm has been done.
You have dealt with us fairly and I would not have this incident sour
our trade. I have included another two hundred weight to your metals,
and four slaves will I loan you as well to help with the forging. Just
send them back to me when you have finished with them. Though we may
not be parting as friends, I hope we may continue our trade to our mutual
benefit."�
Elrond gave a slight bow, "We
shall. And now, with your permission, I shall take my leave of the Greenwood."�
Legolas nodded, "Indeed.
Safe journey to you and your men, Lord Elrond."�
Elrond was escorted out of
the stronghold to the camp where his men awaited him. The wagons were
already loaded and ready to go but Erestor was arguing with the Sindar
about the four Dwarf slaves lined up, shackled, awaiting their fate.�
"We will not have slaves
in Imladris," Erestor was saying as Elrond approached.�
"The King himself has
given your lord the service of these slaves and you must accept,"
the Wood-Elf said belligerently.�
Elrond laid a calming hand
on Erestor's shoulder. "I have accepted your king's offer. We will
take your workers with us," Elrond said, giving Erestor a look
that told him all would be explained later.�
The party set out, guards front
and rear, the slaves struggling along in their chains behind the wagons.
When they were well away, Elrond had the Elves help the slaves into
the wagons and they continued on. They had almost reached the borders
of the Greenwood when a contingent of the king's men came riding up,
weapons drawn.�
"Our king shows you his
hospitality and you repay him by stealing one of his slaves!" the
leader shouted. "Give him up or fight, Noldorin dogs!"�
Elrond looked stunned, glancing
at the slaves who were shifting nervously upon the wagon. "There
are none here but those the king commanded we take," Elrond said.
"You may search the wagons if you wish."�
Baffled by Elrond's equanimity
and seeming lack of pretense the Elves sheathed their weapons and made
their search. Finding no contraband the leader apologized to Elrond.
"The slave called Gimli has gone missing. He must have used your
departure to make his escape. We are sorry for the inconvenience." �
The warriors rode off and Elrond
looked at Erestor then down at Vilya, which was glowing brightly. �
"We must make haste."�
******************�
As soon as they had gotten
beyond the Greenwood and onto the plain, Elrond had the company halt.
He bade Erestor take the other dwarves away from the wagons and then
called out softly. �
"Gimli, come forth. This
is Master Elrond and you are safe. I swear it."�
A long moment passed, so long
that Elrond thought he must be wrong that the dwarf was with them. But
finally Gimli edged out from under the wagon, casting frightened looks
all around as though expecting to be beaten and dragged back to the
palace. When he saw no one but Elrond, he came to him slowly, the chains
at his ankles rattling as he walked.�
"My Lord, forgive me for
puttin' ye into danger. I� I couldn't�" he trailed off, looking
down at his hands. "I'm askin' ye not to send me back, but if ye
will, I understand that too."�
"No, Gimli, I would not
send you back, not after�" Elrond hesitated, not knowing how
to say what they both knew he meant.�
"Thank ye, lord,"
Gimli said. "I'll work 'ard, I will, ye won't be sorry."�
"Let us discuss that later,"
Elrond said, laying a kind hand on Gimli's shoulder, which he quickly
removed when the dwarf flinched away. "Forgive me, Gimli. I should
not have touched you without your permission. It will not happen again.
Right now just know that you are no longer a slave. You may take refuge
in the Last Homely House until you decide what you want to do."�
"I'm in yer debt, my lord,"
Gimli said with a bow.�
The Elves made their way back
to Imladris swiftly, barely stopping for remainder of the long journey.
Other than being exhausted by the time they arrived, the party was in
generally good spirits and the Dwarf slaves more relaxed and open than
they had ever been in their lives. Shortly after his talk with Gimli,
Elrond had the slaves' chains removed and told them all they were free
and could remain in Imladris as long as they wished. He also told them
they would be given work if they desired, and they shouted with joy
and told Elrond they would be pleased to put their skills to use in
their new home.�
Shortly after they arrived
and were assigned their rooms, Gimli asked to speak to Elrond. The Dwarf
was shown to Elrond's study and he came in and sat down, hesitating
until the Peredhel asked how he could help him.�
"I'm not good with words,
my lord. In fact, I don't 'ave much in the way of skills to offer your
realm."�
Elrond wondered what the Dwarf
was saying. "Do not trouble yourself, Gimli. There is much that
needs to be done besides the working of metals. I am sure we can find
some task to your liking."�
"Begging yer pardon, my
lord, but there is only thing I've been told I've a talent for 'an I'm
not sure 'ow yer kind� if ye� What ye saw, with the king and all,
that's all I'm good for."�
Elrond was stunned. "Oh,
Gimli, you do not have to do that anymore. No one should be degraded
in such a heinous manner."�
"Did the king tell ye
that I� asked for the job?"�
Elrond's eyes grew wide. "Are
you telling me you�?"�
"Ye can send me away if
ye want," Gimli said quickly, his eyes filling with tears, "but
I won't deny it. I asked 'im if 'e would� use me that way. At first
it was to spare my friends, for the Elves were makin' 'em do all kinds
of� ye know, but when they started gettin' rough, I� It got to be
somethin' more after that."�
"And why are you telling
me this?" Elrond asked gently.�
The bit of Gimli's face Elrond
could see through all his hair went suddenly bright red. "I just
thought ye should know, my lord." Gimli said, hanging his head.�
"Thank you for your candor,
Master Dwarf," Elrond said calmly. "I shall take your offer
under consideration. But in the meantime, I think we can find other
duties more suitable to a free man."�
"Yes, my lord," Gimli
said. He bowed and left.�
Elrond put down his pen and
leaned back in his chair, lost in thought.�
As the weeks went by the dwarves
settled in better than expected. They worked hard and made friends among
the Elves who treated them as brothers. Evenings in the Hall of Fire
became a bit more raucous, but no less merry, with the new additions.
All were happy save for Gimli who remained withdrawn and taciturn. Elrond
had tasked the dwarf with the job of messenger for the time being, giving
him the opportunity to learn his way around and to become known among
those dwelling within the Last Homely House. Still, he did not know
what to do about Gimli's� unusual situation, for the Elves in the
valley were not given to the desires of the flesh to which Mortals,
and some half-elves, were prone.�
And all the while, Elrond could
not get out of his mind the sight of the dwarf's formidable member,
his sweaty, hairy body, his musky scent. He tried to shake off the thought
of what it would be like to have that cudgel imbedded deep within him,
telling himself that to take advantage of Gimli in that way would be
as base a thing as Legolas had done. Could it be true, he wondered,
that the dwarf truly enjoyed the pain and humiliation visited upon him
by the Elven-king? And if it were true, would he not be granting him
a boon by allowing him to act on his desires, making him more comfortable
in his new home?�
Finally, Elrond could stand
it no longer. He could see Gimli was not happy and he regretted taking
away from him the one aspect of his slavery that had made his life among
the Wood-Elves bearable. Elrond called Erestor into his study to ask
his advice and broached the subject with him.�
"It goes against every
taboo of our culture to degrade another in this way, yet can it be considered
degradation if the desire is there? Elrond asked.�
"But when one has no choice,
can a desire be said to be that of the heart?" Erestor replied.
"Gimli was born to his fate. He had to make choices in order to
survive. That his body was trained to respond to those choices does
not make them any less valid but neither does it make them true."�
Elrond pondered Erestor's words.
"You are right, of course, my friend. Yet my heart tells me that
for Gimli's spirit to heal it may take moving beyond our customs to
bring him into a place where he feels safe to make a choice."�
Erestor nodded. "In healing
others, we often are able to heal ourselves as well. In matters such
as these the heart is often wiser than the head." he smiled. �
That night, as Elrond was leaving
the Hall of Fire he chanced to meet Gimli who was running a message
to Glorfindel. Elrond stayed him and looked deeply into his eyes.�
"When you have delivered
your message, come to my rooms," he said. "Be discreet."�
"Yes, my lord," Gimli
said, his eyes lighting with anticipation for the first time since he
had come to Imladris.�
When Gimli arrived, he found
Elrond, stripped to the waist, looking at him sternly but with a calm
that put him at ease. He immediately took his position, standing with
his head bowed respectfully.�
"Master Elrond,"
he said softly.�
"Master Dwarf," Elrond
replied. "You were late bringing me my messages this morning. I
feel punishment is in order. What do you think?"�
"I think ye be right,
master. Forgive me," Gimli said.�
"I shall, as soon as you
have properly made amends," Elrond replied, now strip!"�
Gimli hastened to comply, his
hands shaking a bit as he undid his laces and shrugged off his clothes.
When he was naked, Elrond was again struck by the stout, hirsute body
and growing arousal. He felt his leggings grow tight as he pushed Gimli
roughly, but not cruelly, against a table, forcing the Dwarf to grasp
the sides with his hands. Gimli leaned over and spread his legs, making
his sensitive areas accessible for punishment and Elrond fetched a rod
from inside his wardrobe. He looked at the instrument of discipline
for a moment, remembering the last time he had used it on a naughty
twin. Why he had not destroyed it had never occurred to him before but
now he thought it was because a part of him had hoped a moment like
this might come his way.�
He slashed the air with the
rod, making a whistling sound and Gimli jumped slightly but did not
turn. Elrond could see the sweat was starting to break out upon the
dwarf's scarred back and the musk that rose from him made Elrond's head
spin. He raised the rod, intending to strike, but then paused and reached
out with a gentle hand to stroke down the dwarf's sturdy, muscular back.
Now Gimli turned his head and he could see the fascination in Elrond's
eyes, feel the softness of the touch as the Elf's fingers trailed through
the fine hairs on his back. He turned to face the table again, breathing
deeply as his arousal swelled. When Elrond's fingers left him, Gimli
steeled himself and the rod bit deeply into his buttocks. He gave a
small cry and Elrond halted his second strike in mid-swing.�
"Are you well, Gimli?"
he asked, concerned.�
"Yes, lord," Gimli
said sheepishly. "He always liked it when I made noises like I
was in pain."�
Elrond suppressed a laugh,
not wanting to break the moment. "If you wish, you may vocalize
your pain, but it will not affect my pleasure one way or another."�
Gimli nodded and Elrond slashed
him with the rod again, raising a deep, angry welt just below the first.
Gimli moaned and this time the sound was unmistakably one of wanton
lust. Encouraged, Elrond laid seven lashes, mindful of his strength
and the level of damage the instrument was causing the dwarf. He had
never struck his own children with anything like this force, but Gimli
absorbed it avidly, his moans of pleasure growing with every stroke.�
Elrond halted the punishment
and told Gimli to turn around. He saw immediately that his work had
been successful. Gimli was fully aroused, a pearly thread of prerelease
suspended like a spider web from the flared head growing steadily longer
before breaking off and dropping to the floor. Elrond took Gimli in
his arms and held him close, rubbing his back soothingly.�
"You took your punishment
well and I am proud of you," he whispered softly. He felt his belly
and the front of his leggings grow wet as the tears coursed into Gimli's
thick beard. Elrond stroked Gimli's back and gingerly traced the welts
he had put upon the dwarf's buttocks. Vaguely he became aware that his
legging laces were being undone, freeing his own wet hardness to the
air. He gasped as he felt the hot mouth envelop him, his fingers digging
into Gimli's shoulders as he fought to control the rush of pleasure
that raced through his groin. Elrond soon fell into an easy rhythm with
the tongue that caressed him so eagerly, until he was forced to pull
Gimli away to keep the dwarf from completing him.�
"Not like this, Master
Dwarf, if you please," Elrond gasped.�
Gimli started to turn away,
to give Elrond the access he assumed he wanted but Elrond stopped him
and tilted Gimli's head up gazing at him questioningly. "Have you
ever taken an Elf?" he asked. �
He was certain Gimli was on
the verge of fainting as the dwarf replied. "Never, my lord. It
was not allowed, it would never be."�
"Did you ever wonder what
it would be like?" Elrond asked.�
"Every time," Gimli
replied, a growing expectancy in his eyes.�
"Then take me now,"
Elrond said, "for I wish for my hroa to be as filled with you as
is my fea."�
Gimli understood on a level
he had never tapped into before the significance of what Elrond was
asking of him. The knowledge fueled his need in a way that only physical
pain and humiliation had been able to do before. Elrond lay on the bed
and Gimli knelt before him, sliding the Elven Lord's buttocks well up
on his knees and using the prerelease that flowed copiously from him
to prepare his arousal. He eased into Elrond, looking into his pale
eyes to gauge his comfort as he deepened his entry. Elrond gasped and
shuddered beneath him but urged him on with small words of assent and
entreaties until the wholeness of the dwarf was ensconced fully within
him. Gimli moved slowly, picking up speed stroke by stroke as Elrond
clung to him with helpless fervor. With a final roaring plunge, Gimli
spent himself into the prostrate Elf and Elrond, driven over the edge
by the dwarf's unrestrained pleasure, followed him into the abyss of
ecstasy.�
They ended up in a tangle,
long arms and legs twined with short ones as they panted their way back
to consciousness. Gimli gazed at Elrond with an expression so pure,
so full of earnest appreciation that Elrond knew he had made the right
decision for them both. Years of bitter slavery and soul-marring grief
washed away as they lay in the sanctuary of each other's arms. �
Where would their path now
lead? Not even the wisest could tell. And Elrond, with his ring of power
and gift of foresight thankfully silent on the matter, was grateful
for the obliviousness that surrounded the question, allowing them to
discover the path ahead together through the healing odyssey of time.�
�
The End