Imladris Confidential

Imladris Confidential

Being at once the One True and Unabridged Story of the Council of Elrond

Posted: June 16, 2006
Title: Imladris Confidential
Author: Ennorwen
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel, Elladan/Elrohir, Aragorn/Boromir/Legolas, Elrond/Galdor, Frodo/Sam, Merry/Pippin (the last two offstage, as it were)
Rating: Hard R
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Tolkien and alas to his heirs who don't like to share. I have borrowed them anyway but unlike them don't make cent off of it.
Warnings: A little less than Explicit Sex, Twincest, Clichés, and over-used metaphors
Beta: Rozzan
Dedication: For Fim and Agie
Author's Notes: Written for the LJ 50passages challenge, quote #3: "I suppose you feel that everything has gone off splendidly and according to plan." Combination book and movieverse. Inspired by a comment from Fimbrethiel on an LJ thread which was seconded by Aglarien. Direct quotes and paraphrases from either book or movie are in italics or between asterisks in plain text. Words between two **asterisks** are mindspeak and is only used between the Peredhel.

Summary: The Council of Elrond as can only be seen in an inspired imagination. Totally irreverent, totally smutty, AU, etc. etc.

*****

The sound of a clanging bell resonated throughout the Last Homely House calling together one of the most singular assemblages ever seen in Imladris. Elrond welcomed them, looking every inch the Elf-lord, adorned in regal purple robes, a mithril circlet crowning his expressive brow.

"*Strangers from distant lands," he began, "You have come and are here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fail. Each race is bound to this fate - this one doom.*"

At the utterance of the word doom, Elrohir shifted inconspicuously in his seat. Long searching fingers had insinuated themselves under his robe and left thigh, inching ever closer to their intended target. For the first time in recent memory, he was glad that he wore the voluminous formal robe, which hid both the seeking hand and the inevitable result of it.

He turned slightly to his left and regarded his brother, who briefly raised one eyebrow in imitation of his father. He felt Elladan's mind brush his.

**One doom and one eyebrow. So far** spoke Elladan as his fingers tickled the underside of Elrohir's left haunch.

Drawing in a deep breath, but sitting still, Elrohir looked farther left to where Aragorn sat, on the other side of Elladan. He watched as his foster-brother trained his eyes on the elf across from him. The look was unmistakably predatory. And with good reason. For there sat Legolas, all wrapped up in a dun-colored cloak looking for all the world as an untried elfing - a gift ready to be opened.

The wood-elf stared at the man and licked his lips. Aragorn squirmed as he moved to better accommodate the new tightness in his breeches. As he did so, the angle of the sword hilt of Narsil changed and now tilted outward, slightly raised and pointed directly at the elf-prince across from him.

Sitting directly to Aragorn's left was Erestor, Elrond's Chief Counsellor, stoic in these situations, but with a gleam in his eye nonetheless. He gazed at the elf that sat to Legolas' left, the great Golden Warrior, who leered back at him in equal measure. Both were relishing this council, for ever did they savor the intensity of the inescapable thrust and parry between them that was a part of any meeting where both were in attendance. Both bided their time, but Glorfindel's hand smoothed over his right thigh in ever quickening strokes and the darkling advisor found himself mirroring his motions, ruby lips parted, holding back the sigh that nearly escaped him.

Elrond, aware of the simmering undercurrent unfolding around him, continued gamely, telling the tale of the One Ring and of its recovery at the Battle of the Last Alliance. He told of the battle, of the sword of Elendil and the spear of the Noldor King.

"The spear of Gil-galad," he repeated idly.

As he spoke of Gil-galad his voice became dreamlike and far away and he closed his eyes for a moment, touching his lips with his fingers.

Galdor, sitting to Elrohir's right, nearly swooned at the gesture. He stared with unabashed longing at the regal Elf-lord, tongue circling his mouth, hands fluttering on his lap. Parting his legs slightly, he sat back farther in his chair, but all the while his hands kept moving.

Elrond reached the end of the tale with the inevitable utterance, once again, of the story of Isildur at the fiery mountain.

"...Mount Doom."

**That is two** whispered Elladan.

**Arghh. WHY does he do that?** asked Elrohir of his brother as he felt the fingers under his left thigh squeeze together.

**Do what?** inquired Elladan innocently.

**Why can he not call it Orodruin like any other good elf?"

Elladan responded by inching his hand a little further, answering,

**Because he likes to say DOOM**

And with that he brought his fingers together in a vise-like grip on his brother's sinewy thigh.

Elrohir clenched his hips, and inhaled a deep breath. He started for a moment, and opened his mouth to gasp, but quickly closed it again.

Smirking at his brother, Elladan turned to his left and caught Aragorn's eye for a moment. He directed it with a slight nod of the head to the man from Gondor, sitting to Galdor's immediate right. Aragorn curved the edges of his lips into a half-smile, and with a questioning shrug of his shoulders and a subtle shift of his eyes called the man to Legolas' attention.

Boromir had been silent thus far, at once awed and guarded at the gathering before him. Never had he met elves and the Halflings were something out of a dream to him. He sat, silent as stone, in his finely-wrought though travel stained clothing. *On a baldric he wore a great horn tipped with silver that now was laid upon his knees.* But as he looked from one to another, his fingers idly played over it, and sometimes his palm would enclose it and stroke it - up and down, up and down.

Now the dwarves, Glóin and Gimli, were blissfully unaware of the smoldering atmosphere surrounding the council, but Frodo, sitting to Bilbo's right, was not. Watching with ever widened eyes, he had missed nothing and unconsciously reached out his right hand, seeking the familiar calloused palm of his dear Sam. Gandalf, at Frodo's right, felt the hand approach him and discerning Frodo's thought, shook his head. Suddenly he stood, bringing Frodo out of his reverie with a well-aimed directive.

"*Frodo, bring forth the ring.*"

Startled, Frodo stood up and smoothed the suede vest from his ribs downward trying in vain to settle his quivering thighs. He walked to the pedestal that had been placed in the center and reluctantly let the Ring drop from his fingers. All eyes were riveted on him for a moment and he reddened, hoping that none had seen the near imperceptible thickening between his legs. Glad that his part had been played, he turned and quickly moved back to his seat.

Silent no more, Boromir stood, the horn hanging at his groin from a long rope that encircled his neck. He walked forward and reached out to touch the Ring, voice filled with wonder.

"*So, it is true. I dreamt of it. Seek for the sword that was broken..,*" he began.

Yes, Legolas thought, shooting a glance toward Aragorn. He will show you the sword, but I can assure you that in no way is the man's sword broken.

As if to prove it, the hilt of Narsil moved when Aragorn perceived Legolas' thought and now stood straight up, bisecting the man's thighs as he leaned forward in his chair.

Legolas smirked.

Boromir continued, "*In the dream, I saw the Eastern side grow dark, but in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: Your doom is near at hand.*"

This time, Elrohir did let out an audible, though quiet, groan.

**Now he is even saying it.**

**Indeed he did** said Elladan. And with that his probing fingers found their target at last, coming up from underneath Elrohir's thigh and cupping the moist pouch between his brother's legs.

Elrohir sat straight up, and that caught his father's eye. Elrond shot a castigating look at his son and raised the ever familiar eyebrow to ensure his disapproval was understood.

Elrohir just closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he anticipated and then felt the inevitable squeezing of his thin-skinned and over-sensitive sacs.

Elladan bit his lower lip and merely glanced at his brother. Pleased with the reaction of his twin, his fingers began to slowly close over the pouch once more.

Squirming in his seat, Elrohir narrowed a thought to his brother,

**Ai, 'Dan, nobody said anything that time!**

**Ah, but dear brother, it is doomed to happen again. See? It just did!**

Elrohir braced himself, but could not check the "Ai!" that erupted from his lips.

All eyes turned to him for a moment, but Gandalf, saving the day once again, stood forth, hands raised and staff held high in the air.

"*Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk agh burzum-ishi-krimpatul,*" he thundered.

Boromir stood stalk still, hand poised over the ring, the horn of Gondor twisted so it now rested firmly at mid crotch, the larger open end cupping the man's groin. It jutted and arched upward, compelling all in attendance to stare, temporarily mesmerized by the sheer sight of it.

Glorfindel stood, deciding at that moment to stay Boromir's hand. Mighty he looked, clad in the blues and golds of Gondolin, and he drew himself up to full height, sinewy ripples of muscle pulling at the cloth of his tunic. Head up, the magnificent glowing halo of hair surrounding his face, he glowered at the man.

Erestor, already roused, stared at the seneschal, mouth agape, and eyes wide. The angle from which he viewed the golden warrior superimposed the protruding horn at just the right place. His dark eyelashes fluttered, then closed and he swallowed the moan that had come up from his depths.

Elrond checked Glorfindel's advance with a turn of his wrist and the seneschal stood down, but before turning around to retake his seat, he flashed a smug smile and a wink at the spellbound advisor.

Turning to the wizard, Elrond spoke in his most stern and imposing voice,

"*Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris.*"

Boromir dropped his hand and turned to the Elf-lord.

"*The Ring! The Halfling from my dream. Is then the doom of Minas Tirith come at last?*"

"*The words were not the doom of Minas Tirith," said Aragorn, turning to face the Gondorian. "But doom and great deeds are indeed at hand.*"

Elrohir just sighed.

**That is seven, eight, and nine.** responded Elladan, opening the hidden hand and drawing a finger backward.

Elrohir clenched. Elladan's finger circled. Elrohir relaxed. And sighed again.

Boromir continued, "*It is a gift! A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!*"

Aragorn stormily replied, "*You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master. You sought for the sword that was broken? Well, here it is!*"

Eyes flashing, Aragorn withdrew the hilt of Narsil from his belt. He thrust it at Boromir issuing an unspoken challenge.

Legolas sat forward in his chair, perceiving Aragorn's purpose. Yes, he thought, show him your sword. That is something that CAN be wielded and has been. With mastery.

"And what would you, a mere ranger, be doing with the shards of Narsil in your possession?"

As Aragorn resheathed the sword, Legolas arose, the warrior in him coming to the fore, not allowing such a challenge to go unanswered.

"*This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And heir to the throne of Gondor.*"

Dismissing the elf, Boromir eyed the ranger. Aragorn withstood his gaze, and then said,

"*Now that you have seen the sword that you have sought, what would you ask. Do you wish for the House of Elendil to return to the Land of Gondor?*"

"It just may be that ...*the Sword of Elendil would be a help beyond our hope if such a thing could indeed return of the shadows of the past,*" answered Boromir. Arms at his sides, he turned and removed himself to his chair.

"Friends," Elrond interrupted, "Now we have come ..."

**Not yet** said Elrohir.

**Not yet** agreed Elladan **Although any combination of three dooms and eyebrows will probably do it.**

Elrohir put all of his weight on the hand beneath his cheeks, but rather than Elladan pulling back as he had expected, it only served to embed the circling fingertip up to the first knuckle.

**Ai** muttered Elrohir. **That is it! You, my brother, need a taste of this yourself.**

Groping for Elladan's right thigh, Elrohir pulled up a side of Elladan's robe, baring his right buttock to the cold stone of the chair. Though he had insured that none could see from the front, the folds of the robe deftly draped, Elrohir relentlessly massaged and tickled the exposed globe. Finally, he elicited that which he sought when he heard his brother hiss under his breath.

Elrond continued, "*Here we all are, and here is the Ring. But we have not yet come any nearer to our purpose. What shall we do with it?*"

Erestor cocked his head, gave a sideways glance to Glorfindel, and began their game by answering, "*Elrond, have you not spoken of Iarwain Ben-adar or as the Shire-folk call him, Tom Bombadil? Could we not still send messages to him and obtain his help? It seems that he has a power even over the Ring.*"

Glorfindel, parrying Erestor's thrust and eyeing him all the while, spoke up, "*To send the Ring to him would only postpone the day of evil. He is far away. As I see it, two things only remain for us to attempt: to send it over the Sea, or to destroy it*."

"*They who dwell beyond the Sea would not receive it: for good or ill it belongs to Middle-earth; it is for us who still dwell here to deal with it*," said Elrond.

"*Then let us cast it into the deeps, and so make an end of it. In the Sea it would be safe*," replied Glorfindel smugly, shooting an exhilarated glance at the counsellor.

"*Not safe forever," said Gandalf, "The seas and lands may change. We should seek a final end of this menace; even we do not hope to make one.*"

Pleased that Glorfindel had at least not won the exchange, Erestor sat back in his chair imperiously, a self-satisfied smile upon his face. Glorfindel noted it, limning his mouth with his tongue. Erestor's peremptory smile melted into a small whimper that he could not help but let pass through his lips.

Galdor had barely paid attention to all that had been said, so transfixed had he been watching the great Elf-lord preside, but at the mention of the Sea, he returned to the present.

Joining the conversation, he added, "*My heart tells me (among other things, he thought) that Sauron will expect us to take the western way. Only the waning might of Gondor stands now between him and a march in power along the coasts into the North*."

"*Long yet will that march be delayed," said Boromir. "Gondor wanes, you say. But Gondor stands, and even the end of its strength is still very strong."

Legolas snickered. I wager that even at the end of it, Gondor will stand, he thought. Quite erectly. The sword of Elendil's heir will see to that. And I will relish watching it. Nay, even more, I shall assist Aragorn in ensuring that it is done. A deliberate look passed between the ranger and the wood-elf.

"*The men of Gondor are valiant, and they will never submit*...," continued Boromir.

So you say, Legolas mused, lip curling. Aragorn's hand moved to the sword hilt, and pushed it up between his thighs. Legolas understood the man's gesture and nodded.

"Well," said Boromir, "*Mayhap the Sword-that-was-broken may still stem the tide - if the hand that wields it has inherited not an heirloom only, but the sinews of the Kings of Men.*"

Oh Boromir, thought Aragorn, you do not know what you say. These sinews are more than up to the challenge. He winked at Legolas and answered the Gondorian.

"*Who can tell?" said the ranger, "But we will put it to the test this very day! I mean, one day.*"

"*May the day not be too long delayed," answered Boromir.

Oh, I do not think so, said Legolas' eager look. The day will not be long delayed at all. In fact...

Diffusing the situation, Elrond reiterated his prior thought.

"No, my friends. We cannot entrust this thing to Iarwain Ben-Adar..."

Glorfindel looked at Erestor and smiled triumphantly.

"Nor to the sea..."

Erestor pursed his lips and briefly stuck out his tongue at Glorfindel.

"None here can wield it..."

Aragorn and Legolas sat back smugly, arms crossed.

"And Galdor is right..."

Cirdan's envoy looked upon Elrond with unabashed awe.

"It cannot be safe in the Havens."

"It must be destroyed. And destroyed in the very place of its making. The fires of..."

**Do not say it!** begged Elrohir.

**Might as well** conceded Elladan, "You have me in the same predicament, dear brother**

" MOUNT DOOM"

The twins, in unison, issued forth a long, loud groan.

Elrond ignored his sons' outburst, but shifted his robes about his person. Modifying his stance, he cast a quick but leering look at the gaping envoy from the Havens. Gulping, he continued.

"*One of you must do this thing.*"

**Oh Valar, yes!** cried Elrohir, fully inserting his hand under his brother's flanks.

**We must!** answered Elladan, beginning to work his finger in and out.

"I will!" said the licentious glow in Glorfindel's eye as he looked at the darkling advisor.

"Please!" replied the counselor's voiceless lips, opening and closing.

"Ai!" said Legolas' hand, reaching for the top clasp of the dun-colored cloak.

"Yes!" said Aragorn's fingers, starting to tug the lacings at his waistband.

Galdor nearly slid out of his chair, and Boromir cupped the horn in his lap. Glóin and Gimli, still impervious, fingered their axes. Bilbo sat placidly, amused but unfazed.

Gandalf picked an imaginary speck off of his staff.

Frodo, now thoroughly frustrated, just wanted to end it.

"I will take the Ring. Though I do not know the way."

He stood and retrieved the Ring from its place on the pedestal.

Elrond let out a long breath.

Sam, who had been dropping eaves nearby, popped up from behind Frodo and grasped his hand.

"*Frodo is not goin' anywhere without me!*"

"Oh Sam," sighed Frodo, luminous blue eyes boring into those of his friend, "*You know I can't get, um, go off without you!*"

Merry and Pippin, never hobbits to miss a bit of excitement, emerged from their hiding place. Together they spoke,

"*Wait! We are coming too!*"

"At last!" said Elladan, this time out loud. He removed his hand from underneath Elrohir and shook it briefly to regain its lost circulation.

Elrohir took his hand back from his brother's haunch and the brothers simultaneously reached for the clasps on each other's robe. Not even bothering to slowly undo them, but ripping them asunder, both elves were quickly denuded and engaged in an impassioned kiss.

Glorfindel leered at Erestor. Erestor's burning gaze met the golden warrior's as he stood.

"To Iarwain," he said as he parted his robe, letting it drop to the ground and stalking toward the seneschal, swinging his hips and licking his lips.

"To the sea," replied Glorfindel. Quickly he removed the lacings from his leggings and wriggled out of them. He tore the tunic from his chest and threw it over his shoulder.

"To Iarwain," said Erestor, as he slid his legs over those of the Golden warrior and sat on his lap, undulating his hips against the hardened flesh between Glorfindel's thighs.

"To the sea," said Glorfindel. He wrapped his large hands into the long fall of obsidian hair and silenced the advisor by crushing Erestor's lips to his mouth.

Legolas' hand grasped at the pin holding his cloak closed and removed it. Slowly he began to unwind the cloth, a come hither look in his eyes as he stared at Aragorn.

The ranger, standing, undid the clasps on his long tunic and let it slide from his shoulders. Unbuckling his belt, he sidled toward the elf-prince. As they met, hands moved swiftly, undoing lacings and discarding clothing. Soon they too were bared to all, breathing wildly, limbs intertwined.

Legolas whispered into Aragorn's ear and both turned toward the Steward's son. Boromir had been rocking in his seat, hands rapidly plying the bulge between his legs.

"Would you have the scepter of your King, Boromir?" asked Legolas

Boromir stood and before he knew how he had gotten there found himself bent over the plinth, leggings to his knees, with Aragorn behind him, and Legolas at his mouth.

"Ai!" exclaimed Elrond, "I have not seen so many raised banners since the Last Alliance!"

Frodo and Sam smiled widely at one another, and joined together in an embrace. Preferring a little more privacy though, they slipped out of the meeting unmarked, Merry and Pippin, holding hands, close behind.

Standing, Gandalf fingered his staff and called to the three that were not otherwise engaged.

"Come Glóin and Gimli. Bilbo. Let us go to the kitchens and find some good ale and food."

As he ushered the trio towards the steps, he turned and looked at the Elf-lord of Imladris.

"Well," said Gandalf, "I suppose you think everything has gone off splendidly and according to plan."

But Elrond could only look up to the heavens, for Galdor had him backed into a pillar. His arms were raised and holding on for dear life as the sea-elf parted his robes and went down on his knees.

*****

THE END

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