Let stick around the King’s halls to observe the wacky goings on of the Thranduilions.

Chapter 7: Estel

this page added by Lexin (lexin@tiscali.co.uk)

Warning: Beginnings of BDSM. Likely to worsen (if there's any justice in the world).
Further warning: massively AU. If AU makes your head hurt, bail out now.

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At the end of the audience he was made to follow Orchaldir from the chamber and through more twists and turns of passageways. The room they finally reached was large, and well appointed, a sleeping chamber hung with tapestries of extraordinary beauty. It was therefore strange that on one side there was a cage. What sort of animal could be kept here?

He looked at the elf; Orchaldir he guessed to be somewhat older than Legolas, but it was difficult to tell with elves. He knew they were long lived, for the writings of Gondor said so, and so they could be any age. He was brought to himself by a slap across the face: "Do not stare," said Orchaldir. "Keep your eyes lowered."

"I do not have to follow your stupid rules," said Faramir.

"I think you will discover, man pet, that you do."

"Or you'll kill me?"

"Nothing so merciful. Man pets who prove untrainable by our methods, we sell to the dwarves. What they do with them to ensure their compliance I have never discovered, but in the halls of Erebor they feed naked from their masters' hands. Now..." he moved around Faramir.

He could not do this. Whatever they were expecting of him, he could not submit to it. He waited until Orchaldir was behind him, and then made a run for the door.

Orchaldir caught him by the collar of his tunic, which nearly choked him, and then kicked his feet out from under him. "One of those," he muttered.

With a strength surprising in one so slender, he picked Faramir up by his still-bound hands, and threw him on the bed, which turned out to be far harder than a bed had any right to be. Orchaldir was also heavier than he had any right to be: he held Faramir down by placing a knee in his stomach, and pulled at something at the head of the bed. Faramir struggled, but a few moments later Orchaldir had snapped metal shackles around Faramir's wrists, now held above his head, and clipped them to a short chain. Even after their fight, to Faramir's fury, Orchaldir wasn't even breathing heavily. Faramir swore at him, and received another blow to the face.

"Oh, Thranduil will enjoy you," Orchaldir smiled. He crossed the room, and returned with a knife. Faramir knew a moment of panic, but Orchaldir used this to cut the rope bindings off then said, "I'm afraid this is the last you'll see of these clothes." He inserted the tip of the knife in the collar of Faramir's tunic, and ripped it down, then moved to the wrists to cut them. Finally he was able to pull the tunic off, and dropped it on the floor. He lifted the knife again and reached for Faramir's shirt. When Faramir was naked, Orchaldir stood back. "Man pets," he sighed. "Always hair. Some like it, but not Thranduil."

He left Faramir alone for a few minutes, and then returned with a bowl from which steam was rising, a towel and something else that Faramir could not see at first but which turned out to be a razor.

Faramir tensed, but before he could do anything a man entered the chamber. He bowed to Orchaldir and said, "My Lord, I have a message for you from my Lady."

Orchaldir groaned, "What is it?"

"She asks to see you."

"Is it urgent?"

The man said, "I would not consider it so, but to my Lady her messages are always urgent."

"Very well." Orchaldir handed the bowl, towel and razor to the stranger. "Continue with the grooming of this one."

The stranger turned to Faramir, and he got his first really good look at him. He was tall, with long dark hair; he wore a long gauzy robe of dark blue which displayed his body rather than hiding it, and a dark blue collar. He looked well exercised, but was clearly not a swordsman.

He worked up a lather with the soap, and approached Faramir on the bed. He stopped, "I'm tired and I hurt; please don't kick me as I think you planned to kick Orchaldir." His voice was softer than Faramir would have expected, calm and quite cool. Faramir watched him minutely, and didn't relax. The man said, "I can assure you that if I hurt you it will be by accident and I will be punished for it."

"All right," said Faramir. This man was clearly a slave; there would be no revenge in harming him.

It was an odd feeling to have someone else shave him. The man started with his face; he was clearly accustomed to the work and moved with a sure deftness which allowed Faramir to relax. As soon as his mouth was free, he asked, "What's your name?"

The man looked a little surprised. "I warn you that it will displease Orchaldir if we are caught speaking." At Faramir's shrug, he said, "My name is Estel. I know that you are Faramir, the younger son of the Steward of Gondor and Prince Legolas's latest disastrous mistake."

"Where are you from?"

"Imladris. I am the man pet of Lord Elrond who is master there."

Faramir cringed within to hear someone describe himself so, but Estel did not seem perturbed by it. Faramir was also curious, "What are you doing here?"

Without smiling Estel managed nevertheless to convey amusement, "I've been stolen." He looked down at Faramir's expression, and his amusement deepened, "Lord Elrond's daughter brought me here."

"Go on, there is clearly more."

"Lord Elrond wishes his daughter, the Lady Arwen, to wed Prince Legolas. Do not move, Faramir, I have to do your armpit and it will tickle." Estel went on, "Much as she wishes to be married, she is unwilling to wed Legolas."

"Why?"

"She's met him. He is very beautiful, but as you discovered he has sand between his ears. Anyone else would have asked who you were before dragging you a thousand miles across open country..."

"He knew. Well, Dorlion told him."

Estel gave a soft snort, possibly indicative of laughter, "And Dorlion didn't think to ask you, either, and thus put the matter beyond dispute? Or maybe he did not wish to and would rather Legolas face his father's wrath. Well, I gather there never was any love lost between those two." He looked mildly sorry; "You don't need to be a seer to predict a severe whipping for Legolas before the day is very much older."

"You don't think he deserves it?"

"He wasn't alone, was he? Someone should have thought of asking, but as usual Legolas gets the blame. Besides, what is it supposed to achieve? If whipping gave anyone more brains I'd rival Aulë. Not that I've ever had to endure what Legolas does. Keep still, I'm going to move to your chest."

"What do you mean?"

Estel looked at Faramir, and Faramir saw his eyes were grey. He looked, he suddenly thought, far more like a typical man of Gondor than Faramir himself did. "I should not tell you," said Estel. He sighed then went on, "Most man pets do not know it, but there are rules about how we may be treated. They were set in the elder days by Lúthien; she owned a man pet called Beren, whom she nearly killed through not realising how fragile we are compared to the Eldar. Following those rules in letter and spirit is a matter of honour, and not doing so is unthinkable to most elves.

"Young elves, on the other hand, are theoretically under the absolute control of their parents until marriage, or until the parents release them. While under parental control, they must endure any punishment meted out. Needless to say, Legolas has not been released."

"And nor has Arwen?"

"Precisely. Having argued with her father over the matter of her marriage, my Lady thought it over and decided run off to Mirkwood to see if Legolas would be at all tolerable. Further to annoy Elrond, she took with her one of his most prized possessions: me. Arwen has a good deal of spirit, most of it misplaced."

"What will he say when he finds out?"

"Given that this was some weeks ago, I would imagine he has already discovered his loss. I hoped... I half expected him to be here when we arrived because we took a rather odd route. But he wasn't."

"You miss him." The idea of a slave missing his owner was incomprehensible to Faramir.

"Yes. Elrond is strict, but he's kind and fair. My Lady is..." he stopped and it seemed to Faramir he reconsidered what he was about to say. "She is young and I am a toy she has always wanted to play with." He moved around to the other side of the bed, and started Faramir's other armpit. "I objected to leaving with her, but could not gainsay her. I have continued to object. Occasionally, she loses patience with me."

Faramir realised something, "That's why you're in pain."

"Yes."

They were silent for a time, and then Faramir asked, "What's Thranduil like?"

"His temper's worse than Elrond's, and he is equally strict, but I never heard that he was cruel to his man pet. His previous one was devoted to him and lived to a good age."

"How old?"

"About three hundred, I believe. Open your legs; I have to do your privates. Don't move, you don't want me to slip just there with anything this sharp."

"Three hundred!"

"I said, do not move," said Estel. He handled Faramir's penis to keep it out of the way of the razor and it seemed to Faramir that he was one well accustomed to touching a man. To his embarrassment Faramir felt it start to fill. "Yes. When I met him he must have been about that age."

"Men don't live that long. Not more than a hundred and twenty, normally," said Faramir. He was trying to keep his mind off the idea of Estel's hand on him; that hand had now moved to his balls.

"Men out there don't. Man pets are under the care of the Eldar and we live much longer."

"Unless we take our own lives?" Faramir knew perfectly well that Estel was not intentionally trying to stimulate him.

"We are under an enchantment which prevents it. Thranduil has already cast it upon you."

Something else occurred to Faramir, "This other man... You said you'd met him, but Thranduil said he'd died thirty years ago."

Again that look of amusement that wasn't quite an actual smile, "What age do you think I am?"

"About forty? Older than me, but not greatly so. Why?"

"My grandmother, the chief of her tribe of the Dúnedain, the northern wanderers, sold me to Celebrian along with my father and uncle when I was nearly two. Celebrian left for the Undying Lands when I was around fourteen, whereupon I was given to her husband Elrond as a page. That was sixty-five years ago. I'm at least seventy-nine and possibly somewhat older. I will look the age I do now until I die." Faramir opened his mouth to say something, but Estel continued, "The tribes of northern wanderers are matrilineal, they don't need a great number of men. The elves only buy men. It is a useful arrangement for all parties. Except for the men, of course, but nobody has asked us what we think."

"In Gondor, the men rule," said Faramir.

This time there was, finally, a real smile. "Which is why the northern tribes believe you uncivilised, despite your roads and your city. I need you to turn over, I have to do your backside."

If having a stranger handle his penis was bad, having someone part his buttocks and shave between them was infinitely worse. Faramir desperately cast around for something to say that would keep his mind off it, but came up with nothing and he didn't want to distract someone who had a razor scraping his balls from behind. Then he heard a noise, and Orchaldir's voice, "How far did you get?"

"I've done his upper body and his privates, but not his legs."

"Good. Return to your Lady, Estel."

"My Lord."

Faramir moved his head in time to see the floating gauze of Estel's robe whisk out of sight. Had he been on his back he would have kicked Orchaldir, but this position did not lend itself to such activities. He moved as if to turn over, but Orchaldir grabbed his ankle and said, "I think you will stay as you are for the time being." Unwillingly, Faramir subsided.

Orchaldir moved away, and Faramir risked a glance behind. Just at that moment, Orchaldir turned back, and Faramir saw that he was holding the bowl of water, steam once more rising from it. As he passed one of the chests, Faramir saw Orchaldir pick something up; it was a whip. He turned back, but not quickly enough for Orchaldir brought the whip sharply down across Faramir's buttocks. Faramir yelled in pain. "I did not," said Orchaldir, and he brought the whip down again, "give you permission to move," and again, "or to turn round." He brought it down for a final time.

It hurt far more than Faramir had been expecting. He'd last been beaten for taking apples from his father's orchard without permission, and on that occasion his father had used the flat of his hand. He'd been twelve and he'd cried. He didn't feel now remotely like crying, except possibly with fury.

"I..." started Faramir.

"Be silent!" said Orchaldir. He moved to shave Faramir's left leg.

He was less careful than Estel, and though Faramir didn't have any experience of having his legs shaved, he seemed less skilled. He should have asked Estel if it was usual for the slaves to do this to each other, but it seemed quite likely. Orchaldir had reached his knee when Faramir heard someone else enter the room.

Whoever it was watched for some time, then Legolas's voice: "Will father keep him?"

"I expect so," said Orchaldir. "Shouldn't you be guarding something?"

"What about his brother?"

"His...? Oh yes, Boromir. The one so lovely that Dorlion couldn't keep his hands off him, even though he is not a man pet." A silence. Faramir would have given a good deal to turn round to see their expressions, but with his buttocks still stinging he did not dare.

It was curious; he hadn't given much though to that part of Dorlion's tale: he had thought they had no secrets from one another, but Boromir had never mentioned a liaison with an elf. But then, as it was a male elf and given how such things were regarded in Gondor, he probably would have kept it to himself.

"That is not what I meant," said Legolas. "If Dorlion brings Boromir here, and he agrees to father's wishes, he will return to Gondor and take this one with him."

"If he finds out he's here, perhaps. Even if he does, it may be that Thranduil has keeping him written into the agreement. By all accounts, Denethor does not value this one highly - not as highly as Thranduil will by the time I've finished training him." Another of those silences, then Orchaldir went on, "Legolas Thranduilion, I know your mind. Though he will grace your father's bed, you want this man pet as your own. My advice is: do not do this. Do not imagine you can do as Arwen has. For I tell you this: when Elrond comes here to find that she has taken Estel against his express wish, his rage will be such as has rarely been witnessed."

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Note: Aulë was the "god" of making and building, creator of the dwarves. See the Silmarillion.

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What happens next?

• Faramir's training continues. Boromir arrives, escorted by Dorlion

• Faramir's training continues. Elrond arrives, one very annoyed elf

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