tolkien_slashy_swaps | FIC: The Warrior and the Oliphaunt Trainer

Title: The Warrior and the Oliphaunt Trainer. Part one
Author: chaotic_binky
Beta:

inwe_saralonde
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor
Warnings: AU, Slash, oral, language, angst, Mpreg, hot elf sex
Disclaimer: I do not own the elves or their surroundings. The elves made me write this even though they belong to Tolkien; they are very naughty making me do this! I make no profit and have no intention of making any.
Request: MPreg-only if Erestor is the one bearing. Angst with some hippy love power (free thinkers, has no problems with walking around naked, free love-doesn't really have a problem with sleeping with anyone.) AU. Happy ending with elflings and an arranged marriage. hot sex. no rape or fluff
Summary: Glorfindel falls in love with a visiting Oliphaunt trainer who asks him to teach him the ways of love on his fiftieth begetting night.
Author's note: Written for

aprilmoon08

Glorfindel could never let go. Since his return from the Halls of Waiting, he had fulfilled his oath with the utmost seriousness. Because of his efforts, the inhabitants of Imladris were safer than they had ever been and air of frivolity and relaxed freedom existed where previously there had been little. The blond warrior was always polite and ready to engage in conversation, but he was not frivolous, and because he was born in a time where it had been necessary, he was always circumspect and careful. He found it hard to enjoy the freedom that he had worked so hard to achieve but, none the less, he was proud of his achievements.

The morning of a particularly fine spring day found him sitting in a council chamber with Elrond and Melpomaen instead of where he would rather be, in the training fields, participating in the warrior-training schedule.

“Gildor and his band of merry wanderers are coming to stay for the summer. The Oliphaunt sheds will need preparing, also the stables.” Elrond looked at Melpomaen. “Accommodation?”

“My Lord, we can open the Gil-Galad wing of the house. It will need a clean and the furniture will need checking, but it should be all right.” Melpomaen looked at Glorfindel who nodded to him that he had support in his suggestion.

The Lord of the house frowned. “I am happy to do this but we must not say anything to the visitors about it being haunted.”

Whether or not the Gil-Galad wing was haunted was a matter of conjecture. Elrond had never felt anything when visiting the wing, and suspected that it was a myth grown from a piece of gossip that the inhabitants chose to believe because it added a bit of spice to their otherwise everyday existence and, in reality, he was probably right.

“We need to tell the residents to say nothing as well; although I must say that I think it is an unworkable proposition.” Glorfindel put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand.

“Because you are a pessimist, Glorfindel.” Elrond smiled at his Captain of the Guard. “Now, what about meeting the group on the borders?”

“I will meet them with a group of warriors and offer them free passage into the realm, like I always do to favoured visitors.” The warrior took a sip of water and looked out of the window. He wanted to be outside in the spring morning rather than in a stuffy council chamber.

The talk carried on for a while longer, with Elrond insisting they refined the smallest of details before letting them go. In the afternoon, he would meet with the cooks and servants and ensure that enough extra food and drink could be sourced.

“He deliberately kept us.” Melpomaen was angry. “How much boredom does he think I can take? I have enough to do.”

“Never mind; we are out of there now and just in time for lunch.” Glorfindel smiled. “It is roast beef today.”

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The Gil-Galad wing was ready to receive the influx of visitors. The Oliphaunt sheds stood warm and dry for the huge occupants that would be staying in them. Extra cleaning staff, cooks and servers were taken on from the local villages and many of the elves found themselves sharing rooms for the first time.

“It is simply not on, both Lindir and I now have to share with our sometimes lovers. How can I bring others back to my rooms with him there?” Melpomaen sat at the breakfast table eating creamed mushrooms on toast. He was not happy.

“More to the point how can he?” Glorfindel liked the young housekeeper. It seemed, however, that he would never get used to his moral structure. Perhaps that was because he was from a different time. He had found it hard to adjust at first and even now he was unable fully to accept certain changes.

“It is all right for you, Glorfindel. I notice you do not have to share.” Melpomaen was more than a little miffed about this. He knew no matter how much he whined there was nothing he could do about it.

“No, I don’t.” Glorfindel grinned and looked at Melpomaen, who merely scowled.

After breakfast, Glorfindel and a party of warriors rode out to meet Gildor and his followers. They camped near the Bruinen in a small clearing, near one of the hidden mountain passes into the realm. In the distance, the thudding sound of the tramping Oliphaunts carried in the wind. Occasionally, one of the large animals would emit a trumpeting call, causing the warriors to look at one another in awe.

The travellers reached the pass at noon and filed through in small parties. The drivers, who sat atop the Oliphaunts, looked out for loose ground so they would not stumble and all passed safely through into Imladris. Gildor guided the first Oliphant into the clearing, and then unloosed a rope from the ornate howdah secured to the animals back.

He jumped onto the ground from the end of the rope and stood before a smiling Glorfindel. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”

“It is good to see you also. We have missed you and your followers. It has been fifty years has it not?” Glorfindel hugged his friend. “How is your family, I could not see them.”

“They are in the howdah on the Oliphaunt’s back.” He pointed upwards and Gildor’s wife and a small elfling looked out and waved. “My son, Erestor is on one of the other oliphaunts. He is training it and is doing very well.”

“I look forward to meeting him.” Gildor’s wife was pregnant on their last visit to Imladris and left before the birth of the elfling. Glorfindel assumed that Erestor must be the elfling who was unborn at the time. That would make him about fifty years old.

Considering it prudent to return to Imladris rather than tarry any longer, Glorfindel gave the call to leave. By the late evening, the party arrived and the Oliphaunts led to their sheds and settled. The elves were encouraged to freshen up in their rooms and as dinner was over by several hours, covered trays of food were delivered to each room.

The morning saw Glorfindel and a select party of warriors travelling to a nearby settlement where a pack of hungry wargs was attacking a house, trying to get to the terrified residents inside. Elrond’s ring, Vilya had highlighted the danger and it seemed the group of warriors were just in time. The other villagers could not come to their aid as there were too many wargs and they were much reduced in number because of the extra staff needed for Gildor’s visit. It took all day to travel there, kill the wargs, make the house safe and travel back again. They arrived, late afternoon and had enough time to freshen up before dinner.

Elrond knocked on Glorfindel’s door; he answered wrapped in a towel. “The villagers are safe and we killed the warg pack and made the necessary repairs. It was lucky we arrived when we did. I estimate another hour and it would have been too late.”

Elrond sat on the settee and looked at Glorfindel’s naked form. How he wanted the elf, his eyes betraying his desire. Glorfindel took his clothing into the bathroom and dressed after reminding Elrond that he was married. Elrond wondered what that had to do with it. He knew Celebrian would not mind and would listen greedily to the details afterwards. Perhaps he could tempt the new elf from the Havens, the one who had come as Cirdan’s ambassador. He wondered if Celebrian would be sharing her bed with Tiwele again that night, or someone new. He suspected the former as she was a favourite at the moment.

Glorfindel came back into the room. “Surely you get lonely, Glorfindel?”

“In Gondolin it was not considered polite to have extra marital affairs or even have a married lover.” The warrior smiled; this was not a new conversation.

“Things are different here, Glorfindel. We are far more relaxed now.” Elrond grinned; he knew his friend would not bend to change willingly. “I am here to tell you that Gildor’s son, Erestor, is to be presented at court as it is his fiftieth begetting day. Now we must honour their customs and it is very likely that he will choose a bed partner for the night to teach him how to be a lover. Now we cannot get out of this without offending; you know how quick to take offence Gildor is and I want this all to go smoothly.”

The warrior sat beside Elrond. “Exactly why are you telling me?”

“He could pick anyone of us. I hope it is me; he is a delectable young thing, just ripe for the plucking.” Elrond looked flushed and excited. “Celebrian hopes to tempt him, but she has no chance. She is not as attractive as me, after all.”

“What on Arda are you wittering on about Elrond?” Glorfindel wondered why he was listening to such drivel, and in his own rooms.

“There is an outside chance he may pick you. I realise that you have an unassailable set of morals that none of us understand, but if he does choose you, I expect you to honour the request.” Elrond looked at the warrior and hoped he would agree. He had no idea what to do if Glorfindel refused; whenever he did he always let him have his own way, but this time he would have to put his foot down.

“Elrond you are being ridiculous. There is absolutely no chance that he will pick me.” He laughed loudly. “If he does, which he will not, then I promise to honour the customs of Gildor’s followers. He is an old friend, he will tell Erestor not to pick me. Of that, I am confident.”

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The dinner gave way to entertainments. Several of Gildor’s party danced for the pleasure of the audience. Glorfindel admired how sinewy and lithe their dancing bodies seemed. They danced with exhilarating speed and vigour. The highlight of the dancing was when a burning pole was set above a metal plate in-between two poles and the dancers jumped over it in pairs. The pole steadily rose higher and the elves shrieked as they leapt over the flaming pole. Eventually the pole rose to its highest point and only one dancer could clear the flames in a single leap. There was much applause and Glorfindel joined in the applause, amazed by the elf’s agility, beauty and breathtaking feat of jumping higher than the tallest elf.

Gildor went over to the elf and hugged him, then took his arm and walked with him to Elrond. “My Lord Elrond,” he said with the flourish of a well-seasoned showman. “May I present my son Erestor?”

Glorfindel smiled at Erestor, as did every other elf on raised platform where Elrond and Celebrian sat.

“My Lord,” Gildor continued. “It is our custom that the elf who is enjoying his fiftieth begetting day chooses a partner for the night, to initiate him into the ways of love.”

“We are more than happy to honour your people’s customs, Lord Gildor. Has your son chosen yet?” Elrond waggled his eyebrows at the young elf in a bid to tempt him but he looked quickly away. Celebrian sniggered and Elrond hissed at her to shut up.

“My Lord, I have made my choice.” Erestor smiled and looked around the room. Glorfindel gave a relieved sigh; he was obviously looking for the elf who had attracted his eye and it was not him. He smiled at Gildor in grateful thanks, but was mystified by the puzzled look his old friend gave him.

“Will you name your choice, Lord Erestor?” Elrond was crossing his fingers and chanting in his mind, ‘Not Celebrian, do not pick Celebrian, let it be me.’

“I have indeed made my choice, Lord Elrond.” Erestor smiled disarmingly; Celebrian said in a low whisper to Tiwele how sweet, and lovely he was. “I do not know any of the people here and so I have to go on first impression. I decided to pick an elf with beautiful, kind eyes because that would surely mean that they would be careful with my heart and my pleasure.”

Gildor gave a wide smile. How he loved his son and he was so proud of him. “Name your choice, my son.”

“I choose Lord Glorfindel.” Erestor gave a wide smile and his father told him that he could not have made a better choice.

Elrond turned to Glorfindel who was stunned but smiling politely at Erestor. “I can think of worse ways to spend an evening. You are so lucky.”

Glorfindel turned smiling to Elrond. “You think I am going to tell you all about it tomorrow don’t you?” Elrond nodded eagerly. “Well, I am not.”

The whole room was clapping and cheering Glorfindel as he walked down to the dark elf. He took his hand and told him that he was delighted with his choice. He did not want to tell Erestor the truth, that he was mortified and embarrassed, because that would hurt him; not for the first time did he curse his rigidly moral upbringing. Still he would try to make Erestor’s first time one that he would look back on fondly.

Glorfindel and Erestor walked from the room to the cheers of all in the hall. Curiosity was high because the warrior had apparently never taken a lover in Imladris.

“I hope you do not mind that I picked you, Lord Glorfindel, but you really do look the nicest elf in the room and you are definitely the best looking.” Erestor looked anxiously at Glorfindel. “You did not seem overjoyed is what I am trying to say.”

“I was surprised that is all. I am delighted and honoured that you chose me.” Glorfindel gave his most beaming smile and Erestor grinned in relief. “Please call me Glorfindel or Fin, whichever you prefer.”

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The next morning Erestor awoke in Glorfindel’s bed. Anor shone through the drawn curtains and small thin shafts of light hit the floor through the open cutwork of the curtains. He stretched and smiled at his bed partner, then snuggled into him.

“Are you all right?” Glorfindel asked. “Not too sore or aching?”

Erestor smiled. “I feel warm, comfortable and I never want to move out of this bed, but I have to because the oliphaunts do not know that it was my birthday yesterday and they expect me to feed them.”

Glorfindel raised himself on his elbow. “Do you feel as though you learned enough to hold your own? It is a long time since I taught anyone.”

The dark elf grinned. “I made the right decision. Thank you.” He kissed the warrior and left the bed and, after a wash, he dressed and left the room.

Glorfindel lay back on the bed and reflected that it had been a long time since he had shared his body and it had felt good. He guessed correctly that breakfast was over and decided to lie in to a point where Anor would shine through the far side of the curtains indicating that it was more or less lunchtime. Eyelids felt heavy as he drifted off to sleep and his mood was slightly less serious than usual, not that he noticed. The bed felt warm and he ached after having used muscles that he had not used for centuries.

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Life settled down after, and Glorfindel rarely saw Erestor, not that he looked for him, but sometimes he saw him from across the room. Occasionally their eyes would meet and Erestor would smile but mostly Glorfindel carried on as he always did. It seemed that Gildor and his wife were very pleased with the outcome, although they remained reserved about thanking the warrior publically because they did not want to embarrass him; Gildor knew better than anyone how mortified he would have been at the choosing and so he thanked him privately. It was assumed that Glorfindel would indulge Erestor the one night and that would be the end of it; this was also an assumption made by himself. So why did his heart ring in his ears whenever he saw the dark beauty and why did he feel the pain of longing for one who he saw as unattainable?

The feelings had to be repressed. In order to forget, Glorfindel embarked on a series of patrols, daring and dangerous in nature to clear the outlying areas of wargs and orcs, thus creating such a dent in the dark lord’s minions that the passes and surrounding countryside would be safe for travelling for many months.

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Erestor wondered how Glorfindel could forget him so easily. He wondered why the warrior was never around. He sometimes caught a glimpse of him when not on patrol and even smiled when he caught his eye. A polite smile was always returned, but that was all. The dark elf could not forget his night of love and would have given anything to repeat it. He indulged in idle fantasies of the warrior holding him in his arms, and using his weight to pin his body to the bed, whilst he entered him slowly making every sensation count. In these scenarios, Erestor was always helpless and unable to move, completely at the mercy of the beautiful body above him; and yet in reality it had not been like that. The night had been one of mutual sharing and Glorfindel encouraged Erestor to be assertive as well as accepting. The dark elf wondered where his fantasies came from and kept them privately in his heart; he could not risk them becoming the subject of idle gossip of the Imladrian elves who had nothing better to do with their time.

Many elves, driven by a spirit of curiosity and lust, approached Erestor after his night with Glorfindel and were rebuffed, especially the ones who asked about Glorfindel’s prowess as a lover. Erestor had never witnessed such a merry go round of affairs and he wondered if the Imladrian elves could be truly happy sharing with others those whom they had previously slept with. He asked his ada why it was they acted so differently to the travellers. Gildor replied that they were revelling in the spirit of freedom and safety for the first time in thousands of years and were now devoted to having fun and relaxing. His ada pointed out that some of the travellers also joined in the frivolity because they too felt the spirit of hard won freedom. Erestor’s face fell; Gildor looked at him and said nothing.

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The smell of the oliphaunts was particularly strong and Erestor ran outside the sheds and vomited. He felt drained and shaky and wondered how much longer he was going to be sick for. Looking down he could see a slight swell of his abdomen. Assuming that his insides were swollen because of his continued vomiting he went back into the oliphaunts shed and continued mucking out the bedding. Another rise of nausea and he ran outside to vomit again. All strength leaving him, he slumped down onto the ground and rested his head against the wooden wall of the shed. It was easy to fall asleep, he felt so weak and tired, and wondered if this was how humans felt when they became ill.

Riding past on Asfaloth, Glorfindel spotted a huddled shape almost lost against the outside of the huge sheds. Out of curiosity, he rode over, and then dismounted quickly, running the last few yards.

“Erestor, what is wrong? You have been sick.” Dark eyes looked up at him with a weak smile of recognition before the elf slumped against the warrior’s chest and fell into a deep sleep.

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“I have never seen anything like this.” Elrond examined Erestor’s swollen belly. “It seems he is with child and yet he is the wrong sex. I do not understand how this can be.”

Gildor held his sleeping son’s hand. “How can he be with child?”

“All I can think of is that Erestor had a female twin before he was born and that she died and her body merged with his. It is a phenomenon that has occurred before but is extremely rare. To my knowledge, it happens about once every five hundred years, if that; however, I have personally never seen it.” Elrond looked at Gildor who confirmed that his wife had felt the presence of two fëar, and when only one baby was born they were confused but never gave it any thought afterwards, assuming they were mistaken.

“How will he give birth? My son is precious to me, I do not think I could bear to see him in pain, or even…” Gildor held his face in his hands and his body shook.

“Gildor, sometimes we have to help elleth give birth, I am sure that Erestor will be all right.” Elrond put his arm around the distraught elf and held him close to his chest.

“It would break me apart if he died.” Gildor felt the hot sting of tears. “He is my son, I love him.”

Elrond held Vilya over Erestor’s stomach and began saying the names of the elves who were about his age. “Just say Glorfindel.” Gildor said miserably. “He is totally besotted with him.” The ring flashed bright at the sound of the warrior’s name and Elrond repeated it to make sure.

“Glorfindel will have to marry Erestor.” Gildor stood up. “I know that my son chose him to teach him the ways of love and normally this would never be an issue, but our ways demand it. I will not have my son shamed.”

“We have to be careful how we tell him then, because Glorfindel does what he likes. He is not known as the strongest elf on Arda for nothing.” Elrond wondered whether he should sail west now or wait to see if the aftermath of telling the warrior was survivable or not. He was nervous, crapping his loincloth and wishing he were anyone but himself.

“Then I will tell him.” Gildor looked at Elrond as though he were an insect, scooped his sleeping son up in his arms and walked out of the room, beckoning to his wife to follow.