zhie | FIC: Chains of Love (1/?) NC-17

FIC: Chains of Love (1/?)
Author: Zhie
Rating: NC-17 (I’m assuming at this point) slash with possible het?
Characters: To be determined, Erestor and Elrond so far, Celebrian, Glorfindel, and others to follow…
Summary: Every twelve years, the Elves of Rivendell leave a sacrifice for the Felauan, a creature reported to live in the caves above the city. They year is 109 of the Third Age, and this year the honor has been bestowed upon Erestor.
Notes: Very loosely, some parts will derive from the Erasure song ‘Chains of Love’, with much developing from the Erestor Lovers yahoo group discussion regarding a manip that Thalassa is making. Also, plotwise? Yes, I’m rushing to get to the good stuff. NOT BUNNIVERSE

Part One: How Can I Explain?

Erestor was sitting at his desk in his comfortable, cozy corner when he caught sight of Elrond entering the scribal room. The room was separated into different areas, dependent upon whether a scribe liked to work in solitude or preferred the company of others. Erestor was more of a solitary Elf, and thus he had chosen the corner long ago when the room was first designed. Elrond was walking straight toward him, and it confused Erestor that a page was not sent to retrieve him if the lord of the realm needed his assistance.

“Please, do not get up,” whispered Elrond as he approached. “This will take only a minute of your time.”

Erestor lowered himself back into his chair. Immediately, worry knotted his stomach. “Have I done something offensive?” It was not often that Elrond approached him, and when he did, it was usually because he had overstepped a boundary he had not realized was there or simply upset the peredhel.

Elrond shook his head, but he did not make eye contact, which only worried Erestor further. The sleeves of Elrond’s robe covered his hands, which were no doubt being kneaded within the fabric. There was a glint of sweat on Elrond’s brown, and Erestor took a deep breath. “Are you going to tell me what is wrong?”

“We are at the beginning of our twelve year cycle again,” said Elrond.

“I know that. I gave you all of the paperwork regarding that yesterday,” said Erestor. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not with the paperwork.” Elrond found a spot on the wall behind Erestor’s ear to concentrate his gaze on. “You know that we hold a yearly ceremony in order to appease the Felauan.”

“Right.” Erestor tried not to roll his eyes. For centuries, since the time of King Gil-Galad in fact, there had been an appeasement ceremony held every twelve years. It took place just on the outskirts of Imladris, above the valley where there were some caves. Allegedly as the stories went, the largest of the caves was inhabited by some foul, monstrous creature that had been named the Felauan. It was said that the Felauan would attack in the night, stealing not only cattle and horses, but children and their mothers. It was described by some to be a dragon, by others as a balrog. To Erestor, it was nothing more than a myth. No one had ever actually seen the Felauan.

Elrond’s expression turned grim. “I know that you do not believe that it poses a threat, but it does. If we do not make an offering as we always have, there is a chance that it will attack us. The prophets have told me so.”

“Oh, well, let us all believe the prophets instead of the chief counselor, then,” retorted Erestor. “Philosophy over wisdom, I suppose.”

“Strangely enough, I am going to miss your sarcasm.”

Erestor cocked an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

The hidden hand wringing began anew. “You know that we are fair in our decision to choose a sacrifice. The names of all Elves, both male and female, over the age of one-hundred years who are unmarried as placed in a box and one is randomly drawn.”

“You drew my name?” asked Erestor dryly.

“Actually, you are the only one left,” admitted Elrond. “I wondered about the flurry of marriage ceremonies over the past twelve years. Now it all makes sense.”

“What about you? You have yet to marry,” Erestor boldly reminded his lord, not about to agree to such silliness without somewhat of a fight.

“Ah, yes. I did not tell you. I am to marry Celebrian, daughter of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Tomorrow. A rush, I know, but politically advantageous – for both of us. That is why I must leave now to finish with the preparations.” Elrond looked down at the work Erestor had been doing, the quill paused over parchment. “I will understand if you reassign that to your apprentice, seeing as how you have only the next two days to say your farewells and come to peace with your life.”

Erestor stood up as Elrond turned to go. “Elrond, there is no monster in the cave! Even if you put me out there, nothing is going to happen.”

“Then what happened to all of the other sacrifices?” questioned one of the other scribes in the room, who had heard the conversation in the corner.

“Maybe they are all living together in a commune where they all sit around a fire and sing ballads of the nonsense of this stupid ceremony. Or perhaps they were slain by orcs when they were left alone, weaponless, helpless, chained to the ground in the middle of nowhere.” Erestor’s voice was rising louder and louder as Elrond got closer to the door. “Anyhow, if you think I am about to stay here for two days waiting for you to make a fool out of me, you are mistaken! I quit!”

“I had a feeling you would not be so willing,” said Elrond sadly as he stopped at the door. He motioned with his hand, and a pair of guards armed with swords and bows entered. “These soldiers will be your constant companions for the next two days. I have instructed them to use force, if necessary.”

TBC…