The Last Homely House
Chapter Nine

Rating: PG
Category: Humour, Drama, AU
Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Haldir/Rabbit, Legolas/Gimli
Warnings: Slash (means: two male Elves in some kind of love) Mpreg
Summary: A pleasant surprise for Rhimlan, und Mauburz demonstrates some rather questionable interrogation technics. Evil lurks - and there is a MEAN cliffhanger!

Rhimlan sat up with a violent start, flinging himself off of the cot and landing on the floor with a painful thump. He looked around in a panic, covered in sweat and panting. Finally, realizing he was in Mauburz’s tent, he flopped to the floor and sighed with relief.

“This is getting to be very irritating,” he said to the canvas ceiling. He sat up and reached for his clothing, dressing before picking up his leg brace. He strapped it on, then stood up. At least now he could move without fear of his damaged knee buckling and sending him onto his face. He brushed and braided his long red hair, adjusted his face-patch, then hauled himself to his feet. Then he left the tent.

He had expected to get some teasing over the fact that he had recently begun sleeping in the Orc’s tent, but so far no one had said a word. Rhimlan half-suspected this had a lot to do with the fact that, as sweet as she was, Mauburz was still an Uruk-Hai, and one of the most feared beings on Arda. She was not likely to endure any abuse of ‘her Elf’ with humor.

Rhimlan limped over to the campfire, sitting himself on a log and accepting a cup of tea from Orophin. The Galadhel was still a little blue, but for the most part the dye was gone from his skin. His hair however was still streaked a lovely shade of indigo. Rhimlan grinned and reached out to touch the silky blue hair.

“I realize you will not believe me, but I quite like that on you.”

Orophin laughed. “Well I am certain that was not the prankster’s intent, but I have received numerous compliments.”

“Especially from Elladan, no doubt.”

Orophin smiled. “We have finally admitted our love to Lord Elrond.”

“And he did not object?”

“I do not believe he felt he was in any position to object, truth to tell. But he has admitted to me that even were he not keeping my brother as a pet, he would not object.”

“Well that is good to know.” Rhimlan sipped his tea. Orophin ran his fingers speculatively over the brace.

“Does this help?”

“Yes, though it takes some getting used to. But Ithilian crafted it well, and it is comfortable enough. I would prefer not to need it, but it seems I will for as long as I live.”

“I am sorry,” said Orophin quietly.

Rhimlan shrugged. “I will go on. Master Erestor is training me in the art of being an advisor. It seems both he and Lord Elrond feel I could be of some use in this manner. And Mauburz approves of how I look in the robes.”

Orophin laughed. “And what is more important than that?” he drained his tea, and set his cup down. He gave Rhimlan a friendly kiss on his face. “I shall speak with you later my friend.”

Rhimlan watched Orophin move lightly away, envying him his Elven grace. He sighed, and began cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

***---***

“Mae govannen, good Dwarfs. Could you tell me which way to Imladris?”

Gimli and Glóin stopped arguing over the stone block and both turned to the sound of the Elven voice. They saw before them an Elf-maid, clad in traveling clothes. She was leading a dainty black mare. Behind her, seated on a grey horse, was another maiden, also in traveling clothes. Both women had grey eyes and white-gold hair: common enough among Elves of the Golden Wood. Seated behind the maiden on the grey horse was a young Elven male, with vibrant green eyes and hair the colour of a sunset.

Gimli bowed with Dwarven solemnity. “Good day, fair one. You are standing before what was once Imladris.”

The Elf-maid looked startled, then turned to the others. “We are here!” she said, then turned to look at Gimli once more. “Tell me good Dwarf, do you know of one called Haldir? I was told he was dwelling here.”

“I know Haldir,” said Gimli.

She gave a hop of delight, smiling broadly. “Forgive my rudeness, we have not been introduced. I am Silmaril. This is my sister, Emerald, and our brother, Syrith. We dwelled once in Lothlórien before departing for the Havens, but we have returned.”

“I am Gimli, and this is my father Glóin, of the Mountain Kingdom. If you seek Haldir, then he will be helping with the construction.” He pointed towards a group of Elves who were working on a wall. “Come, I shall introduce you.”

***---***

Erestor marched into Elrond’s office and paused before the great desk. Rúmil, who was lounging on the couch, looked up with interest as Erestor blew in like one of his crows. Glorfunkle swooped in after him, landing on the advisor’s left shoulder. Behind the desk, Elrond sat back in his chair and smiled.

“Erestor. How are you this fine day?”

Erestor’s eyes were grey ice, and it did not take great wit to see that he was seething with barely controlled rage. “Elrond, I ask for very little in life. A little peace, a little tea, occasional puff of Hobbit pipe-weed, and a nursery that is not pink. I have served you well and faithfully these many years, and I can NOT think WHY you have chosen to saddle me with the care and education of those five giggling, shrieking females!”

“Oh, my little muses,” said Elrond, referring to the five young girls he and Rabbit had rescued. “Erestor, it is only temporary, until we can find their families. And you educated Arwen, I did not think you had such an objection to females.”

“Arwen is an Elf, and as such had an attention span that permitted her to be educated. These little tittering boobs have the combined intellect of Fin’s left boot!”

Rúmil grinned broadly, but said nothing. Elrond raised an eyebrow. “Erestor, these children are, for the time, under our care. And I will not have them neglected.”

“So you intend to punish me for your heroics.”

“If you choose to look at it that way, then yes.”

Erestor glared, then said softly; “I shall get you for this, mark my words.”

Elrond felt his throat tighten, and resisted the urge to say something inappropriate. A vision of himself having Erestor right there on the desk passed through his mind. “Erestor, they will not be here long. Surely you can tolerate them a little while.”

Erestor sighed, then relented. “Of course. If that is your wish, then I shall act as tutor. Anything else you would care to thrust upon me?”

More unbidden images went through Elrond’s mind, and he cleared his throat. “No, that is all for the time.”

“Very well,” said Erestor.

He turned and departed, Elrond watching him move across the floor, his black hair swaying invitingly across his back. As Erestor departed, Elrond rose to his feet and crossed the room to quietly close and lock the heavy door. Then he turned and made his way over to the couch where Rúmil lounged. He sat beside him and leaned forward, reaching up to touch his long hair, then gently kissed him.

Rúmil lounged like a cat, perfectly content in his role as pet. Elrond, however, had never been truly comfortable with the role of master, and after Rúmil’s display at the Orc’s hideout, he knew he would not long be able to keep him as merely a catamite. He would have to either court him properly as a lover, or release him. And he did not know which he would do. For now, however, he pushed the concern out of his mind as he lay down beside him, relishing the comfort the younger Elf gave him.

***---***

If Haldir had learned anything during the construction of the house, it was Elves had no business doing heavy labour.

This thought occurred to him as he, Glorfindel, and several other Elven warriors strained and heaved and struggled to get the last support beam into place. He lowered his head and pushed with all his might, feeling his boots sliding on the soft earth, his back and arms screaming in pain. His lungs burned, and beside him, Glorfindel was in no better shape. At least, Haldir comforted himself, Estel and his friend Faramir were in much the same condition.

The beam finally came to its resting place, and the group collapsed. Faramir looked at Aragorn and said, panting; “I quit.”

Aragorn coughed, then shook his head. “You are not permitted to quit.”

“Then fire me.”

Haldir sank to the ground, then noticed Gimli and Glóin gazing at him. “Pathetic,” said Glóin.

Haldir fixed him with his most arrogant sneer, which had no effect on the Dwarf whatsoever. “And what, pray tell, brings your hairy presence over here?”

Silmaril stepped into view, and those Elves who still had some semblance of life in them looked up. Her brother and sister came to stand beside her, and Silmaril bowed her head in greeting.

“Mae govannen. You are Haldir?”

Haldir dragged his aching self off of the ground and stood before her, dirty, his hair askew. “I am.”

“I am Silmaril. This is my sister Emerald, and my brother Syrith. We have come from the Havens to ask of one whom served under you, and fell at Helm’s Deep.”

He nodded. “I shall tell you what I can, though many who fell were not found. Come, let us sit by the fire, and we will speak.”

They made their way to the fire, Haldir glad for an excuse to take a break, for his old back injury was aching viciously. They seated themselves, and he offered them tea.

Silmaril accepted a cup, as did Syrith and Emerald. They were very young, Haldir noted, probably not even of the age of majority yet. Syrith was plainly the youngest, though Emerald was not much older. Silmaril appeared to be the eldest, and it was she who spoke.

“The one of whom I come seeking news was found, and his body returned to the Golden Wood. I was told he lay buried there, but when we went there, none could tell us where his grave was.”

“That is strange,” said Haldir. “If he is a fallen warrior, his grave should be marked with honour.”

“I am beginning to fear he did not die with honour,” said Silmaril. “And I can get no word from anyone! I cannot let this matter lie! And I will not! And I beg of you, if you know anything, even if his death was marked with cowardice or dishonor, then tell me. He was my father, and I would know.”

Haldir nodded. “I will tell you. What was his name, penneth?”

“Rhimlan.”

“Rhimlan!” said Haldir, surprised.

Silmaril moved forward, her grey eyes brightening with hope. “You have heard of him!”

“Yes, indeed, I know him well, and I understand why his grave would be very hard to find; he is not dead!”

The young Elven maid was visibly rocked by the news, as were her siblings.

“Not dead?!” said Syrith. “But… nana told us…”

“Nana told us he died after returning to Lothlórien!” interrupted Emerald. “Truly it seemed odd to me he would survive so long only to die after reaching home, but I never…”

“Can you take us to him?” said Silmaril.

“I can,” said Haldir, “But before I do, I would say this to you. Your father is heavily scarred, and crippled. I would warn you before you saw him, for I would not have you shocked at his appearance, and cause him further sadness.”

“I care not what he looks like,” said Silmaril. “I would only know why I was told he no longer lived.”

“That I cannot answer,” said Haldir, “but I will take you to him.”

Rhimlan, meanwhile, was across the encampment, staring suspiciously at a teapot, certain it had been moved. He had only been gone a short while, just long enough to fetch some cold water to make tea, but as he limped over to the little cooking fire, some sense told him that all was not right. He was quite sure that when he left, it had been on the ground. Now it was sitting on a log, waiting patiently to be filled with herbs and hot water.

Rhimlan was aware that someone in the encampment had been playing pranks, and he did not care to end up blue. Setting down the pitcher of water, he picked up a long stick and used it to gently nudge the lid off of the stoneware pot. Too late he realized he had done just what the prankster had hoped he would. The lid fell off, releasing a fine wire. Suddenly he felt himself doused with liquid from above. His magnificent red hair was now streaked with black and blue.

He stood, feeling the dye run down his hair, his neck, and his shoulders. He narrowed his one good eye and growled quietly. Someone was going to pay for this, and pay dearly. He limped back to the river to wash as much of the dye off as he could, then returned to camp to continue making tea.

He put the water on to boil, then went into his tent to change. He slid into a worn but comfortable shirt that Mauburz liked on him, then limped back to the fire. He seated himself heavily on a log, and heard a suspicious ‘pop’ noise. Seconds later a vile stench filled the air that could only be a rotten egg. Gagging, he moved away from the fire, swearing and raining curses down upon whomever it was who had rigged the camp.

“What that?” demanded a familiar voice. “Smell like chili night in Isengard.” Mauburz walked into view. She picked one end of the log up with one hand and scooped up the rotted egg. Then she flung it far into the bushes before walking over to Rhimlan. She looked at her bedraggled friend. “Funny-man got you too, huh?” She reached out to touch his damp hair.

“Yes I have fallen prey. And mark my words, if I get hold of this allegedly humorous individual, I shall do him an injury!”

Mauburz gently put an arm around him; a huge, muscled arm that could effortlessly break his back. “Me help,” she said. “Mouses back?”

“Not that I noticed.”

“Good. Sick of mouses.”

Rhimlan allowed himself to be held, wondering for the millionth time what it was he saw in Mauburz. The only thing that came to mind was that, in some ways, she was a lot like him; a good kind heart trapped in a body that many found unattractive, perhaps even loathsome. True, he was not crazy about her fangs, or her snoring. But none could question her kindness, and her wisdom. She had been born into the body of an Orc, but somehow, the Valar had touched her, and that tiny Elven spark within had awakened. She had never once judged him on his looks, or his disabilities, but by his heart. And she asked only to be judged the same way.

Rhimlan looked up at her. She was a good foot taller that he was. He limped off a short way and picked up a short stool. Mauburz watched him, smiling. “What you up to?”

He dropped the stool before her, and stepped up on it so he was now eye to eye with the great Orc. “I am going to do something I ought to have done the first day I met you.”

“What?”

He put his arms around her neck and kissed her firmly. Moments later he felt her arms go around his comparatively frail body, felt her embrace begin to compress his ribs. He drew back from the kiss. “Air,” he squeaked.

“Sorry.” The grip relaxed slightly, and they resumed kissing.

Rhimlan felt himself picked up effortlessly, and moments later was on his back on the cot with an Orc over top of him. He heard his shirt rip, and thought; ‘So much for that bit of clothing.’ Then he felt her huge hands moving over him, and the shirt was the last thing on his mind. He suddenly found really, really powerful females turned him on immensely.

“Rhimlan,” said Haldir’s voice outside the tent.

He looked over Mauburz’s shoulder. “Uh, I’m busy, Haldir.”

“I have some Elves here who would like to see you.”

He gasped as the large hands stroked him, then said; “Can’t it wait?”

“Ada?” said a soft, questioning voice, and Rhimlan froze. Mauburz raised her head, and the two stared at each other in surprise.

Mauburz pulled back, and Rhimlan awkwardly stood up, using her shoulder to brace himself. He stepped out of the tent, long red hair damp and askew, shirt ripped, streaks of dye striping his chest. He stared at the three Elves, and felt his good knee collapse. He caught himself, grasping hold of the tent pole, and stared at the three Elflings before him.

“Silmaril?” he managed to say. “Babies?”

Syrith was the first to run to him, pouncing on his father and beginning to cry. Emerald was next. Finally Silmaril moved forward, wanting to hold him, but uncertain if it was safe to do so. His arm and leg plainly pained him, and she did not wish to cause him further hurt. At last she put her arms carefully around his neck, while Haldir quietly left the family to their reunion.

“Nana said you were dead!” Emerald sobbed against his chest. “Why did she say that?”

Rhimlan sank to the ground under the weight of his three children. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But I am not. How did you get here?”

Emerald grinned at him. “We ran away.”

“Ran away!? Your mother must be frantic!”

“We left a note,” said Syrith. “We stowed away on a ship!”

“We had to know,” said Silmaril. “We had to find you. I did not believe you died. I was certain I heard your voice one night in the talan. Nana said it was a dream, you were never there. But you were, weren’t you? And nana made you leave, because…”

She touched the large patch covering her father’s face. Rhimlan gently took her hand and moved it. “Do not be angry with her because she could not take me as I am.”

“I am not angry with her for her weakness. I am angry with her for lying. And I will not soon forgive her for this!”

Rhimlan shook his head. “Enough, Silmaril. She has her faults, but she only ever did what she thought best for you. But now you are here, and that is all that matters.”

“Ada why are you blue?” asked Syrith.

“Well that is another tale.” He looked towards the tent, smiling broadly. “Mauburz! Come meet my children!”

The three Elflings watched as the tent flap was pulled back, then screamed in chorus at the sight of the huge Orc. Mauburz straightened to her full height and crossed her arms and waited for the noise to die down.

“Nice to meet you too,” she said, then thought; ‘But your timing could have been a little better!’

***---***

Erestor made his way to the back of the great house, where the small dungeon still stood, his three crows following him. He had left Estorel with Rosie, and was now about to do something he did not care to; he had to record the proceedings of Bill and Will’s interrogation.

The advisor made his way into the little jail and stepped up to the small group of Elves gathered, then gave Glorfindel a quick smile. He pretended not to notice as Will greeted his arrival with a string of lewd suggestions. Fin narrowed his eyes, and Erestor watched his normally cheerful husband abruptly evolve into the great warrior who had slain demons and monsters.

“Oh come on, love!” said Will, “just a quick one off in the hay; you Elves will lay with anything that moves anyway.”

Glorfinkle cawed at Will. Glorfindel made no move, but Erestor noticed the flex of sinew as he clenched his fist. There would be plenty of time to kill Will after Mauburz questioned him.

Mauburz strode up just then, looking very pleased with life. Her good mood was such a contrast to the grimness of the proceedings that Will and Bill immediately noticed. Whatever the reason was for her cheer, Erestor had no idea, but Bill and Will plainly thought the Orc was looking forward to maiming the both of them.

“What are you doing here?” asked Bill.

Mauburz knew her business, and knew how to get Orcs and half-Orcs to talk. She threw a series of pain-inflicting items onto a small table, and said; “Elves no torture. Me, I torture. You no tell nice Lord Glorfindel what he wants to hear, I start pulling off fingers.”

“Bullshit,” said Will.

Mauburz picked up a very sharp and savage-looking device. “You know what this is? Used for trimming edge of new-made swords. Very sharp. Go through bone. You want me to show?”

Will shook his head.

Glorfindel stepped forward. “Who is paying you to steal Elves out of this valley?”

“I don’t know that, you thick-headed slut! We’s paid to catch Elves; dark-haired Elves, live males preferred, but we get paid either way.” He looked at Erestor and licked his lips. “I bet we’d get a good two hundred for you.”

Erestor’s eyes went to Glorfindel, and he said softly in Elvish; “He’s trying to get you angry, Fin.”

Glorfindel was beyond angry, but managed to restrain himself. “He is succeeding.”

“Ignore him, and later I will give you a backrub with the hibiscus oil.”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow slightly, but gave no other indication of his feelings. He fixed Will with a cold stare and said; “Why the dark-haired Elves?”

“Do I know? Dark Elves. That’s all I get told. And I thought we was lucky baggin’ two at the same time. Some luck; weren’t no Elf, it was a bloody werewolf!”

“Where were you to meet the Buyer? And when?”

Will stared at Glorfindel, then looked at Erestor. He indicated him with a movement of his head. “Tell you what. I’ll tell you that if I can have him for an hour or two.”

Glorfindel lunged, leaping over the table and heading straight for Will. Mauburz tried to catch him, but he was too fast for her. Amrun finally succeeded in pulling Glorfindel off of Will, and dragged him outside. Erestor followed.

He walked up to Glorfindel and put his arms around him, holding him tightly, speaking soft comforting words. Glorfindel returned the embrace, burying his face into his long black hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should not have reacted.”

Erestor smiled, secretly rather pleased with the reaction, but a little puzzled at why Will chose to continually make such remarks. Orcs were not renowned for their wit, but Bill and Will seemed a little sharper than the average Mordor-spawn. He could not help but feel there had been a reason for it.

He kissed Glorfindel’s head, and smiled. “Well I am touched that you hold me in such high regard, but I doubt we shall learn now where to meet this buyer.”

Both Elves looked up sharply as there came a wild screaming. Amrun and the other two Elves fled the jail, followed by Mauburz, who was smiling. She shut the cell door and grinned.

“Buyer coming four nights from now. Meet him by wood-shed near building Rabbit and Lord Elrond burn.”

“What did you do to make him tell you?” asked Glorfindel.

Mauburz held up a bloody finger, showing it to him before tossing it into the bushes. The crows dove after it.

“Told him I would. Not nice to lie.”

“Ech,” said Glorfindel.

Mauburz walked over to the two Elves, putting an arm around each of them. She gave Erestor a kiss on his brow. “You stay close to home. Not good for you to be out.”

“Yes I quite agree!” said Glorfindel.

Mauburz shook her head. “You agree, but not understand. Something very, very bad happening. After you two leave, me hear Will and Bill speaking in Orc-tongue. Say something very disturbing.”

She reached out and gently placed a fingertip on Erestor’s nose. “They wondering what you be worth to Buyer pregnant.”