Club Tropicana
by Anand
Chapter 1 - ‘Pack your bags and leave tonight’
Lord Elrond awoke to blazing sunlight and the raucous sound of strange birds.
As he shaded his eyes he became aware that he was lying on a beach of sparkling,
white sand. In the foreground there was a sapphire sea, boasting little
foam-capped waves and diving seabirds and behind there were simply palm trees,
lots of them. Large palms trees, which dipped their heads towards the
ocean and were replete with coconuts. Their emerald leaves flapped as a breeze
passed through them. In fact everything was flapping. The palms,
the swooping, screaming gulls and the jewel-like butterflies that flitted
to and fro as if they had some place to go but had quite forgotten where.
Elrond was reasonably sure that last night he had gone to sleep, quite peacefully,
in his own bed, located in the immediate vicinity of Imladris. He rubbed his
eyes, and then waited as his vision returned. The scene stayed exactly
the same.
Suddenly there was a fierce whirling of wind and sand, as if a miniature
tornado had started up by the side of Elrond, although it was confined to
a few square yards and didn’t move. After a short while the air within
the tornado appeared to actually stretch and then deposited a body on the
sand. All went quiet. The elven-king Thranduil lay there, blinking
and staring in rank amazement. A crown of berries and red leaves adorned
his head, it being the season of Iavas in Mirkwood. He sat up, shaking
his head and the crown slipped to one side; his eyes practically bulged out
of their sockets in disbelief. Elrond started to laugh and once he had
stared, he couldn’t stop. He knew it was uncalled for in the circumstances
but he couldn’t help himself. Thranduil looked as if the palace ceiling
had dropped on his head.
“By Kémi, just what is going on here, Elrond? Is this your
gratuitous idea of a joke?” exclaimed Thranduil, theatrically tossing the
offending crown to the ground.
Elrond made a supreme effort to control himself as tears rolled down his
face. Within his mind, he thought that his near hysteria was probably
due to the shock of the unknown. He wiped his face with the sleeve of
his tunic.
“You know as much as I, Thranduil. Last night I went to bed at Imladris
and awoke just a moment ago on this beach, although I don’t remember getting
dressed. It’s rather pleasant here, don’t you think?”
“Oh, very scenic,” said Thranduil, adopting his best mode of sarcasm. "That
sun is far too bright,” he added, scowling.
There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere and a figure of no mean propensity
stood before them. He was tall, golden-haired and dressed in indigo
silk. Light emanated from his person, swirling and eddying around him
like a moveable aura. The irises of his eyes were almost entirely black
and resembled the deep, silent, magical pools one sometimes comes upon when
exploring caves and which make the whole precarious trip worthwhile.
“Good morning, gentlefolk,” said the glorious figure. “I am the Vala
you know as Lórien, the King of Dreams and Visions. I am presently
conducting an experiment. You two elves have long held each other in
the most atrocious disregard, so I have brought you here to this beautiful
place to resolve your differences amicably. I have great faith in your
ability so to do. When this joyful happening takes place, I shall return
you to your homes.”
“But…” began Elrond and Thranduil in union.
“Ah, no buts,” continued the Vala, “this island is thousands of miles from,
well, anywhere. No one will miss you because time proceeds much more
slowly here than on the rest of Arda. Within its confines is all that
you might need for gracious living. Do enjoy it!”
With that generous command, he disappeared, leaving nothing but shining
dust motes raining down onto the silver sand. Waves lapped gently on
the shore and a scarlet crab made its way with difficulty across the expanse
of the water margin. Thranduil snorted in disgust.
“That is never, ever going to happen,” he said, glaring at Elrond, “not
in my lifetime. No, by leaf and bough, never!” He scrambled to
his feet and headed off in the direction of the palms. “And don’t come
looking for me, either, you imbecile,” he shouted back as he merged into the
verdant greenery.
“Ai, Elbereth,” thought Elrond, as a butterfly landed on his outstretched
finger. It resembled one of his wife’s ruby and pearl earrings. The
Vala was right, this island was very beautiful. He would have a rest,
take his bearings and then he would go and explore it.
Chapter 2 – ‘Where strangers take you by the hand and welcome you to
Wonderland’
Elrond had spent the last two hours trooping across the island and now he
had reached another small beach set on the opposite side. Here the coconut
palms were not so profuse but set wider apart. The bark of their trunks had
peeled back to reveal fibrous matting and Elrond guessed that it would make
excellent kindling, so using his knife he cut some out and tucked it
into his belt. Then he collected a few stray coconuts he found nestling
at the palm bases, cracked them open with a stone and drank the juice.
The beach stretched out to the shoreline and beyond he could see a lagoon
almost entirely surrounded by a pearly coral atoll. The outer oceanic
waves crashed against the coral, spraying spume into the air and the elf’s
keen eyesight could make out several stormy petrels fishing in amongst the
chaos. He lay back against a palm trunk and gathered his thoughts.
The island couldn’t be more than three miles across and, worryingly, appeared
to have no fresh water. At least he hadn’t come across any yet, but
there must be springs, since the place was full of various fauna. He
had observed brightly coloured and tuneful birds, the occasional miniature
boar snuffling in the undergrowth, small rodents scurrying through the leaf
litter and all manner of insects including honey bees and the ubiquitous butterflies.
He would certainly have to find some water soon, as the heat of the day was
becoming less bearable. Pulling off his tunic, he tied the sleeves
around his waist. A light breeze blew in from the ocean and cooled
his skin. He chewed on a piece of coconut flesh.
The centre of the Island had been interesting. Here, the palms had
given way to tall, straight trees with smooth-barked, reddish trunks.
Elrond had never seen their like before and he thought that they were probably
unique to the Island. Their trunks culminated in many-branched crowns
of oval leaves, similar to the Neldoreth trees of Mirkwood. Creatures
that resembled thrushes, kirinki and squirrels mainly occupied the canopy,
but the foliage was so dense it was difficult to make them out. Elrond
had climbed one of them, forcing his way through the crown until he could
see out between its branches. This gave him an excellent ariel view
of the Island, which he could see was roughly circular in shape and covered
with trees. Around the sandy perimeter, an indigo blue ocean stretched
out in all directions. There was absolutely no sign of any other land
in sight. The Vala lord had been correct about the Island’s remoteness
and also, its beauty.
Elrond felt unusually serene; he wasn’t missing his family or Imladris one
iota. He wondered idly where Thranduil had got to and if he was safe.
The trouble with Thranduil was that he never listened and also, he held grudges
that might or might not have been justified, but in any case were never forgotten
and certainly never forgiven.
He blamed Elrond and Gil-galad for the death of his father, Oropher.
They were really only responsible indirectly, but to Thranduil that was as
near as maybe. That, combined with the history of the warlike
Noldor elves and the peace-loving Sindar of Doriath, of whom Thranduil was
one, made an explosive mixture.
Lord Elrond recalled the history. Thranduil and Oropher were among
the Grey elves of Doriath in Beleriand who had crossed the Misty Mountains
and settled with the Silvan elves living there at that time. They wanted
to blend in and adopted the Silvan language and lifestyle, even to the extent
of taking Silvan names. With no desire to leave Ennor or to be merged
with the other Sindar who were dominated by the Noldorin exiles at Lindon,
it seemed the most fruitful possibility. Oropher wished his people to
return to the simple, natural life that elves lived before Beleriand had proved
to be the primary battleground between the Noldor and Morgoth, the Vala Lord
of Darkness. During the second age of the sun, Oropher began to resent
the intrusion of Celeborn and Galadriel into his territory and also the power
and proximity of the dwarves of Moria. Therefore, he began to move
his people northwards through Eryn Galen (the great forest of Greenwood).
Eventually, after his death, they settled in the far north east corner, and
crowned Thranduil as their king. As for Elrond’s part in the death
of Oropher…the elven lord was disturbed in his reverie by a plaintive yelping
emanating from the eastern end of the beach. Elrond felt it simply
couldn’t be ignored and hurried off in the general direction.
Chapter 3 – ‘Fun & sunshine, there’s enough for ev’ryone’
As Elrond drew near to the source of the yelping, he saw it was coming from
a somewhat distressed, tousle-haired canine that was alternately running around
in circles then frantically licking its front paw. Droplets of ruby
blood had smattered the sand here and there from the injury. The culprit
was a large fiddler crab with an awesome looking claw which it had obviously
used to good effect. Further up the beach lay the scattered remains
of several additional crustaceans so the canine must have been hunting and
had come off worst in this latest skirmish. Elrond kicked the offending
crab away and attended to the whimpering canine. Upon closer examination
he found it to be a medium sized dog with a chocolate coloured muzzle and
light tan hair, speckled throughout with russet markings. He calmed
the dog by voice and by stroking and managed to get it to sit down whilst
he checked the injury. The crab had inflicted a deep slice through two
pads of the dog’s paw that must have been painful.
The elven lord reached within himself and a small portion of the abundant
inner grace that he possessed flowed from his hands and began to heal the
dog’s injury. Soon, a thick fibrous clot had formed over the pads to
act as a protective cover for the cells underneath to regenerate naturally.
As a by-product of this elven magic, the soul of Elrond and the spirit of
the dog touched briefly in some blissful internal dimension of reality.
It was then that Elrond became aware that the dog’s external image was rather
an illusion. Its complex spirit gave the impression that it was much
more than a simple canine. As Elrond swept gently out of the healing
process, he smiled at the revelation and peered into the dog’s amber eyes,
but the canine gave nothing away. He simply cocked his head on one side
in that rather appealing way that dogs have and regarded Elrond quizzically.
Then he stood up and gingerly tested his paw in the sand; everything appeared
to be in working order. Satisfied now that all was well, the dog caught
hold of Elrond’s tunic, which was tied around his waist, and tugged in the
direction of a rocky outcrop a little further on up the beach. He let
go, gave a bark of encouragement and trotted off towards the outcrop.
Elrond decided to follow the enigmatic canine.
The outcrop proved to be the final extension of a peninsula that formed
the eastern section of the bay. As the dog neared the copper hued rock,
he made a sharp left turn towards the interior and disappeared into an area
of dense shrub around ten feet high. As Elrond reached the thicket he
saw there was a narrow path leading into the greenery which the dog must have
taken. The elf picked his way carefully along the track in case he
managed to tread on something hostile. However, all he disturbed was
a silvery-grey shrew, who piped a tune of alarm and scurried further into
the shrubbery, brushing its thick velvet fur against Elrond’s boot as it
passed. Really, thought Elrond, everything was so enchanting here.
Even the tiny creatures were miniature works of art. Up ahead he could
hear the dog barking and at length he broke through the bushes. What
met his astonished eyes was a scene of incomparable beauty, one that took
his breath away.
It was a sunlit clearing, enclosed by the tail end of the copper outcrop
and a stand of the unique Neldoreth trees sheltering it from the interior.
Water percolated from the solid rock, flowed gracefully down an escarpment
and collected in a substantial pool at its base. The dog lay at the
poolside, bathing in the sun. Lilac and pink orchids clung to the rock
and strands of jasmine in full bloom threaded their way through the cracks
and grooves of the escarpment covering the bare surface in a surfeit of cream
and emerald. To the left of the aqua pool grew two magnificent shrubs,
covered in large ivory blooms that were tipped with speckles of pink.
Lemon stamens protruded from the blossoms and were replete with pollen which
emanated a profuse and exotic scent. They were the only star lotus bushes
in existence on Arda at that present time. Some of the blooms had fallen
into the pool and floated on the surface like lilies. The atmosphere
was full of their heady scent and, combined with the jasmine, was enough
to send even a dwarve into paroxysms of ecstasy.
Elrond stepped into the clearing to find a carpet of Neldoreth leaves underfoot;
severed from the trees they had turned copper to match the rock. He
stretched a cupped hand into the clear, sparkling water running down the escarpment.
It tasted sweet, cool and refreshing. Then he crouched by the pool
and tested the water there. It was warm from the heat of the sun and
perfumed by the lotus blossom. He took off his clothing and stepped
in. The water reached up to chest height and there was a convenient
ledge to settle on by the lotus bushes, of which Elrond took full advantage.
He leaned back against the poolside in the shade, the warm water coating
his body in satin. He had the distinct feeling that he might lose himself
in the most agreeable sensory overload and surrendered to the moment.
Chapter 4 – ‘All that’s missing is the sea’
Quite some distance away, Thranduil was being followed by a similar but
smaller version of Elrond’s canine benefactor. This female kept her
distance from the fair-haired elf, who wasn’t in the best of moods and therefore
rather unapproachable. In his haste to remove himself from both Elrond’s
presence and the sun drenched beach, Thranduil had headed into the interior,
with its tall Neldoreth trees, and stayed there for most of the day.
However, there was negligible water to be had and no coconuts to drain of
their juice, so he was now becoming dehydrated and somewhat disorientated.
He collapsed, disgruntled, against the bough of a nearby tree and considered
his position. The evening was drawing in and the dense forest canopy
suffused the remaining light, so that he could hardly see two yards in front
of himself. Who knew what dangerous wild animals might be lurking in
the shadows. He should really climb one of the trees for safety but
he felt so weak and tired out. At least the strange Neldoreth reminded
him a little of home.
His palace was set in a great cavern which extended deep into a hillside
covered with the more familiar variety of Neldoreth trees. A stream
flowed under the lowest parts of the cavern and joined the Forest River some
way further to the east. The entrance to the palace, which was divided
into various chambers including a huge and ornate hall, was guarded by gates
that Thranduil could open and close at will. The elven king’s magic
was strong and his familiarity with the stars and nature, particularly well
developed. Although the wood elves did not pursue academic or esoteric
knowledge to the extent that the Noldorin elves were inclined to do, it did
not make them any the less inferior. However, it seemed that every time
they tentatively reached out to heal the rift of centuries, they would be
knocked back or trodden on metaphorically, so they had long given up trying.
Oropher’s death had been the final straw in a long history of outrages visited
upon them by the actions of the Noldor, more often than not resulting in the
demise of a number of their race. So, all in all, Elrond was the last
person Thranduil wanted to be marooned with on a remote island in the middle
of Kémi knows where. As he drifted off into a restless sleep,
he prayed that things would not get any worse.
A little while before daybreak, Thranduil was forced awake by thirst and
became convinced that he could hear water trickling some distance off, now
that the night had quietened the cacophony of birdsong. He heaved himself
to a standing position and headed towards the source of the sound. After
a short time he came to the edge of a steep incline, at the base of which
ran a narrow stream. The water glinted in the few beams of moonlight
that had managed to penetrate the forest canopy. Just as the elven king
was about to make a careful descent, he noticed an insignificant shrub to
his right. It appeared to be full of sparkling gems. If Thranduil
had a weakness at all, it was for the acquisition of treasure, especially
such silver and white jewels. He reached warily into the bush.
Unexpectedly the gems appeared to float out towards him, and he drew back
in surprise. Of course, they were fireflies, quite usual on a tropical
island but rare in the depths of Mirkwood. The impetus of his sudden
movement caused Thranduil to topple down the incline and come to rest with
a crash at its base, turning his ankle awkwardly in the process. He
felt a terrific burning sensation as he twisted fibre and cartilage, pain
of the most horrendous proportion as his bone snapped and, finally, nothing
as he thankfully passed out. The innocent fireflies returned to
their bush and Thranduil’s canine companion appeared at the top of the incline.
She peered down for a while, gave a whine and departed quickly in the direction
of Elrond’s sanctuary.
Chapter 5 – ‘Let me take you to the place where membership’s a smiling
face’
Before Elrond had retired for the night, he had carried out a reconnoitre
of the area and made a number of amazing discoveries. Not only were
there a number of fruiting trees and berry bushes in the vicinity, there was
also a storehouse. A certain Neldoreth tree had been hollowed out at
one side of its enormous trunk. Inside, Elrond found a cedar box containing
blankets, cushions and cotton clothing suitable for the climate. Then,
on various ledges hewn out of the trunk, lay flints and a tinder box; bowls,
cups, pots and utensils; herbs, spices and oils in glass containers with
cork stoppers and lastly, a small wicker basket containing combs, twine, kajal
for the eyes and a wonderful cream that had the fragrance of coconuts and
which, Elrond guessed, would serve as protection from the strong sunlight.
Propped up against the cedar box, stood a couple of fishing rods already threaded
with strong twine and fastened with metal hooks. In fact, the storehouse contained
everything one would need to make life bearable in such a remote habitation.
The elven lord thought for a while and came rapidly to the conclusion that
Lórien had provided in abundance all the necessities of life in order
for him and Thranduil to concentrate solely on resolving their differences.
It was shortly after dawn when Thranduil’s dog arrived at the sanctuary.
Her mate greeted her with so much joyful barking and whining that they woke
Elrond, who had spent a most pleasant and peaceful night by the pool, tucked
underneath one of the storehouse blankets. He arose, performed his ablutions,
and then dressed in some of the cotton clothing he had laid out the night
before. He pulled on cream trousers which tied at the waist and donned
a matching long, loose top split at the neck and half way up the sides, which
buttoned with mother of pearl decorations. He slung a wide belt around his
hips upon which he fastened his knife, enclosed in a leather scabbard.
He was just lacing his boots when the female dog came and tugged at his sleeve.
She appeared to be in a rather agitated state and wanted him to follow her.
Her attitude denoted some urgency. He grabbed a piece of some succulent
fruit he had harvested the previous day from a bowl nestling on the poolside,
and made haste to follow as both dogs advanced into the interior of the island.
After about an hour they had all reached the top of the incline where Thranduil
had taken a fall. He had regained consciousness and was moaning softly
in pain and frustration. Although he had practically landed in the stream,
he was too weak to even take a drink. Elrond scrambled down the steep
bank and reached the stricken elf.
“Thranduil,” he began, “please allow me to help you now. How have
you come to this folly?”
“My ankle,” moaned the elven king. “I’m so thirsty,” he added, appealing
to what he thought was Elrond’s better nature, “and there is something wrong
with my shoulder.”
“Alright, meldir,” said Elrond, and moved Thranduil’s ankle. He let
out a yelp of pain and bit his lip. It would not do to show Elrond his
apparent weakness in the face of adversity.
Elrond took a handful of water from the stream, which seemed to be safe
as the dogs were lapping up their fill, and dribbled it into Thranduil’s
mouth. He swallowed the clear liquid gratefully and Elrond gave him
some more. Then he moved Thranduil’s shoulder. The pain was again
intense, and the elven king practically vomited the water he had just imbibed.
“Mmm,” said Elrond, breaking the bad news, “you have a badly fractured ankle
and a dislocated shoulder. I shall have to do something here and now,
because to move you would surely cause further damage. I can’t do this
without your permission since it involves the healing process and all that
goes with it. Do I have your consent, meldir?”
His words were gentle and compassionate. Thranduil had never seen
this side of Elrond before and in his heightened state of awareness, due
to the pain, he felt soothing energies flowing from the heart of the elven
lord denoting the honesty of his actions. Elrond’s benign grey eyes
sparkled with vigour. Thranduil regarded them and then made his decision.
“Go ahead, Elrond,” he said, with as much royal dignity as he could assume,
given the circumstances of their present situation.
Elrond let his attention flow inwards. The process was slightly different
with elves than it was with animals, all due to the possession of free will.
Animals were under the thrall of nature, they behaved according to a given
set of rules. A dog behaved like a dog, a bird like a bird and so on.
However, creatures given free will could behave in anyway they wished; to
have the slyness of a fox or the majesty of an eagle, for instance.
Such creatures had to be accorded due respect. For them, the healing
process could sometimes be rather an intimate affair if their souls became
attracted to each other. It was rare, but not unheard of.
The elven lord placed his hands first on Thranduil’s ankle, then against
his shoulder. Grace flowed from Elrond to the fair king and affected
a cure. Bones began to knit together, the displacement gently righted
itself. Elrond drew energies from the earth and Thranduil became aware
of his great soul as it touched his own spirit. Elrond’s gracious clemency,
bravery and tender-heartedness stirred him at a deep level. In turn,
Elrond felt Thranduil’s great love for his people, his nurturing personality
and his profound and admirable union with the environment of Arda and was
equally moved.
“Dear Thranduil,” said an apologetic Elrond, “I did not realise until now
what an advanced soul you are. I’m sorry to say that wood elves are
looked down upon as being less intelligent and somewhat dangerous. I,
for one, do not intend to perpetuate this ridiculous myth any longer.”
“Our knowledge and worship in this present age is concerned with the essence
of the Earth, Herself. I suppose that now we appear to be a group of
illiterate pagans to you High Elves. That apart, I may have misjudged
the House of Elrond by allowing my vision to become clouded by events in the
past. If you truly matched my previous estimation of your character,
you would not possess any of the ample grace that you do.”
“A true lover of knowledge tries to grasp the nature of things as they really
are. That is, with the faculty that is akin to reality and which approaches
and unites with it. I do not call that pagan, meldir. Can you
try sitting up now? Take care not to move that ankle – it will take
some time to heal properly.”
As Thranduil began to carefully pull himself up, another one of the Islands’
local tornados enclosed all the party and deposited them back at Elrond’s
sanctuary. The dogs ran off barking in the direction of the beach and
Thranduil stared in awe, first at the pool, then at the lotus bushes and then
back to Elrond.
Chapter 6 – ‘Cocktail time, a summer’s tune, a whole night’s holiday’
“Lórien is playing games with us,” said Thranduil indignantly, “he
is a typical interfering Vala. I suppose this whole island is one enormous
illusion. I don’t know what he expects from us before he lets us return
to Ennor.”
“To enjoy ourselves,” said Elrond simply, “so I suggest you let me help
you take a bath. The pool is warmed from the sun and is full of mineral
salts which would be of the greatest benefit to someone who is dehydrated
and rather cross.”
“I am not damned well cross,” raged Thranduil, and as he shouted a sapphire
humming bird shot out of a clump of jasmine in twittering in alarm.
Elrond suppressed a smile and went to retrieve some suitable clothing and
herbs from the storehouse. When he returned Thranduil had managed to
remove his kingly robes as far as his waist.
“I give up,” said the elven king in frustration, “my shoulder only extends
so far.”
Elrond assisted him with the rest, trying to keep his injured ankle as straight
as possible. He couldn’t help but admire Thranduil’s graceful figure.
He was tall and lithe with elegant, long fingers and slim, muscular thighs.
His skin was ivory and unblemished apart from a faded scar on his back, running
along the line of the lower rib cage. He caught Elrond looking at it.
“I received that in Dorieth when I was but an elfling. The Noldor
tried to kill us all in their pursuit of the wretched Silmaril, which was
in the possession of King Dior. You could say that I was fortunate
to escape the slaughter; my mother was killed. She hid me underneath
her body as she passed away to the Halls of Mandos. I stayed under
her as she got colder and colder. Then my father found me. When
he first looked at me his eyes were filled with relief. After that
day, for many years, his eyes remained as cold and lifeless as my mother’s
body had been.”
Elrond helped him into the pool, settling him on the shady ledge.
He took a bowl and some scented oil and began to wash Thranduil’s hair which
was covered in mud, twigs and rotted leaf litter from the stream. After
a while, Thranduil began to calm down. He resumed his conversation more
quietly.
“At least I knew my father for a good while, whereas both your parents sail
forever through the firmament.”
“That much is true,” said Elrond wistfully, and, taking a deep breath he
added, “and if I contributed towards the death of Oropher I am sorry, Thranduil.
It was done to protect someone I loved very much but it was all in vain, such
is the way of things.”
“Let us forget the past, then, meldir. There will always be some heartache
or other to contend with. In my experience it is usually to do with
the pursuit of materialism, revenge or unrequited love.”
“Yes,” said Elrond, visibly brightening, “let us forget.”
~
It was one idyllic and soporific afternoon, several days later. Thranduil’s
injuries had improved by leaps and bounds. He could put all his weight
on the damaged ankle without too much discomfort and his shoulder was completely
healed. He wandered down to the beach where Elrond was fishing from
the extremity of the copper peninsula into the bay. He had already caught
several skate and was now pulling in a small tuna, the rod bending and straining
in protest. The fish surfaced, its blue and gold scales glittering in the
sun, and leapt across several rolling waves giving Elrond a chance to reel
in the slack. Thranduil appeared, smiling, at his side to offer his
assistance. Elrond was delighted to see the elven king up and about
and, working closely together, they managed to land the tuna. The fish
possessed enough solid flesh to last the remainder of the week, unless they
were to feed the dogs as well, but like everything else on the Island the
bay was packed with a bountiful fecundity of life and it seemed churlish to
exclude their canine companions from so sumptuous a feast.
The two elves reclined on a low lying section of the peninsula and dangled
their feet in the refreshing water. Elrond pulled off his top to reveal
his torso which was covered in a light sheen of fresh perspiration and he
wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Thranduil suddenly became
aware of the most astounding fact. Out of all the intoxicating scents
which emanated from their sanctuary, Elrond had, at this precise moment, the
most exotically sensual.
The fair elf had never been so aroused by another male in all his born days.
In truth, things were becoming a little embarrassing below his waist and he
gathered the material of his top into folds over his lap to hide his predicament.
Leaf and bough, he thought, but Elrond was lovely to behold with that thick,
ebony hair falling over the ample definition of his shoulders and chest, like
an obsidian stream flowing over inviting and generous sand dunes. He
thought about burying his face in it prior to licking away that silky sheen
of moisture from all available contours. Ai, Kémi! He
better think of something else and quickly.
“I do hope that I’m home in time to see the birth of my third grandchild,”
he said merrily to Elrond.
“Oh,” replied the elven lord, “congratulations are in order then.
I expect you will. This is another of Malthorn’s?”
“Yes. He and Idrilyriel have been wed but twenty years and this is
their third child.”
“Mirkwood must be extremely fertile!”
“Well it is for Malthorn. I don’t know what to do about Legolas.
He’s not even remotely interested in finding a mate.”
“Count yourself lucky. I’m having the most horrendous trouble with
Elrohir, you wouldn’t believe. He’s convinced that he’s in love with
Glorfindel and there is absolutely no chance of anything occurring in that
direction. I mean really, the age difference, experience of life, everything
– it’s just too ridiculous to contemplate. What to do?”
“Tarry until the storm abates.”
“Ai, yes. But the trouble with unrequited passion is that it often
blows up in one’s face, with severe consequences for all those foolish enough
to be caught in its wake.”
Elrond gave a wry smile.
“Wait until Arwen grows up. Then you will have a storm of epic proportions.”
“Thank you Thranduil. I shall look forward to that day with mounting
anticipation. We had best get this meal back and cooked before it goes
off in this heat.”
Mmm, thought Thranduil, taking Elrond’s final sentence in quite different
manner.
Chapter 7 - ‘Castaways & lovers meet, then kiss in Tropicana’s heat’
“Are you in that sun without any protection again?” scolded Elrond.
“I’ve only just laid down, mother. Look, here is the cream I’m about
to put on.”
“Ai,” laughed the elven lord, “let me do it then, yesterday you missed patches.
See, here and here look a mite sore.” He pointed out the mild sunburn.
Thranduil just grinned. He was quite enjoying sunbathing now.
He thought he might have to visit Imladris to get sufficient intensity of
heat, though, and only then in the Laer season. Still, that shouldn’t
be insurmountable once he had convinced his family that Elrond was a dear
friend and not the lord of chaos they all held him to be.
As Elrond spread the coconut cream over the elven king’s stomach, Thranduil
thought that he was lingering more than was strictly necessary, running his
palm back and forth over the taut abdominis muscles in smooth, sensuous strokes.
The cream had long since been absorbed into Thranduil’s now light gold skin
and still Elrond was dreamily stroking the area. This continued tender action
was driving Thranduil to distraction so he placed his hand over Elrond’s and
looked into his eyes, a brilliant smile breaking out on his face
“Elrond, meldir,” he began in a soft voice, “why don’t we make love?”
Elrond shot him a glance of undisguised lust. “Our wives,” he murmured
in a weak protest, although it was none too convincing.
“Need never know,” replied Thranduil, “and what is more,” he carried on
making a good case of it, “since time proceeds so slowly here it may not
even be noticed that we left Ennor at all, let alone experienced all this
exotica.”
“Mmm,” replied Elrond, “I see passive negotiation is another of your hidden
skills, Thranduil.”
“And I have other, more intimate ones, Elvelui,” promised the elven king,
undoing the waist ties of his trousers.
“Likewise, darling,” said Elrond, giving up entirely and lowering his face
towards Thranduil’s to meet his parted lips in a merciful kiss. His
ebony hair mixed with Thranduil’s blond tresses in a subtle signal of forgiveness.
The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the silvery grey of the
elven king’s crystal irises, glistening with excitement. Then it was
all sensation for them both. Pulsating, absorbing sensation; the panacea
of all emotional damage. The provoking, rousing and urging swell of
passion extraordinaire, combined with the sweet, luscious and aromatic ripples
of succour resembling the ebb and flow of the tide. On and on until
the culmination of so many malleable embraces and stimulating touches; billowing,
surging and expanding into waves of ecstasy breaking on the harmonious and
exquisite shores of gratification. Gasps, sighs and moans quietened
into gentle, regular breaths and the two elven lovers slipped into the gracious
symmetry of sleep.
The male dog, which had been resting peacefully under a giant palm, assumed
the Vala form of Lórien and judged it an equitable time to enter the
garden sanctuary. He looked fondly upon the close and loving embrace
of Elrond and Thranduil and decided to give them one more day on the island
before returning them to their respective abodes. The Vala, Estё the
Healer, appeared at his side. It is she who grants rest to those that
suffer. Of course, she had taken the role of the female canine.
She wore a grey cloak and a gentle smile. At length Estё took the hand of
Lórien and they both vanished into the eternal dimension of Valinor,
leaving only the fluttering jewel-like butterflies to enjoy the blissful residue
of their recent presence. Elrond and Thranduil slept on, secure in their
new friendship that would mark the beginning of a long overdue collective
healing between the two elven Houses of Middle Earth.
Elvish: Iavas – autumn Laer – summer
meldir – friend Kémi – Goddess of the earth
Neldoreth – beech tree Kirinki – a scarlet wren of Numenor
Elvelui – lovely elf
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