"Do you know what Thranduil is rumored to be like in the bedroom, Rúmil?"

Elrohir's voice startled the elf of Lórien out of his reverie. Rúmil stood in the hallway outside of his room, wondering vaguely where Elrond had put Thranduil and if he should go to the King of Mirkwood. He had made his offer more out of compassion for Elladan, who so clearly wanted Haldir, than for genuine desire of the King, but he also did not find Thranduil unattractive. In truth, Rúmil found the thought of giving himself to Thranduil rather exciting, even if he would never have dared to throw himself at the King of his own volition.

He had not counted on Elrohir being jealous, or caring, or even noticing. He wondered vaguely if Elrohir did indeed think of him as a plaything, and the thought shamed him. He knew he behaved badly at times, and that he was more promiscuous than perhaps was circumspect, but never had such a scene been made over it as there had been at dinner tonight, and in front of Lord Elrond, too. Surely word would be sent to Galadriel and the Valar only knew how she would respond.

Of course, it was Haldir's fault. Haldir should have known better than to mention it. Then again, Rúmil supposed he was trying to get Elrond to extend sanctuary to him, and Elrond had done just that. There was little Thranduil could do if Rúmil did not show up for their assignation -- at least not now. If he ever had to go to Mirkwood again, and inevitably he would, Thranduil would certainly revenge himself on Rúmil for the renege. It was better to get it over with now.

"Surely he cannot be so bad," Rúmil replied bravely to his lover as the son of Elrond faced him in the hallway.

Elrohir's expression fought to hide many emotions, but they were plain to Rúmil -- jealousy, anger, and a sly narrowing of the grey eyes that promised trouble. Rúmil wondered if he should not be more afraid of Elrohir than of Thranduil. He reflected back on that afternoon, when Elrohir had awakened him, in more ways than one. How beautiful he was with desire reflected in his eyes… unlike now, when he seemed sinister and slightly menacing.

"Do you like to be chained to the bed?"

"Sometimes…" Rúmil said, his eyes going round.

Elrohir took a step forward and Rúmil took one backwards, quickly finding himself against a wall. Elrohir leaned on the wall, putting one arm to the left of Rúmil's head. He leaned forwards, his lips close to Rúmil's, tempting him. The monster I know or the monster I do not, Rúmil thought, feeling lost.

"They say he likes to pierce his lovers with gold rings. You might find yourself forever marked by him."

"Gold rings?" Rúmil could not quite believe that, though in truth when he thought about it, he could recall an elf or two he knew (from Mirkwood) with an earring through the lobe or tip of their ear.

"Yes. They say he leaves them here…" Elrohir bent and licked Rúmil's ear, sending a shiver through his body. "And here…" His hand slid beneath Rúmil's tunic to twist his nipple rather roughly. "And…sometimes…" As Elrohir's hand moved to slide between Rúmil's legs he nearly lost control. He groaned slightly and Elrohir bit Rúmil's lower lip softly, tongue following teeth to soothe the nip. "Of course, the pain of the piercing will be in addition to the bruises that will cover you as he uses you well, over and over," Elrohir purred against Rúmil's mouth, still caressing him wickedly with his hand. "They say he takes no consideration for others, that he will not care if he leaves you torn and bleeding…"

"I cannot believe that," Rúmil muttered, but he was having difficulty remembering what they were talking about in the first place.

"I cannot believe it either," said a voice from Elrohir. Elrohir froze. His hand stopped moving, and Rúmil whimpered slightly. Elrohir let go of him and turned around.

"Good evening, Lord Glorfindel," he said in a pleasant tone that sounded decidedly false to Rúmil.

"King Thranduil deserves more respect than you serve him with, Elrohir," Glorfindel said quietly.

He lifted his chin slightly. The war councilor was not as tall as Elrohir or Rúmil, but he possessed a nobility and a sense of wisdom that bespoke his great age. He had a great mass of blond hair that was paler than Thranduil and Legolas' but darker than the silvery hair of the Lórien elves. It hung in full, rich waves to his trim waist. He was dressed in a black tunic and leggings that made him appear even more fair.

Rúmil had never examined Lord Glorfindel very closely before, for they had few occasions to speak. He knew that Elrohir and Glorfindel were lovers, and of course Elrohir had told him this afternoon that he had grown bored with the arrangement. Rúmil wondered if Glorfindel had followed them out of jealousy, but in truth he was rather glad they had been interrupted. Rúmil had been certain that Elrohir was only steps away from taking him up against the wall of the hallway and that he probably would have been incapable of saying no in that moment.

"Truly?" Elrohir asked in his wicked purr. "Have you first hand experience of the fact?"

"No," Glorfindel said in a voice like ice, "But neither do you, so perhaps you should not attempt to frighten Rúmil away from his duties."

"My duties?" Rúmil blurted.

"You gave your word that you would serve Thranduil tonight, and so you must. You will disgrace not just yourself, but your family as well if you do not," Glorfindel said in a soft voice.

"My father did not see it that way," Elrohir pointed out.

"But you did. Did you not tell the King you would bring him Haldir's forfeit?"

Rúmil glared angrily at Elrohir. How dare he! He opened his mouth, but as if he knew that Rúmil would speak, Elrohir turned around and laid a finger over his lover's lips.

"I have every intention of supplying Thranduil with a lover tonight," Elrohir said. "I simply wished that Rúmil be warned as to what was coming to him."

"How generous of you," Glorfindel replied sarcastically.

Elrohir slipped forward and put his arms around the venerable elf. Rúmil watched as Glorfindel turned to putty in the younger elf's hands. He felt no jealousy, for although he was very fond of Elrohir (most of the time) and enjoyed passing time with him, he was certainly not in love with him. In fact, did Elrohir leave and spend this night in Glorfindel's company, Rúmil would be greatly relived. He could then go to Thranduil and…

And what if the things Elrohir had said about the King of Mirkwood were true? Rúmil was not fond of pain or of bruises and he certainly did not want a gold ring embedded through his body.

Elrohir kissed Glorfindel slowly. Glorfindel wound his arms around Elrohir and returned the kiss. Rúmil could sense the need in him, the emotion he clearly felt for Elrohir, who had him wrapped around his fingers. He almost felt sorry for Glorfindel. Elrohir steered the war councilor towards the closed door to Rúmil and Orophin's room. He twisted the knob and opened it as he broke away from the kiss.

"Wait for me in here, my lord," Elrohir said in a raspy voice. "I will deliver Rúmil to Thranduil as promised, then return to you."

"In Rúmil's room?" Glorfindel said, sounding dazed.

"Yes. No one will find us here. Orophin seemed to have captured the attention of the Prince of Mirkwood much as Rúmil has captured his father," Elrohir breathed. "Legolas has a better room, so they will go there. You know my father always tries to put him near his own quarters."

"Ah… all right," said Glorfindel.

Rúmil watched Elrohir kiss him again and slide his hands over the blond elf's body much as he had done to Rúmil only moments earlier. Glorfindel's response was the same. Rúmil watched lust overtake him. He wished he could watch them together, or perhaps even share in Glorfindel's splendor, but he knew that the war councilor was too jealous of Elrohir's attentions -- even if he would be willing to make an exception in that arena for Elladan.

"Take off your clothing and put out the lamps," Elrohir direction, and as Glorfindel disappeared into the dim room, Elrohir closed the door behind him.

"Elrohir--"

"Shh," Elrohir shushed Rúmil. His voice came in a low whisper that Rúmil could barely hear. "I have no intentions of turning you over to Thranduil. I--"

"Rúmil!" Thranduil's voice boomed out from around the corner.

"He comes this way!" Rúmil whispered back with a thrill of terror.

"Quickly, hide behind the curtain," said Elrohir, grabbing him by the arm and propelling him behind a thick drapery. "Stay here until I get rid of him."

Heart pounding like a drum in his chest, Rúmil hid and wondered if letting Elrohir follow through with whatever he was planning was the wisest course of action.