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Poncing Ponies

Elrond could not love Aragorn, for the mortal was troublesome and cheerless as a child. He sat for hours by deep pools, mutely reflecting, a skinny, black haired orphan of history. For all his royal blood, Aragorn was unhandsome at that age, and one night, when Elrond tried to read the nature and character of his face, he discovered that the future King's features were subtly crooked. Yet the tutoring of Isildur's heir continued apace, no matter the opinion of Elrond's household.

Elrond's daughter, the Lady Arwen, did not enjoy tutoring Aragorn in the art of reading and writing,
for Men were slower to arrive at understanding than Elves freshly wakened.

Glorfindel found his patience tried when the boy was old enough to learn combat and riding, for the lad was clumsy and heavy.

And though Aragorn was naturally good at diplomacy, yet Elrond thought he hardly labored for this achievement, for as the elf-lord knew too well, men in this line could lie most eloquently.

There was one other lesson to complete Aragorn's education and that was a burden Elrond loathed to bear. Yet he could impose the duty on no one else, as it was his own folly to try and bring up a mortal in the Elvish world. Delay would make it no less unpleasant, so on the first night of Aragorn's coming of age, Elrond arranged for his private chambers to be cleaned, perfumed and made altogether pleasant, and then sent for Aragorn.

The heir of Isildor was a sullen figure standing by the side of Elrond's door. Elrond, looking upon him with brows knitted, took stock of the youth's appearance and decided that the man had grown like a weed. He was tall, with dark hair cut roughly at the shoulders, and had mottled skin, full of blemishes and spots, as men apparently got at the awkward time when adulthood begun. Elrond sighed and gestured him in.

Aragorn bowed readily enough and showed all the good curtesy he was taught, but Elrond was not pleased. Aragorn looked thin and tough in his unshapely clothes and flinched beneath the irritated regard, but did not shrink back.

"I come as you have summoned. What do you command, my lord?" His tone was neutral and though his voice had a strange pubescent hoarseness, it was soft and dignified.

"In all the years that you have dwelled in this house," Elrond pinched a piece of Aragorn's clothes between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing across the rough fibers, "Has no one ever spared you a better garment than this?"

Aragorn's jaws tightened. Elrond watched coolly for the reaction to the insult, as he had not intended to be mean, but the prospect of his immediate future dealings with Aragorn has gotten him into quite the foul mood.

Aragorn swallowed down his retort. "I have been camping in the wilderness and came without change of clothes. I feared this was serious," Aragorn tried to explain.

"Oh it is," Elrond cut in. He knew well that Aragorn was becoming quite the hobby Ranger in these parts and did not like this sport himself. It was primitive and reckless, and took Aragorn too often away from Imladris. "Though I do wish now you had taken the time to bathe." This Lord Elrond said with nostrils delicately twitching. He indicated himself, dressed in a silk robe slightly damp from his bathing. "It is but some mindful politeness when you are to attend company."

"I am sorry," Aragorn apologized. But Elrond could see a light quietly burning in the back of his rather fierce eyes. "If you wish, I will go and amend myself presently."

"Hold, Aragorn." Elrond stopped him with an outstretched hand before the man could make his getaway. "You are not excused from this lesson yet."

Aragorn paused and turned back, truly smoldering by now. "I see none here but an unwilling teacher and I beg you forgive me, my lord, but I'd rather come again another day and be better taught by someone in happier spirits to have me as a pupil."

Elrond drew breath and stepped up to Aragorn, catching his elbow with a steady long fingered hand and glared at the indignant man through his slanted eyes. "Bold words," said Elrond and he took care to deliver the rest of his line slowly and clearly. "Think you anyone, beside me here, would teach you in the ways of love?"

Elrond got the affect he wanted. Aragorn gasped and panic flittered over his face. "But that is . . . ridiculous. Though I am not the most courted person in Rivendall, I know of the secrets of life."

"And pray, my esteemed scholar in the amorous acts, who showed you the door and turned their key in your lock to reveal the dazzling wonders of procreation?" Elrond snorted. "Oh no, I may have switched the 'you' and 'them' in that sentence - and now it sounds recreational - but don't try to deny it, you've had no visits, to or fro, at the fountain of your passion."

"In my imagination," Aragorn said with heated breath. "There is one whose eyes I see at the peak of ecstasy each time. It is she I love, though I'll not sully her name by speaking it."

"You mean you are a practiced swordsman, who excels at polishing his own saber, to the thought of some adolescent crush," Elrond taunted him, a small, uneven twitch at his lips. Secretly the elf-lord wondered at himself, why news of Aragorn's admiration for a woman should make him cross. "I would let you live in this delusion of courtly love, but alas, you are too important to me to leave ignorant and callous."

Saying so, Lord Elrond slid his hand up from Aragorn's elbow to his shoulder, clutching the young man at the shoulders, and inflicted his mouth on him. Elrond's skin was suede and his lips mobile, his teeth perfumed and his tongue coaxing. It was invigorating to be kissed by him, Aragorn soon found, like taking in a lungful of fresh autumn air, except October breezes never made one numb and all over itchy with lust. Yet, at the very instant that desire awakened in Aragorn's young heart, a dreadful fear jerked up also in his mind.

"This is wrong," said the heir of Isildur, suddenly slippery as a fish, freeing himself from Elrond's hold. "We cannot lie together. Elves might be indiscriminate about such things, but we men never lie with one another!"

"Never?" Elrond was quite shocked by this misconception. "And you have proposed to every man on middle-earth in order to ascertain this absolute truth?"

Aragorn shook his head in consternation, batting his long black lashes in embarrassment. "My lord, your mind is FIXED on having me!"

"Now that is a funny thought," Elrond laughed, colour rising in his cheeks at this ludicrous assertion. "You're an unsavoury little man, with a wild imagination."

"Do not take me for a bat, though my sight isn't half as good as yours." Aragorn lifted his head, a surprisingly dignified air in his challenging pose. "I pay attention to my surroundings instinctively and I have felt your attention on me, many a time!"

"That is because you are my fosterling and I must needs take care of you." Elrond blew air through his mouth in a flustered manner. Aragorn was being difficult, which Elrond was finding disturbingly exciting.

"No, it is not the same." Aragorn shook his head stubbornly. "It used to be like that, but no more, now you are longing after a bit of leg and stare overly long into my eyes."

"I was searching for beauty in your face, which by the by, was a hard task!" Elrond threw his arm out in emphasis.

The insult made Aragorn smile crookedly. "You are smitten."

"I am . . ." Elrond shook his head vehemently, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "You have won, Elster. If you would accuse me of affection for you, then I will NOT teach you love-making after all, lest you think I'll enjoy the chore in the slightest. Or, forefend it, premeditate to do so."

Aragorn's grin widened. Deeply he bowed his leave in thanks, with a rude parting remark, "Would you let the Lady Arwen be your substitute?"

"That," shouted Elrond, shaking with barely suppressed hysteria, "will happen when a HOBBIT wields The Ring!"

Laughing wildly, Aragorn dashed out of Elrond's quarters, running away with a hand over his mouth to keep down the giggles.

Elrond seethed as he tugged his robes closed around his body. The first lesson had not gone well.

Three days were to pass before Elrond could again contemplate the postponed duty without feeling utterly incensed. With characteristic dedication, he better prepared himself for the occasion: he would make himself as irresistible as a male pheasant bird, so that the man, being a shallow creature, could not resist. Resignedly, Elrond had his most alluring apparel taken out and spent many hours brushing his hair and massaging his skin before he set out on his steed to chase down Aragorn, who was, as usual, living like a savage in the mountains of Imladris.

He found his charge, hunched and greasy, drinking from a stream through his hands like an animal of the wilderness and Elrond thought to stand for a while, watching and brooding. But Aragorn, alert as he was, raised his head quickly and his eyes were clear as the water falling away from his fingers.

Elrond cleared his throat and thought up a greeting quickly. "A fair day," he said, one hand grasping the opposite wrist behind his back.

"It is." Aragorn spoke curtly and, in a distractingly idle manner, rubbed runaway droplets from his chin. Elrond noted with a shudder the hideous covering of morning stubble.

"And a fine hour of early morning," Elrond added, at a loss for what to say to the man regarding him with suspiciously narrowed eyes. "For riding and poetry as one crosses the fields."

"I skewered a snake on a tree." Aragorn nodded as he said this, offering his breakfast experience as a bit of conversation.

Elrond pursed his lips in distaste. As there was no hope for polite talk when Aragorn was in the mood to be crass, he might as well get to the point. "I have come to apologise for what I said to you that evening . . ."

Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, but Elrond would not let him.

". . . Just listen, for I am too proud to repeat this," Elrond rushed on, the colour high in his cheeks. "I admire you far too much and when confronted with the challenge of seducing you, feel compelled to distance and protect myself. I cannot fall in love with you, you understand."

Elrond felt quite the fool uttering these words to a person who, less than two decades ago, was brought to him as a toddler small enough to carry around in his arms. How fast Aragorn had grown up and become so worldly, even though to the three thousand years old lord of Rivendell he seemed to have experienced nothing at all.

Aragorn crossed his arms and lifted his chin. "Why not?"

That gave Elrond quite the stumble. He opened his hands in a sweeping motion as if to showcase a dozen invisible reasons lying at their feet, but could not, actually, say anything.

Aragorn wiped his hands dry on his very stained chaps and waded through ankle deep water to approach Elrond, who bristled as he drew near.

"I think you love me already." Aragorn grasped his benefactor's hand, curling strong calloused fingers into Elrond's longer, thinner ones. "I was angry when we had the dispute about lessons and intentions, but I came here to know my own mind and that is the surprising conclusion. I recalled how you used to watch me as a child when I liked to sit by the lily pond and dwell on my fate. How that always turned your head. You have cared for me all my life and I am grateful."

Elrond shook his head. He did not like where this was going. If Aragorn was going to do this out of respect or thankfulness, he might as well call it a repayment by installments and ask for a note of reception. The thought made Elrond unbearably sad.

"My lord," Aragorn whispered, touching gently a tender smooth cheek with his own rough one. "I have caused you pain, you have been in much doubt."

Elrond brushed his lips against the strange coarseness of the man's chin. Without thought, the tip of his tongue slipped out to taste the small dent there. Faintly, as Elrond savoured the salt and sweetness, he felt Aragorn grab a fistful of his fine golden clothes and crush the material in his fist. "Tell me, in all the stores of Rivendell, you could not find a garment more fashionable?"

"I have wooed lovers and wife in this old outfit," Elrond confessed, too preoccupied to keep his secrets now that he had his head buried in Aragorn's neck and the odours of the man had him melting over the gaunt angles of the youthful body.

"I know." Elrond heard Aragorn laugh as he picked apart the dress. "There are moth holes at the back."

"Take care," Elrond complained as Aragorn negotiated the clothing off his back and the gleaming gold and mithril got bundled with Aragorn's weathered clothes and leathers. But soon enough, he was scrabbling into the mud bank, unmindful of his manicure, and stifling pleasured sounds with one of Aragorn's trouser-legs clamped between his teeth.

"Do you still say, my liege, that I'll have you to be thankful to on my wedding day?" Aragorn panted hoarsely as he pinned down and took Elrond briskly, a note of smugness in his strangled sentence.

Pulling the man's head down by a forceful grip on the back of his neck, Elrond cursed softly into Aragorn's ear. "You will know my wrath, Estel, if you dare think of another when you are between my legs," he said through gritted teeth.

Aragorn gave a loud gasp at that and thrust harder, staring at Elrond as if seeing him there for the first time. Crying out loud, he came to an abrupt climax filling his lover, much to Elrond's satisfaction. Coming down from the calamitous conclusion slowly, Elrond stretched sated limbs to Aragorn, who had rolled away, pulling the slender heaving back to rest against his chest. Aragorn felt cold and clammy in his arms and his heart beat too fast in his ribcage.

"Aragorn?" Elrond cuddled Aragorn to soothe him. "It is natural to be shaken after your first occasion."

Lying in Elrond's embrace, Aragorn could only nod and choke and hide his great shock. For upon looking down at Elrond at the crucial time, he had found that the eyes that he had always seen when he fantasied, and had theorised to be Arwen's, were in practice, revealed to be her father's. It was then apparent to Aragorn that he had needed the lesson after all.