Mistress Gilraen 
AfterEver
AfterEver@aol.com

Rating
PG-13 for dealing with adult issues, and vaguely implied sexual references. 

Recently relocated to Rivendell after Arathorn's untimely death, Gilraen 
discovers precisely what price is due for Elrond Peredhel's hospitality (and it 
isn't what she suspected). Amusing, bittersweet, poignant

Notes
This story is book-verse; thus, think book-Elrond, please. ;-) 


* * *


I think I should not feel afraid. I tell myself not to feel afraid. Though I am. 
Or perhaps it is not fear, exactly. Closer probably to dread. For I know what I 
must do, but I am afraid to do it. There will be no going back, once I make this 
choice, once I take this step. But no choice remains, really. I have already 
chosen. I have accepted what I must become; though that does not mean I must 
look forward to it. 

For my son's future, for his safety, well being, and happiness, I will reduce 
myself to a mistress. Dare I say; a whore. I love my husband! Even in his death, 
still do I love him. But I will do this thing, for him, and for our son. 

As I walk to Lord Elrond's chambers, I think of all the women, all the wives, 
and all the widows, who must have walked as such before me. I wonder if even 
some men have trodden this path! I take a breath and still my nerves. It matters 
not what I think. This is my choice, as it may have been any number of others' 
in the past, and I choose freely, as did they. My son is worth it. This and 
more. 

I pause a moment to fix my hair before an exquisitely framed mirror, hanging in 
the hall. I have learned there is never a shortage of mirrors in 
Elven-dwellings. I look nice, I admit. My dress is borrowed, but coincidentally 
a flattering color on me. Arathorn would be quite enticed. A sad sigh escapes 
me. "I love you, husband," I whisper to his memory. "It is you whom I shall see, 
no matter what manner of beast sweats against me this night." 

I make sure that my thin silken dress is properly exposing all the right 
glimpses and concealing all the crucial teases, then I proceed to Elrond 
Half-elven's bedchambers. I only know where it is, because my son has made a 
rather inconvenient game of playing hide and seek in his new home, without 
telling anyone first. Thus, there is not one room, nook or cranny in the entire 
blasted valley that I have not at some point or other stuck my head into. 

Thanks also to my many occasions of seeking Aragorn out, I have also discovered 
that Elves do not lock their doors. In fact, I doubt if Elven doors are equipped 
with locks at all. So when I enter Elrond's room, I do so without knocking, 
knowing full well that it is open. Besides, he is probably expecting me. If I 
were not so naive, I would have seen immediately that he had probably been 
expecting me every night since my arrival, and possibly at regular intervals 
during the afternoon, if what I know of Elven stamina holds true to all aspects 
of their activities. 

The room is well lit by candles and lamps, and as ever, starlight seems to shine 
especially bright upon the last Homely House. The bed is made, tapestries adorn 
the walls, and even clutter upon the furniture seems neatly in place. 

I realize I am being stared at from across the room. Sitting in a chair before a 
writing table, Elrond examines me steadily with eyes I cannot read. Come to 
think of it, I believe I have never been able to read the Lord of Imladris from 
his face alone. It will be all the more difficult to please him that way, but 
with any fortune he will inform me of... precisely what he wishes. Still, I hope 
I will at least be able to tell if I displease him at any time. I have no desire 
to invoke the wrath of an Elven-lord of his stature. 

"Lady Gilraen," he says eventually, and there is mild surprise in his tone. 
"Good evening." 

I curtsy slowly, showing him all the respect he no doubt expects. "Good evening 
to you, Lord Elrond." 

He smiles that indecipherable smile, and titles his head slightly. "And what 
brings you to grace me with your company this night?" he asks kindly. I suppose 
I should be honored that he is attempting to sweeten me first. Or perhaps I 
should be annoyed that he is going to make me say it plainly. 

"I come to extend my most humble and sincere appreciation, Lord." I walk a 
little closer, closing the door behind myself ere I advance. That raises an 
Elven eyebrow for certain, but I ignore Elrond's feigned bewilderment and 
continue. "What you are doing for my son is... just wonderful beyond words." For 
this part, at least, I may be completely truthful, "I will forever be thankful 
for the gift you give to my only child... and me." He looks a mite flattered, I 
deem, but I cannot believe he has not heard better appraisals than the one I 
just managed. Maybe he is merely being polite. 

"Dear girl," he says clearly, "Imladris was founded solely for the like of you 
and your son. I am pleased to offer your kin aid." 

"Well," I come closer still, casually unclipping my hairpin so that my brown 
locks fall free from the top of my head, "bless you for that, Elrond 
Half-elven." Drat! He did not seem to notice, or care. His head tilts the other 
direction, and I wonder if he even knows that he does it. 

"Surely you were not surprised?" he asks, almost apologetically, as if concerned 
he had offended me somehow. 

"In fact," I take another step, "I was." I sway my skirt a little, knowing that 
as I do the upper fabric pulls snugly around my waist, and unbound breasts. 
"Though of course I expected sanctuary, as your good sons assured me of as 
much..." I meet his eyes, anticipating some hint of desire to be present by now, 
but there is none. Hmm. "But, I did not expect to find a new-" I falter. Curse 
me! I cannot say 'husband', even if it is a knowing lie; I will never call 
Elrond husband. "A new father for my son," I finish as quickly as I can, hoping 
he missed my hesitation. 

And much to my relief, Elrond laughs lightly. "Many of my brother's line have 
called me father, and I am glad for it." His eyes darken, as if blocked by a 
cloud for the briefest of seconds, then he says, "It is the least I can do. 
There are no orphans in my House." 

Aha! Something I can work with. I come directly behind him, and he is deep 
enough in thought at that moment so as not to notice my movement. But when I 
place my hands on his shoulders, he stiffens slightly. I say admiringly, "It is 
indeed commendable of you, to commit yourself to your brother so," and slowly 
begin to knead the muscles between his neck and shoulders. He seems to shrug, 
then relax. 

"Elros was an exceptional... man." His voice barely catches on that last word, 
but he continues smoothly, "It is my honour to preserve his legacy." 

I wish I knew how an Elf would do this... or even if an Elf would do this. Is 
that why he seemed uncomfortable? Should I not be touching him? I still my 
questioning mind, and will my hands to continue. I know of no male creature that 
would not be stimulated by physical touch; this will work, it must. I keep the 
massage somewhere between how I would enjoy it, and how Arathorn preferred. 

"But still, all that you have sacrificed... It is so selfless of you, so noble." 
Perhaps his earlier niceties were a hint for me to adopt the same adoration. 

"Nay," he shakes his head. "There is no burden, truly. 'Tis a joy." 

I sigh soundlessly, really more of a huff. He is not responding at all. No shift 
in his position, no escalated breathing, no utterances of pleasure, nothing. I 
decide to be more obvious, and brush his long black hair over one shoulder, then 
lean a little against him from behind. Though the back of the chair presses 
against me more than does his body, I still feel the material of his clothes 
against one breast. I intensify the strength in my hands and speak close to his 
ear, which I notice for the first time is as pointed as any full-blooded Elf's 
would be. 

"Permit me to speak plainly, Lord Elrond?" I have no proof, but I sense he is at 
this point amused. At least that is... something. 

"Of course," he answers evenly, his tone devoid of any desirous oscillation. 

I switch to the other ear for the sake of touching more of him, and ask, "Does 
this feel good?" 

He laughs again, fuller this time, as if just understanding some joke. 
"Certainly it does," he answers, with no second meaning in his voice save 
honesty. But I interpret he would not miss my ministrations if I were to stop. 
It does not seem to please him... in that way. I wonder to the Valar what would. 
Perhaps nothing. Perhaps I am wasting my time. 

I nearly walk out then and there, but think of my son, and stay. "You know..." I 
purposefully trail my hair over his ear as I stand straight, now letting my 
fingers tickle and linger occasionally over the back of his neck. "I don't 
believe my son could have a better foster father." Now I slip one hand under the 
collar of his shirt, but only briefly. "Nor us a better home." I caress his 
hair, as if making sure I have all of it lying good and proper. 

Just when I am certain no male could resist such physical insinuation, Elrond 
tenses again. "I mean not to replace Arathorn," he says a little quickly, and 
with mild discomfort. "Though I will take Aragorn as my son, and he may call me 
father if he wishes, he shall hear always in song and tale that his sire was a 
great and brave man; though not me." 

At his words I cease my ministrations without knowing it. He twists in his chair 
to look at me, and I feel paralyzed by his eyes, and desensitized to all but his 
lucid voice as he continues. "Such is my only condition, besides that he shall 
not learn of his lineage until he is grown. I will save for him his heritage, 
which he will gain in his maturity; but he will not lose his father a second 
time in discovering I am not he." 

I nod numbly. He studies me for another minute, with that countenance I cannot 
fathom. Suddenly he stands and crosses the room to a small table, laden with 
some bottles and glasses -and of course a few stray books. "Care for some wine?" 
The same unyielding warmth I have grown used to is not in his voice, and I 
gather the feeling I may have outstayed my welcome. Or perhaps it is my clothes 
he grows bored with. But I know of not what next to do, save... something 
tasteless. So I follow him, determined to finish this. 

"Please, thank you." There is a window adjacent to the table, and the full moon 
happens to rest directly center of it. I fancy I must look nice in such pale 
lighting, contrasted by the flickering candlelight behind me; and Elrond had 
better take note of it, for I find myself vexed by this dance of innuendoes. I 
am no Elf! 

He hands me a glass filled with fragrant red wine, and we drink in silence. 
Disturbing silence. I fear what I do not know, and I do not know what he thinks 
as he watches me. Swallow by swallow our glasses are drained, and I feel much 
better at the end. That is, much duller. Potent wine indeed. I am certain Elrond 
would not have given me a full glass if he knew how swiftly and acutely it would 
effect me. He takes the empty goblet from my hand and sets it aside along with 
his. When his eyes turn back to me, I find it difficult to breathe under his 
inquisitive gaze. 

"Wh-what?" I barely hear myself ask. 

He tilts his head, and this time it makes me dizzy. "May I speak plainly?" he 
asks with a small smirk. 

I nod, and nearly topple over. Elrond catches me easily, and holds me upright 
until I have back my balance. "Certainly you may," I slur, and giggle at myself 
in the way only a nervous and tipsy young woman would. 

He gives a smile that suggests he is indulging my behavior, and says, "Why else 
have you come here this eve, besides to express your gratitude?" 

I giggle again. "No, really... that was all." And it was. Only I expected to be 
showing it to him in his bed by now. 

"Gilraen," he looks away, expressionless, "all that I offer you and your son is 
given freely. Know you this?" 

I meant to come closer to him, but stepped too far out and end with my chin 
actually resting on his chest as I stare up at his fair face. "Aye, I know," I 
say, still having the sense to fib where prudent. "I want it to be this way." I 
try to be graceful at least and sensual at best as I trace a finger along the 
line of his jaw. "It is the least I can do," I purr softly. 

He puts me on my own feet, as I had indeed begun to lean mostly upon his support 
alone. "Gilraen-" 

I interrupt by taking his hands -eventually, as I missed twice- and placing them 
around my waist. He does not remove them, as I again sway and he keeps me 
steady. He begins to speak more but I whisper a "Shhh" and kiss him, barely able 
to reach his mouth even stretched on my toes and with pulling him down by his 
tunic. But as far as I can tell, he does not respond. Though maybe he does... 
most likely, I am a little too drunk to be certain of anything. 

"Gilraen," he says more sternly once we part, again pushing me back to stand on 
my own feet. I almost think he is holding back a laugh! "That is not... how it 
will be," he states firmly. 

It is only thanks to the wine that I become insulted. "Well, why not? Am I not 
fair enough for you? Not Elf- like... properly Elven behaving?" Oh, my poor 
inebriated tongue... 

Now he does laugh, modestly, but I still want to hit him for it. "Sweet child, 
no. You misunderstand me," he says, and backs away from me a step. I replace our 
proximity immediately. 

"I am offering myself to you, Half-elf!" I say bluntly. "I think I am not the 
one confused here." 

His face turns more serious. "Well, at last, I am glad to hear you say it." 

"Say what?" I demand defensively, and stomp my foot for no reason. 

"That you meant to be my mistress," he answers impassively. 

This time I laugh at him. "I should think it was fairly obvious from the 
beginning. Just why do they call you wise? It surely is not for your 
perception." 

He frowns slightly, the first time I have ever seen him do so. "I suspected your 
intentions, but wished to be certain." 

"Before bedding me you wished to be certain that is why I came?" I snap. "Well, 
it is; where shall we begin?" 

Now he plainly scowls. "Nay. Before humiliating us both, I wished to have just 
cause." 

I blink. He seems as reluctant as I feel. Come to think of it, he has all along. 
And did he say... humiliation? Oh dear... have I made some kind of unbelievable 
mistake? "What do you mean?" 

He sighs, and retreats to the window. "This is not the first time someone has 
misinterpreted my intentions." 

I stumble over to him and give him a small shove to make him speak more. He 
glares unappreciatively, then says, "I take your son gladly as my own, but I 
will not have you as my mistress, or anything else." He looks at me, softer. 
"That is not an Elven custom, though as I understand, not unheard of among Men." 

I bristle. "I care not about Elven customs. I only want my boy to grow well, and 
have a happy, safe childhood... with a mother and father..." my eyes tear as I 
think of Arathorn. 

Elrond takes my hands gently. "He shall have those things, Gilraen. For between 
us, we can provide all that you have named." 

"Well, yes, but..." I search his face. "Do you not want anything in return?" 

He shakes his head. "My reward is you and your son's happiness." 

"But..." I frown, "Nothing else? Nothing at all?" 

He chuckles and squeezes my hands. "No." There is a quirk to his upper lip that 
I have never seen before, and he says, "But I am flattered, as always, by the 
offer, and I do thank you regardless." 

I let my head hang in shame. "I am such a fool," I groan. "I thought-" I groan 
again. Of course, now it is only too painfully clear all the times Elrond 
distinctly went to conscious efforts to give me privacy and space, and to 
address me formally and... ohhh, what a fool am I. "I feel I most definitely owe 
you an apology, Lord," I offer sheepishly, meeting his eyes with a wince of 
apprehension. 

He smiles and shrugs. "Nay, never you mind." 

"This has happened before?" I ask. 

He is overcome with a tired look, telling a tale of millennia-long dealings with 
silly mortals such as I. "Oh, yes," he sighs. "Many times." 

A giggle escapes me. "For your sake, may I be the last!" We laugh together then, 
I in sheer relief, and him probably in the hopes that I am right. "It is none of 
my business, but may I ask why you never...?" My face burns and I can only 
imagine what color it might be. 

"To say nothing of my beloved wife!" he laughs. "It simply is not the practice 
of my kind to remarry, nor take second lovers. Many creatures in Arda choose 
mates for life, Lady. Elves being exceptional in that they choose life-mates for 
ever." He shrugs nonchalantly, finally putting his hair back where it was before 
I moved it. "Besides, I have not had any urge of that nature for over two 
millennia." 

Had I still been drinking, I most assuredly would have choked on my wine. Elrond 
sees my reaction and adds with sly mirth, "I daresay your services would be 
severely neglected in my bed." 

"But... so you... oh. Oh." My teeth strive to chatter, as they are apt to do 
when I am mortified, but I force my jaw to do naught. "I thought, I mean, I 
merely assumed that... your kind would always... keep on... you know." 

He shakes his head. "No." 

"Oh." I cannot help myself from looking at his body in curiosity. His healthy, 
robust, in all appearances young, body. "Why?" I ask before I think. 

He ponders, then replies, "That particular desire simply diminishes. I imagine 
if it did not, things would be different." 

"Oh." Realizing that I am still looking at his hale, trim, firm body, I stop 
myself. "Do you not miss it?" again I question without thought. 

He pauses once more before answering. "No, though the memories are fond." 
Suddenly I feel overcome with great shame. Here I stand before a creature of 
divine intent and demeanor; yet not fifteen minutes before I was offering him my 
body in exchange for room, board, and nursing assistance. "You must think little 
of me," I say meekly. 

He takes me by the shoulders, his grip somehow gentle yet firm, and says 
sincerely, "I think you are a brave and rational woman who is willing to do 
everything within her power to ensure the best future possible for her son." 
Elrond holds his breath for an instant, then says hesitantly, "Would that all 
mothers shared your sense of selflessness." 

I feel a great swell of sadness by the deprived look in his eyes, and mean to 
inquire after his sorrow, but he speaks again. "Aragorn has a wonderful mother, 
and Arathorn a devoted wife. They both love you dearly, and do so not in folly 
or on a whim. Have you no shame over this, Gilraen. None would think less of you 
for your valiant efforts." 

I smile in thanks, and hug Elrond instinctively. Apparently being abstinent does 
not inhibit the Firstborn's willingness to cuddle, for he returns my embrace 
with tender and welcoming strength. "Thank you," I whisper. "For all your 
kindness and understanding, thank you." 

"And thank you, Gilraen, for bringing to me a little hope in these darkening 
times." 

"Just a little?" I tease. He looks down at me with a smile. 

"It may yet grow impressive, in time." I hug him again, and he matches it all 
the same. 

There should be more Half-elven in this world, I deem. 

***end*** 



Author's Notes
Thanks to Yllyn for looking at the first draft of this story, and encouraging me 
to keep it even though she cried instead of laughed (I think I too realize now 
that it isn't funny after all ;-).