Seven Minutes in Mandos by annarobots  

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Seven Minutes in Mandos

When Elrond finally met his great-grandfather, all eight feet of him, in the flesh, his first thought was, how the fuck did those trolls get their hands on your sword, anyway? 

His second thought was, I’m going to climb you like a tree. 

“Seven minutes where?” 

“In Mandos,” said Elrond. 

“I don’t get it,” said Orodreth. 

“It’s just the name of the game, Dad,” said Gil-galad. 

“Tell us the rules one more time,” said Idril.  “I don’t think we had this game in Gondolin.” 

“No,” said Celebrían, “Annatar and Celebrimbor invented it.” 

“Although I think that was just an excuse, when they were caught out,” cut in Galadriel. 

“Anyway, they really started the craze.  Quite the ringleaders, those two,” said Elrond.  “I’ll go over it one more time.  First, we write down everyone’s name on a slip of paper and put them into a hat.  Then we draw two names.  Those two people go into a dark closet for seven minutes.  And then….”  He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“And then?” asked King Finarfin, puzzled. 

“They do whatever they want,” said Frodo.   

“In the dark,” added Gandalf. 

“And with the door shut,” said Celebrían, “so nobody, and I mean nobody, but the two people inside knows what really happened.” 

Everyone thought about that for a while.  Elrond caught some interesting amorous gazes around the circle of partygoers.  He smiled to himself.   

“Wait, but we don’t have equal numbers of boys and girls,” said King Finarfin.  Elrond exchanged glances with Gil-galad.  What did that matter? 

“Mother!  Ëarwen!  Come join us,” called the king.   

“If you say so,” said Elrond.  

The final lineup, though still uneven, ended up being eight (more or less) men: Erestor, Finarfin, Frodo, Gandalf, Gil-galad, Glorfindel, Maglor, and Orodreth; and five (more or less) women: Celebrían, Ëarwen, Elwing, Idril, and Indis.  (Fingon had demurred.  “Maybe another time,” said he.  “You can teach me one-on-one.”  Elrond filed that thought away for future daydreaming.) 

And, of course, Elrond himself.  

It warmed his heart to see so many of his family members, chosen and biological, who had been so long separated by distance and by death, all in one place.  At last. 

A real family. 

“Erestor, find us a hat,” Elrond ordered.  “I’m going to see if Great-Granddad wants to play.” 

“Shouldn’t we put girls in one hat, boys in another?  And draw one from each?” asked King Finarfin. 

Everyone stared at him.   

“Whatever for?” asked Celebrían, and the king was too embarrassed to say anything more. 

The first two names Gil-galad drew out of the hat were Erestor and Glorfindel.  Everyone whooped and hollered as they trotted off to the closet, eager hands already wandering.   

“Isn’t that a bit obvious?  Erestor and Glorfindel, really?” Frodo muttered. 

“What are we supposed to do while they’re in there?” asked Elrond’s mother. 

“Snack, mainly,” said Maglor, who offered her a stick of rock candy, to share. 

Seven minutes later, Gil-galad rapped on the closet door.  “Time’s up!  Open up!” 

Erestor stumbled out first, hair mussed, face red, smug as could be.  “Can someone get me a drink,” he said, making a face.   

Glorfindel followed shortly after, doing up his trousers.   

The next two names were Ëarwen and Indis, to the king’s chagrin, followed by Maglor and Elwing, to Elrond’s amusement.   

Everyone was getting along so well.   

It was time to cheat.   

Elrond nodded at Gil, who was in on the plan.  The next two names he drew: “Turgon… and Elrond!” 

Turgon turned bright red.  Elrond thought he had never looked cuter. 

With the door shut, inside the closet, it was nearly full dark.  Elrond could hardly see his own hand in front of his face.  Turning, he stumbled right into Turgon, who caught him easily, steadying him with two great big hands.  Fuck, he was big.   

Elrond didn’t let go.     

Neither did Turgon.   

“Seven minutes, hmm?” said Turgon in a low voice. 

“More like six and a half, by now,” said Elrond, casting down his gaze, the very picture of docility.  (He had thought about it, at great length, and decided that coy submission would be the best tactic to seduce such a man.) 

“Well, we better get on with it, then.” 

“We don’t have to,” Elrond demurred.  “Nobody will ever know.”  He lifted his face in expectation of a kiss.   

“If I’m going to play a game,” said Turgon, “I’m going to play it right.  Now, turn around.” 

Elrond heard the sound of unzipping.  This is it, he thought, elated.  This is really happening.   

Kissing was overrated as foreplay, anyway.  Elrond turned, he lifted the hem of his robe.  He braced himself against the shelf of cleaning supplies.  He was well-prepared for this.  (Seven minutes was hardly enough time, otherwise.)   

He wasn’t prepared for Turgon smacking him hard on the ass.  And he nearly came on the spot when he did it a second time.   

“That’s for cheating,” said Turgon, behind him. 

After that, well.  Elrond saw stars. 

“That’s time!  Open up!” called someone, banging on the door. 

Elrond wasn’t sure he could move. 

He felt Turgon tugging down his robe, setting him to order, with more tenderness than he might have expected.  His ass stung, in more ways than one.  His hands were red from gripping the shelf.  He turned back around, dazed. 

The banging grew more insistent.  “Calm down, you’ll have your turn,” called back Turgon.  He flipped on the overhead lamp. 

Elrond blinked in the sudden bright light.  Turgon smiled at him, a bit sheepish.  Then he leaned down and kissed him hard on the mouth.   

“Time to go,” said Turgon, after pulling away at last.   

Did Elrond hear a hint of regret? 

“Well, yes.  We should rejoin the party,” said Elrond, thoughtfully.  “Unless, of course, you want to invoke the Gondolin Imperative.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Oh,” said Elrond, “well.  It’s a very important rule.  The Gondolin Imperative says—“ he flipped the light back off—“that any King of Gondolin can stay hidden for as long as he fucking wants.”  He dropped to his knees.  Turgon groaned. 

The party faded into soft background noise as Elrond dove headfirst into Turgon’s pleasure. 

He was in heaven.

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