Title: An Honored Guest.
Author: Ruby Nye
Rating: NC-17
Author's email: shmi@bantha.org
Pairings: Pippin/elvish orgy; Frodo/Sam/Merry; Aragorn/Arwen/Boromir
Summary: Pippin learns about an Elvish tradition, while Merry, Sam, and
Frodo warm each other up.
Warning:interspecies; oodles of wrongness


"You are an honored guest in Rivendell, Master Peregrin..." Legolas shook
out his flowing blond hair. "And for the elves there is a special
tradition..." The laces of his tunic fell away easily, almost as if by
magic. "Dating back over centuries...reserved only for honored guests. "

"Indeed...the fair Prince of Mirkwood speaks true." Lord Elrond held out a
glass of plum-colored wine to Pippin, sighing in satisfaction as the
hobbit drank deeply. "And he is not the only one to join in
this---tradition. Glorfindel?" Another elf appeared at the entrance to the
royal bedchamber. He wore only a strategically placed burgundy loincloth.
"Call the others."





Merry felt Sam's blush beneath his mouth before he even heard Frodo's
chuckle. "There you are! And one of my cousins too. Hullo, Merry, is there
room in the bed for me?"

"There's room in this bed for half of Buckland." Merry pressed another
kiss to Sam's mouth before turning to lean over the edge of the bed and
give Frodo a hand up. "You don't mind my borrowing Sam, do you? We thought
you were asleep."

"Of course not." Frodo knelt beside them, took Merry's face in his hands
to kiss him soundly, leaned over to kiss Sam thoroughly as well. "I'm glad
to see you finally enjoying Rivendell," Frodo added cheerfully to Sam, who
turned a deeper red and mumbled something inaudible as he wrapped an arm
around Frodo's waist. "And, no, I'm not asleep, as you might see. I was
talking to Pippin, but he realized he'd left his cloak in the Great Hall
and went back for it. I went looking for him, and found you two instead."

"I'm sure he's off exploring," Merry said, drawing Frodo down to lie
beside him. "And I'm glad you found us." Sam nodded and leaned over to
return Frodo's kiss with interest.





"Merciful Valar," gasped Elrond, flopping over onto his back quite
gracefully, if rather bonelessly. "What a freckled dervish you are,
Peregrin."

Hands already full again, Pippin grinned at Elrond. "I love this
tradition, sir," he replied as Legolas moaned musically. "I feel I've been
preparing for this all my life."

"Doubtless for much of it," Elrond replied, hauling himself to a sitting
position, the better to watch the golden-haired Prince of Mirkwood
writhing beneath the small wicked hands of this small wicked hobbit. "You
strike me as one precocious and full of a desire to learn."

"I want to know everything." Pippin smiled down at Legolas. "Including if
Wood-Elves taste different than Rivendell-Elves." With that he bent his
head, and Legolas arched like his fabled bow, crying out.




"Mmmm, sirs," murmured Sam, one strong arm round each of the
gentlehobbits. Merry chuckled and licked his lips, and opened his eyes to
see Frodo snuggled into Sam's embrace, eyes closed, looking flushed and
full of life. "Oh, Merry, oh, Sam, I feel so warm," Frodo whispered
rapturously. "Finally warm."

"You look warm," Merry observed, leaning over to stroke Frodo's dark hair
from his brow. Sam smiled his agreement, kissed Frodo's bared brow, kissed
Merry's stroking hand. Merry leaned over to kiss Sam again, enjoying his
sturdy warmth until Frodo chuckled and they turned their heads to look at
him. "Of course, if we went for another round," Frodo said, sliding one
hand over Sam's chest and another along Merry's flank, "I could end up
being good and hot."

Merry laughed; Sam smiled and shook his head. "You oughtn't to overtire
yourself, Mr. Frodo," he replied, and Frodo grinned up at him and licked
his nose. "Why, Sam, I'm lying down," Frodo replied, and Sam chuckled
breathlessly as Merry ran his tongue up along his ear. 





Pippin had one foot braced against the headboard and his hands wound in
Glorfindel's long hair as he bounced enthusiastically in the Elf's
lap. "Oh, yes, mighty Elf, yes, mighty prince, yes, Balrog-slayer, tup me
tup me tup me ah!" Throwing his head back, Pippin tensed, his entire frame
shaking, and Glorfindel moaned and clutched the hobbit in his arms as
Pippin's peak sparked his own.

"Impressive," said Elladan, undoing his brother's laces.

"Splendid," agreed Elrohir, as they watched Pippin nuzzle Glorfindel's
finely-drawn collarbones, laying a kiss to the hollow where they met.

"Albeit, just---"

"---a bit----"

"---noisy. But we---"

"---have the right gags---"

"---for that rosebud mouth----"

"---don't we?"

"Oooh," moaned Pippin, raising his curly head from Glorfindel's heaving
chest, his green eyes wide and sparkling with delight. "Ooooh, yes,
_please_."





Merry sat bolt upright, dislodging Frodo's arm from his chest and Sam's's
head from his shoulder, and thereby waking them both. "It's late,
Mr. Merry," Sam mumbled; Frodo snapped, "For the love of small apples,
Merry, aren't you tired?"

"Speaking of apples," said Merry, "have neither of you wonderered where
Pippin has got to?"

"Oh." Frodo and Sam sat up on either side of Merry, looking awake and
worried. "Oh," Frodo said again, but then shook his head. "This is
_Rivendell_, Merry, I'm sure he's perfectly safe."

"Yes, but is the rest of Rivendell safe from a roaming Pippin?"

Frodo and Sam considered that question for a moment, before all three
hobbits leaped out of bed and threw on their clothes.





While Pippin was quite effectively gagged, he was hardly silent, and
neither was he still. Erestor lay entwined with his lord Elrond and the
still-recovering Glorfindel, as they watched a freckled slip of halfling
writhing with pleasure between the awestruck, trembling Twins; Legolas lay
draped sideways across a nearby chair, sound asleep. "An honored guest
indeed," Erestor murmured, stroking Glorfindel's hair. "And one with
stamina, as well."

"Indeed," sighed Glorfindel with a dazed, delighted smile. "I have enjoyed
longer congresses, more artistic or subtle, but I have never held in my
arms such sheer exuberance. And freckles, too."

"And freckles, too," agreed Elrond. "I would like to count them one of
these days."

"I think I would like to help." Glorfindel nodded. "We could each start
with a limb and work inward."

Further musings on the matter of Pippin's freckles were forestalled when
the Twins wailed, "Ai, Elbereth!" and collapsed as one. Pippin sat up,
licking his lips, and stretched his arms over his head, most sinuously for
someone so small, and looked over at Erestor with a sly smile. "Who's
next?"





As he had been unable to convince Frodo to stay in bed and rest, Sam had
settled for holding Frodo's hand in his, to be as close as possible if
Frodo needed his aid. Merry walked behind them, listening intently to the
wordless, musical sound of at least one Elf moaning. It echoed and swirled
along the halls, and the hobbits were hard-put to find the source, but
finally they came to a door that glowed with a special light; the musical
cries were intertwined with a deeper, rougher note as they spilled forth.

The three hobbits looked at one another for a long moment, before Frodo
sighed, squared his shoulders, and knocked. The moans wavered, stopped. A
rustling was heard within, and then the door opened, and Frodo gasped, and
Merry gaped, and Sam cried out , "Mr. Strider!"

For indeed it was Aragorn who stood there, wrapped in half of a bedsheet,
the other half of the sheet wound around Boromir behind him. Boromir
looked a touch grumpy, but Aragorn's expression was mild. "Master hobbits,
what might I do for you? Please speak quickly, the hour is late."

"Um." Frodo shook his head, tried again. "Aragorn. Ah. I beg your pardon,
we beg your pardon, for this most, um, untimely intrusion, but we seem to
have lost Pippin, and we thought he might be in, um, there."

"You seek Pippin." Aragorn looked at Boromir. "My lord of Gondor, are
there any halflings in this chamber tonight?"

"I think not, my Ranger," Boromir replied. "There are two Men, one rather
ill-favored and weatherbeaten---" Aragorn smiled---"and an Elf whose
beauty is almost too much for mortal eyes---" musical laughter rippled
from the depths of the chamber---"but no halflings, not tonight."

"Oh. Well, um, then, thank you, and goodnight." Reaching back to take
Sam's hand and grab Merry's wrist, Frodo turned away from the door, which
shut behind them, and after a couple of moments the unearthly beauty of
the elvish moaning began resounding from the hallway walls and ceiling
once again.





"Oh. that was just _grand_," Pippin said to the room at large. "Just grand
indeed. What a capital welcoming ritual. There's only one thing as could
make it better."

"Better, Master Peregrin?" Elrond replied, bringing Pippin another goblet
of richly purple wine; Pippin tilted his cheerful face up so invitingly
that Elrond couldn't resist giving him a kiss as well. "We have been
celebrating this tradition for thousands of years, my dear small one, so
you must let me know how it might be perfected."

"Seconds," said Pippin, reaching up with his free hand to wind it in
Elrond's hair. "Seconds of all of you." And he drew Elrond back down
beside him for another kiss, and much much more.




"Wait," said Merry, and the other two obediently paused as he laid his ear
to another door. "Wait, I know that snoring." 

Sam tilted his head to listen, but Frodo looked a bit skeptical. "I
shudder to think whom we might disturb this time," he said, shaking his
head. "And it's someone else's turn to open the door."

Merry looked at him imploringly, and Frodo shook his head harder. "Oh,
no." Frodo folded his arms; Merry glanced at Sam, who shrank back behind
Frodo, brown eyes wide. Sighing, Merry squared his shoulders and knocked,
and, when they recieved no answer, opened the door----

----and saw, by the light of mighty candles and the lambent Imladris glow,
several Elves draped over various bits of furniture, all nude, all asleep
as if exhausted. None of them lay in the wide white bed; in the middle of
the bed lay a small curled figure, a curly-haired figure, sleeping
peacefully with tender lips parted, wide eyes closed.

"_Pippin?!_"  Merry gasped. No one stirred. "Frodo, that's Pippin in
there, and he's sound asleep."

Frodo shook his head again. "Well, that explains a great deal. I suppose
we'd better go get him, Sam."

"Me, Sir?" Sam's eyes went even rounder, if that were possible. "Me? I
can't go in there, with those great and high Elves all, all---"

"----All worn out by our very own Pip?" Merry took one of Sam's
hands; Frodo took the other. "We need for you to carry our sleeping Took." 

Hauling Sam between them, the hobbits entered the room, walking with
wonder amidst the slumbering Elves. They got Pippin down from the bed and
into Sam's arms, where he curled up again with a smile on his face, and
walked back through the halls to Merry's bedroom.

They never did find his clothes.





The next morning, Merry and Sam were late to breakfast, and so bleary-eyed
that Bilbo took one look at them and said, "have you lads been drinking?"

"No, Bilbo," Merry sighed. "Just wandering the halls of this fair House
late at night." Sam merely yawned, though his cheeks were quite pink.

"Ah," said Bilbo, mystified. "And where is Frodo? Was he also exploring
the halls with you?"

Sam turned entirely red. "You might say that," Merry replied, feeling his
own cheeks and eartips heating, as he thought of Pippin and Frodo curled
up in the big bed, neither of them at all inclined to wake. "You might
indeed."