1316: Celebrian – Part OnePosted: January 31, 2016
Author: A now-forgotten servant of Morgoth the Defiler
Topic: Lord of the Rings
URL: Part One
Critiqued by KittyNoodles
The world is changed.
I feel it in my heart. I hear it in my mind. I see it in my reflection. Much that once was is lost, for nothing now remains within me that is not forever marred by the horrors I have witnessed.
A Shadow has come to the Library — a dark, rancid monstrosity that oozes into the mind and burrows into the heart, there to fester and rot away for all of time. It is a shadow that has haunted all of us here who knew before of its presence, lingering, lurking in the darkest corners of our minds like a storm upon the far horizon. Now it has found us and come to us upon my shoulders.
Patrons. Librarians. Guests. Friends. Acquaintances both good and not so good: You should not have come here.
I know you may not all of you realize what this Shadow is. I know some of you have until now had the fortune of living in blissful ignorance of this abomination.
I have seen the other fics this Library has attacked. I have seen fics taken down by the PPC. I have read Cupcakes and Rainbow Factory. In order to prepare myself for this riff, I have even read Jasmine cumslut. I know the atrocities you have borne witness to before today.
You who do not know this aberration still do not know the true depths of depravity to which the human mind can sink.
You have lived a sheltered life, safe in the arms of those of us who knew and dared not bring your attention to this monstrosity. You have encountered other horrors, but you have been safe. You have not known true debauchery until this day.
There is still time for you to save yourself. Turn around now. Click the back button on your browser, tap the return key on your cellphones and iPads and iPods. Pretend this link never appeared on the Library’s front page. Pretend you have never seen or heard of the abomination known as Celebrian.
There can be no going back once you begin. There is no unreading what lies ahead. Once you have read even the first sentence, the darkness of this fic will infest every aspect of your life and destroy everything that you once found beautiful in all the fictional and factual universes in existence.
My dear readers, I am about to embark upon what may be the single most emotionally, psychologically, and perhaps even physically demanding riff in this Library’s history. Others have broken some of you before. Others have uncovered the things you held dearest and destroyed them before your very eyes. I have seen your suffering. I have seen your rage.
We are none of us prepared.
This fic will attack each and every one of you. It will not just annoy or disgust you; it will sink its gore-caked claws into your ribs and rip you open, then root through your cavity like a wild boar and devour everything good and innocent inside of you. It will find your every fear and doubt and shortcoming and mirror them all in its own characters and events, so that you are left feeling as grotesque as the fic itself simply for the crime of resembling any part of it at all.
This fic contains within it so many different triggers that I needed to write an open letter to you in order to prepare you for the horror that is to come. There are too many here to name, and more that might hide behind the most obvious ones to amplify the horror. None of you who read this will do so without losing a part of yourself in the process, and because of that this battle is mine to fight not only as the resident Tolkien crusader, but as a warrior and speaker for all of you who choose to accompany me in this riff. I awakened the Shadow’s whispers within my fellow veterans, and because of that crime it now falls to me to be the first to stand against it on the riffing field.
I will not leave out any detail from the original fic. No single punctuation mark will be deleted from this riff. If I am to take on this written embodiment of Morgoth the Defiler, I must take on every last inch of it, or else forfeit any claim to victory at the end of this long battle.
The Gloom-riffer is setting out on the Quest of Celebrian. On her alone is any charge laid. All others save one go with her as free companions, to help her on her way. You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside into other paths as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy will it be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road.
And to Lyle, to whom I must submit each portion of this Shadow in order to bring it to the Library to be torched, I’m sorry I’ve brought this upon you. I’m sorry that you must share this burden with me. I’m sorry for everything that will follow.
Our time is running short. Forward, then, and may the blessings of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with us. May the stars shine upon our faces.
<i>[Kitty enters the Snark Booth wearing an outfit very similar to the one worn by the young woman in Berthold Woltze’s The Irritating Gentleman. Her two co-riffers for today enter behind her looking grim and highly unamused at her choice of attire. The observant Patron will notice that both men are also wearing black-trimmed clothes.
As the three take their seats, it is evident that one is very different from his two companions; he is just slightly transparent, and while he appears to take a seat, he doesn’t quite seem to be truly interacting with the chair so much as pantomiming the act of sitting down with a convenient prop to assist him.]
Kitty: Thank you again for coming on such short notice. And Tarak, sorry for tossing this at you at all. I needed two people around that are more intimidating to me than this fic is horrible.
Tarak: [folding his arms and looking very austere] I will take that as a compliment.
Good morning, Patrons of this Library. I am Tarak Earthwhisper, King of Noctis and Heir to the Earthwhisper throne, which was left vacant for centuries before my birth due to… unfortunate internal affairs.
[The other co-riffer snorts derisively.]
Tarak: [continuing as though without interruption] I act also as the supreme commander of the Nocturn forces, comprised of those of the fledgling people brave and intelligent enough to aid in the systematic destruction of your… rather greatly overstayed race.
Tarak: That would be, “Sire,” to you. What is it?
Kitty: Uh, well, first of all, you aren’t my king so I’m not calling you “Sire.” Secondly, could you possibly wrap this up? We still haven’t gotten to the riff and the transcription the Patrons will be reading is already on its third page.
[Tarak raises an eyebrow and nods with a dismissive wave of his hand.]
Kitty: [laying on the sugar] Thank you~!
Patrons, the very patient gentleman sitting on my other side has already made an appearance with me in another riff. I would have made a RecolorMe avatar for him as well, but unfortunately the computer borked and lost all of my progress, so you’re still stuck with the lovely lineart drawn for me by tumblr user (and my very dear friend) el-aatmik. Say hello to Fury, everyone!
Fury: I thought you did not want to tell them anything about how Tarak and I are acquainted.
Kitty: I didn’t. In any case, the Patrons are smart folks and two or three of them have the link to my Google Drive folders.
As an aside, Patrons, if anyone would like the link, feel free to ask me. It’s got worldbuilding stuff and supplementary writings so far. Also pictures! Also, feel free to leave comments on anything you find there if you already have the link. Even if they’re just your standard “good job dude” comments.
Fury: We really should start now.
Tarak: Agreed. Listening to you so shamelessly beg for attention is nearly as painful as the effort I am making to allow you to live.
Kitty: No disrespect, sir, but if I die, so do all of you.
[Both men grimace at the reminder. Kitty looks smug for a moment, then visibly deflates with a mournful sigh.]
Kitty: [sounding increasingly withered and forced as she goes] Oh, all right. I suppose we can’t put this off forever, can we? I made a promise, after all. For the good of all fanfiction writers and readers, and so forth.
I don’t know who wrote… this thing. It was forged in the fires of Utumno by some now-nameless servant of Morgoth the Defiler and was given the name Celebrian, which is a misspelling of the name of Lord Elrond Half-elven’s wife, Celebrían.
Celebrían is the only canonical daughter of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, and bore Elrond three children. Their youngest and best-known child was Arwen, called Undomíel, who was said to be the fairest Child of Ilúvatar (the Children being the Elves and the Men) to live since her ancestor, Lúthien Tinúviel. Lúthien also had the distinction of being a Half-elf who ultimately chose mortality for the sake of a Human lover – for Lúthien was Half-elven and half-Maia, and chose mortality for love of Beren Erchamion. Both Arwen and Lúthien were also the only daughters of their respective parents, and both Aragorn and Beren were given seemingly impossible marriage challenges by their prospective fathers-in-law, to be completed before they even considered marrying their Half-elven loves – although Elrond was a helluvalot nicer and less racist than Thingol ever was…
[Fury reaches over and slaps Kitty across the back of the head – or pantomimes doing so. His hand goes through Kitty’s head without disturbing a single hair, though Kitty still reacts as though she’s been swatted for real.]
Sorry. Getting back on track, the eldest two children of Elrond and Celebrían were called Elrohir and Elladan, and they were twins – much like their father Elrond and their uncle Elros. It’s unknown whether either (or both) of Celebrían’s sons chose mortality like their sister at the end of the Third Age, but that’s neither here nor there.
Canonically speaking, Celebrían was captured by a band of Orcs while traveling through the Redhorn Pass as she returned to Imladris after visiting her parents in Lothlorien. According to the first book of The Fellowship of the Ring, she was tormented and poisoned before her sons rescued her and brought her back to Imladris. There under the care of her husband her body was healed, but thanks to her torment she had lost all love for Middle-earth and sailed to the West not long after her rescue, where she ostensibly found healing for her mind and spirit and awaited the arrival of her husband (and potentially her sons) upon the Western shore.
The event seriously impacted her sons, who from the time of her rescue until the end of the War of the Ring “rode often far afield with the Rangers of the North, forgetting never their mother’s torment in the dens of the orcs.” (FotR, “Many Meetings”)
Now, what I’ve just told you is the extent of our canonical knowledge concerning what happened to Celebrían during her captivity. I’m not kidding; that is all Tolkien ever told us about what happened. This has given rise to the increasingly popular (…in the sense that it is increasingly prevalent…) assumption among the fanbase that she was, in fact, raped at least once during her captivity. Considering Tolkien explicitly stated in The Laws and Customs Among the Eldar that an Elven victim of forced sexual interactions died or Faded as a direct result (and Celebrían most certainly was at least considering Fading by the time she left for the West,) the idea has merit – but we simply do not know this for certain. All that we do know is that Celebrían was captured, tortured, and “received a poisoned wound” before her sons rescued her, and that although Elrond was able to heal her body, her mind and spirit could no longer flourish in Middle-earth.
Headcanon what you would like. Discuss it if you want. Write about it if you must.
Not as long as this world endures and life still flourishes within it.
Do not ever do so in this manner, or Eru Ilúvatar as my witness I will hunt you down myself and garot you with your own intestines until your neck snaps or your intestines rip apart between my hands.
[Both co-riffers slowly turn to raise an eyebrow each at Kitty.]
Fury: Shall we begin, then?
Kitty: [suddenly looking very stabby] Oh, yes.
Celebrian stood before the goblin king, head bowed. Her long silver locks hid her face. Silent tears streamed down dirty checks.
Kitty: Apparently this is a different Goblin King than the one encountered by Bilbo and company during the events of There and Back Again.
Tarak: I believe you mean The Hobbit.
Fury: Which was, within the universe Tolkien created, titled There and Back Again: A Hobbit’s Tale. She is not incorrect.
Kitty: I was actually trying to separate the book from the Jackson adaptation, because otherwise I get to imagine this guy throughout this scene:
Tarak: How vile.
[Tarak levels a Look at Kitty but says nothing.]
The orcs had not mistreated her—woe to any orc who spoiled the king’s pleasure-toy.
[Kitty snarls audibly and bares her teeth at the screen.]
Fury: Not a good way to begin the riff.
Tarak: I find it unlikely that a band of Orcs did not mistreat Celebrían beyond the initial abduction. Professor Tolkien’s Orcs were all vile, uncivilized creatures—
Fury: No, sir, they were civilized. I believe the term you should apply to them is ‘savage.’
Tarak: [finishing his thought as though Fury didn’t just correct him] —who despised Elves above all others. Surely they tormented her along the way, and surely she must have struggled at some point.
But the hem of her traveling dress was wet and muddied by the long walk through water logged tunnels. Her hair was matted and her arms were muddied, bruised and cut from many a tumble in the dark. None of that mattered compared to the fate that awaited her at the hands of this so-called king.
Tarak: [smirking slightly] There, do you see? I was correct.
[Fury raises an eyebrow at his [REDACTED] and does not respond. The disapproval radiating from him is thick enough to hack at with an axe.]
“What is this?” said the goblin king. The lift of his loin cloth caused by the stiffening of his cock demonstrated full well that the question was moot.
Kitty: Buckle up, Patrons, it’s about to get ugly.
Tarak: It already has, my dear… girl.
Kitty: Sir, you haven’t seen anything, yet.
“An elf-bitch, your highness, brought from the cave at the top of the pass. We snatched her while she slept.”
[All three riffers audibly growl.]
Tarak: [frosty] An elf-what?
Kitty: [sweet as poisoned honey and curling forward as if prepared to leap at the screen] You saw it, sir, he called her an elf-bitch.
Fury: [relatively composed in comparison to his fellows] At least so far everyone is well and truly in-character.
Tarak: I do not recall Orcs being particularly fond of nissi.
Kitty: I don’t recall ever telling you our Patrons speak Quenya, sir. They don’t.
“Was she alone?” asked the King.
Kitty: No, but her entourage were either killed or scattered. Probably killed, considering she’s the Lady of Imladris and only daughter of Galadriel. I doubt anyone accompanying her would have fled unless she ordered them to for herself.
Tarak: Indeed, even then I doubt very much that they would have obeyed.
Fury: Beware you do not either of you force your own notions of her character on the story. It is best to remain objective.
And while we are on the subject, it would have been no act of treason for a soldier left for dead to realize there could be no immediate victory and flee to seek aid. A difficult decision, but a necessary one.
His yellow, watery eyes gazed at his captive. Those eyes displayed a hint of fear of elf-warriors but far more they glowed with lust. Elves would stop at nothing to reclaim a lost woman to the orcs. As well they should, thought, the king contemplating what lay in store for this fine specimen of elven womanhood. Breaking her to his needs would be exquisite.
Kitty: This goblin king is operating under the assumption that the Elves will want her back because she’s a woman and for no other reason.
Tarak: That is perfectly understandable. He is, after all, a servant of the Shadow. Surely he is incapable of comprehending something as profound as love.
[Fury and Kitty trade a Look with each other, but neither comments in response.]
“No, your highness. But they have not pursued us yet. Guards are posted. We will know if they come.”
Kitty: They haven’t pursued you because they’re all dead or dying.
Tarak: Pah. It will take more than an increase in the guard to protect them from an Elven raid. Surely these beasts should understand that much.
Celebrian could follow their words, for the orcs were a mixed lot of big Uruks and little woods-goblins and used the Westron tongue to communicate.
Fury: Well, I suppose the notion has merit.
Kitty: Yes, but why would they speak in a language she can understand? Wouldn’t it make more sense to discuss this part in whichever language they have? I mean, the Orcs do have their own languages, and why in the world are these Orcs a mix of wood-goblins and uruks? The Uruk-hai were created by Saruman much later on after Celebrían left Middle-earth, weren’t they?
Fury: I suggest you stop asking questions and start doing some research on the subject. We will wait for you.
[Kitty grumbles but takes out her phone.]
Kitty: Okay, Celebrían was captured in T.A. 2509. Uruks as a race first appeared in T.A. 2475, when they conquered Ithilien and destroyed Osgiliath. That gave uruks around thirty-four years to spread throughout the rest of Middle-earth, though since they primarily lived in Mordor and Gondor (and later Isengard and northern Rohan) it’s really weird that there would be any as far north as the Redhorn Pass. They were not explicitly created by Saruman, although the group loyal to Saruman was almost certainly altered by the traitor, because they differed noticeably in build from their Mordor counterparts. Uruks did in fact speak Westron, as well as a handful of dialects of Black Speech.
Wood-goblins are not a type of goblin in the Tolkien legendarium. Since goblins and Orcs are the same creature here, the ficcer probably means to say that the “wood-goblins” are the Orcs of the Misty Mountains – again, these are the same kind of Orcs Bilbo and company encounter later on. In any event, they would also have spoken Westron and dialects of Black Speech, as well as a fair bit of Orkish.
Tarak: [highly patronizing] And what does all of this tell us, little one?
Kitty: That it doesn’t make sense for Uruks to be present in this story, but that the language thing is okay insofar as everyone present can speak Westron. I still say it’s weird that they’re using a language their captive can keep up with. Wouldn’t it be more effective to say stuff so that she can’t follow, and up the fear factor a little?
Tarak: That depends upon the prisoner, I think. Some are easier to break when they know exactly how much trouble they are in – if not for the sake of despair, then certainly for the sake of how much they may wear themselves down hoping for what may not come to pass. Fantasies which remain unfulfilled can be a very powerful weapon in their own right.
Her heart could not help leap with the reminder that her husband Elrond would come in search of her. And no force of orcs could stay her rescue. She had only to outlast her captors for a little while.
Kitty: Uh, so far it looks like Celebrían isn’t the “exhaust herself hoping for the impossible” type.
Tarak: It is still early, yet.
Kitty: Who’s side are you on, again?
Tarak: Celebrían’s, naturally. I am only offering an opinion counter to yours for the sake of objectivity.
[Fury pointedly does not acknowledge the dig.]
The goblin stroked the stubble on his chin with a great clawed hand. He idly picked the nostril of his large pig-nose and twitched his pig-ears so that the tufts of hair in the ears twitched. Tusk-teeth protrude upward from his under-slung jaw.
Kitty: What in the hell is an under-slung jaw? Does this guy have an overbite or an underbite?
Fury: The latter, it would seem.
Tarak: This goblin king should learn to sit still. Unless, of course, we are witnessing the beginnings of a seizure.
Kitty: We aren’t that lucky, sir.
He smiled. He knew what she was thinking. And he knew that valor or not, it would take great effort for Elves to track them through the maze of tunnels. They had not idly brought her through water-filled tunnels: tracking was near impossible.
Kitty: Now he’s operating on the assumption that Elves track things by scent, apparently. I know he should know better than that.
Fury: All the same, the presence of water will make tracking her exact location more difficult. Depending upon the size of this maze, it may take a rescue party some time to reach her.
The Elves would come, but not for a long time. And he would likely be gone long before they arrived. But if not, well, some pleasures were worth the risk.
Tarak: I see our goblin king intends to flee at the first sign of trouble, which is certainly not a bad plan by any stretch. It might even work, if his hormones did not override his common sense.
“Strip her,” he said at last.
Celebrian’s head jerked up. Her hair fell away from her face revealing violet eyes under sliver eyebrows, a fine small nose and a tiny, delicate mouth.
Tarak and Fury: Violet?
Kitty: Yeah, this ficcer has a thing for the color purple. No clue why.
Fury: The Elves all had gray eyes.
Tarak: Actually, that was never confirmed within any canonical texts.
Kitty: No, most Elves do have gray eyes in the text. There are exceptions, though: Maeglin was noted to have ‘dark eyes’ (which might have been inherited from his father, Eöl, who was not a Noldor) and Olwë – Lúthien’s uncle on her father’s side and lord of the Teleri – was explicitly stated to have blue eyes. There’s some room for variation, if you pay attention to everyone’s lineage.
Fury: But violet?
Kitty: No, violet is completely stupid. And since Celebrían’s mother is Noldor, there’s a very good chance Celebrían’s eyes were gray. Otherwise they might be blue, since Celebrían’s father is generally counted as a kinsman of Thingol, and so might possibly have had blue eyes. But violet is neither canonical nor very likely, considering these are Tolkien characters, and he tended to write escapes that were easy to access from the normal world—in other words, triggered by tiny things like the realization that someone you’re talking to has gray eyes.
Tarak: Was that an opinion or a fact, dear one?
[Fury continues to ignore Tarak.]
The goblin king thought of what that mouth would soon be willing to engulf. With a final pulse, his cock stiffened to its full one-foot length.
Kitty: Well, now we’re thinking it, too, ficcer. I hope you’re happy.
Fury: One foot?
Tarak: Evidently Orcish women were able to handle the extra six inches.
[Kitty looks distinctly green around the gills, but still flinches when Fury and Tarak both reach over and cover her eyes.]
The loincloth slipped to the side revealing his gnarled, twisted gray member. Black moles of varying size and height dotted his 2-inch wide shaft but the glans was smooth, bulbous and more than 3 inches across. Pulsing veins snaked across the shaft.
[Fury and Tarak keep their hands over Kitty’s eyes as they comment on this.]
Fury: My good sir, you should really see a doctor. That cannot be healthy.
Tarak: The girth of it makes it readily apparent that the culprit of this debauchery was indeed male.
Kitty: [still effectively blinded with two hands overlapping each other over her eyes] Oh, trust me, you’ll get more clues than that. May I please continue reading, now?
[Both men lower their hands.]
Celebrian gasped and dropped her head again. Her hair fell back across her face but she could not help dart a glance back at the hideous member.
Kitty: Well, the thing’s a trainwreck. I can’t say that I blame her for staring.
Tarak: You did not read the earlier passage.
Kitty: Not this time, no. But this isn’t the first time I’ve read the fic, remember?
Honoring the king’s command, the two orcs who had brought her from the cave stepped to her side. With movements more deft than seemed possible for such brutes, they slit the sleeves and shoulder of her dress so that it fell to her waist, caught by her girdle. More flicks of their knives and the girdle and dress fell to her feet.
Kitty: I think the butcher responsible for this is trying to make us believe those knives only cut fabric. Considering these are Orcs and thus canonically incapable of that kind of grace, that’s simply not possible. Celebrían’s got lines in her skin now.
Tarak: I sincerely doubt that Celebrían did not struggle against these Orcs. Knives or none, they cannot possibly have had a decent hold on her while they worked at this.
Kitty: Lines and gouges, then.
She was now clad only in her soft, buckskin boots. Her lithe, supple form swayed under the cruel gaze of the goblin. The king idly stroked the head of his cock. In response, Celebrian trembled in fear and disgust, sending sweet tremors through her firm, apples-sized breasts, breasts graced by perfect, delicate lavender nipples.
Tarak: For pity’s sake, now her nipples are purple, too.
Fury: It must be rather cold in those caves.
Kitty: So she’s trembling, but the only part of her body responding to that are her breasts, which (if they’re firm) shouldn’t be any more or less jiggly than, say, her thighs.
Tarak: Do be quiet. We do not need you to make the image worse for us.
Kitty: I’m only being objective, sir.
[Fury’s mouth twitches as though he’s fighting not to smile.]
The king gripped his shaft still harder.
Kitty: Sadly, no, he’s not trying to rip the thing off.
[Both men shift uncomfortably.]
His eyes turned from her quivering breasts to the soft, silver down that was not thick enough to hide her lavender labia. He smiled.
Tarak: Now her labia are violet, as well. It would seem the goblin king is not the only one in need of an emergency checkup.
Kitty: Oh god, this fic calls it ‘down,’ too. And whether or not her pubic hair covers her labia depends entirely upon whether they’re referring to the labia majora or labia minora. The labia majora are the fatty outer pair where the hair is likely to grow; the labia minora are the inner pair that protect the clitoris, urethra, and opening of the vulva, and while hairless these inner labia can be harder to spot at a distance while a woman is standing simply by virtue of being sandwiched between the outer labia.
Kitty: Why in the hell is an Orc concerned with keeping things clean? They wallow in filth all the time!
Fury: Be grateful she is being cleaned rather than violated with slime.
[Kitty looks green again.]
Buckets and rags were brought. The two orcs gingerly washed their charge, trembling at the touch of Celebrian’s smooth skin yet also in fear that too familiar a touch would enrage their king.
Kitty: These Orcs are a bit… flinchy, aren’t they?
Tarak: Very much so.
They started at her boots, washed the pillars of her thighs, the gentle curves of her hips and the swell of her belly. They caressed her small, sweet breasts with their wash rags and finished with a careful wipe of her face.
Fury: Not too timorous, it would seem. They still saw fit to take advantage of the situation.
Through it all, Celebrian stood as still as possible. She feared that any further quiver on her part, any further tremble of her breast might rouse the king to action. She had to delay. She had to survive until Elrond arrived.
[Kitty makes a noise like a dying moose and hides her face in her hands.]
Tarak: Clothe her? In what? And why, for that matter?
[Kitty makes another moose noise but doesn’t look up.]
A garment was brought. They forced one leg up, then the other. Looking down through her dangling hair she could not tell what they were dressing her in, only that it was black, tiny and her legs were through two straps.
Fury: Bondage gear, it would seem.
Tarak: Well, these are Orcs, after all.
[While continuing not to look up, Kitty lifts a foot as if to kick at Tarak, hesitates, and then puts her foot down again.]
Tarak: Smart child.
The orcs raised the garment up. She had expected coarse orc-cloth. But it was smooth, fine silk.
Fury: Where in the world did they they come by silk?
Kitty: [still not looking up] Maybe they stole it off another group passing through Caradhras.
Tarak: Lift your head, child. We can scarcely understand you.
The orcs reached her pubes. She felt the cloth bite into her slit and gasped. She could not keep her eyes from darting to the goblin king.
The king’s gaze dance from her eyes to her breasts and back. He leered and passed his lumpy tongue over his tusks and across his thick lips.
Kitty: The tense shifts in this pile of crap are really starting to bother me. Good thing there’s so much horrifying malformation fetish-porn to distract me from it.
Fury: There is an image in that passage that strikes me as familiar. I cannot say why. I know there are no lumpy tongues in our canon.
Kitty: No, but you were raised around what survived of human technology. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve seen 300 at some point.
[Tarak wrinkles his nose in disgust.]
“She likes that,” he said with a laugh.
Kitty: You heard it here, first, folks. If a woman makes any sort of noise or visible reaction whatsoever, she’s enjoying whatever is happening to her. Yay rape culture!
Pointing to the orcs holding the garment at her hips, he said, “fix the straps on her twat.”
Kitty: Proving once and for all that using British accents or slang does not make everything classier.
Celebrian felt rough orc fingers and claws slide along the silk over her pubes. They brushed her labia. She trembled violently at the touch. This time she forced her eyes down but this only caused her to watch her bouncing breasts and only reminded her further of the king’s pleasure in her torment.
Kitty: Her breasts are explicitly apple-sized — meaning relatively small, which is in keeping with canonical mentions that Elves were relatively androgynous save for their reproductive organs. How much could they possibly be bouncing when she’s standing in one place and by all accounts we’re looking at a small B-cup size at most? They’re filled with fat, not Flubber!
Tarak: What is ‘Flubber’?
Kitty: It’s a super-bouncy green substance invented by Robin Williams’ character in the 1997 movie of the same name as the substance. One little tap and anything filled with or covered in Flubber went rocketing around like a ping-pong ball on speed.
[Actually, it was invented by Fred MacMurray as Dr. Ned Brainard the 1961 original “The Absent Minded Professor.” A far superior movie to that of the 1997 remake. You dragged me unwilling into this fic as I format and edit incoming guest riffs, I’m going to add a gods-be-damned note! ~Lyle]
Kitty: The point is these are breasts, not basketballs. I don’t care how hard she’s shaking; I don’t think boobs work the way this flunkie Balrog thinks they do.
Fury: I assume you refer to the perpetrator of this story. We should consider finding an appropriate moniker for them, to avoid confusion.
The orc separated the cloth into two straps and set them on either side of her labia.
Kitty: So was it always two straps, or did someone just take a very sharp thumbnail to Celebrían’s ladybits?
Tarak: Your vulgarity is becoming tiresome, child.
Kitty: Don’t act like you weren’t wondering the same thing.
“Now do the rest,” said the king.
The two orcs continued to work the garment upward. There was little to it: just a pair of straps that passed from shoulder to her pubes joined by a horizontal band front and back. The orcs left the straps passing on either side of her breasts so that they pushed her flesh into a tight mound.
Kitty: Again, small B-cup at most. If she moves enough they’ll slip free — and surprise, surprise, she’s already shaking hard enough to bounce the girls. Bullshit, those straps are keeping them squished.
The king regarded the elf-bitch before him, naked except for the black silk that shaped her breasts and highlighted her labia.
Tarak: [looking thoroughly annoyed] What is that?
Kitty: The DRD alarm. They’re coming to beat us up because the fic was redundant.
Tarak: Are they, now?