Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 16 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir Rating: PG Summary: Elrohir comes to a realisation. Genre: Romance Word count: 687 Warnings: None Beta: Aglarien Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit or such is made from this. Authors Note: The prompts used were 23 Mar 2006 – ‘sinful’; 21 Apr 2006 – ‘balcony’; 23 Apr 2006 – ‘sneeze’; 25 Apr 2006 – ‘shimmer’; 2 May 2006 – ‘confessions’; 11 May 2006 – ‘lotion‘;13 May 2006 – ‘itch‘; 6 Jun 2006 – ‘faint‘; 18 Jun 2006 – ‘unsure‘; 25 Sep 2006 – ‘foot/feet‘; 29 July 2007 – ‘callous’ ************************ Standing on the balcony, Elrohir stifled a sneeze. For some reason he was finding the pollen particularly bad this spring, and was at the stage of asking his father for a remedy against the sneezing. Not to mention the constant itch. Perhaps Elrond had a lotion for that. He had heard of mortals suffering from such a thing, but never an elf. Maybe it was because he was a Peredhel that he was more susceptible. His mind went back to his last conversation with Elladan. His brother had acted a little oddly when Elrohir had jokingly suggested about kissing his hurt better, and Elrohir wasn’t sure whether it was because the younger twin had said it, or whether it was because Elladan was harbouring some feelings for him that were not quite…brotherly. ‘They are one soul split into two.’ Galadriel’s words came suddenly into his mind – words he was sure he had not been meant to hear – and, for a moment, Elrohir felt faint. Surely she did not mean…? Elrohir shook his head. The idea of he and his brother coming together like that surely was sinful. Yet a part of him was unsure. Was that the reason why neither of them seemed able to have a long-term relationship? Elrohir shivered, feeling the sudden need to speak to someone, anyone, about this – anyone except his brother. Turning abruptly, his feet beat a rapid tattoo as he strode down the corridor leading…to Erestor’s room. Elrohir stopped. Why Erestor? Did the advisor not have his own issues to deal with? Though the younger twin had no idea what those issues were, he felt the last thing Erestor probably needed was for Elrohir to come to him with his confessions. Yet his feet continued to inexorably take him to Erestor’s room and, once he reached it, Elrohir hesitated only momentarily before knocking on the door. When Erestor opened the door, Elrohir suddenly felt shy. The advisor appeared startled to see the younger elf. “What is it?” the advisor asked. “Has something happened?” Mutely Elrohir shook his head. “Then what is it, pen-neth?” Erestor asked gently. “Has it something to do with Lothvaen?” “Partly,” Elrohir admitted. “And something else.” “Forgive me for asking, but why do you not go and speak to your father?” Elrohir shrugged helplessly. “I do not know,” he said. “My feet found their way to you.” “I am not sure I am the best person to seek for advice,” Erestor remarked a little dryly. “But you have always been there for us,” Elrohir said quietly. “And, sometimes, it is easier to speak to you than it is to Adar.” Erestor grimaced slightly. “Very well. Come in, and I will try and help you the best I can.” Entering the room, Elrohir stood uncertainly as the advisor shut the door. “Sit down.” Elrohir knew this to be more of a command than a request and sat, though he would have preferred to have stayed standing. “I do not know where to begin,” he murmured, staring down at his hands. “Start at the beginning, pen-neth.” Erestor’s voice was gentle, the darkling elf sensing that what Elrohir wanted to tell him was not going to be easy. A feeling of disquiet came over the advisor; was what Galadriel and Elrond had seen so long ago now coming to pass? “Lothvaen and I are no longer together.” “I know. Lindir has spent much time with his friend, trying to console him.” Elrohir smiled mirthlessly. “I gathered as much, considering the looks he has been giving me.” “Our minstrel knows that you are not a callous elf; however, that does not stop him from giving Lothvaen his support.” “I *do* care for Lothvaen, but…” “…he is not the elf of your heart.” Elrohir shook his head. “No, he is not.” Erestor knew he had to ask his next question. “Do you think you might know who is?” he asked cautiously. There was a shimmer of tears in Elrohir’s eyes as he gazed helplessly at his former tutor. “I am afraid,” he whispered. “Afraid?” Elrohir swallowed. “Afraid that it is my twin.” ************************ Elvish translations: Adar – father pen-neth – young one Peredhel – half elf *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 17 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Legolas/Lindir, Lothvaen, Elrohir Rating: PG Summary: Lothvaen decides. Genre: Romance Word count: 670 Warnings: None Beta: Aglarien Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit or such is made from this. Authors Note: The prompts used were 29 Jun 2006 – ‘spirit/fëa‘; 23 Sep 2006 – ‘harp‘ and ‘flute’; 15 Oct 2006 – ‘sing’; 19 Oct 2006 – ‘play‘;24 Oct 2006 – ‘dream/dreaming‘ and ‘nightmare’; 28 Oct 2006 – ‘music‘;1 Nov 2006 – ‘meldir/meldis’ ************************ “Why can I not have what you have?” Lothvaen’s question tore at Lindir. Trying to buy himself some time, the minstrel continued to pack away his harp and flute, wanting to find the right words so as not to upset his friend further. Only when he had packed away his music as well did he turn to face Lothvaen. “Sometimes,” he began slowly, “one thinks one has found what seems right for them, only to find that, in reality, it is not.” “But you have found it in Legolas.” Lindir knew he could not lie. “Yes, I truly believe I have. But that does not mean that you can not as well. It is just not with Elrohir.” “It was such a beautiful dream, Lindir,” Lothvaen said wistfully. “I thought I had truly found one who would indulge my fantasies. Now, it is a nightmare; one that I so desperately want to wake up from.” “Could you not have compromised?” Lindir asked. Lothvaen shook his head. “What point is there in compromise when Elrohir does not love me?” The minstrel found he could not answer that, but said, “Nevertheless, he should not have said what he did.” “He did not mean to hurt me, meldir. Do not forget I said some hurtful things to him as well.” Lindir sighed. “Admittedly, your accusations were baseless, Lothvaen. I confess even I am a little perplexed as to why you accused Elrohir of sleeping with Saelbeth. You are lucky that both he and Silinde accepted your apology after they found out. You should, at least, apologise to Elrohir as well, if nothing else.” “I know. But it will not be easy to face him again. I feel such a fool!” “You are no fool, Lothvaen. You believed yourself in love. Mayhap it was just desire on your part as much as it was his. There is one out there who is truly the other half of your fëa.” “Do you think so?” Lindir smiled. “Yes, I do.” “I suppose I should go and apologise to him.” Lothvaen rose from his chair before looking at his friend. “And will you at least promise me that you will no longer glare daggers at him the next time you see him?” The minstrel flushed slightly. “I can not help it. Whether he did it intentionally or no, he hurt you, and I do not like it when my friends are hurt. But I will promise to at least *try*.” Lothvaen smiled briefly. “Hannon le.” The scribe watched as his friend continued to tidy things away. “Will you sing tonight?” he asked suddenly. Lindir stopped and frowned slightly. “No, not tonight. I had only planned to play my harp. However, if you wish for me to sing, I will. Why do you ask?” Lothvaen shrugged slightly. “No reason, except that I know Legolas loves to hear you sing.” “I do sing for him in private, Lothvaen.” “Really? And what ‘songs’ would those be?” Lothvaen’s tone was mischievous, yet it still took a moment for Lindir to work out what the scribe was inferring. “Lothvaen!” The minstrel blushed furiously. “I shall not deign to dignify that question with an answer,” he said, a little miffed at his friend’s audacity. The scribe laughed. “You are as red as a tomato, meldir! If that does not tell me, nothing will.” Lothvaen continued to chortle, oblivious to the black look Lindir was giving him. “Forgive me,” the scribe finally said as his laughter died down. “I should not have teased you like that. But it is rare that I can. Normally you are immune to such things.” Lindir sighed and decided against saying anything further on that subject. Instead, he asked, “Were you not going to apologise to Elrohir?” Lothvaen’s mien sobered. “Aye. Will you come with me? At least that way he can see that you are no longer annoyed with him.” The minstrel sighed once more. “Very well,” he conceded. “Let us do this now, then it is done.” ************************ Elvish translations: fëa – spirit hannon le – thank you meldir – friend *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 18 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir Rating: PG Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel talk about the twins. Genre: Romance Word count: 543 Warnings: None Beta: Aglarien Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit or such is made from this. Authors Note: The prompts used were 12 Jun 2006 – ‘mindful‘; 3 Jul 2006 – ‘agreement‘; 11 Jul 2006 – ‘daydream‘; 3 Aug 2006 – ‘stiletto‘; 26 Aug 2006 – ‘mithril’; 8 Sep 2006 – ‘iavas/lasbelin‘; 9 Sep 2006 – ‘leaves’; 16 Sep 2006 – ‘memory’ ************************ Lost in his daydream, Glorfindel did not hear the other elf approach. “What are you thinking of?” The words were softly spoken so as not to startle the seneschal overmuch. Glorfindel turned, and then smiled as he saw who it was. Erestor sat down next to his betrothed. “You were far away, melethen. Were you back in Gondolin?” The advisor knew that, sometimes, Glorfindel would think about his first life, the reminiscences often making the seneschal melancholy. Glorfindel nodded in reply to Erestor’s question. “I was thinking of Ecthelion’s last gift to me. It was a stiletto, made of mithril. It was a beautiful thing, one he had especially made for me. But it was lost, as so many things were, when Gondolin fell.” “You miss him.” “I do. He was a good friend, a great warrior. He was the closest thing to a brother I could have had.” Glorfindel smiled briefly before staring at the trees. “Iavas approaches. Already the days are getting shorter, the nights colder,” he said softly. “Soon the leaves will begin to fall.” Erestor kept quiet, allowing Glorfindel more time with his memory. Soon, however, the reason why he sought his lover out came to the fore. “There is something I need to speak to you about. No, not about me,” he added, seeing Glorfindel’s questioning look. “It concerns the twins.” Understanding dawned in the seneschal’s eyes. “The time has come, then?” The darkling elf took a deep breath. “I think so. Elrohir came to me earlier today. I think he is beginning to realise that the other half to his soul is no other than Elladan.” “How does he feel about that?” “Frightened, though he does his best to try and hide it.” “What of Elladan?” Erestor shook his head. “I do not know. What I do know, however, is that we have seen very little of him. Mayhap it could be because he has come to the same realisation as his brother, but until someone actually speaks to him, we can not be certain.” “Has Elrohir spoken to Elrond?” Glorfindel asked. “No. For some reason he decided I was easier to talk to than his father, something I find rather strange.” “He trusts you,” Glorfindel said quietly. “You have always been there for him, listened to him. It is not that he can not speak to his father, just that he sees you as his mentor.” Erestor snorted. “His mentor? A fine mentor I am if I can not deal with my own issues, let alone someone else’s.” Glorfindel smiled as he took Erestor in his arms. “Personally, I can not think of a better elf.” “Flatterer,” Erestor grumbled, but the seneschal detected the pleased undertone in his lover’s voice. The darkling elf pulled away slightly and looked at Glorfindel seriously. “We need to be mindful; this will not be easy for either of them. For too long they have assumed that they were separate entities, and the idea that they are actually two halves of one soul will be hard for them to absorb.” Glorfindel nodded in agreement. “I suggest we go and speak to Elrond; mayhap Elladan has mentioned something to him. Either way, he needs to know that the time is upon us.” ************************ Elvish translations: iavas – autumn melethen – my love Stiletto: n. a short dagger with a tapering blade. Origin Italian, ‘little dagger’. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*