Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 19 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir Rating: PG Summary: Glorfindel and Erestor go to see Elrond. Genre: Romance Word count: 724 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 6 Apr 2006 – ‘fight’; 7 May 2006 – ‘vacation‘; 17 Aug 2006 – ‘hostile‘; 16 Aug 2006 – ‘wink’; 21 Aug 2006 – ‘journey’; 20 July 2007 – ‘vision’; 3 Sep 2006 – ‘waterfall‘ ************************ Trying to fight back his irritation, Elrond stared at the report in front him. Truth be told, the last thing he wanted was to be caught up with paperwork. He sighed, thinking it was time he took a vacation. Perhaps he could go and visit Galadriel and Celeborn in Lothlórien; anything to get away from the dull tedium that seemed to be his life lately. So it was with pleasure that he welcomed the interruption by Erestor and Glorfindel, though the pleasure soon turned to concern when he noticed the serious miens on their faces. “Do I really want to know what it is that has occurred between the two of you?” he snapped. “Not between us,” Glorfindel said quietly, “but your sons.” Elrond straightened in his chair. “Elladan and Elrohir?” Erestor nodded. “The vision you saw so long ago is coming to pass.” “Are you sure?” “Aye,” Erestor said. “Elrohir came and spoke to me. He is frightened, Elrond. He does not understand why this would happen, and it is obvious the idea of his brother being the other half of his soul makes him uncomfortable.” “And Elladan will be no different,” Glorfindel added. Elrond sat back in his chair, contemplating what his friends had told him. He was not surprised that Elrohir had sought out Erestor; the advisor had always had a soft spot for the younger twin, and never turned him away when Elrohir had been troubled by something. “Both of them will need careful handling,” Erestor said. The elf-lord sighed. “I confess I do not know what to say to either of them.” His gaze settled on Erestor. “You say Elrohir spoke to you; has Elladan said…?” Glorfindel shook his head before Elrond had even finished the question. “Elladan has not approached us. We do not even know if he has reached the same conclusion as his brother.” “I suspect he has,” Elrond replied wearily. “He came to me yesterday to say he was going to the small hut near the waterfall as he needed some time to himself. The thought never crossed my mind that he could have become aware of a shift in his relationship with Elrohir.” “Then it is best to leave him be for now but, when he returns, you will need to speak to them, to tell them that this was meant to happen.” “They will be hostile to the idea,” Elrond warned, “yet you are right. I will speak to them, but separately, to find out exactly what their feelings are. However, it will not change the fact that we will have some difficult times ahead of us.” “We will help you in any way we can,” Erestor said. “Why do you not send word to Galadriel? I am sure she would be willing to come here and speak to them and help them through.” Elrond nodded. “A good idea. I shall mind-speak with her; time is of the essence, and I do not want to lose any by sending a messenger.” Gazing at his friends appraisingly, Elrond saw that Erestor seemed more at ease than before. He had not spoken to the darkling elf since the night when he told the advisor to tell Glorfindel everything. “I take it all is well between the two of you?” he asked cautiously. “If you mean did I take your advice, then yes.” Erestor smiled. “It will still take some time but, now that Glorfindel knows, I feel my burden is much lighter than it was before.” The seneschal took Erestor’s hand in his own. “I am going to ensure that your burden, as you call it, will soon be gone, for it was not a burden you should have taken upon yourself.” Elrond sent a quiet prayer to the Valar. “I am glad that you have finally spoken to Glorfindel,” the elf-lord said approvingly. “I quite agree with him; this burden was not yours to carry, and never was.” The elf-lord eyed the two elves shrewdly. “I take it that Glorfindel is using…appropriate measures?” His question was accompanied by a wink at Erestor, who flushed slightly. “Trust me, Elrond, they are appropriate,” Glorfindel replied, a smile on his face. “However, that is *all* you need to know.” Then the seneschal became serious once more. “Contact Galadriel, mellonen. The sooner we can help your sons, the better.” ************************ Elvish translations: mellonen – my friend *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 20 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel Rating: PG Summary: Elrohir goes in search of Elladan. Genre: Romance Word count: 781 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 8 May 2006 – ‘sneaky‘; 25 May 2006 – ‘moonlight‘; 27 May 2006 – ‘path‘; 2 Jul 2006 – ‘sunset‘; 6 Jul 2006 – ‘sick‘; 30 Jul 2006 – ‘exhausted‘; 19 Aug 2006 – ‘sunrise‘; 28 Aug 2006 – ‘Eldar’; 13 Sep 2006 – ‘mate‘; 5 Oct 2006 – ‘glitter/glittering‘; 21 Oct 2006 – ‘magic’; 28 Oct 2006 – ‘follow’; 4 Nov 2006 – ‘oasis’; 7 Nov 2006 – ‘exotic‘ and ‘half-breed/half-bred’ ************************ Having left after sunset, Elrohir now used the moonlight to help guide his way down the well-trodden path to the hut near the waterfall. He knew he would find his brother there; the two of them had, over the years, used it when they needed time to themselves, whether together or alone. It had been their oasis, especially in the time after their mother’s attack and subsequent sailing, the natural beauty and quiet providing a soothing balm to heal shattered souls. Elrohir was sick with worry and exhausted from lack of sleep as he tried to make sense of his feelings. He suspected that Elladan had come to the same conclusion as he had, but knew how tempestuous his brother could become if faced with something he felt he had no control over. The younger twin hoped that the hut and its surrounds had worked its usual magic and that his brother would be amenable. Cresting the small hill, he stared down at the little valley before him. The hut was dark; there was not even any smoke rising from the chimney. Elrohir’s heart sank. Where could his brother be? “Looking for me, tôren?” Elrohir jumped at his brother’s voice, and then grimaced. “You always were sneaky,” he grumbled. His eyes glittering with amusement, Elladan replied, “I know. It was always something I was good at.” Elrohir did not reply, and instead started making his way down the hill. Elladan’s gaze followed his brother thoughtfully. He knew why Elrohir was here – the same reason he was. Elladan had spent the last two days contemplating the idea that Elrohir was supposed to be…more than a brother. If he was going to be honest, he had wondered what it would be like to make love to one who was virtually identical to himself, but to have Elrohir as a mate? *That* was something that Elladan was having difficulty in comprehending. With a sigh, he began to follow his brother. “You know why I am here.” Elrohir’s words were out before Elladan barely had the chance to step inside. “I do,” Elladan responded gravely. “And?” “And *what*, tôren?” “How do you feel?” Elrohir wanted to know. “I have been trying to work that out for the last two days, and I am no closer to an answer, no more than you.” “What makes you think I do not have an answer?” Elrohir’s question startled his brother. “Then how *do* you feel?” Elladan asked a little harshly. “Relieved,” Elrohir admitted. “Relieved?” Elladan echoed disbelievingly. Elrohir nodded. “We belong with the Eldar, Elladan. I know that we have not made our choice, but we both have always felt closer to elves than men.” “I can not disagree with you there, Elrohir. I hear the whispers when I travel through mortal settlements; they call me an exotic half-breed.” The younger twin smiled gently. “Only because they do not know any better, Elladan,” he said softly. “However, in the eyes of most men we are elves, and that is exactly what we are.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, indicating to his brother he should do the same. “But we digress. Shall I tell you why I feel relieved?” “Please.” “At first, the thought that we were soul-mates frightened me, that it was a sin. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.” “How?” Confusion was evident on Elladan’s face. “Remember what I told you all those years ago? The words I overheard our grandmother say?” Elladan nodded slowly. “That our souls were two halves of one. But did we not agree it was because we were the mirror image of each other, that when one of us started to say something, the other would finish it?” “And that may still hold true,” Elrohir replied. “However, during the last two days I began to wonder as to whether our grandmother had seen something about us that made her say those words.” “You mean that we would one day come together as lovers?” “Aye. It would explain so much, Elladan. Why neither of us has been able to settle, why we have not been fully satisfied in any of our relationships. We have both been searching for the one with whom we would have the most affinity with, and in all that time we have overlooked the very one who would make each of us complete.” “Each other.” Elladan rose from his chair. “Let us get some sleep, tôren,” he said abruptly. “It is getting late.” His gaze was unreadable, and Elrohir found he could only nod in agreement. “Shall we get up early and watch the sunrise?” the younger twin asked. Elladan smiled slightly. “Aye.” ************************ Elvish translations: tôren – my brother *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 21 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel, Lothvaen, ? Rating: PG Summary: Lothvaen meets an elf and is intrigued. Genre: Romance Word count: 770 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 26 Mar 2006 – ‘silver’; 29 Mar 2006 – ‘spanking’; 25 Jun 2006 – ‘blonde’; 9 Jul 2006 – ‘naughty’; 2 Nov 2006 – ‘fright/frighten’; 3 Nov 2006 – ‘package’ ************************ “Well, well…who do we have here?” Lothvaen spun around, startled. “Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you.” The Galadhel eyed the scribe appreciatively. “You are a pretty little package. I think I will enjoy unwrapping you while I am here.” If jaws could literally drop to the ground, Lothvaen’s would have, and he stared in disbelief at the elf before him. “How dare you!” he finally spluttered. “I dare because I can, and because I will,” the other elf replied, unperturbed. “I suggest you start getting used to it.” The Galadhel moved closer to the scribe, and Lothvaen caught his breath. Despite the other elf’s attitude, Lothvaen felt a frisson of excitement. “Tell me,” the Galadhel began, “are you a naughty elf?” “Nau…naughty?” Lothvaen stammered. He swallowed. “Why…why do you ask?” Inwardly the scribe cursed himself for suddenly being so nervous. “Oh…just curious, that is all. You do know that naughty elves usually deserve a spanking, do you not?” The words were whispered into Lothvaen’s ear, and the scribe felt his knees go weak. “Nnnnno…” Lothvaen’s voice was barely a squeak. The other elf nodded solemnly. “’Tis a fact. So, if you have been naughty, then it stands to reason you should be spanked. Am I right?” “Who…who are you?” The Galadhel smiled. “Hmmm…should I tell you, or should I not?” He pretended to ponder. “A good question. I think, however, that I shall leave you guessing…for now.” With those final words he turned and walked away, his silver-blonde hair glinting in the sunlight, leaving the scribe staring after him. Once the Galadhel had disappeared from his sight, Lothvaen stumbled to a nearby bench and sat down. It was there that Erestor found some minutes later, and taking in the shocked look on the scribe’s face, the advisor rushed towards him. “Lothvaen, what has happened? You are pale,” Erestor asked, concerned. The scribe shook his head. “I am fine,” he murmured absently. “Are you sure?” Erestor asked, believing the scribe was anything but. Lothvaen nodded. “I am positive.” He shifted slightly on the bench before asking, “Have we had someone arrive from Lothlórien?” Curious about the deceptively casual tone in the scribe’s voice, Erestor answered, “Galadriel.” “Then she has brought some of her guards with her.” “Of course she has. She can not travel unescorted.” Erestor gazed quizzically at the younger elf. “Has one of them approached you and caused you trouble or insulted you, pen-neth? For if he has then you must advise both Elrond and Galadriel so that they can deal with him.” “No, he has not caused me any trouble, Erestor. Only that he did not tell me his name.” “Did you not ask?” “Yes, I did,” Lothvaen replied. “But he said he would keep me guessing for now.” “Keep. You. Guessing.” Erestor enunciated each word carefully. “He has silver-blonde hair.” “There are a number of Galadhil with silver-blonde hair,” Erestor said. “But if you point him out to me, I will be able to tell you who it is.” Lothvaen shook his head. “No. He will tell me when he is ready.” There was a dreamy expression on the scribe’s face. Erestor was bemused. He had no idea what to make of this. “Very well, pen-neth. If you would prefer to wait for him to tell you – if he does at all – then so be it. I shall not try and dissuade you.” Rising from the bench, the advisor began to make his way back into the house, only for Lothvaen’s voice to stop him. “He asked if I was a naughty elf.” Erestor turned back and stared. “He asked you *what*?” “He asked if I was a naughty elf,” Lothvaen repeated. “He said that naughty elves should be spanked. I like being spanked.” “I do not think I need to know this,” Erestor said faintly. “Not to mention I have heard…noises…from your room that would give one some…indication…of what you like.” “Oh. I suppose I am a little noisy,” Lothvaen said, shrugging slightly. “I did try and keep quiet; the gag helped. I much appreciate you suggesting that.” The advisor was, by now, wishing he were anywhere else and not having this conversation with Lothvaen. “I must go. I have much work to do,” he said finally. The fact that it was untrue was completely irrelevant to Erestor; he only felt the need to suddenly get away. Turning abruptly, he all but ran back to the house, leaving the scribe smiling to himself. “I will find out his name, one way or the other,” he murmured. “It would be a shame not to…” ************************ Elvish translations: Galadhel – tree elf Galadhil – tree elves pen-neth – young one *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*