Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 22 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel Rating: PG Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel talk some more. Genre: Romance Word count: 597 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 9 Apr 2006 – ‘rainbow’; 24 Apr 2006 – ‘lies’; 12 May 2006 – ‘stolen‘;16 May 2006 – ‘wise‘; 30 May 2006 – ‘storm‘; 2 Jun 2006 – ‘endurance‘; 21 Jun 2006 – ‘chastity‘; 7 Jun 2006 – ‘masked‘; 26 Jun 2006 – ‘fade‘; 13 Jul 2006 – ‘drunk‘; 21 Oct 2006 – ‘sapphire‘;16 July 2007 – ‘lost’; 26 July 2007 – ‘strain’; 1 Aug 2007 – ‘games’; 8 Aug 2007 – ‘daylight’ ************************ Erestor breathed in deeply. The recent storm had left a fresh smell in the air that the advisor loved, and he smiled, his gaze on the rainbow that the remaining rain and emerging sunlight had created. “You seem happy, melethen.” The darkling elf turned, his brown eyes meeting the sapphire ones of his lover. “I am. I love how things smell after the rain.” Glorfindel stepped further into the room, his gaze taking in the elf before him. Already the seneschal could see that Erestor was slowly freeing himself of the burden he had shouldered unnecessarily for so long. There was more expression on Erestor’s face, the masked visage slowly disappearing as the darkling elf learned to truly smile again. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Glorfindel smiled. “Just thinking how much more relaxed you seem.” Yet, the daylight that was now streaming through the window seemed to emphasise the paleness on Erestor’s face, and Glorfindel’s mien became sombre. “Something still bothers you, though,” he said softly. Erestor shook his head. “No, melethen, nothing bothers me. I just feel…free. Before, I felt as if I was lost in some wilderness of my own making. But you found me, wanted me, loved me. I know now that what I felt for Gil-galad is nothing compared to what I feel for you.” Striding forward, Glorfindel took his lover into his arms. He could feel the darkling elf tremble in his arms, and gathered him even more tightly in his embrace. “I had no idea how great the strain was to keep this all to myself,” Erestor whispered. “Only now do I truly understand that what I was doing to myself was not only harming me but all those around me.” “Ervainen vorn…” Glorfindel stopped, unsure of what he could say. “He was my first lover,” Erestor said. “My chastity was stolen from me. No, I should not say stolen, not really. I did go to him willingly, flattered that the king would show interest in me. But I was young, and I believed the words he told me.” “Erestor, I think you know that his words were lies.” The darkling elf nodded. “But not then. Even when he began his ‘games’ I did not see that. The first time he tied me to the bed, he was drunk. I did not stop him…could not stop him. I think he was more dangerous when drunk than when he was sober. Yet, he kept telling me he loved me, and so I let him continue, so blinded was I.” “He did not love you, melethen. He treated you like a toy, a plaything to which he could do whatever he pleased.” Erestor snorted. “He certainly did that. He would sometimes say he was testing my endurance, though I often felt that I had long since passed it.” “No more talk of this, Erestor. Now, we concentrate on the future – our future. Gil-galad belongs to the past, and there he shall remain.” “You are right,” the advisor sighed. He raised his head to look at Glorfindel. “Have either of the twins returned?” “Not yet. Elrond believes that Elrohir went in search of his brother.” “I do not think that was wise of him if he has,” Erestor replied. “He was almost in a state of shock when he realised that Elladan was more than likely his soul-mate.” “We will find out soon enough, I expect,” Glorfindel soothed. “All we can do is support them in any way possible, for it will not be an easy time for either of them.” ************************ Elvish translations: ervainen vorn – my dark beautiful one melethen – my love *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 23 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir Rating: PG Summary: Elladan has difficulty in believing. Genre: Romance Word count: 509 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 13 Apr 2006 – ‘fence’; 7 Apr 2006 – ‘south’; 22 Jun 2006 – ‘insult‘; 8 Jul 2006 – ‘piercing‘;27 Sep 2006 – ‘restrain/restraint’; 16 Aug 2007 – ‘expression’ ************************ “We will need to return soon, tôren.” Elladan turned and looked at his younger twin before nodding. “You are right. We need to speak to Adar.” He watched as Elrohir shifted slightly, and his eyes narrowed. “You have already spoken to him,” he accused. Elrohir shook his head. “Not Adar – Erestor.” “You spoke to *Erestor*?” Elladan asked disbelievingly. “Aye, I did.” Noting the look of annoyance on his brother’s face, Elrohir rushed on, “I have always felt comfortable speaking to him, Elladan, and I *needed* to speak to someone!” “Always the epitome of restraint,” the elder twin mocked. “Did you not think that our father was probably the more appropriate person to speak to? Not to mention that Erestor obviously has his own issues to deal with. Yet you chose to burden him with something that is not his concern!” “I think he already guessed,” Elrohir said quietly. “What?” “I know that I overhead what our grandmother said to Adar, but I do not think that our father would have kept what he told her to himself. He would have at least told both Erestor and Glorfindel, of that I am certain.” “Certain or not, you should still have spoken to Adar first. *We* should be speaking to him first.” Elladan turned away from his brother, frustration on his face. “Do you accept that we are more than likely to be soul-mates?” Elrohir asked. Elladan stared out the window, his gaze focussed on the south-facing fence that bordered the little hut. When he turned to face his brother once more, his face was devoid of any expression. “I do not know what to think,” he admitted. “On the one hand, what you told me makes sense; on the other, though, I find the notion a little…far-fetched.” “Far-fetched?” The elder Peredhel shrugged. “Would you prefer the word ‘preposterous’?” he asked mildly. “You are not taking this seriously,” Elrohir said, annoyed at his twin’s attitude. Elladan raised an eyebrow. “I am not?” he queried. “Forgive me if I insult you, *tôren*, but I do not feel these ‘feelings’ as you seem to. So, yes, I have my doubts.” Elrohir did not miss the emphasis Elladan had placed on ‘tôren’. “In other words, you are skeptical, but I do not think it will be for long. Soon, you will feel what I am feeling, and then you will understand.” Elrohir rose from his chair. “Do not expect that understanding to come too soon,” Elladan said dryly. “Mayhap we should return today; the sooner we can sort this mess out with Adar, the better.” “Mess?” Elrohir’s gaze was piercing. “I do not think it a ‘mess’, Elladan. Though, if it becomes one, it will be of your doing.” “You can not expect me to just accept everything you have told me as fact!” Elrohir sighed. “No, I suppose I can not. Very well, if you wish to return today, then let us begin our journey now.” In silence the twins began packing their belongings, each of them lost in their own thoughts. ************************ Elvish translations: Adar – father tôren – my brother *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 24 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir Rating: PG Summary: Elladan gets a dressing down from his twin. Genre: Romance Word count: 618 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 14 May 2006 – ‘blank‘; 17 Jun 2006 – ‘crawl‘; 4 Jul 2006 – ‘fireworks‘; 26 Aug 2006 – ‘troll‘; 26 Oct 2006 – ‘curse’; 6 Nov 2006 – ‘summons’ ************************ When the twins returned to the house, they found Glorfindel waiting for them. “Your father and grandmother wish to see you,” he said softly, taking in the two very different expressions on the twins’ faces. “Grandmother is here?” Elrohir asked. “Aye. She came two days past.” “But how…?” Elrohir began, but Elladan cut him off. “Adar would have mind-spoken with her. She must have ridden almost non-stop for her to already be here.” “I believe she did,” Glorfindel responded. “She saw the matter of grave enough importance to do so.” “And, of course, you know why she is here.” The sarcasm was evident in Elladan’s voice, and the seneschal frowned slightly. “Hence the summons to immediately see her and Adar,” Elladan continued, his voice rising in increasing anger. “Elladan!” Elrohir turned on his older twin, his own face flushed. “You go too far,” he whispered to Elladan. “Glorfindel has done nothing to deserve your ire. Now cease!” Surprised, Elladan stared at Elrohir. He opened his mouth to say something more, but immediately shut it again, seeing the anger glittering in the younger Peredhel’s eyes. Suddenly, he had the sudden wish to crawl into some dark corner, away from his brother’s anger. Glorfindel, he saw, was standing and looking at him, his face blank, whether it be from a desire not to show what he was thinking, or because Elladan had truly shocked him. Elrohir turned to Glorfindel. “Could you please tell Adar and grandmother that we will be there as soon as we have had a chance to freshen up?” The seneschal smiled grimly, understanding the underlying message. In the short time since the twins’ return, it was obvious that Elrohir had more quickly accepted the idea that he and Elladan were soul-mates, whereas Elladan was proving to be resistant. ‘There is going to be more than just fireworks before this is resolved,’ Glorfindel thought as he turned and walked back into the house. “Just *what* has gotten into you?” Elrohir demanded. “Can you not keep a civil tongue in your head?” Elladan had the grace to look a little shame-faced. “I suppose you are going to call me a troll,” he said weakly. When they were elflings, it was the name that Elrohir would call the elder twin after Elladan had brought him to anger. But Elladan’s poor attempt at humour fell flat. “We are no longer elflings, Elladan, even though your behaviour just now was that of a spoilt elfling in good need of punishment,” he hissed. “Now I suggest you show some restraint when we go and see Adar and grandmother.” Elrohir began to follow in Glorfindel’s footsteps, then stopped when he realised his brother was not following him. “Are you coming?” he asked. “Is this a curse we are under?” Elrohir stared at his brother. “Define ‘curse’, Elladan,” he responded dryly. “In my opinion, having you as my brother at this point in time is probably as close a definition to ‘curse’ as one could get.” “I do not blame your brother for thinking that, Elladan.” Both turned to see Erestor at the top of the stairs, his gaze unwaveringly on the elder twin. “You owe Glorfindel an apology. He is with your father and grandmother in your father’s study. Now go, both of you.” “Will you be there as well?” Elrohir asked. Erestor’s gaze softened as his focus shifted to the younger Peredhel. “Aye. Your father has requested that I be there, along with Glorfindel.” Elrohir smiled at his former tutor before turning back to his brother. “Come, Elladan.” The younger Peredhel’s voice was gentle, and the elder twin gave a small smile as he followed the other two elves into the house. ************************ Elvish translations: Adar – father *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 25 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Legolas/Lindir, Lothvaen/?, Elladan, Elrohir Rating: PG Summary: Glorfindel makes a decision – sort of. Genre: Romance Word count: 1,016 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 20 Aug 2006 – ‘unique’; 3 Sep 2006 – ‘rumour’; 12 Sep 2006 – ‘demure‘; 11 July 2007 – ‘desk’; 15 Aug 2007 – ‘solace’; 18 July 2007 – ‘arrogant’ ************************ The next morning saw the whole household on tenterhooks. Many were aware that something had eventuated between their lord and his sons, but had no idea what it was. Those who were with Elrond and the twins were grim-faced and refused to say anything, so speculation was rife as to what it was all about. Erestor went to the library, hoping to find some solace amongst the books and scrolls. The conversation between Elrond and his sons had been nothing short of disaster. Elladan had continued with his surly behaviour, leading to some fraught moments between father and son. Galadriel had sat quietly for most of the time, her mien placid, but her eyes were sharp as she took in what was happening before her. After one particularly tense moment she had finally spoken, addressing her eldest grandson. “The situation between yourself and your brother is unique, Elladan, this I grant. But your fates were woven in the tapestry of life long before even your father was born. I know this not easy for either of you; at least your brother is willing to listen and to try and understand.” Then Galadriel had smiled. “But you, pen-neth, you I knew would be stubborn. However, trust what your heart has been telling you all this time, Elladan, and all will be well.” Elladan’s eyes had widened at Galadriel’s last words and, with an inarticulate cry, he had leapt up from his chair and ran out of the room, leaving its occupants bar one stunned. “Galadriel? What did you mean?” Elrond had asked, but Galadriel’s mien was almost demure as she smiled. “You will find out, in time,” she had said enigmatically before rising gracefully from her chair and following Elladan out the door. With a sigh, Erestor shook his head. Obviously Galadriel knew something they did not, and Elrond was frustrated by the lack of this particular knowledge. Sitting down at a nearby desk, Erestor buried his face in his hands. “Erestor, are you all right?” Startled, the darkling elf raised his head and saw the concerned eyes of Lindir. He gave a wan smile. “I am fine, Lindir. Merely tired, that is all.” “It is because of what happened yesterday, is it not?” Lindir asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “Aye, though I can not tell you…” “I know you can not,” Lindir interrupted. “Nor do I expect you to. However, the rumour-mill is already coming up with such implausible stories that one does not even hazard a guess as to how they actually started.” Erestor smiled weakly. “I have no doubt there will be even more before the day is through.” He sighed. “I am afraid, Lindir, that things will be…unsettled for a little while yet.” Both elves sat quietly for a few moments before Erestor asked almost casually, “How goes it between you and Legolas?” He watched with amusement at the flush that crept up the minstrel’s face. “Ah…promising, then?” he asked, adding to Lindir’s discomfort. The minstrel swallowed. “Very promising, actually. He has asked if he could court me.” The advisor stared. “What? When? Why did you not say anything?” “Well, actually, I never thought…we never thought…oh, Erestor, he is so wonderful, and kind, and he is very, very good in…ummm…actually, no, I should not say…” “Say what?” Erestor asked, intrigued. Lindir flushed even further. “Legolasisveryverygoodinbed,” he said rapidly, averting his gaze from Erestor’s amused countenance. “That does not surprise me,” Erestor said, trying to contain his laughter. “If the stories about his father are true, then Legolas obviously will have…inherited some of Thranduil’s ‘talents’.” “Oh.” Lindir’s voice was small. Then in an attempt to change the subject, he asked, “Do you know who the Galadhel might be that Lothvaen speaks of?” Unsurprised by the sudden change of topic, Erestor shook his head. “I have not spoken to Lothvaen since his encounter with the Galadhel, and I am no closer to finding out who it is. However, Lothvaen seemed strangely unperturbed. Did you not find this to be so?” Lindir nodded. “It is odd, indeed. Hopefully this Galadhel will soon make himself known. Lothvaen has been trying to find him for the last week, but has not been successful. It is almost as if he has disappeared.” “Do you think that…” “…Lothvaen imagined him? I thought so initially, but Lothvaen is quite adamant that he met this Galadhel.” Lindir shrugged. Just then the door to the library opened, admitting one seneschal who was grinning broadly. “Erestor, I have come to the conclusion that we should have our binding ceremony next week. I am tired of waiting, and I can think of no better way to allay the tension than with a celebration.” The darkling elf rose from his chair. “How typically arrogant of you to make this decision without consulting me,” he said quietly. “Arrogant?” “Aye, arrogant. First, you tricked me into making me ask *you* to bind with *me*, when it should have been the other way around, considering you were the one courting me. Now, you expect me to just happily fall in with your suggestion that we hold the ceremony next week. Well, I will not have it.” Lindir watched the confrontation between the two elves in fascination. “Actually, I think Glorfindel has a good idea. Why not have your binding ceremony next week? I already have the music written, so there is no problem there. And I am sure that Lord Elrond would not mind if your betrothal did not last the full year.” Erestor looked down at the minstrel. “Thank you,” he said with some sarcasm, “for your ‘input’, Lindir, even though it was not asked for.” “Oh, you are perfectly welcome.” The minstrel stood up. “Now, if you will excuse me, I shall go and inform Lord Elrond that he should start the preparations for a wedding.” Lindir walked nimbly out the door, leaving two slightly bemused elves in his wake. “It seems, ervainen vorn, that the decision has been taken out of your hands,” Glorfindel said, and smiled as Erestor merely sighed in resignation. ************************ Elvish translations: ervainen vorn – my dark beautiful one pen-neth – young one *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* TBC in ‘Married to an Elf’