Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 7 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel Rating: PG Summary: Glorfindel gives Erestor a gift. Genre: Romance Word count: 605 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 4 Jun 2006 – ‘once’; 28 Jul 2006 – ‘old‘; 6 Sep 2006 – ‘promise’; 4 Oct 2006 – ‘face’; 26 Mar 2007 – ‘float/floating’; 30 Mar 2007 – ‘junk’; 6 Apr 2007 – ‘keepsake’; 26 Apr 2007 – ‘kitten’; 4 July 2007 – ‘explosion’; 7 July 2007 – ‘bell/bells’ ************************ Stopping momentarily to watch a leaf as it floated to the ground, Erestor returned to the task at hand. “How can I have possibly accumulated so much *junk*?” he muttered as he knelt down to start sorting through the pile. “Very easily,” Glorfindel said as he entered the room. “I am afraid I share your propensity for keeping things even though they have little use any more.” Erestor sighed. “The difficult thing is to decide what to keep, and what to throw out or give away. So much of what I have here are a keepsake of one form or another.” “The worst things to try and sort. I know that all too well.” Kneeling down next to Erestor, he placed what he had been carrying on the floor. The darkling elf stared. “A kitten?” “Aye. Were you not aware that the stable cat had given birth? This is one of her litter. Is she not beautiful?” Glorfindel smiled as he stroked the kitten, his large hand almost engulfing it. “Is it old enough to leave its mother?” Erestor asked, watching in fascination as the kitten began pawing at piece of parchment. “I would not have brought her here if she were not.” Glorfindel turned and looked at his lover. “I thought you might like to have her.” Erestor smiled as he watched the kitten, which was a beautiful smoky-grey colour with white paws. As if she felt Erestor’s eyes upon her, she turned and sat down demurely, returning the advisor’s gaze unwaveringly. “She is like a little princess,” Erestor said. “I think I shall call her Aranel.” “A pretty name,” Glorfindel replied. If truth be told, he was surprised that Erestor was willing to accept the kitten. He had been expecting an explosion of some sort from his betrothed. But watching Erestor gently stroking the kitten, he found that a weight had been lifted from him. “You do not mind?” he asked curiously. “Mind? Mind what?” Erestor asked. “That I gave you a kitten.” “I have nothing against animals as pets, Glorfindel. It is just that I have never had one before. And she is more precious because you gave her to me.” “She will be good company for you when I am away on patrol.” “Must you go on patrol?” Erestor queried, still stroking the kitten. “It is part of my duties, melethron – you know this,” Glorfindel replied, wondering where this was going. “But now that we are betrothed, surely there is less need for you to do so. There are other elves who could take your place.” “Other elves? Of whom do you speak?” “Those who are not attached,” Erestor said. His voice was deceptively casual, but there was something else there, and the warning bells that had quietly begun ringing in Glorfindel’s head gradually became louder. “You worry that something may happen to me,” he surmised. There was no reply from Erestor, but his hand stilled briefly before resuming his stroking of Aranel. “You have nothing to fear, melethen,” Glorfindel said quietly, “though I do not blame you for worrying. Dark times begin to approach once more, but what happened to Gil-galad will not happen to me, I promise you.” “How can you promise such a thing?” Erestor’s voice was anguished. “Because I do not think Námo will want to have me in his Halls again.” Glorfindel met Erestor’s puzzled gaze with a smile. “I am afraid I beat him once too often in chess; he will not want me back for that reason alone.” “Is he truly that bad?” Erestor asked, a glimmer of a smile on his face. “Worse.” ************************ Elvish translations: melethen – my love melethron – male lover ‘Aranel’ is taken from the Council of Elrond website. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 8 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel Rating: PG Summary: An interesting word or two, and some trivia. Genre: Romance Word count: 468 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 1 May 2006 – ‘remember’; 1 Jun 2006 – ‘wonderful‘; 2 Apr 2007 – ‘forest’; 5 Apr 2007 – ‘authentic’; 3 May 2007 – ‘urgent’; 9 July 2007 – ‘draft’ Note: The information pertaining to sandalwood was taken from Wikipedia. The word ‘obfuscate’ I found in a book that I was reading, and I couldn’t resist including into this story. ************************ Erestor threw down the parchment in disgust and looked at Glorfindel reprovingly. “Why must your reports always be so obfuscate?” The seneschal stared at Erestor, perplexed. Obfuscate? Glorfindel shook his head. He could never fathom why the advisor insisted on using words that no one knew the meaning of. Although desperate to find out, he decided against asking Erestor what it meant. He could always try and find out later from someone else – providing, of course, there was someone else who had actually *heard* of the word. “The report is a draft only. I plan to clarify some details when I have the opportunity to do so. Remember, you did say this was urgent,” Glorfindel said calmly. “So I did.” Picking the report up once more, Erestor scanned it again before commenting, “For a moment, I thought you did not know what I meant by ‘obfuscate’ until you mentioned you would clarify some details.” Glorfindel tried to appear nonchalant. “Surely you are not implying that I am a dullard? I knew very well what you meant.” Erestor smiled. “No, just sometimes a little…obtuse.” To Glorfindel’s ears, ‘obtuse’ sounded very much like ‘dullard’, but he refrained from commenting. Instead, he pointed to the small box standing on Erestor’s desk. “Is that authentic sandalwood?” he asked. “Can you not smell it?” “I can smell sandalwood, yes, but that does not mean the wood itself is sandalwood. It could just as easily be something else and infused with sandalwood oil.” “In this case, it is not. I purchased it many years ago from one who had a forest purely made up of sandalwood trees, and who made boxes such as this as well as produce oil.” Glorfindel picked up the box and gave it an appreciative sniff. “Smells wonderful. Did you know that the trees have to be at least 40 years old if you want commercially valuable sandalwood with high levels of fragrance oils? But apparently 80 or above is preferred.” Erestor leaned back in his chair. “Is this a game we are playing, Glorfindel?” “Game?” This time it was Glorfindel’s turn to lean back in his chair. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” “First it was…what was it again? Something to do with the number 13.” “Triskaidekaphobia,” Glorfindel said helpfully. Erestor glared. “As I was saying…” “No, we are not playing a game, Erestor,” Glorfindel said a little tiredly. “I am but merely spouting useless bits of information in an effort to annoy you. And it is succeeding. Now, if you do not need me, I shall take this ‘obfuscate’ report and make it a little clearer for you.” Rising from his chair, he snatched the offending piece of parchment from Erestor’s hand and stalked out of the room, leaving the darkling elf suddenly feeling bereft. ************************ Obfuscate: make unclear or hard to understand Obtuse: annoyingly slow to understand; dense, dull, imperceptive, slow, slow-witted. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Betrothal to an Elf Part 9 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel Rating: PG Summary: Elrond has stern words for Erestor. Genre: Romance Word count: 420 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 3 Apr 2006 – ‘stop’; 24 Jun 2006 – ‘obscure’; 14 Apr 2007 – ‘match’; 15 Apr 2007 – ‘wax’; 27 May 2007 – ‘proud’; 30 May 2007 – ‘cuff’; 3 June 2007 – ‘traitor’ ************************ Striking a match, Erestor lit the candles one by one. For a while he stood there, watching the wax as it slowly trickled down each of the candles to pool in the little dishes they were standing in. The discussion – if one could call it that – with Glorfindel that afternoon had remained uppermost in his mind for the rest of the day. He knew he had offended his lover. Admittedly, Erestor had a fondness for using unusual words, and had a habit of using them, knowing that virtually no one else knew what he meant. But as soon as someone tried to turn the tables on him by telling him something *he* didn’t know, then he became almost belligerent. He sighed, wondering how he could make it up to Glorfindel. The seneschal was proving to be more than just patient with him, but Erestor feared that his betrothed’s patience was beginning to wear thin. Adjusting the cuff on his robe, he decided he would go down to the kitchens and have the cook prepare some of Glorfindel’s favourite sweetmeats. At least if he was going to apologise, he may as well help sweeten the apology with something he knew Glorfindel would like. Stepping purposefully to the door, he opened it only to find a fist almost hitting him on the nose. His gaze travelled past the fist to land on Elrond’s face, who was looking…displeased. “Going somewhere, Erestor?” he asked. Erestor resisted the strong urge to fidget like an elfling. “To the kitchens to organise some sweetmeats for Glorfindel,” he said, annoyed that his voice sounded a little squeaky. “As a peace offering?” The darkling elf sighed. “That, together with an apology. I take it that is why you are here?” Elrond shook his head. “Erestor, sometimes you are too proud for your own good. Do you have any idea how you make Glorfindel feel? Your use of obscure words, the way you then try to belittle someone when they try and tell you something you do not know…yes, I heard the whole story from Glorfindel.” Elrond’s gaze was stern. “This *has* to stop, Erestor.” “I know,” Erestor said quietly. “Do you?” Elrond countered. “He loves you, mellonen. You are soul-mates, yet you try and do all in your power to prove otherwise. Why?” “Because I somehow feel a traitor to Gil-galad.” Elrond was dumbfounded. “A traitor?” he asked stupidly as he slumped against the doorframe. He shook his head once more. “Now I really *have* heard everything,” he muttered. ************************ Elvish translations: mellonen – my friend *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*