Title: Married to an Elf Part 16/25 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Lothvaen/Haldir Rating: PG Summary: Haldir receives a shock. Genre: Romance Word count: 644 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 Oct 2006 – ‘jinx’; 2 Oct 2007 – ‘missive’; 3 Oct 2007 – ‘map’; 11 Oct 2007 – ‘library’ ************************ Haldir stared at the missive in his hand. The Marchwarden was due to leave in a week’s time with Galadriel, but since his less than pleasant parting from Lothvaen the day before the binding ceremony, there had been no contact between the two elves – until now. Looking at the missive once again, Haldir wondered if he should reply. The moment he had seen Lothvaen, he had wanted the scribe, seeing in him a kindred spirit. Moreover, after their first night together, Haldir had realised that Lothvaen had touched his soul. The Marchwarden had begun to wonder if this little scribe was the one meant for him, the one who would be at his side until the ending of time. But Lothvaen obviously did not feel the same way and Haldir felt that, somehow, his heart had fractured, which was the reason for his reticence in replying. Placing the missive on the bed Haldir stood up, deciding he needed a walk to clear his head and help him decide. Yet he stopped and took another glance at the parchment lying on the bed. No, no walk was needed. He would meet up with Lothvaen in the library, as the scribe had requested. Quickly striding down the corridor that led to the library, Haldir began replaying once more their last meeting. All led to the one thing: had he been too swift in declaring that he cared for Lothvaen? Had he somehow frightened the younger elf with his declaration? It made Haldir realise that, perhaps, this upcoming meeting between the two of them was overdue. He had been aware of Lothvaen’s eyes upon him every time he came within seeing distance of the scribe, yet neither had made the move to approach the other. Reaching the door of the library, Haldir took a deep breath before opening it carefully. Lothvaen was already there, staring at what appeared to be a map on one of the tables, though Haldir suspected that the scribe was not actually seeing anything at all. Entering the room, Haldir quietly closed the door. Then, in order not to startle Lothvaen, Haldir called his name softly. Yet, despite the Marchwarden’s care, Lothvaen still jumped, and looked almost guiltily up from the table. A smile of relief then appeared on Lothvaen’s face. “You came,” he said, starting to walk towards Haldir, only to stop uncertainly in the middle of the room. “Yes, pen-velui, I did,” Haldir responded gently. This was the first time the Marchwarden had truly looked at Lothvaen in over two weeks, and what he saw disturbed him. The scribe had appeared to have lost weight, his eyes seemingly over-large in the pale face, while his hair hung limply down Lothvaen’s back, having lost its lustre. “You are ill,” he said without preamble, moving towards the scribe and taking him in his arms. “I am taking you to see Lord Elrond. Why has no one else seen how ill you look?” “Because I am not ill as such, Haldir, though others have noticed, including Lord Elrond. He says that I suffer from ‘love-sickness’. Is there such a thing, Haldir? For if this is what it truly is, I no longer wish to suffer from it, and Lord Elrond says only I can find the cure.” Lothvaen laid his head on the stunned Marchwarden’s shoulder. “But I am scared, Haldir. I thought my heart broken after Elrohir decided to end our relationship; however, this feels worse. I never realised how much you had laid claim to me. It feels as if I belong to you. Do I, Haldir?” Haldir was at a loss for words. He tightened his hold on Lothvaen, noting how fragile the younger elf felt in his arms. Finally, he managed to speak. “Yes, pen-velui, I do believe you belong to me as much as I belong to you.” ************************ Elvish translations: pen-velui – lovely one *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Married to an Elf Part 17/25 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir Rating: PG Summary: The twins finally try and sort things out. Genre: Romance Word count: 602 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 7 Oct 2006 – ‘violent‘; 1 Sep 2007 – ‘power’ ************************ “This can not continue, Elrohir!” Elladan’s movements were almost violent as he strode agitatedly throughout the room. “I verily believe I am going insane from all of this.” “Then what you suggest we do?” Elrohir asked, though he appeared to be unmoved by Elladan’s declaration, instead eyeing his brother with seeming disinterest. Yet within himself he was concerned for his twin. The longer the two of them tried avoiding the situation, the more it ate away at them, and it looked as if it was affecting Elladan more. “I want you, here, now,” Elladan ground out, and watched with stormy eyes as his brother nearly fell out of his chair. “What?!” Elrohir spluttered. “I do believe my brother is alive, after all,” Elladan drawled. “Nothing else I have said appeared to make any impact on you.” “Why you…” “What? What am I, Elrohir? Brother? Or lover, soul-mate? Let us not try and hide anymore from this, Elrohir. I am tired of hiding; I am tired of trying to ignore what my heart has been saying; I am tired of looking upon you as my brother. I am tired of denying that only *you* can complete me. Or, so may the Valar help me, I shall run myself through with my sword to try and get away from all this pain!” Elrohir stared at his brother in shock. “Has it truly been that bad?” he whispered. Elladan rubbed his hand tiredly over his face. “Aye.” He sat down on a nearby chair, no longer trusting his legs to keep him upright. “For so long I fought against the idea that it was my own brother who could be my soul-mate, the one who would make me whole, that there were times when I feared I was teetering on the brink of madness. It is only now I have realised that I can no longer see you as my brother, though we have grown up as such for millennia.” Elladan looked gravely at Elrohir. “So, Elrohir, what do suggest we do?” “Do?” Elrohir’s eyes moved away from the intensity of Elladan’s gaze. “I do not know,” he admitted. “Mayhap we should go to my room – or yours, if you prefer – and take things from there.” Elladan’s voice was measured now, in total opposition to what it had been before. “This seems…sudden.” Elladan gave a bark of laughter. “Sudden? This, Elrohir, has been inexorably creeping up on us. How can it be sudden?” Seeing that Elrohir was still unsure, Elladan leaned forward in his chair. “I will do all in my power to make this easy for both of us…melethron.” Elladan’s use of the endearment was deliberate, and Elrohir’s gaze was that of a startled deer. “Do you truly wish this?” Elrohir asked, annoyed at himself for the quaver in his voice. “Would I be suggesting it if I did not?” Elladan leaned back in his chair. “Grandmother said that you were willing to listen and understand, yet you baulk. I thought you would have welcomed my speaking out, telling you of what I feel…and welcomed the idea of us coming together as lovers.” “It is because of your feelings that I baulk! I had no idea that you felt like this. You said nothing to me before!” “I said nothing to you before because you were not ready to hear it, Elrohir! You may have overheard Grandmother’s words all those years before, but that did not mean you were going to act and take me to your bed.” Elrohir remained silent for a moment, and then said quietly, “Let us go to my room.” ************************ Elvish translations: melethron – male lover *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Title: Married to an Elf Part 18/25 Author: Inwë Sáralondë Email: mb2002ldgd@yahoo.com.au Pairing(s): Erestor/Glorfindel Rating: NC17 Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel haven’t quite finished… Genre: Romance Word count: 624 Warnings: Sex again… 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 10 July 2007 – ‘channel’; 12 July 2007 – ‘soak’; 19 July 2007 – ‘victory’; 28 July 2007 – ‘shallow’; 28 Sep 2007 – ‘triumph’ ************************ Erestor lay with his head on Glorfindel’s shoulder, a smile of triumph on his face. Never had he thought how incredible it would feel to make love to Glorfindel the way he had. Even though he now very much enjoyed being on the receiving end, being the sword to his mate’s sheath was a new experience indeed. “Happy?” Glorfindel asked softly. “Very. And you?” “More than you can possibly believe, ervainen vorn,” the seneschal said warmly. “In fact, I would have no objections if there was a repeat performance.” Erestor raised his head. “What, now?” Glorfindel’s lips curved into a smile. “Why not now?” he responded huskily, reaching down to caress Erestor’s member. The darkling elf stifled a moan, his eyes half-closed as, under his mate’s skillful fingers, his member once more sprang to life. “Are you not sore?” Erestor whispered. The golden-haired warrior brought Erestor down and kissed him thoroughly. “No,” he murmured as they broke apart. “If anything, I am more than ready for you. You need not prepare me this time, melethen; my opening is still loose. You will just need a little oil for yourself.” Erestor did not need a further invitation. Reaching for the oil, he coated his member hurriedly, and this time did moan as Glorfindel drew his knees to his chest, exposing his opening. The darkling elf positioned himself, breaching the loosened guardian ring and sliding in effortlessly, the channel still slick with oil and seed from previously. “You fit perfectly, melethen,” Glorfindel said as Erestor began to move. Soon nothing could be heard except for the slapping of flesh upon flesh as the darkling elf let himself go, relishing in the freedom – nay, the victory – of loving and being loved in return by one who was now so much a part of his psyche that he doubted that either of them would be able to determine where each of them began or finished. “Come for me,” Erestor ground out, and Glorfindel reached for his own leaking erection, stroking it almost brutally to bring himself over the edge, his seed spurting over his stomach and chest. Erestor gave an almost animalistic scream as he emptied himself, his body trembling at the force of his orgasm. Exhausted, his breathing shallow, he fell on top of Glorfindel, aftershocks still coursing through him. Dropping his legs either side, Glorfindel held his mate, feeling the trembling slowly dissipate. When Erestor took him for the first time only an hour ago it was incredible; this time it was even more so, and Glorfindel now wished he had suggested reversing rolls a lot earlier. Stroking the darkling elf’s sweat- soaked hair, he heard Erestor give a little sigh. “We need a bath,” Erestor said. Glorfindel smiled. “We do indeed, melethen. I think a nice, long soak would do us both some good.” “Though one never knows what could happen while we are having the bath.” Glorfindel’s eyes widened. “Surely you can not mean…?” Erestor raised his head, an impish grin on his face. “Forgive me for teasing you, maethoren vain. I do not think I could do much more except sleep after our…exertions.” “Then, ervainen vorn,” Glorfindel said, giving Erestor’s rump a small slap, “we had best get up now; otherwise both of us will fall asleep.” Erestor rolled aside and allowed his mate to get up, enjoying the view as a naked Glorfindel went into their bathing chamber. The sound of running water was soon heard, and Erestor stretched in much the same way as his cat, Aranel, did, including the almost jaw-breaking yawn. “So much for our swim,” Erestor said as Glorfindel returned to gather their robes. “Another time, mayhap.” “Mayhap,” Erestor responded, a wicked gleam once more appearing in his eyes. ************************ Elvish translations: ervainen vorn – my dark beautiful one maethoren vain – my beautiful warrior melethen – my love *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*