Betrothal To An Elf
Part 9
Posted: August 17, 2007
Title: Betrothal To An Elf
Author: Inwë Sáralondë
Summary: Elrond has stern words for Erestor.
*****
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
*****
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