Betrothal To An Elf
Part 21
Posted: September 7, 2007
Title: Betrothal To An Elf
Author: Inwë Sáralondë
Summary: Lothvaen meets an elf and is intrigued.
*****
“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
*****
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