Married To An Elf
Part 4
Posted: October 12, 2007
Title: Married To An Elf
Author: Inwë Sáralondë
Summary: Lindir finds out some things about Lothvaen.
*****
Lindir watched with some concern as Lothvaen sat down gingerly in his chair. “What happened, mellonen?” he asked. “Why do you look so…happy?”
“I am happy,” Lothvaen replied, his face beatific.
“But you are hurt!”
“Not hurt, Lindir, but just a little sore. Haldir was more than…thorough,” the scribe replied.
“Thorough?” the minstrel queried.
“*Very* thorough.” Lothvaen’s voice had taken on a dreamy quality.
“Thorough in what?” Lindir asked curiously.
“Taking me. He is rather…well-endowed,” the scribe said a little coyly. “And he was so good in spanking me,” Lothvaen continued, hurrying on when he saw the horrified expression on the minstrel’s face, “but it was what I wanted.”
“You *wanted* to be spanked?” Lindir asked in disbelief.
Lothvaen turned a puzzled gaze to his friend. “Of course. I like being spanked; I like being tied up; I like clamps being put on my nipples. I like quite a few things done to me, actually. I thought you knew that.”
Lindir’s face was a picture as he stared at his friend. “How in all of Middle-earth was I supposed to know any of *that*?” he finally asked.
“Oh. I take it you did not?” Lothvaen asked the obvious.
“No!”
“Ah. Well, now you know,” the scribe said complacently. “I just thought that you would have heard me being a little…noisy.”
Lindir shook his head. “I am on another floor at the opposite end of the corridor, mellonen. Nevertheless, I really do not think that was something I needed to know about.” The minstrel reached towards the fruit bowl, then drew back his hand. “Who,” he began slowly, “is Haldir?”
“The Galadhel that everyone thought I imagined,” Lothvaen said cheerfully.
“You mean he is real?”
Lothvaen nodded as he bit into an apple. “Apparently he was invited to join a border patrol; that is why I had not seen him again until he returned yesterday.”
“Is he not a Marchwarden?”
“He is. He is also Orophin’s older brother, except I can not see much of a resemblance between the two.”
“What will happen when he returns to Lothlórien?” Lindir asked.
Lothvaen gave a strange look. “What exactly is supposed to happen? He returns to Lothlórien, I remain here in Imladris, though I will be lonesome when he does go.” He took another bite of his apple before noticing the expression on his friend’s face. “All right, what is bothering you?”
“Do you think yourself in love with him?” Lindir asked quietly.
The scribe gave a short bark of laughter. “No,” he declared emphatically. “I learnt my lesson with Elrohir. I am definitely in lust with Haldir. He knows what I like, and is more than happy to indulge me because it is something he enjoys doing. So stop worrying, Lindir.”
The minstrel was silent, contemplating his plate before him, before turning his violet-hued gaze to his friend. “I will try, mellonen. I just feel that this has happened too quickly…”
“After Elrohir?” Lothvaen shrugged slightly. “Possibly, I do not know. However, I intend to enjoy myself for the time that Haldir is here. Now, could you pass me over some of that bread, please?”
Wordlessly, Lindir passed over the platter, his mien sombre. He could not help but feel that his friend was once more heading towards heartbreak.
*****
Elvish translations:
mellonen – my friend
*****
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