Married To An Elf 16

Married To An Elf

Part 16

Posted: November 9, 2007
Title: Married To An Elf
Author: Inwë Sáralondë

Summary: Haldir receives a shock.

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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.”

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Elvish translations:

pen-velui – lovely one

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