Posted: April 2004
Title: I Do Not Want To!
Author: Inwe Saralonde
Type: FCS
Characters: Elrohir/Lindir
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters (wish I did though); they are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit or such is made from this.
Beta: Gary

Summary: Another piece of drabble (though not written at work this time!); this particular plot bunny is persisting in giving me these crazy ideas. It has now been locked in cage where it will (hopefully) leave me alone for a while. Again there's no rhyme or reason to this… Once again hubby is the beta, so apologies if something doesn't make sense…

*****

"No."

Elrohir rolled his eyes. Since when had his lover become so willful and stubborn? He tried again.

"Lindir…"

"No."

"For Elbereth's sake, Lindir – will you hear me out?!!"

The look on the minstrel's face was short of mutinous, his lower lip jutting out slightly as he stood there, glaring at the twin.

Standing in the small clearing, Elrohir couldn't help but look at his lover. Lindir stood with his back against the sun, the rays creating a halo of light around his head, making his hair appear almost white. To Elrohir, he looked almost ethereal – almost, not completely – but for the grim expression on Lindir's face, ruining the otherwise beatific appearance.

"Melethen, trust me, you will enjoy it. We will take it slowly, and I will show you what to do." Elrohir's voice was soft, cajoling. He could see the minstrel wavering a little. ‘Careful – do not frighten him off, Elrohir,' he warned himself.

The dark-haired elf began approaching Lindir, his hand held out in a placating gesture. "Come, I promise nothing untoward will happen." The minstrel watched Elrond's son approaching him, and bit worriedly on his lower lip. He was assailed by the same feelings as those when in the library with Elrohir – like then, he wasn't sure if he was ready for this now.

"I will show you the different techniques; we will start with the simplest one today, and progress from there. You will find it most enjoyable." Elrohir smiled winningly, knowing his lover was about to capitulate.

"Are you sure?" Lindir asked worriedly.

"Yes, I am sure. I would never do anything to harm you – you know this, do you not?"

The minstrel nodded, his decision made. "All right."

They both stood there – Elrohir confident, certain he had finally succeeded in getting Lindir to do this; Lindir nervous, still chewing away at his lower lip, wondering if he had made the right decision.

"Lindir," Elrohir said gently. "You will need to take your clothes off – it will be much easier."

"Oh…I suppose you are right." The minstrel gave a weak smile as his trembling fingers attempted to undo the fastenings on his tunic.

"Here, let me." The dark-haired elf stepped closer to his lover, his sure fingers making quick work of the fastenings and slipping the tunic off Lindir's shoulders. The minstrel shivered slightly; whether it was the touch of Elrohir's hands on his skin or the gentle breeze, he wasn't sure.

"Shall I help you remove your leggings, melethen?" Lindir nodded again, unable to speak. He stood quietly, only moving after Elrohir had untied the leggings and slid them down his legs. The loincloth was the last to go, leaving Lindir feeling exposed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest.

"There." Standing, the dark-haired elf divested himself of all his clothing, and reached out with his hand to his lover.

"Come, melethen," he coaxed. "What better thing could we be doing on a glorious day such as this?"

Lindir stared at Elrohir. Yes, he had agreed to do this, but indecision still warred within him.

"Lindir – we can not stand here all day. Come!" Elrohir's voice was crisp, indicating he was beginning to lose his patience. The minstrel's eyes narrowed slightly, and the dark-haired elf dropped his hand, realizing he had made a mistake speaking to Lindir in that way.

"Forgive me, meleth…I should not have spoken so harshly. Please…" Elrohir held out his hand again, his grey eyes pleading, but saw with dismay that Lindir was having none of it.

"I. Will. Not. Do. This." The resolute expression was back on Lindir's face as each word carefully enunciated in his clear, musical voice, and Elrohir sighed, defeated. He watched as the minstrel picked up his clothing and began to move from the clearing, shaking his head when as he heard his lover's parting words:

"I do not want to learn how to swim!"

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Elvish translations:
meleth – love
melethen – my love

*****

THE END

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