To Rescue An Elf 2

To Rescue An Elf

Part 2

Posted: January 4, 2008
Title: To Rescue an Elf
Author: Inwë Sáralondë

Summary: Lothvaen welcomes Haldir home.

*****

“You are back!” Lothvaen threw himself into his lover’s arms, making him stumble.

Haldir smiled. “I have only been gone a week,” he chided gently.

Lothvaen pouted. “But it was a week too long,” he said.

The Marchwarden shook his head in amusement before succumbing to the temptation of kissing his lover’s pouting lips. “You know full well I go on patrol, melethen,” he said a few moments later.

“I know.” Lothvaen sighed. “But that does not mean I do not miss you.”

“I miss you, too, melethen, and it gladdens my heart to know that you are here waiting for me when I return,” Haldir said, at the same time pulling out a small pouch from under his tunic. “Here, I have something for you,” he continued, handing the pouch to Lothvaen.

“For me?” Carefully Lothvaen took the pouch from Haldir, almost not quite believing that his lover was giving him a gift. Opening it, the scribe saw a strange reddish-brown stone. He took it out and saw that a hole had been drilled into it, in which a thin leather thong had been threaded through to make a necklace.

“Do you like it?” Haldir asked, watching his lover’s fingers stroking the stone and wishing suddenly that those fingers were stroking *him*.

“Oh, I do, very much!” Lothvaen exclaimed. “But what is the stone?”

“It is called ‘Carnelian’,” Haldir said. “I bought it off a trader who had been passing close to the borders of Lothlórien.”

“Will you put it on me?” Lothvaen requested, handing the necklace to Haldir, who immediately fastened it around his lover’s neck, his fingertips gently caressing the skin, making Lothvaen shiver. The scribe turned around, his brown eyes seemingly guileless as he began undoing the fastenings on Haldir’s tunic.

Haldir stayed his lover’s hands. “I need a bath, melethen.”

“I know. Why do you think I am helping you undress?” Lothvaen said innocently, though Haldir detected an undercurrent of something else in his lover’s voice.

“Methinks you have something more in mind than just undressing me for my bath, pen-velui.”

“Do I?” Shrugging off Haldir’s hands, Lothvaen’s nimble fingers continued their work, while his face was a study of concentration as one of the fastenings proved to be a little recalcitrant.

Haldir allowed his lover to continue. This was, after all, what he looked forward to coming back to. His little scribe was so much a part of his life now that Haldir could no longer imagine it without him. He closed his eyes, allowing Lothvaen the pleasure of continuing to undress him. When the scribe’s hands reached the lacings on Haldir’s leggings, the Galadhel’s breath caught as Lothvaen gently, teasingly, ran his fingers against the erect flesh that was barely being contained. Haldir growled.

“Is something wrong?”

Haldir nearly whimpered when he looked down at his lover. The all-so innocent tone was belied by the fire in Lothvaen’s eyes as the scribe continued to tease the Marchwarden with his fingers. Keeping his gaze fixed with Haldir’s, Lothvaen slowly began undoing the lacings, only stopping when Haldir’s erection sprang free from its confines. The Galadhel’s legs shook as warm breath ghosted over his erection once, twice, three times.

“Daro!” Haldir ground out as his fingers tangled in Lothvaen’s hair and pulled him away. “I will spend myself if you do not cease this torture.”

“Is that a problem?” Lothvaen queried, a smile playing upon his lips as he gazed at his lover.

Haldir stared down at his little scribe, hunger for his lover more than evident in his eyes. “The bed, pen-velui,” he growled, relaxing his grip slightly.

Lothvaen, however, had other ideas. As soon as he felt Haldir’s grip loosening, he took advantage and moved forward to take Haldir’s erection in his mouth. He felt Haldir’s grip tighten again, but the Marchwarden did not pull him away, groaning instead as Lothvaen applied himself assiduously in his task.

With almost a wail Haldir came, his heart beating furiously and his breathing ragged as Lothvaen swallowed all that the Galadhel had to offer, leaving him limp, his legs threatening to give way beneath him.

Lothvaen released the spent organ and then licked his lips. “I love the way you taste,” he purred, gazing at Haldir. The Marchwarden felt another wave of desire go through him, and he leaned down to practically drag Lothvaen to his feet.

“You have a wicked tongue, pen-velui,” Haldir said huskily.

The scribe gave an unrepentant grin. “I know,” he said mischievously. “And you would not want it any other way.”

Haldir merely growled before claiming his lover’s lips in a searing kiss.

*****

Elvish translations:

daro – stop
melethen – my love
pen-velui – lovely one

*****

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