To Rescue An Elf 6

To Rescue An Elf

Part 6

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

Summary: The elven party arrives at the human settlement.

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The trip to the human settlement proved to be uneventful. Lothvaen, though mindful of Haldir’s feelings about Caegaran, found himself wondering why. The Galadhel was intelligent, was proving to be very polite, and seemed to be interested in what Lothvaen had to say. But all the while the scribe was aware of the careful scrutiny of Rúmil and Berendirith, as if they wanted to make sure conversation was all that occurred between himself and the Galadhel.

Caegaran, on the other hand, was silently wondering to himself how in all of Middle-earth Haldir could put up with the inane prattling of the scribe. He was finding it more and more difficult to not let his boredom show, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief when the human settlement came into view. Nor did he fail to be aware of the scrutiny that he was being subjected to by Celeborn’s senior advisor and Haldir’s brother. He very nearly laughed. As if he was going to do anything with the scribe. No, he was happy to bide his time. Despite the ridiculous conversation coming from Lothvaen, it did not dampen his desire to bed the dark-haired elf. He would just need to watch and listen carefully for the time when Haldir grew tired of Lothvaen; something which he was now even more certain was going to happen.

The arrival of the elves in the settlement generated the usual interest, with many young children who had never seen an elf before in their short lives staring with wide eyes as the beautiful and almost exotic creatures rode past them.

Berendirith gave a snort of derision. “It happens every time we come here,” he complained. His gaze turned to Lothvaen. “Make sure you do not wander off, Lothvaen. We need to remain together at all times. It would be folly for any of us should we become separated.”

“Yes, Berendirith,” Lothvaen said dutifully. He had already been told this a number of times by Celeborn’s senior advisor during their journey, but felt it wiser not to mention the fact. No, it was better to agree, and then continue to take in the new sights and sounds around him.

As the small party from Lothlórien continued their way to the inn, they were oblivious to a pair of eyes that gazed at the elves with more than just casual interest. With a smirk, the man moved into the shadows and made his way to his comrade to tell him of his discovery.

The inn was found with little difficulty, and the horses passed over to the ostlers who took them into the stables. Berendirith surveyed the building sourly. “In all the time that I have been coming here, there have been no improvements made. It gets shabbier and shabbier. But it is at least still marginally better than the other inn.”

Lothvaen, however, saw things with different eyes. Everything was a novelty to him, and he saw the inn as quaint and charming, but refrained from saying so to Berendirith. One thing he had learned quickly since his arrival in Lothlórien was that Celeborn’s senior advisor found fault in virtually everything, Lothvaen included. Berendirith, however, reminded Lothvaen a lot of Erestor, so found no offence in some of the barbed comments the senior advisor threw his way.

Caegaran watched as Lothvaen surveyed everything around him, a look of childish pleasure on the scribe’s face, and inwardly sneered. How the dark-haired elf could find anything so interesting amongst all this…rabble, for want of a better word, the Galadhel had no idea. Rúmil, however, seemed prepared to indulge Lothvaen. ‘Probably because the little whelp is his brother’s lover,’ Caegaran thought.

Berendirith’s slightly strident voice interrupted the other elves’ musings. “The burgher who acts as mayor of this town is waiting for us inside, so let us get this treaty negotiation out of the way. If it were not for the fact that it is already late in the afternoon, I would suggest that we leave immediately afterwards. As it is, we will have to spend the night here. If we are lucky, there may not be any fleas inside the bedding.” He turned and began to walk towards the building.

Lothvaen merely smiled, while the two Geledhil surreptitiously rolled their eyes. It was a refrain they had heard many times before, and had learned over time to ignore it.

Berendirith turned around. “Well, are you coming or not?” he barked out, and the remaining three elves scurried along behind him.

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Burgher – a member of the middle class; a prosperous solid citizen

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