Ficlet: "Love" (English; Humor; PG; Erestor x Glorfindel)
Title: Love
Author: Nemesi.
Couple: Erestor/Glorfindel.
Genre: Drabble. Humor. Romance.
Beta: Un-betaed
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings, its characters, places and themes do not belong to me, no matter how much I may wish. All the characters here portrayed are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien.
Rating: PG
Notes: How do I explain this? It's short, cute, silly and so totally unlike my stile. But, yes, I really needed a break from long, sweet, passionate, flowery, deep and angsty fics…
Summary: Erestor’s got something really important to tell Glorfindel…
* * * * *
“Glorfindel! Glorfindel, where are you? Glorfindel? Glorfindel! Oh, where--”
“Here.”
“Glorfindel! At last! You’re-what are you doing?”
“Building another stupid library for you.”
“Oh. Well, you shouldn’t have. I mean, thanks.”
“Nothing. But, do you really read all these books?”
“Yes, of course: I love reading. I even - no, Glorfindel, wait. We have to talk, first. There’s something I’ve to tell you, and if I don’t say it now, oh, I’ll go crazy if I don’t say it now! You must know, yes, absolutely, that’s the right thing to do, I must tell you, and do it now, it’s time for you to know - well, I should have told you before, it would have been only right, but I couldn’t and-”
“Erestor?”
“…ah?”
“You’re babbling. Hand me the hammer, will you? Yes, that one, good. Thank you.”
“It was nothing.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“What did you want to tell me?”
“Oh! Oh… well… right. Glorfindel… I’ve something to tell you.”
“I had guessed as much. Would you give me a nail? Thanks.”
“Nothing. No, really, there’s something you have to know. Absolutely. Before I lose my nerve.”
“Say it.”
“I love you.”
“Yes, yes, love you too, Erestor. Give me another nail, will you?”
“No, no you don’t understand - here’s the nail.”
“Thanks.”
“You can’t understand, it’s not the same thing you feel. I love you.”
“Me too, Erestor.”
“No! I love you! LOVE YOU! I. L. O. V. E. Y. O. U.! I love you.”
“Yes, Erestor, I got it. I’m not deaf. I love you too, Lirimaer.”
“No! Glorfindel, how can you be so dense?! You do not love me! I love you!”
“If you say so, Erestor. Do you think the shelf is straight?”
“Yes, I guess it - you haven’t heard a word of what I said! Leave that damn library alone and look at me, will you?!”
“Nope, if I let go everything will tumble upon my head.”
“Then stay glued to that thing, but listen to me!”
“I am.”
“What did I say?”
“That you love me.”
“And so?”
“So what?”
“Give me an answer!”
“To what?”
“Tell me what you think!”
“About you loving me?”
“What else?”
“Well, I’m happy. Love you too.”
“Oh,foralltheValarthatliveacrosstheSea, Glorfindel!”
“What?”
“Methinks you do not notice the difference that stands between my ‘I love you’ and your ‘I love you.”
“I don’t?”
“No.”
“Which is?”
“That while I love… love… love you, really much, you just… love me. That’s it.”
“I love you, you love me, and I am the one that doesn’t understand?!”
“Glorfindel! Are you doing this on purpose?! Your ‘I love you’ is the same you’d say to lost a puppy you find on the street, to a friend or a brother… it’s the same ‘I love you’ you tell the twins before kissing them goodnight!”
“Well, no, I really do hope I don’t love them the same way I love you. They’re kids, for the Valar’s sake!”
“Exactly my point.”
“Your what?”
“You care for me like you do anyone else, while I love you for real. And that’s why you don’t take me seriously.”
“Let me get this straight. You say ‘I love you’, I answer ‘I love you, too’ and you hear ‘I care for you’? Is that it?”
“Don’t you care for me?”
“I love you.”
“But it’s not the same thing that I-”
“Erestor, for the last time: I LOVE YOU. Why do you think I always go through this hell of designing and building you libraries, ending up hurt each and every time, when there’s a carpenter for that?”
“Well…”
“And why do you think I still wear that mantle you gifted me a millennium ago, and that’s so covered in holes to resemble a Mirkwood’s Spiderweb?”
“…I…”
“And why do you think I risk my life to bring you a bottle of wine and a chessboard, all those times when you’re so enraged to make a Balrog seem mild?”
“…uh…”
“And why do you think I braid my hair with those feminine tresses that you like so much? Uh? Uh?”
“…”
“And do we even want to talk about all the games and the balls I did not attend, just to stay with you, who repels fun like a disease?”
“…no.”
“That’s good. Now hand me another nail.”
“Here.”
“Thanks.”
“…”
“…”
“And so…”
“Yes?”
“You love me.”
“Glad you noticed.”
“Oh.”
“What do you mean ‘oh’?”
“I mean ‘oh’.”
“That translated in Elvish means…?”
“That translated in Elvish means: ‘ what are you doing still kneeling in front of that library, when I’m here, ready for you, and there's such a comfy-looking, big bed just beside us?’”
“…ooooh.”
“Yes: oh.”
The following dialogs remains to this day an untranslatable series of grunts, moans, clothes that get ripped, skin rubbed and pinched, wet sounds and strangled cries of “Yes! Yessss!” and “more” and “Glorfindel!” and “Erestor!” and various declarations of love, in many a language.