Spring grew warmer, more and more flowers began to bloom. Lalaithlanthir plaited blossoms into garlands for her head. She always wore her hair open now. After all, it was not as if anyone could see it.
Maybe her lover's elf friends watched from the treetops, laughing at them, but she decided she didn't care, as he continued to kiss her with his soft lips that tasted of spring sun, and braided her hair every morning with his nimble hands.
He kissed her often, but his kisses changed, grew more intense. More ardent, even?
He often laid his hands on her waist as they kissed, embracing her tightly, and she thought she could feel...no, that was impossible.
In truth, though, it was far from impossible. She finally admitted it to herself when she was leaning against the trunk of a beech while kissing him, and his tongue touched her lips.
She didn't really know what she was doing, and suddenly, she had embraced him and pulled him nearer. It felt so good, his body against hers, and she wanted more of it.
"I know of a nice bed of moss nearby, Glosswen nîn. It is very soft...and I can spread out my mantle over it, to make it warmer."
"If only I was a couple of years younger", she sighed.
"What, pray, has your age to do with it, Glosswen nîn?" he asked. "You need not walk far, and you need not walk fast, no, I can even carry you." And he lifted her in his arms as if she was his bride, and to be carried over the doorstep.
"My legs are not the only part of me that is old, Lalaithlanthir. It is...have you ever lain with a woman?"
He laughed his silvery laugh, and whirled her around. His laughter grew louder and louder, until, finally, he had to set her down to catch his breath.
„And straight…straightfaced, too" he panted. „Oh, that's hilariously funny, Glosswen."
"What's so funny about it?" True, she had forgotten how old he was. Of course he would have found some maiden who was no better than she ought to be. He had, after all, had enough time to go looking for such maidens. It still hurt, though, only being one of many. He shouldn't have laughed.
"You are not joking?" he asked, suddenly sober. "You really cannot see it?"
"See what?"
"That I am not married, Glosswen nîn."
"How should I see that?" She didn't know much of the customs of elves...did male elves wear a wedding band? And were they required to remain chaste before marriage? But how would one ensure that...?
"See in my eyes, hear in my voice, and feel in my embrace – but I forgot", he continued with a tinge of sadness to his voice "you are mortal. You truly cannot see it, I suppose."
He gently laid his hands upon her shoulders. "I should have told you, Snowmaiden mine. How strange you must have thought my wooing. Now I realize why you were being so cool, so almost forbidding, all autumn long. Did you even notice I was wooing you? It seemed to me as if you thought it all a bad joke."
"I really have. But not because I thought you married – you are an elf, fair and immortal, and I..."
"It might not happen often, but it does happen", he replied gently. "Did not fair Luthien herself fall in love with a human man?"
"I know nothing of that."
"You don't know the song? Oh, but you must hear it, and I want you to hear it from me, although I am a poor singer – I do not know of any translation into your language, but I'll explain."
So he did, and she leant her head against his shoulder while he sang. His voice was beautiful, and she wondered why he called himself a poor singer – she doubted she could like even the finest of elven singers' voice better than his. To mortal ears, at least, they must sound alike.