One thing that Mila missed about her Earth was the ultra heat treatment milk, which guarantees 99% safe milk to its consumer. Here in Middle Earth, milk go bad quicker, whether from bad handling or unsanitary container. Either way, Mila threw up second thing in the morning after a few gulps of dank milk, and the icky feeling carried out throughout the day.
Thankfully, Glorfindel was up earlier than she and must had already been in the House of Rivendell to meet with King Thranduil so he didn't have to see her puking her guts out. Granted, he was no longer the Captain of The Guard, yet his reputation still carried weight for so many people, even to one as important as the King of Smirkwood. Mila sighed remembering that Glorfindel would have to leave tomorrow at first light with the party of Greenwood elves to attend a council in Dale.
Ever since his travel to Fangorn Forest about six or seven years ago when they were still harboring secrets about their feelings for each other, Glorfindel had never left her once. Mila had seen the interest in his eyes to see Greenwood again when King Thranduil asked him to join his party. Mila remembered their following conversation that night in the safety of their home.
"I'm not going."
"Why? I know you miss going out there."
"I do. But then I'll miss you even more."
"You can always ask someone to watch over me, if I am what you're worrying about," Mila replied knowingly.
"Or," Glorfindel pulled Mila to sit on his lap, his boyish smile dazzling the woman, "You can come with me."
For some reason unknown to her at the time, Mila didn't feel like going. "I have work to be done here. Besides, I think you'll do better not having to worry about me endlessly on the road."
"Are you really sending me away?"
"Pfft. Don't make it sound so bad. You know you want to go," teased Mila, running the tips of her fingers on the outline of his handsome face, "You've stuck with me all these years. You gave up a lot for me. Your captaincy-"
"-Don't do that, Mila," Glorfindel gently admonished her, "I do it out of my own desire. I gain something a lot more valuable in return. I got you, and that I would never trade with anything else in Arda."
Mila pressed her forehead to Glorfindel, murmuring her thank you. "But being amongst warriors is your thing," She pointed out, "It's a part of you. I won't deny you this pleasure."
"The travel to Dale and Greenwood will take months."
"And you will send me letters, right?"
"I will write everyday," he promised, sealing it with a feverish kiss on the lips.
Mila had come to regret her decision to let him go then. Talk about bad timing. But then when she saw the excitement of the upcoming journey on Glorfindel's expression when he conversed with Lord Elrond and King Thranduil, Mila couldn't have it in her heart to ask him to stay.
So here she was, swallowing the bitter pill of regret and confliction. He would be gone for months, and her bed would definitely feel empty, cold and too big without him next to her. But Glorfindel could really use some quality me time for himself.
Her spirits were lifted when Liniel and Arassëa showed up at her home with a beam on their beautiful elven faces. It reminded her that they just got a huge bread rolls order from the House of Rivendell for tonight festivities. Mila greeted the two ellith who had been partnering with her bakery business for the last five years. The three of them bonded together over their love for the art of making breads and sweets.
Assuming that they were well prepared for today's business, the three had the chance to even have their habitual morning tea together. They all had thought that their task today will go swimmingly like usual. After their tea time, the three ladies gathered themselves and kept their cheery chatting as they made their way out of Mila's tiny home. They were excited for today's events. They arrived at Mila's bakery, located near the village just a few minutes away from her home.
Every time Mila looked at the bakery, she always get reminded of Glorfindel. How he used the same hands that had pleased her to build this building from the ground up. While her husband was lacking in the kitchen department, his craft with woodworks, and almost about everything else, was immaculate in contrast.
Mila inserted the key and unlocked the door to her bakery. Even after years being here, the woman hadn't even close to finish admiring the delicate engravings of The Flower of An Hour rimming the white walls. Her heart melted at the sight; a wistful smile etched across her face.
Her little bubble of fluff was soon burst by a series of unfortunate news.
"Oh no. The merchant didn't bring enough flour for today," Liniel pointed out with concern marking her forehead as she put bags of flours on the working table, "They had a little accident on the road and only managed to salvage half of the flour bags that we requested."
Mila paled at the news. "What?"
Before Liniel could even explain further, someone else quickly interrupted their conversation.
"I need more sugar. Where is it?" asked Arassëa.
"Cirindel should know."
The said ellon popped his head by the door when his name was being mentioned. "What?"
"You bought the extra sugar yesterday, right?" Mila asked, somehow having a bad feeling when he saw the elf's confused look on his face.
"I thought Liniel was on the sugar duty?"
"I was on the honey cake duty at Lady Erussiel's parent's," Liniel frowned.
"Wait, that event was yesterday?"
Liniel whimpered when she saw Cirindel's chagrin.
Arassëa looked positively panicked now. "What do we do? Tonight's order is very high profile. We can't mess this up-"
"-We need more firewood."
The sound came from behind them. Aldon came in with his sleeves rolled up, "The rain last night was so heavy that it seeped into the log shed. The wood logs are damp."
"Seriously?" pouted Mila dejectedly.
"I can shave them. But I'm afraid then we won't have enough," Aldon said, glancing at Arassëa, "If only someone didn't forget to close the shed well last night."
An argument ensued, and suddenly all four elves were talking at the same time, blaming each other for the severe ingredients lacking that they encountered. Mila felt a headache coming. These were all petty issues; one that wouldn't have mattered in the modern world where one can get just about anything with a swipe of their fingers, but in medieval time such as these? Without the instant way to communicate or commute, one petty problem could cause them hours.
They had three.
A crawling itch came suddenly on the skin of her neck. Anxiously, Mila began scratching her skin as she tried to think. She forced several deep breaths in and willed herself to calm down before interjecting the argument.
"Everyone. Calm. Down," the woman said, gaining as much calmness as she could muster in her voice. She turned to Liniel, who by far was the one looking most freaked out than the others. "Take a deep breath in," she instructed, inhaling the clear air of Rivendell deeply, "Then breath out... Good." As she breathed in and out, she turned the gears in her mind and came up with solutions, "Okay. Cirindel, you are fast. Drop whatever you're doing and leave it to Aldon. You go to the market and find as much sugar as we need for tonight. I know another merchant who might have some flour left to sell us, so I'll go there," she turned to Liniel and Arassëa who looked at her with anticipation, "The two of you, start with the dough with whatever we have now. Aldon, salvage what firewood we have and try to ask the neighbors if they have any more firewood to spare? We can buy from them if needed."
"What about the shop? Who will attend to it?"
"We close shop today. We can't afford to serve customers today now that me and Cirindel are going away. Let's go team!" Mila cheered, slapping Cirindel's arm playfully as if to punish him for forgetting the sugar-that part was purely his mistake. The elf yelp, flashing her a guilty yet cheeky smile before he followed her out of the bakery and went on their separate ways to finish their respective tasks.
They didn't find as much ingredients as they would like. Mila sucked up her frustration and intentionally put her focus on what she could control. The universe must have hated her that day, for she ruined a batch of bread during baking-a rookie mistake that caused her bread to sink in and almost made Mila cry. Though by sheer miracle, the team made it work and made just enough for the feast tonight. The number of bread they managed to bake was less than what Mila deemed safe. They made just enough, and they will make do, at least for tonight's feast. But should anything happen on their way to the House of Rivendell...
"Ride carefully, Cirindel," Arassëa cautioned, knowing that Cirindel was usually the one who would ride like a demon whenever he was on delivery duty. She loaded the remaining bags containing the freshly baked bread rolls to his horse and to Aldon's, "You two bring the biggest portions of bread rolls than Liniel. If we lose some, we won't have enough to serve on the table tonight."
"Don't worry. I know," replied Cirindel earnestly.
"We shall tread carefully," added Aldon for good measure. The ellon watched as Liniel too mounted her horse after making sure her load was safe.
"Are you sure you're walking, Mila?" Liniel asked, "You can ride with me, Aldon or Ciri, you know?"
Mila shook her head. Riding won't help her headache. "I'll help Arassëa close up shop, then I'll meet you there."
"Take care then, Mila."
"We'll see you there at the kitchen."
Mila felt like her body had been beaten with sacks of flour repeatedly by the time she arrived at the kitchen in the House of Rivendell. Taliana, the sweet cook lady, had her ancient eyes lit up when she saw Mila in her kitchen.
"Mila! My dear, I missed you!"
The woman smiled as she felt the motherly elf hugged her tightly. Mila hugged her back, grinning when they looked at each other. Taliana cupped her face, her green eyes concerned when she voiced her thoughts.
"Are you well, child? You seem rather tired and you don't have the usual bounce in your steps when you walk in here."
Mila sighed with a smile. "It's just been that kind of day when everything goes wrong at the same time." Damn Murphy's Law, thought Mila.
"Oh dear," Taliana said sympathetically. "You shouldn't worry too much. The bread rolls are probably not as many as we originally intended but the guests aren't going to starve."
"But there is no bread left to gift to the Greenwood elves tomorrow when they leave."
"Then they'll just have to stick with good old lembas bread. All is well," Taliana comforted.
Mila sighed again, dejected that she didn't get to show off her famous bread one more time to the elves of Greenwood. She also won't be able to pack some for Glorfindel for his journey tomorrow.
Taliana's smile suddenly bloomed when she caught the sight of someone behind Mila. "I think someone misses your company already. Now stop worrying about the bread rolls. We got it covered from here. You relax and enjoy the festivities, will you?" she said as she cupped Mila's cheek.
Mila gave a nod. With that, Taliana patted her cheek fondly and winked before letting her go, resuming her work in the kitchen as she observed the works of the elves as they prepared for tonight's feasts.
"Hello, beautiful."
The husky, seductive voice that belonged to her husband send tingles on her ear, down to her neck. Mila turned and hugged his middle, her dejectedness slowly ebbed away when she felt his strong yet gentle arms encircled her back.
"Hello to you too, beautiful," she replied cheekily, making Glorfindel's chest vibrate with a deep chuckle.
When they pulled away, they locked into each other's eyes, smiling, for a moment forgetting the fact that they were being in the middle of the bustling kitchen in the House of Elrond until someone cleared their throat and mumbled 'get a room'. Mila blushed tomato at that while Glorfindel shot Elladan a stink eye.
A still very attractive stink eye, at that.
The balrog slayer internally shook his head. Elladan was a seasoned warrior; now a well respected Captain of The Guard. Yet while he's off duty, the dark haired elf still managed to act like a little elfling, flirting his way in the kitchen as he tried to get his hands on whatever dessert he could get before everyone else does.
Mila giggled when she saw Taliana chased Elladan away with a spatula when he tried to steal one of the bread rolls.
Elrohir, despite also having the title of a seasoned warrior, a healer, and being married, was also no less different. The elf was dipping his finger on a bowl of sweet cream while Taliana was distracted with Elladan. Feeling eyes on him, Elrohir looked up to find Mila and Glorfindel giving him a 'very mature' look. The younger twin raised an index finger to his lips, smiling secretively at them.
Glorfindel shook his head again, turning his eyes back to his lovely wife. Mila chuckled, looking up at his azure blue eyes with amusement. "I can't believe you helped raised them both. Such troublemakers."
"You have no idea," Glorfindel said with mirth in his eyes at the fond memory that her remarks conjured. He leaned down to whisper in Mila's ears, "Those two were even worse nightmare as elflings."
"We can still hear you," said both twins in unison, making Glorfindel chuckle.
Taliana rolled her eyes at the two young lords of Rivendell.
"Even now being adults, I can still recall perfectly how the two of you running around the house as elflings, spreading terror to unsuspecting elves. Naked too, especially when you were running away from baths," Taliana muttered dryly, causing the other working elves in the vicinity to smile in amusement.
Elladan and Elrohir positively looked betrayed.
"Taliana!" huffed Elrohir in protest.
"Disclosing house secrets is an act of treason," Elladan butted coolly.
Taliana scoffed, her expression gave nothing as she delivered her next insult. "It's no secret. Pretty much everyone in this house have seen your elflings butt dangling around the house."
"Taliana!" Both twins exclaimed again at the same time, staring at her flabbergasted, as everyone in the vicinity hid their chortles and failed.
No one else dared to tease the twin lords of Rivendell so openly, and no one would get away with it except Taliana, who was pretty much being the closest to mother figure to them after their late birth mother.
Elladan wrapped his arms around Taliana in a bear hug. "Apologize, Taliana, or me and Elrohir are going to give you a lift to the dungeons."
As if making his brother's point, Elrohir grabbed Taliana's feet in his hands, making the older elleth shriek. "Stop it you two! I'm trying to do my job!"
"Apologize or you can cook in the dungeons!" threatened Elrohir with a laughter.
"You win, I apologize! Now please, the soup won't stir itself, and I'm too old for this!" laughed Taliana, slapping Elrohir's arm as the young twin made a face.
Elladan kissed Taliana's cheek playfully as he let the motherly elf go, dodging a spatula hit from her with an amused laughter. At the same time, Elrohir stole a kiss on her other cheek, before bolting away from Taliana's spatula attack.
"Brutal," commented Elrohir mockingly, eyeing Taliana's frantic spatula swing.
The atmosphere in the kitchen was merry and joyful. The scene caused amusement and laughter among the elves. Taliana shook her head, chuckling to herself as she looked at the twins with maternal love in her annoyed green eyes, before telling the rest of the elves to resume their works.
"Alright. Enough games," she said with amusement still in her emerald eyes, clapping her hands together, "We have a job to do. Ignore the young lords."
Still with amusement in his striking blue eyes, Glorfindel turned his gaze from the heartwarming scene and back towards Mila, who seemed rather lost in her own thoughts. Upon closer observation, he noted how Mila wasn't as bubbly as her usual self. He recalled Taliana's remark about her earlier. Mila did seem more tired; something had dampened her spirit. He lifted an elegant index finger and took her chin, caressing her skin lightly, gaining her attention.
"Cirindel told me you were walking here and refused to ride on a horse earlier," Glorfindel pointed out. Mila looked up at him, seeing the subtle, almost undetectable change in his expression as he voiced his question, "Are you feeling alright?"
To other people who heard, it was but a simple inquiry from a concerned husband. But Mila knew what he was actually asking.
Did I hurt you last night?
Mila's face got hot upon remembering the way he took her last night. She had been being a bad girl and had been receiving quite a 'teaching' from Glorfindel.
A very pleasurable teaching.
My ass is still sore, she purred down their soul bond.
Glorfindel being Glorfindel, took her teasing quite seriously. Mila watched with quite an amusement as the balrog slayer gazed at her with remorse in his captivating blue eyes, his mind heavily considering bringing her to Elrond to have her ass checked.
Hell no, she blurted to him inwardly.
"Why so serious, Glorfindel?" she interrupted his train of thoughts with amusement in her tone, "I'm fine," she added, giving him a look, "Today's just been hectic. That's all," Mila finished with a long, dramatic exhale.
Glorfindel sighed in defeat at the truth in her explanation, relieved that their vigorous love making last night didn't actually hurt her. "Rough day at work?"
"You have no idea."
"Speaking of naked butts," they heard Elrohir muttered. Mila turned her eyes to Elrohir with question in her eyes, for a split moment wondering how on earth the younger twin knew about their butt business when she realized that the dark haired elf was still referring to his and his twin own naked elfling butts.
The younger twin stood in front of a plate of bread, his expression serious as he brushed his chin in deep contemplation. Elladan got to his side, smirking. "Thick," he commented.
Confused, Mila walked up to them to see what's the fuss was all about, finding out that it was her bread rolls that was under their scrutiny. "Oh, I'm sorry about that. It's a poor placement of dough on my part. We were in a hurry. When it rise they stick together," she explained apologetically, "You can always cut them in half with a knife, though," suggested Mila.
"Now why would anyone do that? It will ruin the Butt Rolls," Elrohir quipped, making Elladan laugh in high amusement.
Now that Mila looked at the bread, she realized that, yes, that bread looked like a freaking thicc Kadarshian's ass. The small woman rolled her eyes.
"Doesn't matter the shape, but the taste," Mila defended.
"I do like butts," Elrohir muttered with a grin, making Elladan suddenly cringe in disgust.
"Do keep your private thoughts to yourself, brother. You're disgusting."
Mila sighed. She couldn't believe that they were comparing her bread rolls to Erussiel's butt.
Glorfindel must have peered to look at the Butt Bread too. Though he said nothing, he did whisper down their soul bond.
I like your butt better.
Mila couldn't help but send him a look. Glorfindel smiled at her charmingly from where he stood. So charming, that no one actually detect that he had quite an indecent image of her and her naked butt in his head right now.
Big, bad daddy, Mila muttered inwardly, causing Glorfindel's attractive smile to widen, dazzling the room.
Elladan stopped one of the passing elf and handed him the plate containing the Butt Bread. "Make sure this particular bread made its way in front of my ada and King Thranduil, will you?"
The elf nodded then walked away before Mila could stop him.
"Dan! What are you doing!?" Mila screeched in panic, "You can't serve that to them!"
Elladan waved her nonchalantly. "Thranduil will enjoy that. I know my ada will."
Mila gawked with disbelief. All that she could think of right now was her bakery reputation. She couldn't imagine being known as the Butt Bread Bakery to the elves of Greenwood.
Butt Bread Bakery.
The mere thought of the name in her head made Mila's eyes water and suffocated her. She dragged her feet towards the entrance of the kitchen, inhaling the crisp outdoors air with an open mouth while resting her hands on her waists.
"Mila, are you alright?" she heard Glorfindel's voice from behind her.
Mila spun around to him, and to the kitchen staff, smiling widely in sarcasm. "I am just great. Great day. His majesty of Greenwood is going to name my bakery the Butt Bread Bakery after eating the butt bread that you serve him tonight," accused Mila to Elladan, causing the captain to chuckle, "Butt, that's okay. You know what's more than okay? We didn't have enough flour and sugar today to make for the bread tomorrow. Oh that was fine, because you know what? There was no firewood to bake them anyway because the log shed is clogged with water and we need to fix that and it would be days until we can store some more firewood again, which means no production for the next few days so I guess the Butt Bread Bakery name is going to also stick for a few more days, because what we have served back at the bakery right now is all the butt bread rolls that no one with decency would serve to their customer, so yeah! I'm great! I enjoy this day! Good bye!"
The elves who previously chortled at hearing the name 'Butt Bread Bakery' out of her mouth now looked like deer caught in headlight when they heard Mila's sudden outburst of anger. The woman angrily exit the kitchen, stomping her feet like a child. Glorfindel frowned at seeing the magnitude of drama in the way she reacted to Elladan's joke. The elf raised a hand to Elladan, silently telling him he would talk to his wife alone before leaving him to find Mila.
Mila had found herself in a storage room, pulled a white bedsheet from the rack and cover herself with it while she sat on the floor with her legs curled up to her chest, and her face buried between her knees. Mila acted more like an angry child. Her fuse was short these days. Glorfindel wasn't angry or annoyed by it. Just concerned. Despite her maturity, he knew she was young compared to him. She was allowed to act childish at times, but being short fused all the time just didn't seem very normal when it comes to the usually cool-headed girl.
His expression softened when he heard her sniffles. He sat cross-legged in front of her, gently revealed the sheets that covered her head and got himself under with her as he covered the white sheet on top of them. She had her face hidden in her arms.
"My sweet little wildflower," he cooed lovingly, "It seems like an especially rough day-"
"-I'm pregnant," she whimpered with an incredibly soft, muffled voice. The words that Mila uttered inherently turned his world upside down.
The Golden One was stunned with silence for a few seconds before gently cupped her head with his hands, urging her to look up at him. His shocked, azure blue eyes were met with her red, teary eyes.
"Wait. What did you say?" he demanded urgently, not quite believing his own ears. Mila didn't answer right away, rather, let another tear fell to her cheek. "You're pregnant?" he asked again, his voice choked.
He was going to be a father to a child. Was he dreaming? Did his ears deceive him?
Mila gave a weak nod. Shook to the core, yet absolutely, maddeningly elated and overjoyed to hear the news, Glorfindel still couldn't believe what he heard. He failed to understand why Mila started to cry again when he finally find out about her pregnancy. It was not a happy cry either, rather, an anguished one.
"Mila, this is great news! Why on Arda are you crying?" he questioned with a raspy voice that was thick with a mixture of emotions, baffled.
"I'm scared," she muffled.
The fear in her welled dark eyes were real. Glorfindel softened and crawled to sit next to her. He lifted her by her waist, placing her on his lap. The movement caused the sheets around them to fell and crumple on their laps. "Tell me why. Make me understand," he encouraged gently, inwardly struggling to curb the happiness bursting in his chest as he comfortingly circled her hip with his thumb.
Mila let him inside her head.
One. They had sex a lot, everyday, but knowing that elves pregnancy was hard to come by, Mila didn't bother to think that she would get knocked up any time soon. So when she first realized her pregnancy, it took her by surprise-like a rug being suddenly pulled from under her.
Two. Glorfindel was too excited to visit Greenwood and Dale again that she had no heart to tell him and ask him to bail on the journey. Yet, she was scared enough to think of being alone without him while she was pregnant.
Three. Having her knowledge from her world, she knew that many women and babies died during childbirth in medieval age. With no technology to ensure the safety of the baby during delivery, no knowledge about hand washing and the existence of bacteria, healers and midwife's intervention during childbirth more often than not introduce infection to the mother or baby. The fact that antibiotics like Penicillin hadn't been invented yet during the medieval age scared Mila to no end.
Sure, the first two worries of Mila was petty. But there was a disturbing truth in her other concern. The thought of Mila dying during their baby delivery was like a slap to Glorfindel's face. The balrog slayer's expression darkened slightly as he digest the information she relayed to him down their soul bond. It didn't take Glorfindel long to make up his mind on whose life he would choose to save when it comes to Mila or their unborn baby's life.
There was no contest. He would choose Mila's life over the baby a thousand times over.
Glorfindel didn't bother to hide that thought from his wife, which was a grave mistake on his part. Mila quickly pushed his broad chest away from her, her dark eyes wild with horror at the sheer determination in his mind.
"Mila!" he exclaimed in shock, holding her waist capture in his strong arms as she continued to struggle out of his embrace.
"Don't you fucking touch me!" she hissed angrily, seething as her maternal instinct screamed inside her at perceiving the threat in Glorfindel's mind. For the first time in his life, the warrior elf blanched upon seeing a hateful look in her eyes being directed at him. Like he was some sort of vile enemy that disgusted her. The golden haired elf kept his tight grip on her, clenching his jaw as he endured Mila's uncoordinated attacks at his chest; his hold relentless. Her punches, aimed to hurt him so he would let her go was feeble to his hard, fighter body. It only managed to hurt his heart instead.
"Are you quite done?" Glorfindel asked in a dangerous, calm voice after enduring her attacks for awhile.
Mila glared at him, hiding the fact that hitting at him felt more like hitting a rock. Useless and served only to make her hands and arms hurt. "How could you?" she said with anguish and anger still in her red rimmed eyes, "Have you no shame for even having that kind of thought crossing your mind? Your own baby!"
This time, Glorfindel clenched his jaw, yet his jeweled blue eyes were downcast in shame. Still, he didn't quite repent from his way of seeing things. To her, his opinion was blasphemy. To him, it was his righteousness. Despite that, minding that his wife was expecting and being in a tender situation, the elf chose his next words carefully whilst hiding his truth from her.
"It was but the worst scenario," he replied diplomatically, "I shouldn't have let fear controlled my thoughts. Forgive me, Mila."
Mila looked at her husband in a different light.
The way Glorfindel loved her and showered her with his undying devotion had always been extraordinary. She relished every second of it. Every ounce of attention, every ounce of affection and reverence by which he gazed at her, she cherished and happily indulged herself in. She knew Glorfindel practically worshipped the ground she walks upon, yet it never occurred to Mila before that his love for her was something bordering on being... idolatry.
Mila's eyes met Glorfindel's steely stare. Cold and dangerous to the outsiders, but she knew him. All those raging emotions lurking behind those glittering blue eyes, all those irrational urges he had... All done in the name of love for her, yet she never quite understand the depth of it until now.
Glorfindel, her intimidatingly perfect, yet broken husband, loving her with such a twisted absolution.
Despite the whole butt bread shenanigans, all went well. No one pretty much called her bakery a Butt Bread Bakery, and she even had a chance to say sorry to both Elladan and Elrohir for throwing a fit earlier. Elrohir took her hand and cupped it in his.
"All was done in good jest, Mila. No harm done. If anything, we should be the one to apologize. It was probably too much teasing from our part," he said with a genuine smile as he felt the thin skin of her wrist under his finger. He added, "You are not feeling well."
Mila was quick to realize that the hand holding Elrohir gave her was not just a mere gesture of peace, but also his way to examine her pulse. She quickly let go of his hand and smiled at him. "Nah. I'm more than alright," she said as she playfully smacked his shoulder. Elrohir grinned.
"If you say so. Your heart rate is slightly elevated, though. Make sure you get enough sleep everyday, eat well and hydrate, will you?"
"Yes sir," she mumbled. Liniel came beaming when she offered her a glass of ale. She took it after a brief moment of hesitation.
When someone proposed a toast, Mila planned on pretending to drink, but since Glorfindel didn't know this, he made to almost violently snatch the drink from her hand away before proceeding to drink all of it in one go.
"Glorfindel! That is rude," commented Erussiel with a distaste in her tone when she saw that. The balrog slayer glanced at Mila, who still refused to look at him due to their fight earlier that evening. He grunted and mumbled, "My wife had too much too drink already."
Mila glared at him.
I wasn't going to drink it! She protested inwardly through their marriage bond.
I didn't know that. Promise me you won't drink.
I promise.
Do you forgive me?
Have you seen the err in your thoughts earlier?
Glorfindel didn't respond at that. The noble elf was many things but never a liar. Mila knew this, and she chose to excuse herself and left the scene to find solace in the garden of Rivendell by herself. The others noted how Glorfindel followed her soon after.
"I think they're having a fight," Elladan noted, "Glorfindel seems like he has been simmering since sundown."
"Maybe they fight because of you two," Erussiel commented unhelpfully, "That will teach you both to grow up."
Elrohir playfully tickled Erussiel, which made the elleth giggled. "Stop it, you!"
"There's something more going on there," countered Elrohir after a smack to his chest by his own wife.
"Pray tell, what is it?" Elladan asked.
Elrohir had a smirk about his face. "I have my suspicion."
Mila inhaled deeply then turned around sharply. "Would you please stop following me around?!" she barked in exasperation.
"Someone had to keep an eye on you, my little wildflower," answered Glorfindel gently, giving her a small smile.
"You make me sound like I'm a little girl!" growled Mila like an angry kitten-at least in the warrior elf's eyes.
A charming smile made its way to Glorfindel's face that was lit by the ethereal moonlight, "I was under the impression this whole time that you like it when I treat you like one," smirked the handsome elf, seemingly proud of himself.
His response blew Mila's mind. She wanted to retort back, to deny, but after a while she only groan in frustration and proceeded to march further away from the dining hall entrance, hoping her stalky husband would leave her alone, though that was probably not gonna happen.
"Don't do this to me, Mila. You're killing me," started Glorfindel again after a long while silence from his usually chatty wife as he followed her.
Mila scowled like an angry child and stomped her way like she didn't hear him. Clenching his jaw at her attitude, Glorfindel caught her arm, "Talk to me like an adult. Don't give me silence treatment, young woman," protested Glorfindel with a hint of warning in his tone.
She looked him in the eye. "Oh, so I graduated from being a little girl now to a young woman. Great! Awesome!" Exclaimed Mila, earning a frustrated sigh from the elf.
"How long are you going to be mad at me? I apologized. What more could you want from me?" He grabbed her wrist, "Would you please communicate with me instead of giving me this attitude?!"
Mila flinched at hearing him raise his tone at the end of his speech. The elf realized this and instantly regretted it. He drew a long breath before giving her an apologetic look, but not verbalizing any apology, believing that he had a valid point.
In his defense, Mila did give him some unacceptable attitude that just earned her at least a good ten spanks.
Hearing the thoughts that the Balrog Slayer had in his mind made her blush right down to her toe and effectively scattered her brain. She shook her head. "You know what? Fine. Let's talk like two adults working things out together," she finally said, raising both hands in the air. She exhaled. "Havo dad, meleth nin."
Despite her attitude, the Golden One couldn't find it in his heart to stay annoyed for too long with his human wife. Not when she uttered his language in such an adorable way, even when she was mad at him.
He nodded and gestured for them to sit at the bench overlooking the waterfall in Imladris at night, under the moonlight. Once seated, he kept his eyes on her, waiting for her to begin.
"I don't like the way you think, Glorfindel."
"Like I said," Glorfindel replied in a level tone, "It is but a worst case scenario."
"No," Mila shook her head, "I can't accept that you are so readily give up the life of your own child that hasn't born yet, despite the hypothetical situation, and that you already made up your decision in your mind for it."
"I see how you see me in your mind," Glorfindel replied, "You think my mind is twisted."
"Oh I don't deny that," blurted Mila.
"You think that my love for you is blind."
"On most occasion it is flattering, but not on this one."
"I understand. But," Glorfindel lifted his hand and tucked a stray hair behind his wife's ear before cupping her cheek, "...Having lived what I lived before..."
Glorfindel's gentle touch sent thousand years of memory flashing in Mila's mind. Between him loving his life and his people, and losing it all, then loving her, and losing her, only to lose her again in the past. It left scars in his spirit that never truly healed. If Mila could paint a picture, Glorfindel, a mythical elf warrior, glorious as he was in the eyes of many, yet inside, his soul was fragmented. Corrupted by the losses he endured for millenias. Disfigured and pitiful.
The fact clawed and tore at her heart.
The moment Glorfindel took his hand off of her face, Mila opened her eyes and her tears for him spilled on her cheek. Glorfindel watched her with his loving, azure blue eyes before pulling her close into his embrace.
"Do you see me now?" he asked with a sigh in his voice, "I can't afford another loss, Mila," he murmured before planting a kiss on top of her head and hugged her tighter, "Yes. I am twisted into something I do not even recognize. But I'm here because of you. What will become of me without you?"
Mila couldn't quite speak and instead cried harder, all tears and snot to his expensive elvish silk tunic.
Glorfindel let her.
A minute later, her cries still didn't stop.
Five minutes now.
Ten minutes.
"This is getting ridiculous," Glorfindel finally said with a dry humor etched in his flat tone, "If people see you cry so hard like this, they'll think I lay a hand on you."
"You did spank me," sniffled Mila comically, "Many times," she retorted between her cries, then cry again after that, making Glorfindel chuckle.
"Only because you liked it. Shhh..." he granted kisses to her cheek affectionately whilst rubbing her back in a comforting manner. After her cries for him subsided into sobs, Glorfindel cupped her cheek and wiped her tears with his thumb. "Now, now. I'm sorry for making you cry, my little wildflower. It was never my intention," he apologized sincerely, "I am merely trying to get you to understand my point of view."
Mila nodded whilst wiping her tears. "I am honored to receive your affection," she cupped his cheek, and Glorfindel's smile bloomed as his gaze softened at her, "You put me on this pedestal, high above everything else, thinking that you could never love anyone else ever again."
"I know I can't. There is no way," he confirmed, resting his hand on her waist.
Mila's dark eyes glimmering, reflecting the starry night sky. "That's where you're wrong. Glorfindel, you are capable of loving more," she let go of his face and took his big hands, placing them on her belly, "Someday, you will love this baby even more than you love me. Have you ever thought of that?"
"Sure. I will grow to love him. He's my blood after all."
But never the way I love you, he thought.
Hearing Glorfindel's mind made the corners of Mila's lips turned down. "No. You know what fathers do? They will love their child even worse than they love their wives. Some would even use their wives as a human shield to protect their child," blurted Mila in such a serious face, making Glorfindel chuckle a bit at the imagery she painted with her words.
"That is ridiculous," mumbled Glorfindel with amusement in his eyes.
"I'm being real. Someday you'll throw me to the wargs if that means saving your child," quipped Mila with much conviction, making Glorfindel laugh. "Because you know why? That's what good fathers do. They love their children. Nothing is above them. You know how I know that you'll eventually throw me to the wargs? Because you'll be a really good father."
Warmth spread across Glorfindel's chest at her statement. He cupped her neck and kissed her affectionately, before murmuring to her lips, "We'll have to disagree on the wargs part, but I thank you for your confidence."
"You just haven't met him. You will love him. I promise," Mila replied with a smile, "All I'm asking you, is that you give our baby a chance and fight for him. As for worst case scenario, please. Between me and this baby... There is no contest. We both fight. For the baby. For me. Hell, I don't plan on dying giving birth to this baby, in case you're wondering. Okay?"
Glorfindel hesitated, then nodded, pressing his forehead on hers. "Yes ma'am," he finally gave in, "On one condition. You let me take care of you, and you will be extra careful. No more working in the bakery for the next nine months."
Mila let out a dramatic sigh. "Okay. If that's what floats your boat."
He kissed her again, their lips melded slowly before he broke the kiss, only to leave another sweet kiss to her belly. Looking up, Glorfindel beamed, "I will take care of you and him."
"Aww. Him? So it's a boy?"
"I think," shrugged Glorfindel, giving his wife a boyish smile.
"You're gonna be the best daddy in the world," gushed Mila.
Glorfindel frowned and shook his head. "No. He's not going to call me daddy. That is weird," complained the golden haired elf. He grabbed Mila by the waist and pull her to sit on his lap, "You already call me daddy. That title is reserved only for you. My son, will call me ada."
Mila beamed happily. "Ada it is," she purred her agreement before rubbing her face to Glorfindel's neck like a cat, making him chuckle, "And he will call me mom, when I'm in a good mood."
"Yes? And when you're not?"
"The boy will call me 'commander'."