Mila (A Glorfindel Fanfiction)

Hasta la vista, suckerss!

Mila woke up with a gasp.

Blinking, bleary eyes fleeted across her dark surroundings. She felt a warm, gentle warrior hands on her skin, his rough palm caressing her cheek. His voice low, dripping with honey, making her shiver.

"Mila," he hummed to her, his lips pressed on her forehead as he trapped her body in his arms.

Ignoring the ache all around her body, Mila searched Glorfindel's face in the darkness of their room. Her voice raspy when she spoke.

"I want to go to the garden."

"It's in the middle of the night," he replied softly, his hand moved to her head, caressing the strands of her dark hair.

"Please."

"It's cold out there tonight. I'll take you there tomorrow, little one. I promise."

"No," she insisted. "Now."

The hidden urgency in her voice didn't escape him. Glorfindel didn't answer right away. A part of him feared her request for a reason that he couldn't comprehend, yet it took only one look from her to make his objection crumble before it even managed to escape his lips.

Wanting to please her, Glorfindel pecked her lips before letting her go. He got off the bed and put on his arm braces that he took from the nightstand, his sword, and put on his boots. He left shortly to fetch a warm cloak and her shoes before getting to her side of the bed. He watched with wistful eyes how her fingers trembled, struggling to clasp the pin that secure the cloak under her neck.

"Allow me."

Glorfindel got on one knee, securing the pin together with a click. Mila gazed at his fair face with adoration. She trailed her eyes at his square jaw. His subtly glowing skin. His prominent cheekbones. His neat dark brows and his beautiful lips–the lips that had both comforted and destroyed her with every imaginable pleasurable ways possible. She noted how the light from the moon shone to the room, making his smooth golden hair looked almost transparent. She burned his image in her memory, not wanting to forget.

"My hero," she murmured, smiling at him with a look of admiration on her expression. Those words sliced through his heart, knowing that he didn't deserve the reverence and love in those beautiful eyes of hers. He offered her a smile and felt like an impostor. A liar. Yet in Mila's eyes, he only grew even more destructively handsome when he smiled. "You are beautiful," she added.

He couldn't remember anyone ever called him beautiful before. He wasn't vain. Though considered fair even amongst the elves, Glorfindel knew he possessed a rather looming, intimidating figure. Compared to his kin, including the warriors, he had broader shoulders, taller figure, more defined muscles and an icy demeanor that easily made him intimidating to most people.

But never beautiful.

"I do not think beautiful is a right word, but thank you," he said with an almost playful smile as he slipped her shoe on her feet. He looked up at her, his striking blue eyes almost silver in the dim light, "I know beauty when I see one. You, Mila, embody beauty more than anyone I've ever met. Every part of you, everything about you, is beautiful."

Mila seemed bashful at his word, undeserving, yet seeing the tangible love and affection in his eyes, she couldn't help but believe him.

"You're very sweet to me," she said as she took his open hand and stood up on her feet.

He held her close, his arms around her waist were both strong and gentle as they walked slowly out of their bedroom. Mila stumbled on her feet once, then twice, before Glorfindel scooped her off of her feet and decided to carry her bride style in his arms against her feeble protests.