Emerald Orbs and Mithril Waves

A/N: At three parts and twenty-four pages, this story is finally complete! I will be writing a partial prequel entitled "The Message Runner" that explores more of Lindir's past for those who are curious to learn more about Imladris' head minstrel. That story will be a while coming as I'm currently working on two other stories. But it's coming!
Beta read by Lalaith; thanks love!


Part 3

It had been a glorious day, and Rúmil enjoyed every moment of it even though duty called. He was looking forward to heading back into the city and getting some rest; but first he wanted to see Lindir. The Galadhrim smiled to himself as he thought about how things had changed in the last month. Though he knew Lindir was due to return to Imladris at the end of the summer, Rúmil kept his focus on making the most of their current time together.

The sun was just beginning to set as Rúmil made his way through the mellyrn back towards Caras Galadhon. As usual it had been an uneventful patrol; it was rare for Orcs to strike Lothlórien at all much less at night. Of course the Galadhrim were ever vigilant in their patrols, but sometimes the vigilance didn’t seem quite so necessary. Sighing deeply, Rúmil shouldered his bow and walked lightly upon the fallen leaves, his booted feet making nearly no sound or mark upon the foliage.

“Gwanur!”

Rúmil turned to the voice, smiling faintly as he saw Orophin and Haldir rushing towards him; so his brothers also had the night off it seemed. His smile wavered slightly as he prayed to Elbereth Haldir wouldn’t go on about his love life again. Haldir had been positively atrocious, questioning Rúmil on how well Lindir treated him and imploring the younger brother to come to hmmedmmediately should the minstrel cause him any heartache. Orophin, who had heard the exchange, had merely rolled his eyes and muttered something about Haldir needing to find himself a good bed partner.

“Heading back to the city?” Orophin asked as he and Haldir finally caught up with their sibling.

“Aye,” Rúmil replied. “I could use a meal and a bath after today.”

“Anything eventful occur?” Haldir questioned.

“Nay, it was positively boring. Did either of you encounter anything?”

“Naught. The borders are quiet these days. I am unsure if that is to be taken as a good sign, or a bit of foreboding.”

“Take it as a good sign,” Orophin replied. “No one wishes to deal with foreboding if at all possible.”

“How lightly you speak of potentially heavy matters, Orophin! What could possibly be the cause of such behavior? Is it the fair younger prince of Imladris that drives your heart, and therefore your speech, to flight?”

Orophin shot his brother a warning look, but Haldir just continued on with his banter. Rúmil shook his head knowing the situation could change very quickly if Haldir was not careful. But the middle brother knew better than to provoke his eldest sibling into a physical fight; he might have been able to hold his own in a fight against any Galadhrim, but Orophin was also his elder brother by a good hundred years.

“Fret not, gwanur,” Haldir soothed. “I mean nothing by my careless speech. You know I care for you, and Rúmil as well.”

“We know your heart well, Haldir,” Orophin replied. “But there are times when we wonder whether you think befoou sou speak.”

“Perhaps. Now, Rúmil, about you and…”

“Don’t you dare start that again, Haldir,” Rúmil retorted, cutting off his brother‘s statement. “I will not tolerate any minor accusations you may implement on Lindir whilst he is not present. He treats me very kindly, if you so desire to know. I do not want to hear about you cornering and lecturing him about how you will tie his robes in knots if he so much as speaks to me disrespectfully.”

Haldir blinked at tapidapidity and severity of Rúmil’s speech as Orophin struggled to hide his mirth. “I wasn’t going to…all right, I was. But really, gwanur, he makes you happy?”

“Aye, he does.” Rúmil fidgeted a moment, thinking about his next words. “He treats me kindly, and is always affectionate. I feel complete when I’m with him, something I never felt with anyone else I tried to share my heart with. There are times that I feel as if there is something he is not telling me, but I never ask.”

“Why not?”

“Perhaps it’s not something I need to know. I feel confident that when the right time presents itself, Lindir will tell me whatever it is. I feel if I press him, it might drive him away. I don’t want that.”

“You want his love,” Orophin said gently. “He gives you the kind of attention none of your other lovers gave you before.”

Rúmil nodded. “Aye. I wonder if I’m living in a dream when I’m with him. You both know what kind of relationship I’ve always desired. I think I’ve found it now, but it makes me wonder whether it won’t all disappear when I turn away. I fear thace Ice I look in the opposite direction, he’ll be gone and everything that’s happened will have been a lie.”

“Rúmil…” Haldir wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders, drawing him close and planting a chaste kiss to the silvery crown. “If he is everything you say he is, then Lindir wouldn’t be the kind of person to desert you. If you love him, then believe in that love. All will be well in the end, you’ll see.”

Rúmil smiled, giving Haldir a brief embrace before bestowing the same upon Orophin. “What would I do without you two?”

“Be completely naïve about the whole of Arda, that’s what,” Orophin mused humorously. “Now come, it is almost time for the evening meal and I am in need of…” He cut off his speech just as all three brothers picked up on the sounds of heavy footsteps behind them. It was not the footfalls of Elves, for their fellow Galadhrim would tread lightly upon the fallen mellyrn. The steps were heavy, turning the dried foliage to dust with even a light step. The darkness that began to envelop the area felt stifling.

Reacting quickly, the brothers pulled arrows from quivers and swords from sheaths, arming themselves just as the band of a dozen Orcs burst through the trees and attacked; behind them raced three other Galadhrim, pursuing the band who managed to escape the slaughter of their party as they dared to enter the Golden Wood. The Elves fought fiercely, defending both themselves and their beloved home against the foul creatures. The small band was easily defeated, and the Elves breathed a collective sigh of relief, which was quickly turned into gasps as more of the beasts burst through the woods.

His foot caught on a root, causing Rúmil to stumble; he regained himself quickly enough to cleave cleanly through the Orc he had been fighting. A flash of white out of the corner of his eye caused him to turn; his face paled when he saw Lindir stepping out from be a m a mallorn. He opened his mouth to warn his lover, but released a pained hiss as something sharp embedded into his shoulder, causing him to drop his sword and fall to his knees. The Orc blade was wrenched from his flesh as his attacker sneered down at him. His lips set in a thin line, Rúmil glared up at the creature, watching and waiting.

The blow he had expected never came; instead, the Orc fell backwards, the black, deformed body lurching slightly as it hit the gr, so, something glittering from its neck. Leaning forward slightly, Rúmil noted a small dagger, as thin as an arrow and as long as his hand from fingertip to wrist, protruding from the Orc’s carotid artery. The Galadhrim were well-versed in the ways of the bow and could aim their arrows perfectly, but few knew how to reproduce such accuracyotheother forms of projectiles. Rúmil began to wonder who had thrown the dagger, when he received his answer. There was the soft flutter of a robe falling to the ground followed by the light crunching of the leaves near Rúmil right; what he next saw startled him.

Lindir stood defensively before his lover, brandishing Rúmil own sword in his hand. He had abandoned his white outer robe, leaving him garbed in the tunic and leggings he wore underneath; the garments were of such a dark green color that they almost appeared black in the night, setting off the white of Lindir’s hair. With grace none would have realized he possessed, he gripped the Galadhrim sword in his hands, cleaving easily through the head of the Orc before him. His face was set grimly, his eyes narrowed as he went about the gruesome work of battling the Orcs.

/When did he learn combat like this? I never imagined he was a warrior!/ Rúmil sat mesmerized as he watched Lindir at work. His eyes cauthe the quick motions as Lindir reached into the sleeve of his tunic, removing another small dagger; with a quick flick of the wrist, another Orc had fallen, his carotid artery severed. /He learned this somewhere, and he learned it well. Melethron, why didn’t you tell me?/ In a manner of moments the skirmish was over, and Rúmil found himself facing his lover, grim expression gone to be replaced with worry.

“Lirimaer?” Lindir said gently, kneeling in front of him.

“I…I’m all right,” Rúmil managed to say as the minstrel quickly inspected the wound. “It’s not deep.”

“But it could be poisoned,” Orophin said. “We best get you to the healing houses.”

Rúmil nodded, allowing Lindir to help him to his feet. He leaned on his lover as they made their way back to the city, his head swirling with questions whose answers he could not begin to fathom. /Who are you really, Lindir of Imladris?/

~~~~~~~~~~

Rúmil sat quietly as the healers tended to the wound on his shoulder. Thankfully it hadn’t been poisoned and wasn’t too deep; he would be able tot aot an arrow again within a matter of days. As the bandages were being wrapped around the compress of healing herbs pressed onto his wound, Rúmil’s mind was anywhere but in the healing house. He kept reliving the image of his lover wielding his own sword in battle, as if the weapon were an extension of Lindir’s arm. The young Galadhrim hadn’t known, never even suspected, that Lindir was capable of brandishing a weapon much less was knowledgeable in its uses. And yet the minstrel had easily battled the Orcs, and was even revealed to carry a few weapons of his own. The revelation was almost a little too much for Rúmil to digest.

A small tap on his shoulder let Rúmil know that the healers were done. He listened intently to their instructions, nodding in understanding when he was told to rest for the next few days, before the healers finally left. He was about to leave himself when Galadriel stepped into the room, long white robes sweeping the ground behind her. She smiled kindly upon seeing him and came closer.

“How do you feel, Rúmil?” she asked, gesturing for him to sit.

“I feel fine,” he replied as they sat next to one another on the bed he had previously vacated. “It is nothing serious. And it wasn’t poisoned so I should recover quickly enough.”

“That is good news to hear. Your brothers have been asking about you; Orophin and Haldir are waiting back at your talan.”

“I did not intend to cause them any worry.”

“I know you did not.” Galadriel wondered at his silence; Rúmil was often silent, but he seemed preoccupied today. “Is something troubling you?”

Rúmil considered denying the question, but thought better of it. For a moment he said nothing, keeping his eyes focused on his hands and concentrated on the healing numbness the compress was creating on his shoulder. Slowly he turned to his Lady, fixing her with his blue gaze. “My Lady, did you know about Lindir?”

“Know? do do you mean?”

“That he can wield a sword. I did not even suspect he was capable of handling such a weapon. He never told me he had any skills or knowledge of the uses of the blade. Yet he used mine today with such grace.” He watched his Lady, unable to read her expression.

“I knew,” Galadriel said slowly. “I have always known. I had thought Lindir would have told you by now. But I suppose he was waiting for the proper opportunity.”

“Told me what?” Rúmil was curious as he turned to Galadriel, waiting for her to continue.

“You know Lindir is older than you are?” She paused, waiting for him to nod in answer. “He was born just before the Last Alliance took place. Lindir has an impeccable memory, even for an Elf. He can remember the words to a song he has only heard once, and he can memorize the dls ols of a map he has only glanced at. His lithe form makes him nimble and light on his feet. And, as it was soon discovered, his aim is very accurate.”

“My Lady, what does all this mean?”

Galadriel turned to Rúmil, smiling softly. She knew her next words would startle the Galadhrim, but she spoke them nonetheless. “Lindir was Gil-galad’s message runner during the Last Alliance.” She heard Rúmil gasp in surprise, but continued with her tale. “There were three in the beginning, one for each of the elven camps. They often ran together, delivering messages from one commanding leader to another. It wasn’t necessary for them to run together, but it was safer especially since their missions often took place at night. The runners were not as well trained as the warriors in warfare and weaponry. Their main weapons were silence and speed, but they were taught to use knives and daggers; sometimes they were taught the uses of the sword though none of them carried their own.
“One night, however, only Lindir returned. It was discovered that the runners had been caught in a skirmish with some Orcs; only Lindir survived the encounter. There was not enough time to train another runner, for the training period is laborious and demands rigorous attention. Lindir took it upon himself to run messages throughout the three camps. Elrond and myself tried to convince him otherwise, but his Noldo blood sang true; he was stubborn and would not listen to arguments.” Galadriel paused a moment, sighing wistfully at the memories.
“He did his job we Nev Never once did he set foot on the battlefield to engage in combat alongside the other legions; indeed he would not have lasted very long. But Lindir was very valuable during the Last Alliance. King Thranduil, who was then a prince, suggested that another run with Lindir, one more skilled in combat, who could defend him if need be. It was soon discovered that Lindir was too quick for his guard; it was his speed that kept him safe during those perilous years as he was too fast for the Orcs should they have spotted him.”

“I had not realized he was capable of such things,” Rúmil mused. “His grace in a fight has not diminished through the years, as I witnessed today.”

“It is not necessary, but Lindir runs through minimal training exercises daily. Elrond will send him to Mirkwood at times to deliver messages to Thranduil.” That news seemed to surprise her Galadhrim; Galadrsmilsmiled wistfully at Rúmil’s astonished look.

“I had thought Lord Elrond and King Thranduil were not on good terms with one another.”

Galadriel gave a small laugh. “’Tis true. They seem to hate one another. But you should know by now that looks and outer appearances can be deceiving.”

He nodded at her words, not quite knowing what to say. The information he had just been fed was a bit much to digest. “What does this mean for us?” Rúmil tentatively asked.

“It means nothing, dear Rúmil. Lindir is no different now than he was then; he is still the same person you met when he first arrived inhesehese woods. He has always been, and always will be, a kind soul who distastes the sight of battle; but he understands his duty and will not hesitate to accomplish the tasks set before him. He is much like you, Rúmil. It is why, I believe, you are a perfect pair.” She laid a hand upon his, smiling gently as he gazed at her. “He loves you, Rúmil. Deeply and truly. Lindir has had few lovers in the past, but none have ever made him as happy as you do.”

“How do you know this?”

“I am his cousin; I can see it in his eyes. He is truly happy with you. Do not doubt his love, for you have gained it for the rest of eternity.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” He offered Galadriel a warm smile before getting to his feet. “I believe I will go see my brothers now before Haldir worries too much and starts to tear at his hair.”

Galadriel laughed at the mental image his statement produced and ushered Rúmil towards the door. “See that you do, my Galadhrim. And when you are finished visiting your brothers, there is another waiting more patiently to see you.”

Rúmil smiled and nodded before leaving the quiet of the healing houses. He would attend to his brothers first, then go to see Lindir. The pair needed to speak about some matters, but Rúmil felt relieved to learn the secrets his lover had been hiding from him. Now he knew Lindir better and loved him even more. He was determined to see that things between them were sorted out.

~~~~~~~~~~

He had been concentrating on tuning the strings of his harp in order to distract himself when Lindir nearly missed the light rapping upon his door. Slender hands stilled over the silver strings as he waited and listened until the knocking came again.

“Come,” he said in a calm voice. A smile crept across his face as Rúmil entered. “’Tis good to see you well, lirimaer. Have you been to see your brothers? They were extremely worried about you when I last spoke with them.”

“Aye, I have just left them,” the Galadhrim replied as he closed the door, stepping towards the bed before claiming a seat facing Lindir on the soft mattress. “Haldir said he threatened you.”

Lindir laughed richly, remembering the encounter that had taken place just a momemoments previous. “Aye, he did.”

“What did he say? He would not tell me, though it must have been something extreme for Orophin to give him a rather hard look when I asked.” He raised an eyebrow at the mirthful snort his lover gave.

“He said that if I ever dared to hurt you, he’d tie my robes in a knot, throw me over the Falls of Rauros, and then promptly hang me by my hair from the tallest mallorn tree he could find.”

“He said that?!”

“Aye, but your brother Orophin kindly reminded Haldir that I was a kinsman of Lady Galadriel, and that she would dream up a worse punishment for him should he carry through with his words.”

“What, by Elbereth, brought all this about?”

Lindir shrugged, putting away his harp. “I know not. Though I speculate it had something to do with the way you looked when you were ushered into the healing houses.” He paused, turning his emerald orbs towards Rúmil. The jeweled pair were filled with such longing, love and worry that the Galadhrim didn’t know whether to lean over and claim Lindir’s lips or pull him into an embrace for comfort. “You looked so lost, lirimaer, as if something inside of you had died. I feared for a moment that the blade that dealt you harm really was poisoned and that you would leave Arda, and me, behind.”

“I will never do that, meleth-nîn. You’ve given me all I’ve ever wanted; I would never leave you.”

“Then whate yoe you so troubled about?”

Rúmil inched closer until he was able to lean over and cradle his head against the curve of skin where Lindir’s neck met his shoulder. He sighed deeply, breathing in his lover’s scent. “You surprised me today,” he said softly, sighing again as he felt Lindir’s fingers slowly combing through his hair. “I never thought--never even speculated--that you were trained in some skills of warfare.
“Lady Galadriel told me about what you did during the Last Alliance. I never would have thought of you performing such dangerous missions; you always seem so quiet and peaceful. It’s as if war and bloodshed have never touched you. Yet they have, but you still seem innocent to it.”

“Indeed I seem as such, but I am not naïve to the horrid truths of battle. My father served in the High King’s army; even if I had not become a runner, I still would have been familiar with the subject of war. I was born and raised during a time of strife.”

“And yet you are a child of peace.”

“Does it bother you knowing about my past? Does it change how you think of me now?”

“It changes how I think, not how I feel.” He felt Lindir’s eyes upon him and sought the words to explain when a puzzled gaze was fixed upon him. “You aren’t a mere minstrel anymore, meleth. You are a seasoned warrior, just as I am. I see you differently now, but I feel the same for you as I did when I first met you.” Rúmil shifted so that he could look into his lover’s eyes. He smiled gently, touching his lips briefly to Lindir’s before speaking again. “I still love you. Warrior, minstrel, it doesn’t matter who you are. You are still Lindir, the person I love. I don’t think anything will ever change that.”

Lindir gazed at him tenderly, touched by his words. He raised a hand, cupping Rúmil’s cheek in his palm. He had searched so long for this person, and now they were together. “Hannon le, lirs. r. It means a great to deal to me to hear you speak such words.” He leaned over to share a brief kiss with his lover, but the caress quickly turned into something more. “Melme,” Lindir whispered when they parted, panting slightly to catch their breaths, “you’re still injured.”

“I care not. ‘Tis a mere scratch after all.” He pulled the minstrel closer, murmuring against his lips. “Saes.” As if to articulate his intentions, Rúmil pressed his lips against Lindir’s whilst pressing them back onto the bed. His fingers sought out the intricate buttons of his lover’s tunic and began to pluck them one by one, straddling the slender hips. He moaned wantonly when Lindir twined their legs together and flipped them over until Rúmil was lying on his back beneath the lithe minstrel.

He broke away from the kiss to further explore the pale neck exposed to him. Lindir was slow in his movements, taking his time to both pleasure himself and his love. Between them, nothing ever seemed to be in a hurry. Slow was how they wanted it since the rest of their lives seemed to move too fast at times.

Lindir felt his tunic being brushed off his shoulders once Rúmil had succeeded in undoing all the buttons and his belt, and had already begun working on the leggings. The Galadhrim’s clothes were less complicated to take off; soon, both were naked with nothing but the sheets, their hair and one another for any form of modesty.

“You are truly a beauty,” Lindir whispered, bestowing a light kiss upon Rúmil’s ear. His hands explored the smooth, flawless kiss of the young Galadhrim, teasing sides and tickling the toned abdomen. He smiled against the smooth skin of a shoulder when he heard Rúmil gasp at his touch. “Truly a delight.” He kissed the pulse he found at the neck, suckling lightly on the skin.

“Please touch me,” Rúmil whimpered, lifting his hips slightly off the bed to accentuate his plea. His lover complied, curling warm fingers around his already weeping shaft. The world around him seemed to spiral out of control and the Galadhrim fought to still his thrumming nerves. His back arched as Lindir slowly stroked him, his fingers sometimes creating a firm grip, sometimes a feather light touch that tickled the heated skin. Rúmil bit back a scream of frustration and delight at the ministrations.

He groaned when the fingers left him; when the warmth from his lover’s body disappeared, blue eyes opened as Rúmil propped himself on his elbows to see what was happening. When he opened his mouth to speak, a sharp gasp followed by a languid moan escaped as Lindir claimed him fully with his mouth; at the same time, well-oiled fingers gently probed the Galadhrim’s entrance, massaging gently. “Where did you learn to do that?” Rúmil gasped as Lindir performed something quite exceptional with his tongue.

Lindir pulled away to stare up at his lover, a slight frown on his face as he began to slowly crawl back to meet Rúmil’s lips. “My old lover,” he whispered. Warm hands gently caressed the Galadhrim‘s face, bringing him closer until their lips were nearly touching. “But he was nothing like you, lirimaer. He didn’t have the beauty you possess, the passion in your eyes, the glee in your heart. I felt for him, but I *love* you.” He gave his love a kiss. “I truly…” Another kiss. “…deeply…” Kiss. “…love…” Kiss. “…you.” And with the final word said, Lindir bestowed upon Rúmil a kiss full of his love, one that spoke of endearing promises and everlasting trust.

Love surged through his being at Lindir’s words and kiss. For the first time in his life, Rúmil felt truly loved by someone who wasn’t family. Returning the kiss eagerly, he wrapping his arms about Lindir’s neck as his legs twined with his lover’s in a silent plea.

Without breaking the kiss, Lindir answered, shifting slightly until the head of his arousal brushed against the puckered entrance of his lover. Slowly he pressed in, swallowing Rúmil’s startled gasp; his hands gently stroked the Galadhrim’s skin, urging him to relax as the minstrel pressed inward. Soon he was fully sheathed in his lover’s warm body, and he stilled to give them both time to adjust.

Rúmil fancied he could see the love flowing between them on a shimmering silver cord that weaved between and around them. He blinked, and the cord disappeared. Was it a trick of the light? Something his mind conjured up? He couldn’t tell; illusion or no, however, he knew this was right. He was with who he was destined to share his heart with. He sounded a whimper, pressing against Lindir to implore his lover to move.

Understanding what he was being asked, Lindir began to move, drawing back before pressing inward again. A sharp hiss left Rúmil, telling the minstrel he had easily located the Galadhrim’s hidden gland. Feeling the slender body beneath him trembling, Lindir wrapped his arms tightly about his love as he set a steady, slow rhythm. He began to kiss every inch of skin his lips could reach as they moved together. The minstrel gasped as he felt Rúmil pressing back against him, meeting each of his thrusts as their speed began to quicken.

The tension in his body was beginning to build as their coupling escalated. The friction their sweat dampened bodies was creating against his straining erection was enough to drive Rúmil near insanity. The pace of their joining increased, and with each inward thrust the minstrel succeeded in striking his prostate each time. Stars began to dance in his eyes as he soared higher in his ecstasy; and then he released, reaching orgasm with a muffled shout against Lindir’s shoulder.

The muscles surrounding him trembled, spasming rapidly as his lover reached his peak. Biting down on his lower lip, Lindir gave a final thrust before tumbling over the edge with his orgasm, spilling himself into his lover’s body. Spent, he slumped against Rúmil, his grip around the Galadhrim’s body loosening as they both trembled from the force of their coupling. For long moments neither spoke nor moved as they concentrated on their breathing; after a time, Lindir flexed his hips, slowly pulling out. Turning them both until they lay next to each other, face to face, he drew Rúmil closer until his lover’s silvery head rested beneath his chin.

“You are simply exquisite,” Rúmil murmured as he played with a lock of Lindir’s hair. He shifted closer, wrapping a leg around the minstrel’s thigh.

“I could say the same about you,” Lindir whispered in return, bestowing a kiss to a smooth temple.

“I love you, meleth-nîn.”

“And I you, lirimaer.”

Rúmil smiled, snuggling even closer and feeling sleep tugging at him. He sighed blissfully as the sheets were pulled over their bodies. Satiated and exhausted, but content, he fell into a deep slumber, followed shortly by his lover. The moonlight streamed in through the talan, caressing the lovers as they slumbered contently to the lullaby of the night and the beating of their hearts.

~~~~~~~~~~

Summer was coming to its end though the mellyrn leaves had not yet begun to change their colors. The time soon came for the Imladris party to return to their valley dwelling. The winter months would make the mountain passes impossible for them to cross if they lingered too long with their forest kinsmen. Tearful good-byes were absent as friends and families embraced and wished one another well.

Set apart from the rest of the gathering stood two lone figures alongside a chestnut mare, who waited patiently whilst the pair bid each other farewell.

“Be careful in your travels,” Rúmil gently warned. “The mountain passes become more treacherous with each passing year.”

“Do not worry for me, lirimaer,” Lindir reassured his lover, giving the Galadhrim’s hands a gentle squeeze. “I have traveled in the woods of Mirkwood before; the path home will be less dangerous a trek.”

“When will we meet again?” They had not yet parteom oom one another’s company, yet Rúmil already felt a pang of longing in his heart. All summer did he spend with this gentle minstrel, and now he could not fathom what the days would be like without Lindir.

“Soon I suspect. Galadriel expressed a wish to visit the valley before winter sets in, to come and spend some time with Lady Celebrían; Gildor is also expected to come and stay for a time. I imagine my cousins would like to become reacquainted with one another. I suspect Galadriel will ask a few chosen Galadhrim to accompany her on the journey. And if not, I believe I can suggest a few names.” Rúmil seemed to beam at his words, and Lindir couldn’t help the smile that spread across his fair features. He enveloped his lover in a warm embrace, kissing the silvery crown tenderly.

“I shall patiently await until that time then, meleth,” the Galadhrim whispered. “’Tis strange. We have known each other for so little time, and yet I can no longer bear to be apart from you. My heart will yearn for your touch and love until I can see you again.”

“Your speech is becoming more eloquent by the day, aier.”

Rúmil smiled, lifting his head to claim a kiss. “I will miss you.”

“We will be together again soon.”

“I know, but I will still miss you.”

Taking his face into his hands, Lindir gently kissed his silver-haired lover, bestowing promises in the gentle touch. He felt his mare nudge his back, and reluctantly pulled away. Smiling apologetically at Rúmil, he mounted his steed and turned towards the departing party. Grasping his lover’s hand tightly, he slowly let go as he rode to join the Imladris Elves. Lindir looked back one last time, his emerald eyes sparkling in the sunlight, before riding towards the North.

Rúmil stood watching him go, never moving until he lost sight of the riding party. He sighed before turning away and was about to set out for his duties when Galadriel approached him. Her white raiment shimmered faintly, and a smile was on her face as she gently took hold of Rúmil’s arm.

“Before you set out y, Ry, Rúmil,” she said, mirth edging her voice, “I wish to talk to you about my traveling plans for the coming winter.”

His momentary melancholy gone, the young Galadhrim beamed, eagerly nodding his head as he followed his Lady. He was already dreaming up the journey just so that he could hear the sweet melody of his lover’s voice again.

Translations:
Gwanur-Brother
Melethron-Lover
Lirimaer-Lovely one
Meleth-nîn-My love
Hannon le-Thank you
Melme-Love
Saes-Please