Silent Song

Chapter 6

Celeborn took the letter from the messenger and dismissed him. At last, news from Imladris. He and Galadriel had long wondered at the delay, but had let the matter lie, knowing that Orophin was suffering greatly.

He opened the message, eager to finally find out the identity of the Elf. He hoped he still lived; perhaps today he could end the grieving of one family.
Unfolding the parchment he read the letter penned in Orophin's flowing script. For a soldier, he had the most immaculate handwriting.

Suddenly, Celeborn's legs refused to hold him up. He sat down heavily in his chair and read the letter again.
“Rúmil...” He could hardly believe it. Like everyone else, he had assumed that Rúmil would have been the first to fall; such were the perils of leading a patrol, especially outside of Lórien. Now he found out that Rúmil was the lone survivor and was terribly injured.
"Mute." He muttered, “Ai Valar, how cruel.” Especially for Rúmil, he mused. As a child the Elf had been a chatterbox, always talking and laughing. No wonder he was so depressed. He understood now why Orophin had waited so long. Only now was he confident enough that his brother would not fade.

"I must see Haldir at once!" He thought. Forcing his legs to work, he got up and headed out of the talan, almost colliding with his wife, who was coming in.

"In a hurry, love?" she teased lightly. Celeborn nodded.

"Aye, I am." Quickly he told her of the letter. When he had done so; her face, like his, carried a strange mixture of joy and sorrow.

"How terrible for him," She said quietly. "But he lives, that is something. You were going to see Haldir?"

"Yes," he replied. "Despite Rúmil’s injuries, Haldir needs to know he lives. We may save this family yet."

Galadriel smiled. "Then I shall see you later."

Celeborn paused long enough to kiss his wife and then he was gone.

He came swiftly to the tree in which the brothers had their talan. Climbing up, he knocked lightly on the door. Anoriel answered a moment later, "My Lord, welcome!" She said. She was not entirely surprised, for Celeborn had visited Haldir a few times since Orophin had left.

"Anoriel, I must speak with Haldir. Is he awake?" He asked, looking at her intently.

”Yes my Lord, though mostly unresponsive.” They did not know it, but Haldir was in much the same state as Rúmil had been when he first learned of his disability.

"I am hoping to change that." He told her. "We have received word from Imladris. Though he was gravely injured, Rúmil lives!"

"That is wonderful news!" She said with delight, feel hope surge within her. "This will surely be enough to pull Haldir back to us!"

“I hope so.” He said, “Though he may need your care for a while longer.”

She smiled. “It is no problem, My Lord. I will stay for as long as he needs me.”

“Thank you, Anoriel.” He smiled back at her then went to break the news to Haldir.

Anoriel had forced Haldir out of bed and onto the balcony at the far end of the talan. He sat in a soft chair, staring off into space. Celeborn went and sat down next to him.
"Hello, Haldir." He said softly. There was no response.

"I have received word from Orophin."
Nothing. Celeborn frowned; he needed Haldir's full attention.

"Captain Haldir, you will listen to what I have to say." He ordered Haldir now as a soldier under his command, something he hated to do under the circumstances, but he could think of no other way to gain his attention.

The command had the desired effect as Haldir's training kicked in and he turned glazed eyes onto his Lord.

"Yes sir." He mumbled in a voice cracked from long disuse.

Celeborn placed his hands on Haldir's shoulders, turning him so that they were face-to-face and took the March-warden's hands in his.

"Listen to me Haldir," He said, making sure to keep an undertone of command in his voice. "I have received word from Orophin. We have been very lucky. Though he was badly injured, it is Rúmil who survived! He lives Haldir, he is in Rivendell!"

Haldir stared at Celeborn in shock for a long while. Celeborn said nothing, allowing Haldir to absorb the news.

"He lives?" He whispered eventually. Celeborn nodded.

"Yes, though his injuries were severe."

Haldir was still having trouble believing what he had just been told.

"Will he heal?" He asked, turning desperately hopeful eyes onto Celeborn.

Celeborn wondered how best to tell Haldir of Rúmil’s condition. He did not want to plunge him back into depression. But Haldir had to know, Rúmil would need him when he finally returned to the Golden Wood.

"My Lord?" Haldir's fearful voice cut into his thoughts. "Will he heal?"

Celeborn sighed, "for the most part." Taking a deep breath he continued.
"Haldir, Rúmil escaped the bandits that killed the rest of his patrol, but was waylaid by orcs on his way to Imladris. My Grandsons tried to stop them but they arrived too late. Rúmil’s throat was slit by an orc blade."

Haldir listened in horror, dreading what Celeborn would say next.

"Lord Elrond did everything he could, but there was irreparable damage to Rúmil’s throat. As a result he is mute, he will never speak again."

Haldir seemed to have lost his own voice as he took in the horror of it. Celeborn squeezed his hands and met his eyes.

"His life is not over, Haldir. Orophin, Lord Elrond and many in Imladris are helping him. He will survive this. Now I need you to get well again, for he will need you when he returns. Will you do this, Haldir? Will you fight for him?"

Slowly, Haldir nodded.
"I will fight for him."

Then he cried as relief, pain, hope and despair took their toll on the Marchwarden. Celeborn encircled him in his arms and held him as he cried, just like he had for Rúmil, many centuries ago.

***************************

Rúmil shook his head adamantly. His arms were folded in front of him and there was a stubborn look on his fair face.

“Why not?” Orophin said. “Your hands have healed, what is the problem?” He tried once more to push Rúmil’s bow into his hands, but Rúmil would have none of it.

//Why does he keep pushing me?// He thought. //I am a warrior no longer, why can he not understand?// He shook his head again, feeling the now-familiar frustration building. He shouldn’t have let them bring him here; it hurt too much to be reminded of the warrior he’d been once.

Lindir watched with concern. He was not sure that this was a good idea. Though Rúmil had improved recently, this was still a big step. Lindir feared it was too big. The Galadhel was still struggling with day-to-day life, let alone anything else.
He could see Rúmil’s getting more and more frustrated and hoped that Orophin would notice. His hopes however, were in vain.

“Ai, Rúmil, do not be so stubborn!” Orophin pressed.

Quite unexpectedly, Rúmil’s temper snapped. Stubborn? Let Orophin try living in world where he could not communicate even the simplest things!
In a rare display of anger, he grabbed the bow from Orophin and hurled it across the training ground, narrowly missing Elladan.

“Rúmil!” Orophin was shocked and reached out to his brother, but Rúmil shoved him away and ran as fast as he could back to the house.

He ran back to his rooms, slamming the door and throwing himself on the bed, feeling for all the world like an elfling throwing a tantrum, but simply not caring. He was tired, so tired. He felt caged in, cut off from the world around him. He curled himself up into a miserable ball and closed his eyes. Would it never end? Every time he thought he was getting somewhere, the despair returned, reminding him of what he had lost.
Despite what Orophin thought, the thought of fading was still never far from his mind.

Orophin had been shocked by his brother's reaction. Rúmil had never been so violent towards him, even when he had misbehaved as an elfling the most he had ever got was a quick smack on the rear. The almost brutal shove hurt him deeply and he made to go after Rúmil to try to find out what was making his act this way. Even after all that had happened, he had never expected his brother to reject him. He was stopped however, by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Let me go." Lindir said. "You are upset and I fear you may say the wrong thing."

Orophin frowned, but he knew Lindir was right. No sense in upsetting Rúmil further.

"Very well," he muttered as Elladan wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders and Lindir hurried off.

**********************

Rúmil didn't move as he heard the door open. He'd just ignore them; they'd go away eventually.

"Rúmil?"

He was mildly surprised to realise that it was Lindir. He'd expected Orophin.
Still he didn't react, though it was harder than he'd expected.

Lindir sat down beside him and gently stroked his hair. They stayed like that for a while and Rúmil admitted to himself that he rather liked the gentle caress. He felt calmer when Lindir was around and the hollow despair that seemed so familiar these days seemed to fade.

“I know you are hurting right now.” Lindir said softly. “I do not pretend to know how much. I know you have thought of fading.” Rúmil started and Lindir knew he’d shocked the Galadhel, no doubt he’d thought that no one knew.
“I would ask you not to.” He continued. “There are so many who would miss you. Orophin, Haldir, Lord Elrond, the twins - and me.” His voice shook as he spoke. It terrified him to think of Rúmil fading. “I do not want you to go, Rúmil.”

It was the fear in Lindir’s voice that caught Rúmil by surprise. Slowly, he sat up and faced the minstrel. Nothing on Arda could have prepared him for seeing tears in the hazel eyes.

Shocked, he reached out and lightly ran his thumb over Lindir’s right eye, catching a tear that threatened to fall. Did he truly care that much? Surely not, Lindir had everything, he was handsome, intelligent, popular – and he had a beautiful voice. What could he possibly want with a former warrior who couldn’t speak?
He looked at the minstrel, hoping he would see fit to explain.

Lindir reached out and took Rúmil’s hand. He could not hide the truth any longer. Still, he could not look at the Galadhel as he spoke.

“I care a great deal for you, Rúmil. I want nothing more than to see you happy. I would give up everything to make that happen.”

Rúmil shook his head, not understanding. What was Lindir trying to say? He frowned.
Lindir smiled slightly at Rúmil’s confused expression.

“Don’t you see?” He whispered. “I love you.”

Even had he still been able to speak, Lindir’s confession would have stunned him into silence. Love? Lindir loved him? His friendship had surprised Rúmil; this was completely unexpected. He did not think anyone could love him, not as he was now. He stared at the other, not knowing what to do. Did he love Lindir? Yes, he felt good around him, not so lost and alone. Life seemed more worth living when the minstrel was around, but was it love?

“I do not expect you to return my feelings.” Lindir whispered. “I just want you to know.” He kept staring at Rúmil’s hand, still held in his own.

Rúmil looked carefully at Lindir and tried to imagine his world without him. It was impossible. Lindir had become an integral part of his life, he was always by his side and though Rúmil hadn’t always treated him the way he deserved, he was always glad of his presence.
Maybe he did love him. Maybe.

Knowing there was only one way to find out, Rúmil used his free hand to gently tilt Lindir’s head up, so that he could see his eyes. Then he moved forward and pressed the softest of kisses to Lindir’s lips.

Lindir’s heart raced at then gentle kiss. Could it be? Could Rúmil possibly love him back? Or was this simply his way of saying no?

He searched Rúmil’s face, searching for the acceptance or rejection behind the kiss.
What he saw was confusion, as Rúmil tried to figure out how he felt.

Lindir mentally cursed himself. He should not have said anything. Rúmil had enough to deal with, without him adding to it!

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I should not have told you. I will not trouble you again.” He stood and made to leave.

Rúmil didn’t think; he just acted. In an instant he was off the bed and had caught the departing minstrel in a powerful embrace. He quickly turned Lindir around to face him and gave him an almost desperate kiss. Meeting Lindir’s surprised gaze his eyes conveyed a simple message: “Stay.”

Lindir kissed him back, wrapping his arms around Rúmil, his heart hopeful. For a time they just remained that way, kissing and holding each other. Lindir knew he wanted more, but he would not force Rúmil. The Galadhel would have to make the first move.

Rúmil also wanted more; he knew this now. The way he had instinctively gone after Lindir; scared of losing him – his heart knew what it was doing, even if his head did not. Yet he was scared, not so long ago he would have taken the lead, have been confident that he knew what he was doing, but like everything else, that confidence was gone.

Lindir sensed his uncertainty and smiled. “Take what you want,” he whispered, in an undeniable invitation.

Rúmil took a deep breath and nodded. He could do this, had done it before.
He gently took Lindir by the hands and led him to the bed, his heart pounding. With infinite care he removed the pale blue robes and dark blue leggings that the minstrel was wearing. Lindir didn’t move; keeping himself relaxed so as not to frighten Rúmil. In some ways the Elf was like an injured animal; wanting to accept help and care, but nervous of being hurt more.

When he at last stood naked Rúmil moved closer and ran his hands over the pale body. He had seen Lindir naked before in the bath, but not with the eyes of a lover.
The Elf was beautiful, his body was well formed, but without the muscles of a warrior. He was soft to the touch and Rúmil delighted in feeling the pale skin.

Lindir moaned as Rúmil explored him, finding his sensitive spots. Finally he could take no more and reached out to undress Rúmil.
Rúmil flinched as Lindir pulled his tunic off, making Lindir pause and wonder if he was moving too fast.
A moment later he saw why he had tried to pull away – despite the amount of time that had passed his torso was still covered in scars.

“Ai, Rúmil.” Lindir whispered. “These should have healed by now.”
Rúmil turned his head away, but Lindir reached out and cupped his chin, pulling him into a tender kiss. Then he bent down and kissed every one of the scars that marred the warrior’s skin.

The tenderness and love in the kisses caused Rúmil’s heart to leap, any doubts about Lindir’s feelings vanishing, along with his own misgivings. He did love Lindir.
He relaxed as the minstrel removed his leggings and pulled him onto the bed, positioning himself under Rúmil.

Rúmil leaned down to cover Lindir’s body completely with his own, loving the feel of the warm skin next to his. Slowly his hands moved behind Lindir and the minstrel raised his legs and wrapped them around Rúmil’s waist.

Rúmil smiled and lowered his hand to prepare Lindir. His touch was uncertain but Lindir moved to encourage him, gasping his name in his pleasure.
“More, Rúmil, please!” He cried.

Rúmil nodded and then removed his fingers, ignoring the protesting moan from Lindir.

He had no oil, but reached instead for the salve that Lord Elrond had instructed him to rub into his scars. It would serve for this purpose too.
He coated himself with the salve and positioned himself to enter Lindir, his heart pounding with lust and love combined.
Then a hand came to rest on his arm, stopping him. He paused and looked curiously into the shining green eyes beneath him.

Lindir bit his lip. “Rúmil, I – it’s been a long time.” He admitted, blushing.
Rúmil nodded and quickly kissed Lindir, glad he had told him. He would be gentle.

With infinite care he eased himself inside the tight body. He would have groaned had he been able as he joined with Lindir.

Lindir gasped, from pain at first then from pleasure as Rúmil slid deeply into him.
The Galadhel paused; worried that he had hurt the minstrel.

“I’m fine.” Lindir whispered, seeing the concern in Rúmil’s eyes. “Valar, Rúmil, move!”

Rúmil raised himself up slightly and began to slowly slide in and out of the magnificent body. Lindir felt so good, he wished he could remain this way forever, lost in a perfect moment without any pain.

Lindir had his arms round Rúmil’s neck, clinging to him, his head thrown back in pleasure. In all his days, Rúmil had never seen a more beautiful sight and the vision drove him further towards his peak.

Moments later they came together, Lindir shouting Rúmil’s name, while Rúmil’s mouth was open in a silent cry of his own.

His head dropped onto Lindir’s chest and he took long, deep breaths. Then he rolled over, slipping out of Lindir and drawing him into a tender embrace at his side. The minstrel immediately snuggled up to him, resting his head on Rúmil’s shoulder.

“I love you.” He mumbled.

Rúmil would have given anything to be able to tell Lindir that he felt the same but he could not. Instead he took Lindir’s hand and kissed it, smiling when Lindir looked at him.

Lindir squeezed his hand as Rúmil gazed at him.

“Do you love me?” He asked, wanting to be sure.

Rúmil nodded without a moment’s hesitation and Lindir knew it was the truth. Greatly relieved, he entwined his hand with Rúmil’s as he began to feel the pull of sleep.

Rúmil pulled the covers over them as Lindir fell asleep. He was not tired but he lay there holding Lindir close, more content than he had been in a very long time.

END CHAPTER 6


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