Guardian Angel
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
3,830
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
3,830
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Six
Guardian Angel – Chapter 6
Author: Tuxedo Elf
Pairing: Rúmil/Lindir
Rating: PG13 for now
Beta: Eni
Summary: Lindir finally meets his guardian angel.
Notes: As ever, for SayAye, with love.
*************
Haldir watched his brother with a mixture of hope and suspicion. Rúmil was definitely different today, though only those closest to him would realise it. There was the barest hint of a visible smile on his face and he seemed - to Haldir at least - to be a little more relaxed than usual.
They had just come from watching some of the Mirkwood warriors sparring, where Haldir had been suitably impressed at their skill. Rúmil, however, had not even seemed to notice and that in itself was unusual; Rúmil might be quiet and withdrawn, but as a rule he was a keen observer, taking careful note of everything around him. Haldir wondered what this meant for the budding relationship between Lindir and his brother. Rúmil seemed happy just at the friendship, but in Haldir’s experience, simple friendship did not cause such distraction. Rúmil, however, was probably oblivious to this, he was so woefully inexperienced in the ways of the heart.
“I am going to the tailors,” Haldir said conversationally, mostly to gain his brother’s attention. “I desire a tunic in the style of the realm. Do you wish to have one as well? It will be something special to wear on the last night and I will pay for it.”
He paused, waiting for the reply. Unfortunately, none came. “Rúmil!” Haldir poked the younger Elf in the ribs with his finger.
His brother blinked, absently rubbing his side. “Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere,” he said softly. “What were you saying?”
“I noticed,” Haldir replied dryly, causing Rúmil to blush. Shaking his head in amusement, he repeated his offer.
Rúmil listened this time, slightly embarrassed at having been caught in such a distracted state.
“No, thank you,” the younger Elf replied softly when Haldir had finished, inwardly cringing at the thought of being measured and pulled around by an Elf he did not know. “I have plenty of clothes and I am going to take a walk in a moment.” He paused, smiling as his brother huffed. Haldir was far keener on clothes and style than he would ever be. Many of Rúmil’s clothes were decades old and they both knew it. “If you truly wish for me to have a tunic,” he added, “I am sure you will manage without my presence.”
Leaning over, Rúmil gave his Haldir an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “I will see you later.” Without further delay he then headed off down the path before Haldir could protest further and talk him into it. He needed some time alone; he had been around people too much of late and found it exhausting.
Wandering deep into the woods, he sought a quiet spot, somewhere where he could close his eyes and lose himself in his thoughts.
Sanctuary came in the form of a vast oak tree that stretched up almost impossibly high. Rúmil had no desire to go all the way up, but he knew that the branches would provide a wonderful hideaway. Leaping up, he climbed swiftly, until he found a little niche about half way up. With his back against the trunk and many smaller leafy boughs surrounding him, Rúmil felt safe. Looking down, he could still see the path and any that might pass along it. He smiled; that was how he liked things. He was an observer – he always had been.
**********************
The Elfling clung to his mother’s skirt with both hands, making it difficult for the young elleth to move. Nethwen sighed, bending down to try to pry the child from her skirt. “Rúmil, please, there is nothing to fear here.” Finally succeeding, she took him by the hand before he could grasp the fabric again. “Look, they are Elves, just like you and me.”
Glancing down, she cast a worried gaze over her son. Rúmil’s birth had not been planned and while it had not been unwelcome, the timing meant that he was the only child in the small, sparsely populated part of Lothlórien in which they lived. Rúmil was now eight years of age and this was the first time he had been taken into the heart of the realm.
His wide-eyed expression at the dozens of Elves milling about was natural under the circumstances, yet it was definitely a cause for concern. His actions were those of a far younger child.
She walked him through the woods, to where she had been told a play-area had been set up for the Elflings. Some of the mothers watched it at all times and she hoped to leave him there while she went about her business. Nethwen was uncertain how he would react to that; however, she was becoming increasingly desperate the more he shied away from people.
The play-area was located in a large clearing. Toys of all kinds were scattered about and there were many elaborate wooden constructs for the young ones to play on. Even now, some of the more adventurous were balancing on the higher bars. There was only one tree within the area, a twisted, ancient thing with many holes in its great trunk. It had probably been tall once, but was now warped and stooped, making it ideal for Elflings’ games. To Nethwen’s relief the area was fenced off, with a couple of Elves sitting on benches nearby, keeping watch on the young ones. Though most children would likely not try to leave, she was uncertain about her reclusive son.
As she led him to the entrance, he pulled himself behind her, trying to hide. Stopping, she gently lifted him and set him back down before her. “Rúmil, you do not need to be afraid. They are just children for you to play with.”
He shook his head and stared up at his mother with wide eyes, silently imploring her not to make him go in there.
It was almost enough to make her relent. Yet she knew that if he did not get over his fears now, he might never do so. Feeling terribly cold-hearted, she picked him up and carried him in.
Rúmil did not struggle or cry – it was not his way to make a fuss and so draw attention to himself. Yet he clung tightly to her, whimpering softly when she tried to pry him off. Seeing her troubles, another mother came to Nethwen’s assistance, helping her move Rúmil and put him down. Kneeling, she rubbed his arms soothingly.
“I will not be long,” she promised. “I will be back before sundown. Please, Rúmil, play with the other children.”
He did not answer, but she was accustomed to that. Placing a kiss to the top of his head, she stood and took a step away. Rúmil did not attempt to follow, though the look he gave her tore at her heart.
“Try not to worry,” the other woman said. “My name is Caleniel and I often watch the children here. I will watch over him and he will be safe with us.”
“Thank you,” she replied, smiling slightly. “His name is Rúmil and he is a good child, merely shy.”
Looking down once more at her son, she hurried away before her resolve crumbled.
****************
Rúmil was surrounded. Everywhere he looked there were running, yelling, rowdy children. They seemed to be enjoying the game they were playing immensely, but he had no wish to be dragged into it. It was far too loud.
Already, he missed his mother. They had rarely been parted and he had only ever been left with his father or Haldir before now. He started to chew on his lip as he began to wonder why she had done this to him. He did not remember being bad.
“Do you not wish to play?”
Rúmil looked up at the woman his mother had spoken to, shaking his head. Slowly, he tried to edge behind her dress. She stopped him, though, instead ushering him to where a group of about half a dozen Elflings were playing a game that seemed to involve a lot of running and laughing. He was terrified, but there was no escape.
“This is Rúmil,” Caleniel announced to them. “It is his first time here and I am sure he would like to make some new friends.”
Before Rúmil knew what was happening, the others had cheerfully assured the elleth that they would be nice and were dragging him off to play. They all introduced themselves by name, but they did so all at once and he could not make out one from the other.
“We are playing catch me!” a young girl announced. “Do you want to play? You can be the catcher!”
“I… I d-do not… know… h-how to p-p-play,” Rúmil stuttered nervously.
“Oh, it is easy!” she told him. “We run away and you have to catch one of us. Then when you catch someone you run and they have to do the catching!”
It sounded strange to Rúmil, who was unused to such games, but he nodded slowly. “I will try,” he said softly.
The girl clapped her hands in glee. “Hooray! Ready? Go!”
At once, they all ran off and Rúmil tried to work out who would be easier to catch. He quickly decided on one of the younger boys and took off after him.
The child dodged and darted past the others, which Rúmil also tried to grab, just in case he was lucky. Several times he almost caught his quarry, but the boy was always slightly beyond reach.
Finally, though, he began to catch up. He reached out, knowing know that he could grab the boy and make him the catcher. Yet just as he made his final grab, the child turned, stopped and made a terrible sound directly in Rúmil’s face, like a wild beast’s roar.
Not expecting this, Rúmil shrieked in terror. Backing away, he dashed for the nearest shelter, which happened to an old hole about halfway up the trunk of the tree. Ducking inside it, he tried to hide.
Down below, the other children were mystified at their new friend’s strange behaviour. They had played that way before and while it did cause the catcher to jump, none had ever reacted like Rúmil. They rushed over to the tree, trying to see him.
The sound of the commotion brought Caleniel running over to the tree and her young charges.
“We did not mean to scare him so badly!” the boy cried as he saw her. “I was only playing!”
“I know you were,” Caleniel soothed. “It is not your fault. However, I do not think he will come down while we are all standing around, so go and play. I will look after Rúmil.”
They were reluctant to leave, feeling it was their fault for scaring Rúmil, yet there was little they could do but shout up apologies before slowly wandering off.
Left alone, the elleth tried to talk Rúmil down. She promised that he did not have to play, that he could sit quietly with her. Unfortunately, he much preferred his current seat. From here he could safely watch the games without being dragged into them. That was just as he liked it.
Before long, Caleniel realised that he was not going to move. Sighing, she kept watch on the tree as she waited for Nethwen to come and collect him.
When Rúmil’s mother returned she was disappointed, though not terribly surprised, to hear what had happened. “Rúmil… please come down now, my little one,” she called as she stood beneath the tree.
Hearing the familiar and much-loved voice, Rúmil cautiously poked his head out of the hole. Finally laying eyes on his mother, he shot out of his hiding-place and down the tree into her arms.
Holding him close, Nethwen silently resigned herself to the fact that her son would never be outgoing or confident. A little sadly, she wondered what kind of life awaited him.
END CHAPTER 6
Author: Tuxedo Elf
Pairing: Rúmil/Lindir
Rating: PG13 for now
Beta: Eni
Summary: Lindir finally meets his guardian angel.
Notes: As ever, for SayAye, with love.
*************
Haldir watched his brother with a mixture of hope and suspicion. Rúmil was definitely different today, though only those closest to him would realise it. There was the barest hint of a visible smile on his face and he seemed - to Haldir at least - to be a little more relaxed than usual.
They had just come from watching some of the Mirkwood warriors sparring, where Haldir had been suitably impressed at their skill. Rúmil, however, had not even seemed to notice and that in itself was unusual; Rúmil might be quiet and withdrawn, but as a rule he was a keen observer, taking careful note of everything around him. Haldir wondered what this meant for the budding relationship between Lindir and his brother. Rúmil seemed happy just at the friendship, but in Haldir’s experience, simple friendship did not cause such distraction. Rúmil, however, was probably oblivious to this, he was so woefully inexperienced in the ways of the heart.
“I am going to the tailors,” Haldir said conversationally, mostly to gain his brother’s attention. “I desire a tunic in the style of the realm. Do you wish to have one as well? It will be something special to wear on the last night and I will pay for it.”
He paused, waiting for the reply. Unfortunately, none came. “Rúmil!” Haldir poked the younger Elf in the ribs with his finger.
His brother blinked, absently rubbing his side. “Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere,” he said softly. “What were you saying?”
“I noticed,” Haldir replied dryly, causing Rúmil to blush. Shaking his head in amusement, he repeated his offer.
Rúmil listened this time, slightly embarrassed at having been caught in such a distracted state.
“No, thank you,” the younger Elf replied softly when Haldir had finished, inwardly cringing at the thought of being measured and pulled around by an Elf he did not know. “I have plenty of clothes and I am going to take a walk in a moment.” He paused, smiling as his brother huffed. Haldir was far keener on clothes and style than he would ever be. Many of Rúmil’s clothes were decades old and they both knew it. “If you truly wish for me to have a tunic,” he added, “I am sure you will manage without my presence.”
Leaning over, Rúmil gave his Haldir an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “I will see you later.” Without further delay he then headed off down the path before Haldir could protest further and talk him into it. He needed some time alone; he had been around people too much of late and found it exhausting.
Wandering deep into the woods, he sought a quiet spot, somewhere where he could close his eyes and lose himself in his thoughts.
Sanctuary came in the form of a vast oak tree that stretched up almost impossibly high. Rúmil had no desire to go all the way up, but he knew that the branches would provide a wonderful hideaway. Leaping up, he climbed swiftly, until he found a little niche about half way up. With his back against the trunk and many smaller leafy boughs surrounding him, Rúmil felt safe. Looking down, he could still see the path and any that might pass along it. He smiled; that was how he liked things. He was an observer – he always had been.
**********************
The Elfling clung to his mother’s skirt with both hands, making it difficult for the young elleth to move. Nethwen sighed, bending down to try to pry the child from her skirt. “Rúmil, please, there is nothing to fear here.” Finally succeeding, she took him by the hand before he could grasp the fabric again. “Look, they are Elves, just like you and me.”
Glancing down, she cast a worried gaze over her son. Rúmil’s birth had not been planned and while it had not been unwelcome, the timing meant that he was the only child in the small, sparsely populated part of Lothlórien in which they lived. Rúmil was now eight years of age and this was the first time he had been taken into the heart of the realm.
His wide-eyed expression at the dozens of Elves milling about was natural under the circumstances, yet it was definitely a cause for concern. His actions were those of a far younger child.
She walked him through the woods, to where she had been told a play-area had been set up for the Elflings. Some of the mothers watched it at all times and she hoped to leave him there while she went about her business. Nethwen was uncertain how he would react to that; however, she was becoming increasingly desperate the more he shied away from people.
The play-area was located in a large clearing. Toys of all kinds were scattered about and there were many elaborate wooden constructs for the young ones to play on. Even now, some of the more adventurous were balancing on the higher bars. There was only one tree within the area, a twisted, ancient thing with many holes in its great trunk. It had probably been tall once, but was now warped and stooped, making it ideal for Elflings’ games. To Nethwen’s relief the area was fenced off, with a couple of Elves sitting on benches nearby, keeping watch on the young ones. Though most children would likely not try to leave, she was uncertain about her reclusive son.
As she led him to the entrance, he pulled himself behind her, trying to hide. Stopping, she gently lifted him and set him back down before her. “Rúmil, you do not need to be afraid. They are just children for you to play with.”
He shook his head and stared up at his mother with wide eyes, silently imploring her not to make him go in there.
It was almost enough to make her relent. Yet she knew that if he did not get over his fears now, he might never do so. Feeling terribly cold-hearted, she picked him up and carried him in.
Rúmil did not struggle or cry – it was not his way to make a fuss and so draw attention to himself. Yet he clung tightly to her, whimpering softly when she tried to pry him off. Seeing her troubles, another mother came to Nethwen’s assistance, helping her move Rúmil and put him down. Kneeling, she rubbed his arms soothingly.
“I will not be long,” she promised. “I will be back before sundown. Please, Rúmil, play with the other children.”
He did not answer, but she was accustomed to that. Placing a kiss to the top of his head, she stood and took a step away. Rúmil did not attempt to follow, though the look he gave her tore at her heart.
“Try not to worry,” the other woman said. “My name is Caleniel and I often watch the children here. I will watch over him and he will be safe with us.”
“Thank you,” she replied, smiling slightly. “His name is Rúmil and he is a good child, merely shy.”
Looking down once more at her son, she hurried away before her resolve crumbled.
****************
Rúmil was surrounded. Everywhere he looked there were running, yelling, rowdy children. They seemed to be enjoying the game they were playing immensely, but he had no wish to be dragged into it. It was far too loud.
Already, he missed his mother. They had rarely been parted and he had only ever been left with his father or Haldir before now. He started to chew on his lip as he began to wonder why she had done this to him. He did not remember being bad.
“Do you not wish to play?”
Rúmil looked up at the woman his mother had spoken to, shaking his head. Slowly, he tried to edge behind her dress. She stopped him, though, instead ushering him to where a group of about half a dozen Elflings were playing a game that seemed to involve a lot of running and laughing. He was terrified, but there was no escape.
“This is Rúmil,” Caleniel announced to them. “It is his first time here and I am sure he would like to make some new friends.”
Before Rúmil knew what was happening, the others had cheerfully assured the elleth that they would be nice and were dragging him off to play. They all introduced themselves by name, but they did so all at once and he could not make out one from the other.
“We are playing catch me!” a young girl announced. “Do you want to play? You can be the catcher!”
“I… I d-do not… know… h-how to p-p-play,” Rúmil stuttered nervously.
“Oh, it is easy!” she told him. “We run away and you have to catch one of us. Then when you catch someone you run and they have to do the catching!”
It sounded strange to Rúmil, who was unused to such games, but he nodded slowly. “I will try,” he said softly.
The girl clapped her hands in glee. “Hooray! Ready? Go!”
At once, they all ran off and Rúmil tried to work out who would be easier to catch. He quickly decided on one of the younger boys and took off after him.
The child dodged and darted past the others, which Rúmil also tried to grab, just in case he was lucky. Several times he almost caught his quarry, but the boy was always slightly beyond reach.
Finally, though, he began to catch up. He reached out, knowing know that he could grab the boy and make him the catcher. Yet just as he made his final grab, the child turned, stopped and made a terrible sound directly in Rúmil’s face, like a wild beast’s roar.
Not expecting this, Rúmil shrieked in terror. Backing away, he dashed for the nearest shelter, which happened to an old hole about halfway up the trunk of the tree. Ducking inside it, he tried to hide.
Down below, the other children were mystified at their new friend’s strange behaviour. They had played that way before and while it did cause the catcher to jump, none had ever reacted like Rúmil. They rushed over to the tree, trying to see him.
The sound of the commotion brought Caleniel running over to the tree and her young charges.
“We did not mean to scare him so badly!” the boy cried as he saw her. “I was only playing!”
“I know you were,” Caleniel soothed. “It is not your fault. However, I do not think he will come down while we are all standing around, so go and play. I will look after Rúmil.”
They were reluctant to leave, feeling it was their fault for scaring Rúmil, yet there was little they could do but shout up apologies before slowly wandering off.
Left alone, the elleth tried to talk Rúmil down. She promised that he did not have to play, that he could sit quietly with her. Unfortunately, he much preferred his current seat. From here he could safely watch the games without being dragged into them. That was just as he liked it.
Before long, Caleniel realised that he was not going to move. Sighing, she kept watch on the tree as she waited for Nethwen to come and collect him.
When Rúmil’s mother returned she was disappointed, though not terribly surprised, to hear what had happened. “Rúmil… please come down now, my little one,” she called as she stood beneath the tree.
Hearing the familiar and much-loved voice, Rúmil cautiously poked his head out of the hole. Finally laying eyes on his mother, he shot out of his hiding-place and down the tree into her arms.
Holding him close, Nethwen silently resigned herself to the fact that her son would never be outgoing or confident. A little sadly, she wondered what kind of life awaited him.
END CHAPTER 6