Title:
Guardian Angel
Author: Tuxedo Elf
Pairing: Rúmil/Lindir
Rating: PG13
Beta: Eni
Summary: Lindir finally meets his guardian angel.
Warnings: A little angst, mostly sweet fluff.
Notes: As ever,
for SayAye, with love.
Chapter
4
Lindir led Rúmil through the crowd, making sure he didn’t
slip away. At the first opportunity, he pressed a glass of heady
wine into the Galadhel’s hand, hoping it would calm Rúmil
a little. He had never met such a nervous Elf and watched in amazement
as Rúmil jumped when anyone looked like they might talk
to him.
It
didn’t make sense. Rúmil was sweet and attractive
– he should have all the confidence he could ever need.
If nothing else, his work as a guardian should have boosted
his self-esteem. Lindir found it strange that it hadn’t.
Guiding
his reluctant companion to a quiet corner, he sat down on a
padded bench and gestured to Rúmil to join him. To his
great relief, Rúmil did – Lindir had feared that
the flighty Elf might choose that moment to make good his escape.
One thing was clear already: getting past the wall of shyness
that surrounded Rúmil was not going to be an easy task.
“Are
you enjoying the festival?” he asked, not knowing what
else to say.
There
was a lengthy pause as Rúmil stared into his cup. “It
is very crowded,” he mumbled, glancing around him. Lindir
looked despairing, but then Rúmil seemed to remember
who he was with. “Though the music was nice,” he
added.
At
that Lindir smiled; it was the first thing Rúmil had
said that he had not had to pry out of him. “I am glad
of that,” he replied. “Do you have any preferences
in music? I would happily add something into tomorrow’s
performance for you.”
It
was the wrong thing to say. Rúmil looked absolutely horrified
at the thought of something being done for him in public.
“No
one would know, save you and I,” Lindir said quickly.
“I only wish to play music that is pleasing to you.”
“It
is... you do…” Rúmil stammered, fiddling
with his glass. “Do not trouble yourself further.”
Lindir
resisted the urge to sigh out loud. Clearly, Rúmil was
not going to be forthcoming. Not that Lindir planned to let
that stop him. Rúmil’s brothers had got him to
this point – he was sure that as long as he treated Rúmil
well, they would help him again.
“As
you wish,” he replied, sipping his own wine and wondering
just what to do next. In all his life, he had never felt so
completely at a loss.
**********
Several
hours later, little had changed, save for one thing. Rúmil
was decidedly drunk. While Lindir had paced himself, making
small talk despite getting only the briefest of replies, Rúmil
had drunk almost steadily between utterances in a desperate
attempt to calm his nerves.
It
was easy to tell that Rúmil rarely touched alcohol. He
looked confused and stared at the goblet with a dazed expression.
Lindir had let him be, believing it to be best if he was at
ease, but he now suspected he may have let it go too far. /If
I deliver him back to his brothers in this state, they will
have my head!/ he thought despairingly. Somehow, he had to get
Rúmil sobered up enough to get home. /What a disaster./
Edging closer, he tentatively put a hand on Rúmil’s
shoulder. The Galadhel jumped, startled, and stared at Lindir
with glazed eyes.
“Peace,”
Lindir said soothingly. “I mean you no harm. Are you quite
well?”
Blinking,
Rúmil tried to focus his thoughts. “Yes…”
he said slowly, though his body swayed from side to side. “I
think… I think I am drunk.” Leaning forward so close
Lindir could hardly believe it, Rúmil blinked owlishly.
“Am I drunk?”
Unable
to help himself, Lindir chuckled. “You most certainly
are, my friend!” He hoped Rúmil wouldn’t
regret this in the morning. He had no reason to; it was utterly
endearing, yet it was not real. It was not him.
“Oh.”
Rúmil seemed mildly surprised by this confirmation and
sat back in the chair. “That is… not good.”
He began to list dangerously to one side.
Highly
amused, Lindir patted his shoulder again and carefully steadied
him. “There are worse things that could happen. However
I do not care to get into trouble with your brothers, so I think
I had best find you some tea.”
Looking
around, Lindir sought a familiar face. He did not wish to leave
Rúmil while he was in this state, but tea was a necessity.
Catching the eye of one of the other minstrels, he quickly begged
his favour. The other Elf looked taken aback when he saw who
the tea was for, but carried out the request nonetheless.
Once
the tea had arrived, Lindir poured half a cup and offered it
to Rúmil. Judging from the unsteady look of the Galadhel,
a full cup would be extremely unwise
He
was quite right. Only Rúmil’s warrior-honed reflexes
kept him from spilling the hot drink as he shakily sipped it.
“I
am still drunk,” he announced some minutes later.
“You
are,” Lindir agreed. “You must give it time.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Orophin walking towards
them. “Have some more,” he said quickly, topping
up the cup.
Luckily
for the nervous minstrel, Orophin was called to dance by a nearby
maiden and stepped into the dancing ring, away from where they
sat. Breathing a sigh of relief, the minstrel continued to ply
Rúmil with tea whilst hoping Haldir didn’t happen
by.
Three
cups later, Rúmil began to yawn and blink sleepily. Before
he knew what was happening, Lindir found himself – or
rather, his shoulder – acting as a pillow for his sleeping
companion.
Unsure
of what to do, Lindir stayed where he was, glancing at Rúmil
from the corner of his eye. He was torn between waking Rúmil
and letting him sleep, despite the risk of his brothers noticing
them.
However,
the simple truth was that he was now closer to Rúmil
than he had ever dreamed of getting and he wanted to prolong
it as much as he could, in case such a moment never happened
again. Unable to help himself, he lightly stroked the pale golden
hair of his companion.
“He
is beautiful in slumber, is he not?”
The
voice made Lindir jump and, as he looked up, his mouth went
dry, seeing Haldir standing over him.
“He
is… but that is not why, why I…” he trailed
off, finding himself unusually lost for words.
Seeing
Lindir’s obvious discomfort, he chuckled. “Peace,
my friend, I am not angry,” he assured him. “I suspected
this would happen… Rúmil rarely drinks, except
when he is very nervous – and he most certainly was tonight!”
Relaxing,
Lindir nodded. “I noticed. I do not understand it…
he has no reason to be this way.”
“We
do not understand it either,” Haldir admitted. “His
youth was quite isolated, yet other Elves with similar experiences
are not this way.” He gently tucked a strand of Rúmil’s
hair behind his ear. “He is just an oddity, I fear. You
are the first to show interest in many years.”
“I
was considered odd in my youth,” Lindir said with an indulgent
smile. “A child obsessed with music, especially the harp.
I took it everywhere, despite the inconvenience of carrying
it around.”
Haldir
laughed, picturing how Lindir must have looked in those days.
“Perhaps
you are a good match then,” he said, sitting down and
pulling Rúmil towards him. “Time will be the judge.
Yet for now I had best get him home; he would not wish to be
left in public like this.”
“Very
well.” Somewhat reluctantly, Lindir relinquished his hold
on Rúmil, so that Haldir could shake him lightly.
“Come
along,” Haldir teased, as Rúmil slowly woke and
blinked at his brother, “time to go home.” Ever
so slowly Rúmil nodded, standing up and leaning on Haldir.
It was clear that he was half-asleep and Lindir took no offence
when Rúmil failed to bid him goodnight as his brother
led him away, smiling warmly at the minstrel before they left.
Lindir
watched them enter the palace before making his way to his own
rooms, full of hope for their next meeting.
***********
The
morning saw him awake early yet again; however, rather than
taking a walk, he spent his time bathing and selecting clothes
he hoped were impressive without being too obvious.
Once
satisfied with his appearance, he hurried to the dining hall,
seeking the shy Galadhel to whom he had become attached. Yet
when he reached the table that the brothers had taken to occupying,
only Haldir and Orophin were present.
“Good
morning,” he said, smiling hopefully. “Have I missed
Rúmil?”
Looking
up, Orophin smiled apologetically. “I am sorry, Lindir,”
he said. “We could not coax him out. He remembers what
happened last night and is deeply embarrassed.”
“There
is nothing for him to be ashamed of!” Lindir replied.
“Many Elves were in a far worse state!” Looking
around the room, it looked as if some of the Elves still were.
“I
know,” Orophin said, “but they are not as self-conscious
as Rúmil. He will not leave the room. Please believe
us, we tried. We do not like seeing him hiding away.”
“I
am sure you did,” Lindir sighed, sitting down next to
Haldir. “Might I go and see him then?”
“I
am afraid not.” It was Haldir speaking now. “He
is... upset that you did not stop him drinking. I believe his
words were, ‘I wish never to see him again, unless Eru
himself demands it.’”
Placing
his head in his hands, Lindir groaned as all his hopes of the
previous night fled in the harsh light of reality. Looking at
Haldir and Orophin’s sympathetic faces, he began to wonder
what, if anything, could break down the barriers around Rúmil’s
heart.
END
CHAPTER 4
