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.
Celeborn
opened the message from Imladris, 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 message 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, meleth?" She teased lightly. Celeborn
nodded.
"Ai, 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.
He climbed up and knocked on the light door. Anoriel answered
a moment later. "My Lord, welcome!"
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.
"Yes my Lord, though mostly unresponsive. They did not
know, 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. "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 March Warden. 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 Galadhrim 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 galadhrim, 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 – 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 emerald
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 galadhrim 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 galadhrim
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 galadhrim 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, 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 galadhrim 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.
The galadhrim flinched as Lindir pulled his tunic off, making
Lindir pause and wonder if he was moving too fast.
A moment later he saw why Rúmil 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 in to 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.
The galadhrim 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.
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.
He
carefully 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 galadhrim 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.
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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