Chapter
10
Lindir
coughed loudly, his face contorting in pain. He was still suffering
from the effects of smoke-inhalation, a week after the event.
Rúmil smiled softly and handed his lover a fresh cup
of herbal tea. Lindir took it gratefully, sipping at the hot,
soothing liquid.
They
were sharing a pot of the herbal brew, it being the same one
the Lord Elrond had prescribed for Rúmil. It sat between
them as they sprawled on cushions on the balcony, at last finding
some comfort in the silence.
The
minstrel’s throat was still rough and sore and though
he would heal, it would be some weeks before he was singing
again.
Still, despite the discomfort, Lindir couldn’t bring himself
to be too unhappy. He felt as if he understood a little better
what Rúmil was going through - for days his throat had
hurt and speaking had been painful, so was avoided where possible.
It had been highly frustrating, yet he’d had the comfort
of knowing that he would be back to normal in a few days. Rúmil
did not have that. He felt for his lover like never before and
vowed once again to help him wherever possible.
Moving
the tea aside, Lindir came closer to Rúmil, resting his
head on the warrior’s chest. Rúmil wrapped his
arms around Lindir’s shoulders and there they sat, their
minds still full of the events of a week ago.
After
he had returned to Imladris, the tables had been turned for
a few days as Rúmil remained in the Healing Halls by
Lindir’s side. The minstrel had been remarkably lucky,
all things considered, with only a few burns from the fire and
bruises from the hits he had taken, but Elrond had wished to
keep an eye on him, lest complications should occur.
During
that time Rúmil had also looked in on Mellachion and
Thaliatar. While Thaliatar had recovered well from his wounds,
the same could not be said for Mellachion. The elf was still
terribly weak and had not yet regained consciousness. Elrond
was beginning to fear that he never would. Thaliatar was distraught
and Rúmil’s heart went out to the other elf. The
fear of knowing you may lose one dear to you was one he knew
well. He prayed that the Valar would be as kind to Mellachion
as they had to Lindir.
It
had been a full five days after them that the rest of the party
had returned. They had stayed behind to help the humans restore
the village to order before returning.
They had attempted to bring the three humans captured on the
outskirts of the village back with them, but it had not been
possible. They had tried to escape during the journey and had
been so violent that the elves had been left with no choice
other than to kill them before they were killed themselves.
Thankfully,
it was over now and Imladris had returned to its normal state
of peace. Rúmil smiled contentedly as Lindir shifted
to lie down, his head in Rúmil’s lap. He stroked
the soft golden hair as they sat on the balcony in the warm
sunlight.
****************
Elladan
and Orophin were also enjoying some time to themselves. Packing
a picnic, they had taken their horses deep into the woods surrounding
Imladris. There they would be safe – but very much alone.
They had not had much time together recently, with all that
had happened and were looking forward to a day where their only
concern was the other.
That
said; Orophin still worried about leaving Rúmil for any
length of time. Elladan knew this, even though his lover had
not voiced his concerns.
“He will be fine, do not worry so!” The peredhil
tried to soothe his lover.
“I did not say anything.” Orophin protested.
Elladan laughed. “You did not have to; I can see it in
your eyes!” His smile softened. “He is with Lindir
and they are safe in Imladris.”
“I know.” Orophin smiled at Elladan. “I know
he is well. Forgive me, it is hard to stop worrying.”
“I do not expect you to stop.” Elladan replied.
“Only put it aside for a time.” He leaned over on
his horse to kiss Orophin softly. The galadhrim returned the
kiss, eyes sparkling.
“I am sure you can help me with that.” He said.
Elladan grinned. “Without a doubt!”
**********************
Rúmil
had moved back to the main room, to prepare a fresh pot of tea
for the two of them. He had hardly removed the herbs from the
pouch though, when Lindir came up behind him and slipped his
arms around the Galadhrim’s waist. Rúmil smiled,
resting his hands on Lindir’s arms and tilting his head
in pleasure as the minstrel kissed the back of his neck.
He turned in his lover’s arms, coming to face him and
press a gentle kiss to the soft lips. Lindir smiled, cupping
Rúmil’s face in his hands. “I love you.”
The minstrel whispered, looking into the sky blue of Rúmil’s
eyes.
Rúmil took Lindir’s hand and brought it to cover
his own heart, holding it there.
/I love you too./ He mouthed the words slowly, hoping Lindir
would understand.
“I know.” The minstrel responded, moving his hand
and coming to press his body closer to his lover. His arms wrapped
themselves round Rúmil’s back and he lovingly kissed
Rúmil’s throat, paying special attention to the
long, thin scar.
The Galadhrim’s head was thrown back, his hands loosely
about Lindir’s waist as the minstrel continued his ministrations.
It
took all Rúmil’s willpower to pull back and take
Lindir’s hand, leading him to the large sheepskin rug
in the centre of the room, pausing only to grab a vial of oil
that sat tellingly on a nearby shelf.
His hands worked the fastenings of Lindir’s robes, soon
opening them and sliding the garment off, to reveal the creamy
skin beneath – and a pleasant surprise. Lindir was not
wearing leggings.
“I thought I would save you the trouble.” The minstrel
whispered seductively. Rúmil grinned, knowing he had
been set up and not minding in the least.
He stripped quickly, then moved forward to take Lindir into
his arms, kissing him deeply and pressing their naked bodies
close together.
Still
deep within the kiss, Rúmil sank slowly to his knees,
pulling his lover down with him. His hands roamed over Lindir’s
back, travelling ever lower, until they reached their destination.
Lindir gasped into Rúmil’s mouth as the galadhrim
slipped a finger inside, quickly followed by a second. He moaned
at the feeling, crying out when Rúmil found the pleasure
spot within.
“Ai! Rúmil, please!” He begged, wanting more
– needing more.
Rúmil pushed Lindir onto his back, onto the soft rug.
His passion-glazed eyes never left Lindir’s as he brought
the minstrel’s legs up over his shoulders. He quickly
coated himself, then rested his oily hands on his lover’s
slender hips, before entering Lindir’s body with almost
painfully slow deliberation.
Lindir
cried out as he was filled slowly but surely. Inch by inch he
was taken, carefully and with such love his heart felt as if
it would burst.
“Rúmil!” The name came out almost as a whimper
as Lindir grabbed handfuls of the rug, his head thrown back.
Answering his lover’s plea, Rúmil began to move,
sliding carefully in and out, moving slightly faster with each
thrust, unfailingly hitting the pleasure spot in Lindir’s
body.
Rúmil
was breathing hard as he continued to slide in and out, his
hands gripping Lindir’s hips. He was almost undone by
the vision of Lindir alone, lost in passion and love.
Releasing one hand from the minstrel’s hip. He took Lindir’s
flesh in hand, pumping and stroking as he brought them both
to their peaks.
The minstrel writhed and moaned, sobbing Rúmil’s
name over and over as the galadhrim pushed him over the edge.
He
came with a cry, his voice raising as he shouted his lover’s
name one more time. Rúmil followed but a moment later,
emptying himself inside of Lindir, mouthing his name and his
love before collapsing on top of him.
The
minstrel rolled over, pulling Rúmil into his arms. Rúmil
gazed up at him, smiling softly. Lindir returned the smile,
as Rúmil rested his head on his lover’s shoulder,
draping one arm lazily over Lindir’s waist, the other
playing with a lock of mussed hair. Neither moved, blissfully
tired and content as they were. Soon they both slipped into
reverie, naked bodies entwined on the sheepskin rug.
*******************
Several
months passed in relative peace. Glorfindel took it upon himself
to re-train Rúmil, gently pulling the elf back into the
warriors’ world he belonged in. Rúmil’s skills
were only slightly dulled from disuse and he remembered quickly.
The Balrog-slayer also taught Rúmil more means of self-defence,
knowing that he would be unable to call for aid should he ever
become separated from his companions.
Glorfindel was impressed with the speed at which Rúmil
learned and it was not long before the galadhrim was a regular
member of the border patrol.
Likewise,
Orophin could not stay idle for long and often rode out with
Elladan and Elrohir, even improving his grasp of the common
speech during their interactions with the Rangers. He still
missed Haldir and his Lórien home, but he loved Elladan
deeply and was content with his place in Rivendell.
Mellachion
was still desperately ill. He remained trapped in his coma,
not alive or dead. Thaliatar had all but given up hope and spent
much of his time in tears by his lover’s bedside. Lord
Elrond did not know what to do; the guard seemed to be trapped
in the limbo that existed between the worlds of the living and
the dead. Sooner or later, he would have to choose and the longer
it took, the more likely it was that Mandos would win. Should
that happen, Elrond feared for Thaliatar.
He was the only one who had not healed. Thaliatar’s injuries
had healed completely, the other minstrels had only suffered
minor cuts and bruises and even Lindir was singing again. Yet
the shadow of that day would remain until Mellachion’s
fate was decided.
*******************
Celeborn
looked up at a knock on the door. “Enter!” he called,
knowing already who was on the other side.
Haldir stepped into the room, bowing to his lord as he approached
him.
“You summoned me, my Lord?” He asked quietly.
“Yes, Haldir.” Celeborn replied, looking the Marchwarden
over. He was due to return to full duties soon, for he had all
but recovered since learning that Rúmil was alive. He
hoped the younger elf would approve of his suggestion.
“I have decided that it is time for Rúmil to come
home. All the reports I have received suggest that he is as
well as can be expected. Lord Elrond has done his job.”
Haldir’s eyes lit up; the prospect of seeing his brothers
again filling him with joy. He went to speak, but Celeborn stopped
him.
“There is more. I need someone to go to Imladris and tell
him. I am hoping you will volunteer.” Celeborn fought
the urge to laugh aloud as Haldir struggled to keep his emotions
in check.
“I would be honoured, my Lord!” He said, unable
to hold back the wide grin.
“I had thought you would be.” The Lord of Lórien
said. “Go and ready yourself then, you leave at first
light. Take a heavily armed patrol – the bandits may be
gone, but I would take no risks.
“Yes, my Lord!” Haldir bowed, then exited the room,
almost faster than was polite.
Celeborn chuckled; it was so good to see Haldir happy again.
Haldir
swept into the talan so fast Anoriel nearly dropped the bowl
she was holding.
“Haldir! What in Eru’s name?” She gasped as
he grabbed her, swinging her around and placing a kiss on her
cheek. “What has got into you?” She asked, stunned.
Haldir grinned at her.
“I am to go to Imladris! Lord Celeborn is sending me to
bring Rúmil home!
Anoriel smiled. “That is wonderful news, Haldir! I know
how much you have missed your brothers. When do you leave?”
“At dawn.” He said. “Once there I will remain
for a month to give my brothers time to prepare for the journey
home.” He grinned. “It will so wonderful to have
them back!” He planted another kiss on the elf-maid’s
cheek before hurrying into his room to gather his things for
the journey.
Anoriel
stayed where she stood, smiling slightly at Haldir’s excitement.
After a moment, she returned to the bowl of bread-dough and
began to mix it again.
She knew that with the return of Rúmil and Orophin, she
would have to return to her own talan. Still – she hoped
he was not gone long.
“Hurry home, Haldir. I will miss you.”
END
CHAPTER 10
