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Messages - Elrohir

Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 5
1
Lothlórien / Re: i will keep you safe and strong
« on: August 06, 2019, 06:49:07 AM »
A question worth pondering, but not worth answering.  And it was all very well that she had not pursued that line of questioning, for Elrohir would have quite easily been distracted, at least in some part, but such a discussion, eagerly explaining his many views on the topic and trying, as he always did, to tempt what answers he could from his grandmother, a game which he had enjoyed ever since he was a child.  And he certainly had his own ideas about the Valar, some of which he’d only ever entertained in the deepest reaches of his own thoughts.  But that conversation could wait for another day.

Briefly he entertained the thought of lingering for a time in Lothlorien, where he might walk barefoot once more beneath the trees and spend his evenings in close confidence with his grandmother, discussing all the mysteries of the world that he had yet to discover.  There was time, wasn’t there?. Time where he might set aside his armor and sword and all the worries that came with being the son of the Lord of Rivendell and simply exist. The world would get by without him.  It was painfully tempting…  and yet…

To stay here would risk being absent upon Tintalde’s return.  That he would not risk, despite the dull ache in his heart that begged him to stay.

What he would do, though, was revel for just a moment longer in this one chance to tease his all-knowing grandmother.  He cast a glance to his side, a grin blossoming as he observed that eager posture.  “Ah, but if I tell you, then I’d lose the chance to surprise you.”  The glimmer of mischief in his eyes was almost childish, and his grin had grown to an all out smile.  “Who in his right mind would throw away such a rare chance?”

Still, he did not leave her to suffer for long, reaching out to lay his hand over hers so he might still those impatiently tapping fingers. His smile softened. “She is called Tintalde and she dwelt here once upon a time.”  And he waited, hoping that she would approve, though he could hardly think of a reason why she would not.  Elrohir would not have been himself if he did not worry just a little.

2
Rivendell / Re: you can't look back too many times
« on: June 17, 2019, 08:18:37 AM »
“Dramatics?” he protested, though he was less offended than amused by the word. His expression displayed an effort at mock insult, an unwitting display of just those dramatics he’d been half denying only a moment ago.  Perhaps it was that he had never considered it to be an apt description of himself, who had always seemed so very boring compared to everyone else… even his brother.

And yes, even to Tintalde, who had always seemed to him to be so much more comfortable in her own skin than he had ever been.  He was not certain she would agree with such an assessment, but Tintalde had always been so fully and unwaveringly her while Elrohir still struggled day by day to fully reconcile his heart with his head and…

By the Valar, he was being dramatic, wasn’t he?  The sudden realization in his face might have been almost comical had he not forced it away so very quickly.

Instead, he turned his thought back to her words, his own fingertips rising to mirror the touches she so gently bestowed upon him, fingertips daring to pass barely the whisper of a caress along the tip of an ear, the line of her jaw.

He found it soothed him, to indulge so freely in even this simple exploration, to offer the simple affection of a caress rather than only what formality and propriety would have allowed him before.  There was peace in such honesty of expression, a vast contrast to the tumult of unacknowledged longing that had plagued him for so long.

“Forgive me, my love.”   My love?  He’d said it without meaning to, and yet it drew from him the faintest hint of laughter, hardly more than a breath, and yet so full of emotion he had only barely begun to comprehend. Amusement at himself for being suddenly so bold, and relief that he had managed the words without worrying over them until he’d made them impossible to speak aloud.

“I do not mean to speak so ambiguously.”  What had previously been only the hint of humor blossomed fully into something of a cheeky grin.  “But I fear that must be another curse upon my house.”

“No, I do not think he would mock me,” he answered, his tone turning momentarily sollumn, though the sparkle of humor had not fully fled from his eyes.  “And it brings me joy that my father already knows and loves you well.” 

“It is only that, at times, it can be a bit trying to have a father who is never wrong.”  He smiled faintly, feeling a bit odd about making such an admission.  “At least, never wrong about anything important.  And I think he already knew long ago that I would make the same choice as he did.”

3
Rivendell / Re: you can't look back too many times
« on: August 20, 2018, 05:47:51 AM »
Why?  It was an excellent question, mostly because even after thousands of years, Elrohir could not adequately explain those feelings regarding his father, unless it was to admit that the bulk of it very likely existed only in his own mind, an ancient jumble of self-constructed worries born of a youthful sense of rebellion he’d never fully outgrown. It was his hope, at the very least, that Tintalde’s affection for him might more easily help her to forgive his foolishness for still indulging in thoughts he should have outgrown centuries ago.

His expression softened, soothed by the affectionate patterns her fingers had begun to play out along his back.  There was something moderately sheepish in the way he smiled, an expression that clearly spoke to how well he knew that there was something a bit childish in the explanation he was about to give. Fingers that had been resting in her hair trailed away to place a faint brush of fingertips against her cheek, overwhelmed with the need to demonstrate such small signs of affection lest he burst from holding it back any longer.

“When I was young, I was something of a rebel, at least in my own quiet way.”  That sheepish grin returned, a faint hint of color in his cheeks at the admission. “There are so many expectations that come with being my father’s son that, for quite a while, I was determined that I should do the exact opposite of what he expected of me.” This had involved much shirking of duties in order to hide amongst the trees, vanishing for the length of the day with a book, rather than attending to those things that one might expect of a dutiful son. The smile he wore turned almost melancholy.  “I would have told you then that I wanted to prove that I could think for myself rather than adhering to all of the things father wanted me to be, but really, it was nothing more than simple bloody mindedness.”

Fingers traced a feather light path along her cheek, his thumb brushing once across her lips, before his hand came to settle at last upon her shoulder.  Leaning in until their foreheads met, he chuckled softly.  “I know it all sounds silly, but even though I know I’ve come to this choice on my own, and though it was a choice made entirely for you, telling him will feel like admitting to my father that he was right all along about me.”

He took in a deep breath and released it, sending with it, at least for the moment, all of those silly insecurities that only saw fit to surface at the most inopportune times, and in their passing, a teasing glimmer returned to his eyes.  “I suppose now you’ll find me less saccharine and more sour. I hope you’re not terribly disappointed.”  There was a brief attempt at holding back a grin, but one that he failed in mere moments. It burst forth not only full of humor, but also practically beaming with a joy that not even the admission of his childishness could dampen.

Without giving her the chance to admit her disappointment in him (teasing or otherwise), he drew her in nearer, stealing another kiss.

4
Rivendell / Re: A Father's Worry
« on: November 30, 2017, 09:59:50 PM »
Elrohir had feared that his father would press for more details, and he did not bother to hide his relief that Elrond had allowed him to be somewhat more vague than necessary.  The wound to his shoulder pained him, but no less than the wound to his pride, and that wound was far more likely to fester were it treated poorly.  Of course, it was just as likely that he’d catch Elladan reporting all of the details later, but at least in that case, Elrohir would be allowed the comfort of pretending it had never happened. 

He scowled once more at his father’s instructions, not the least bit pleased at having to push the arrow through rather than extract it, but he offered no complaint.  The strip of leather was accepted and he bit down as instructed, his hand then coming to rest upon Elrond’s shoulder in order to anchor himself.  He then met Elrond’s gaze and nodded.  He was ready, or at least as ready as could be expected. 

Even prepared as he was, it hurt.  Fingers squeezed his father’s shoulder, though Elrohir lacked the presence of mind to realize his grip was nearly bruising.  It was hard to concentrate on such things when he was putting all of his focus into biting back any outward expression of that hurt.  The pain eased quickly, more quickly than was natural, though he wouldn’t complain.  It took all of his focus to force himself into breathing regularly once more now that the hardest part was over, his grip finally loosening.  Only then did he realize the force behind it, and he had the good sense to look contrite, offering a half-whispered apology. 

“I suppose I should look on the bright side,” he said, turning to a bit of nervous chatter to distract himself from his father’s work.  “You’ll never let me out of the valley again, so I’ll have plenty of time to catch up on my reading.”  There was an air of teasing to his tone, his words an obvious exaggeration of the penance he'd likely have to pay, though it was overshadowed by a sudden weariness. Even Elrohir could not hide that the wound was beginning to take its toll.

5
Rivendell / Re: you can't look back too many times
« on: October 31, 2017, 04:40:18 AM »
No one ever talked about what happened after the moment, when the words had been said, the sentiments accepted and returned…  The ballads all stopped too soon, and despite all those years of his youth pouring over the stories and tales, Elrohir was painfully afraid of stepping beyond their scope.  Yet time did not stop simply because he was unprepared, and when they finally drew apart from the kiss and Tintalde settled herself against his shoulder, he released his own contented sigh, an unintentional reflection of her words to him. 

Had he really been so afraid of this?  As it turned out, it was far better to come to a choice than to agonize for eternity in fear of choosing wrongly.  As if there had ever been any real doubt in his heart that this was not the right choice. 

One hand lifted to rest gently in her hair as he turned to rest his head against hers, pressing a brief, gentle kiss into her hair.   “I will gladly take the blame for your sighs,” he answered, the words half whispered into her ear, if only because they were already so very close.  “And you may scold me as often as you like, and I will still say I am blessed for it.”  It was his turn to laugh, though it was little more than the subtle shake of his shoulders, but still enough to jostle her somewhat.  He was not a bit sorry for it, either.

Even as he laughed in delight, his thoughts turned all too quickly to the future, despite having no idea of what the future may hold.  Certainly there were plans to make, but that could wait for a time until they were ready to delve into the odds and ends.  But there were more immediate plans to make, and the thought of them caused a bit of nervous churning deep within his gut.  “I suppose I’ll have to tell father in the morning,” he mused, unreasonably uncomfortable at the thought of it, not because he was uncomfortable with his father, but rather because he had some sense of the importance of this moment, and there were few things that set him on edge more than being at the center of something so very important to his father. 

Absently he found himself wishing yet again that his mother were still there.  And he found himself speaking aloud again, even before he had thought better of speaking of it.  “My mother would have loved you.  I am sorry you will have to wait to meet her.”

6
Lothlórien / Re: i will keep you safe and strong
« on: September 18, 2017, 09:34:10 PM »
At her answer, or rather, the refusal to answer, Elrohir could not hold back a faint chuckle, for he should have known better than to expect any reply so simple that it would have offered certain affirmation of what he should do.  And even so, he knew such advice to be for the best, for only the foolish saw the world so clearly as to answer in absolutes.  But that did not mean he was beyond a bit of teasing on the subject. “Ah, I should have known better than to hope for an answer to that question.”  That mock scolding was softened by a smile, as sure a sign as any that he did not take any true offense to such a refusal. In truth, it comforted him in the same way there was comfort in the old and familiar.  “Truly, I would have worried had you spoken otherwise.”

Without even realizing it, Elrohir had offered his own contented sigh, a near match to Galadriel’s own, and as she spoke, he allowed his gaze to wander deeper into the wood, observing with only half a mind the rustle of leaves in the canopy above, the slow creep of moonlight as it danced between the branches above, casting a tapestry of light and shadow upon the forest floor.  He might have even felt fully content in that moment if it were not for the constant motion of his mind, the blatant refusal to simply stop and not worry if only for a brief time.
 
“Did the Valar also make us so fearful of change, or is that a flaw merely of our own making?”  Perhaps some vague hint of that question reflected his father, but it was mostly his own fears that he spoke of.  He was plagued by the uncertainty of what changes would follow when at long last he took this step into the unknown, particularly where Elladan was concerned, and while no doubt existed that they would remain close, he could also not deny the melancholy realization that no longer would it be only the two of them as it had been since they were children.

He remained a moment longer, wiggling his toes just beneath the water, watching as the tiny ripples formed and dissipated just as quickly. But then with a faint smile, he stepped out of the shallows, picking his way carefully along the bank to take the offered seat at his grandmother’s side. It recalled to him times when he was much younger, even back to childhood, when he would sit beside Galadriel here beside the water or elsewhere in the forest, the great canopy of golden leaves spread out above them. Those memories he treasured, for even as he sat by her side once again, those times seemed so far away, distant recollections of a time before the world seemed quite so complicated, before loss and reality had irreparably colored his perception.

“I will tell you her name now, if you will not silence me,” he replied with a grin, gently pushing aside his memories lest he find himself lost too deeply in them, his natural thoughtfulness far too easily leading him astray.  “I’m almost certain you know her already.”  He rocked gently to his side, nudging his shoulder against hers, an affectionate tease, but he offered no further information, enjoying, at least for the moment, one rare time in which he knew something that she did not.

7
Rivendell / Re: A Father's Worry
« on: September 05, 2017, 07:03:08 PM »
Elrohir flinched at the scolding, but it also served the purpose of draining the last remnants of the fight out of him, at least for the moment. Instead, he couldn’t help be look a bit sad, or possibly even disappointed. A part of him wanted to ask if this was how Elrond would have treated any other wounded soldier, but he knew already the answer to that question, and he felt immediately selfish for thinking it. It was not very charitable of him to fail to consider his father’s feelings on the matter.  After all, he was not any other soldier in his father’s eyes, no matter how much he resented being scolded in public.

Though it was still not nearly so serious as all that.  He certainly wouldn’t die from it!

His gaze shifted away from his father, peering down at his own hands where they sat clasped in his lap. No doubt Elrond was disappointed in him.  Of course he would be; Elrohir was disappointed in himself. Whatever specifics were involved with the injury were unimportant in that regard. Elrohir was well-trained enough to know better than to let his guard down while in the wilds and he had paid the price for it.

It was far too tempting to answer his father’s question with sarcasm.  As if there were so very many ways to end up with an arrow in his shoulder.  Yet it was still the keen sting of humiliation that prompted such a desire, and Elrohir was enough of a master of himself that he knew it well.  Still, a question asked in such a tone as one might have asked a child how it was he was late for supper or how had he come to scrape his knees only served to fuel the frustration of not being treated as an elf of his age deserved.

“We had been tracking a party of orcs, and one of their scouts found us first,” he answered, his tone easily betraying his frustration, no matter how hard he tried to mask it.  But there was a clear, unspoken edge to the reply.  He did not want to talk about it.

8
Rivendell / Re: you can't look back too many times
« on: September 02, 2017, 06:42:42 PM »
Perhaps the first shock of it all was that he hadn’t botched it completely.  That despite his stammering and poorly chosen words, she had understood him, and more even than that, she had indeed felt the same, no matter how clumsy the admission had been on his part.  In that first instant where she drew nearer, grasped his shoulders, and kissed him, he hadn’t been sure what to do in return.   Obviously he knew to kiss her back, but true to form, Elrohir had also hesitated at what to do with the rest of himself, seemingly intent on overthinking every last piece of it all. Luckily for them both, he managed somehow to shut off his damnable brain long enough to trust in pure instinct.  His brain had gotten him in enough trouble already!

Eagerly he wrapped both arms around her waist, drawing her near, practically lifting her off her feet in his eagerness to do so.  It was an embrace made out of all of those emotions he’d held so tightly to himself, even before he'd truly known they were there, not just the relief of having his feelings returned, but also the pure, unfettered joy of finally allowing himself the demonstration of those feelings.  In all of his thousands of years of living, he could not think of a single moment to match it.

Though he might have, in that first instant of overwhelming joy, squeezed a bit too tight, he was able to regain enough sense to loosen his hold, keeping her close by not suffocatingly so, a task he found far more difficult than he had anticipated.  That impulse to hold her too tightly, to make up for all the years previous in which he’d dallied, wasting his chances, as if the fierceness of this embrace might compensate for all the years wasted… Keep your wits about you, he silently scolded himself, though he knew damned well there was little hope of that.

When he broke away from the kiss at last, he drew back only far enough to allow a gasp of breath, perhaps almost a nervous chuckle, a breath so utterly filled with relief that it managed to release entirely those last remnants of hesitation on his part.  Their faces still pressed close, he spoke in little more than a whisper.  “Are you going to tell me now what a mess I made of it?” There were hints of breathy laughter in that question, part admission of his own failing and part affection in knowing of the teasing to come.  “Or will you forgive me and perhaps let me try again?”

9
Rivendell / Re: you can't look back too many times
« on: August 07, 2017, 12:55:49 AM »
She disengaged from his arm and he grew still, unsure of how to move forward, but knowing that the longer he dallied, the longer he risked botching the whole thing all together!  He knew the words, knew exactly what he wanted her to know, but he’d somehow suddenly become a coward.

“I would go on being a constant for as long as you would have me, and it comforts me to hear you say it, though I never had cause to doubt it.”  His doubts of late had been irrational, a thing he knew very well, but knowing had not stopped his head from concocting any number of impossible scenarios in which she would turn away from him, in which he would ruin what they had by seeking to make it something more.  And yet his heart knew the truth of it.  Had known it for far longer than his head.  “And I do hope you will forgive my poorly chosen words. I’ve indulged far too much of late in those melancholy tales of old they so often sing in the Hall of Fire.” 

“I…” he hesitated once more, but only for the span of a heartbeat.  “I have come to a decision while you were away.” 

“Being parted from you brought me to the realization that,” turbulent eyes sought hers and locked there, and even as it emboldened him further, it also roused his heart, and the pounding seemed to echo in his ears as if at any moment it might beat its way free from his chest.  “That the last thing I want in this world is to be parted from you again.  And I do not mean that so simply as it may sound.”

The pounding of his heart grew louder, thundering so heavily that he was sure she must have been able to hear it herself, and it struck him as something of an absurdity that his own body conspired to distract him now that he had finally overcome the obstacles in his mind.  “I suppose I’ll have to beg forgiveness for years to come for the mess I’m making of this,” he observed with a light chuckle, finally deviating from whatever carefully planned words he’d been turning over and over for so long..  And that, it seemed, freed him from whatever nonsense he’d imagined a moment like this was supposed to sound like. 

The histories he’d spent his life studying had never done him the favor of detailing moments like this, after all.

“I missed you terribly while you were gone, and I know I’ve said that already, but hear me out.”  He bit back another huff of nervous laughter, fully committed, it seemed, to making a damned fool of himself.  “And I felt in my heart that, were you ever to truly be gone from me, it would feel as if a vital part of myself had gone with you.  And I thought that must be what my father feels every day, and I realized that if you were to ever choose to sail, I would not be able to follow you as I am now.” 

Pausing a moment to breath, he drew a step nearer, reaching out for her hand so that he could clasp it in his own.  “Please, Tintalde, allow me to pledge myself to you and I will count myself among the Eldar and never again will I leave your side.”

10
Rivendell / Re: you can't look back too many times
« on: July 04, 2017, 08:37:36 PM »
“Were I so blessed in eloquence as you are, I would never stop speaking.”  His words were almost wistful, if he were the type to show such an emotion.  He hadn’t even intended to voice that observation, but her words had stirred something in him that was only ever stirred by song and verse and the other writings which he adored but could never manage to duplicate.  And though she was wise to realize that there was animosity in his heart for Caradhras, it was not a thing especially rare to find beauty even where it was unlooked for. 
 
“That old malcontent has never seen fit to put on his best for me,” he chuckled, though it was just as likely that he had long ago lost the ability to see the world as she did.  He crossed that pass often, recently, in fact, and it had only ever seemed bitter and cold.  “I wish I had seen it with you.” 
 
Whatever his misgivings about his own eloquence, it was not that which kept him from steering his words where he mosted wanted to direct them.  It was only one thing to come to peace with his own feelings, to understand at last what he wanted to say, but it was another thing to say it.  To risk causing her discomfort, or worse, to risk rejection.
 
But then… better to know now than to continue to exist in a perpetual state of limbo.
 
“The stars here must seem quite dull by comparison,” he began, seeking in some roundabout way to avoid simply blurting out the entirety of it.   And even as he spoke, the evening began to deepen and more stars appeared above, though from where they walked the horizon lay hidden behind the trees, hiding away the last pale remnants of the day where they faded away beyond the mountains.  It was on a whim that Elrohir altered the direction of his steps, leading them upwards into the higher places within the valley, where they might stand more freely beneath that vast tapestry stretched out above them.
 
“Even so, I do hope you will choose to remain here for a while, or do you find yourself eager to set out again into the world?  There must be so much else you still wish to see.  Would it be enough to keep you here if I were to say I missed you greatly while you were away?”  And lest things become too serious too quickly, he embellished, over-exaggerating out of fear that too much sincerity would ruin the moment.  “Or would you leave me again to waste away with hardly a soul in the world to care?”

11
Lothlórien / Re: i will keep you safe and strong
« on: July 03, 2017, 07:52:00 AM »
Though he had many a fond memory of his mother to look back on, it always seemed all the more comforting to hear her spoken of by others, to know, if only through speculation, what she might  have thought of him as he was now.  He often wondered, but it was often too difficult even to ponder what she might have thought, and even had it not been too painful to think of, it would be impossible for him to know for sure.  So this, the acknowledgement of her feelings, however small it might have been, brought more comfort than he had even expected.
 
He knew of her brothers, but only so far as one might read in books or hear in tales and songs.  He’d spent his childhood on tales of his kin, great kings and heroes and all of them long dead, passed from Middle Earth ages upon ages ago.  It had only ever been a dull, distant ache for him, the thought of all of those whom he may never know, family he might have had if not for all the horrors that had robbed him of them one by one.  But he had not, until that very moment, considered fully that his grandmother had experienced such pain at their passing… and he felt like a complete and utter ass for it. 
 
Grown though he might have been, Elrohir still often felt very much like a child when every so often he was reminded of the vast wealth of years that had been lived by those he loved most.  And what had Elrohir ever seen in his brief span of years that could even compare to all that they had?  And, perhaps, he might not have minded so terribly if every now and again he might take comfort in their arms as he had not so long ago when he had been just a boy. 
 
He took her words to heart, though, and there was comfort in even such a simple idea as that.  The world could use more love.  It was the type of simple thought that always so easily evaded him.  This was why he had come all this way.  And even as it still pained him, despite his grandmother’s assurances, that he found such comfort here that he could not find in his father’s halls. 
 
Put thusly at ease, it was not so surprising that he found his own lips twitching in a reluctant smile at her gentle tease.  It lasted only a moment, however, melting away into something all too revealing.  Even as he pondered the right words, his eyes had already answered for him.  How would he feel if she never returned?  If someone else were to take his place?  Galadriel was answered with first, an instant of wide-eyed shock at the very notion, followed by creased brows and distressed eyes.  And not a moment later, the return of that faint quirk of a smile; he’d understood immediately, and even through the haze of his distress, there was comfort in that clarity of emotion.
 
Meeting her eyes, he answered both truthfully and confidently, “I would feel as if a piece of myself were missing.” 
 
Though a moment later, he couldn’t help a slight chuckle at how absolutely…  cliche that had sounded.  “I suppose now you’d say I ought to tell her that when next we meet.”

12
Lothlórien / Re: i will keep you safe and strong
« on: July 03, 2017, 05:34:25 AM »
It was equal parts comforting and unsettling, that uncanny ability she had to know exactly what he was feeling.  It saved him the trouble of finding some way to put his feelings to words.  He might have styled himself as a scholar, but he had not been blessed with the mind of a wordsmith.  He had a head for facts, and his words were more suited to that than to real eloquence.  Still…
 
“It is a long way to come when it would have been simpler to ask father,” he began, feeling a bit of sorrow in admitting that reluctance.  “But there are times that I wonder, wise as he may be, if father’s wisdom is somewhat compromised where his children are concerned.” 
 
He hesitated, his eyes following the gentle current of the river, the shallows winding their way ever so lightly, and yet persistent enough in its course that the stones beneath his toes were worn smooth.  With a heavy sigh, he took a single step forward, letting the water wash over his feet as he turned his gaze upward, seeking the stars beyond the high branches above them.  Seeking out one star in particular, that under a vast, clear sky was unmistakable, but here beneath the boughs of Lothlorien, was hidden from his sight.
 
“Father has lost so many people he loves,” Elrohir hesitated again, having the good sense to feel at least a touch of shame for speaking so critically of his father when Elrond was not present to speak in his own defense.  “That I fear he would advise me in such a manner that suits his own purpose, and this is a thing far too important to leave to that.”  Eyes squinted for a moment, but remained above, searching the sky.  And that intent focus brought forth his next words as almost an afterthought.
 
“Mother would have known exactly what to say.”
 
Having failed in their search, his eyes descended again to the river, and he seemed for a moment to be focused intently on nudging one of the little pebbles that decorated the shallows out into the stronger current beyond.  “You see, for some time…” another hesitation, searching for the right words…  “There is a certain elleth.  We have been friends for years… and of late I find myself thinking of her in more…”  His toe caught another pebble, nudging it forward.  “More, um…  sentimental terms…”
 
Having crossed that hurdle, he seemed to gain more confidence, and lest he lose the ability, Elrohir plunged forward with the entirety of it.  “I am afraid that I mistake companionship for something more.  That in missing her presence I’ve invented these feelings, and I do not know how to tell if these thoughts come from my heart or only from my head.  I don’t think I’ve imagined it, but then I’m not so sure…”  Another river stone found itself dislodged and nudged into deeper water as if he meant to dig himself a hole in the riverbed  in which he might hide.
 
“And it’s not only that,” he acknowledged, at long last giving voice to the thoughts beneath the thoughts.  “If I choose her, it also means I’m choosing…”   Words trailed off, and he cast an almost helpless glance over his shoulder at his grandmother.  It was not like Elrohir to struggle to find the proper words, but in this case especially, perhaps he might have been forgiven.  It was a thing well known to all, the choice granted him by virtue of his half-elven heritage, but it was never so much a thing that anyone ever spoke of.  Yet it was always there, hanging over them like some dark harbinger of doom.  And perhaps they never spoke of it because it was abundantly clear what choice Elrond would prefer them all to make, and not a one of his children dared to dredge up memories of the ages old wound that had been dealt their father when his own brother had chosen to grow old and die as a mortal. 
 
That story alone was enough to send Elrohir’s thoughts fleeing from the entire idea of it, for it was his own greatest fear that, when all was said and done, Elladan (and to some lesser degree, Arwen) would also choose differently than he did.
 
“That is really why I can’t ask father…”
 

13
Lothlórien / Re: i will keep you safe and strong
« on: June 16, 2017, 07:07:05 PM »
Whimsy is not usually your poison, Elrohir.
 
“Aren’t we all entitled, now and again, to bouts of whimsy?” He answered with only a hint of a sheepish smile, acknowledgement of his uncharacteristic behavior, and though he found no shame in it, there was no escaping the slight discomfort of walking on such uncertain ground.  Treading carefully, avoiding the water’s edge just enough so as not to disturb the fish, he drew up beside her, a striking contrast, for where her hair caught the light, his seemed only to drink it in, a dark mantle of shifting shadows. 
 
“But you’ll find I had plenty of time on the journey to overthink the entire matter several times over.”  This time the smile was less sheepish and more sincere, for he knew very well his own weaknesses and it would do him no good to deny them to the one person left in Middle Earth who would know him immediately for a liar should he deny it.  Better to fess up right away to the mess he’d made of it than to pretend otherwise!
 
“And as much as it may mark me as a terrible grandson for admitting I’d have never made the trip otherwise, I find myself in great need of advice,” he explained, the gears of his mind rapidly turning, seeking the best course to navigate what was undoubtedly the most confounding of circumstances he had encountered in all his years.  And all of his scholarly habits and analytical solutions crumbled under the weight of it, unsuited to the task as they were. 
 
Had circumstances been changed, he might have sought out his mother instead…  And her absence was felt all the more keenly in that silent acknowledgement. 
 

14
Lothlórien / Re: i will keep you safe and strong
« on: June 12, 2017, 05:34:42 AM »
His journey to Lothlorien had been as much a whim as anything he’d ever done, but even whim for Elrohir was given its fair share of careful consideration.  Still, he’d set off with little warning given to his father, his only explanation that he found himself thinking of and missing his grandparents of late.  In truth, he sought council that, as much as it pained him to admit, even if only in his own mind, his father could not provide.  As much as his scholar’s heart ached to admit it, it was more feeling than logic that made it seem such, and perhaps if he had asked, Elrond might have had just the wisdom he needed.  But he didn’t ask.  He doubted.  And that doubt had carried him over the old, familiar roads, over the Misty Mountains and at last down into Dimrill Dale. 
 
His steps meandered from there, straying from the path so that he might ride along the rushing banks of the Celebrant, following the river’s course until at last it met with Nimrodel and flowed into Lorien.  It was in that final leg of the journey that Elrohir lost himself in the pleasant nostalgia that always struck him when he heard those rushing waters and first came into view of the Golden Wood.  The wood may not have been home in the same way Imladris was, but it was home of another kind.  Free from the cares of lordship that came with his duties in Rivendell.
 
He’d been welcomed most warmly, as he always was, and he was given food and rest and all the tender cares any weary traveler might want, though he found himself more than once forced to reassure those who had come to see to his needs that he’d taken no offense at being asked exactly which twin he was. 
 
And now, as evening fell, that gentle affectionate summons served just as intended, and his heart swelled with the warmth of affection that was distinctly and entirely for Galadriel.  He’d never quite tried his mind at defining it, for there were no terms equal to the task.  It was simply her particular way of loving and welcoming him exactly as he was, with no more expectation than he simply be. 
 
And so he’d followed that call, guided more by his heart than his head, and just as he had upon his arrival, he followed the banks of the river.  He’d come barefoot, feeling much as he had in his much younger days when he’d traveled the length and breadth of the wood without his shoes, climbing trees and splashing through the riverbanks.  Keen eyes sought her out, though he half suspected she would find him before he found her.

15
Rivendell / Re: you can't look back too many times
« on: June 03, 2017, 07:27:27 PM »
It may not have been his precise goal to see the color rush to her cheeks, but it was not wholly unanticipated, nor would it be fair to say it did not please him, at least to some small degree.  In part, it was because it marked a victory of sorts, to be able to leave her momentarily unable to assail him with some clever remark (though she regained that skill quickly enough), but moreso because it was evidence that his sincerity had not been misplaced.  That she had not verbally brushed aside such a declaration was a sign, at least in Elrohir’s thoughts, that his somewhat awkward expression of affection might have been returned in kind. 
 
With Tintalde’s arm now tucked in the curve of his own, he led her forward.  There was no particular direction in mind, only that the path led yet further from the warm lighted windows of his father’s house.  Had his father even noticed yet that he’d slipped away?  Was he missed already in the Hall of Fire?  Such concerns, if they could even fairly be called concerns, flickered for only a moment at the edge of his thoughts, not nearly enough to alter the course of his footfalls. 
 
“No worse, I am sure, than the tales my dear sister has spread about us through the Golden Wood.”  Even such an accusation as that was made with no shortage of brotherly affection, for was it not Arwen’s duty to prevent Elrohir from becoming too full of himself?  And his adoration for his sister made his forgiveness far too easily earned in that matter.  “It has never ceased to amaze me that you came out of Lothlorien thinking anything other than that we were insufferable braggarts, my brother and me.”
 
But such tales were the indulgences granted to those in the world whom we love best. 
 
That silent concession somehow set his heart to pounding, for he knew quite well of all the things he’d spent long hours plotting and planning to tell Tintalde upon her return. Yet here, in the moment, he hesitated, for despite all the clever examination he’d given his own feelings, he’d never quite gone past the fear of speaking out of turn.  He’d fully overthought all of it, and here he was suffering the consequences of it all.
 
Fingers tightened around hers for an instant, the first step down the lengthy trail of working up the nerve to say all of those things he’d overthought.  But instead of that, he pushed ahead with what was admittedly the second most pressing thing on this mind, for behind all of that over-planning, he did want very much to hear everything she had to tell about her travels.
 
“Tell me,“ he paused in momentary thought.  “Tell me of the most beautiful thing you saw while you were away.”

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