Rúmil wandered amid the many gardens that Imladris boasted, lost in his
thoughts of silver hair and amethyst eyes that shone like jewels. Before
he realized how far he had walked, he came upon a hidden pond. He stood
there for a few moments and watched Ithil's reflection in the clear water
until suddenly the ellon (m. elf) of his dreams broke the surface of the
pond. His breath caught as those jewel-like eyes captured his in a heated
stare.
When the silver-haired ellon slowly emerged from the water, Rúmil could
not contain the moan that passed his lips, at seeing the beauty of the
ellon's naked form. Coming to a stop before him, the silver-haired ellon
smiled at him, and all Rúmil could do was breath, "Lindir…"
The minstrel sighed at the sound of his name upon the Marchwarden's
lips and he slowly wrapped his hand around the back of Rúmil's neck,
drawing him forward. Just before claiming the archer's lips, Lindir
breathed, "Rúmil…"
The Marchwarden groaned loudly as his mouth was plundered. Molding his
body to the minstrel's, Rúmil knew that this was where he belonged, in
this ellon's arms for eternity.
The End
