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Lindir rides as gracefully as he sings, he comes to realize as they ride through the Ford of Bruinen. Lindir sits atop a sheer, golden steed, the hair of the horse shining in the sunlight as the elf leads it through the water of the stream. He, on the other hand, favored the black horse, something about the look in the giant’s eyes that said We are one in the same, had drawn him to it. He leads Lindir to an open expanse of trees, a secluded little area just near the edge of the Misty Mountains.
He's off first, helping the blushing elf down from his own saddle before they take a stroll, confident that the horses will simply graze in the nearby field while they take their time. He offers Lindir his arm, trying not to smile as giddily as he feels when the elf takes it and looks away with a smile of his own. The scent of pine fills the air, autumn brings the fall of auburn needles and ruby leafage.
Lindir looks radiant in the purple robe he wears. A different type of clothing than his usual garments, the plum-colored robe accentuates the hidden muscle of his slender shoulders, a leather belt tied around his narrow waist, with dark brown leather pants and boots to match. The robe, of course, in elven fashion does go to his shins, but it’s split up on either side of his leg to allow for better movement.
He had gone with his usual armor, could never be too cautious, but he did spend the entire afternoon shining it until the silver reflected his face back at him—and he last minute switched out his usual red cloak for a deep eggplant colored one. Which if by the earlier look on Lindir’s face when he saw the same color he usually wore meant anything, he was pleased, beyond, in fact. He did, however, forgo the helm.
It’s a few minutes of walking through knee-high, yellowed grass before they reach a spot where the grass is low enough that they can rest in it, and they do exactly that; he, sitting with one leg curled in towards himself while the other foot is planted firmly on the ground, elbow resting on his knee. Lindir sits in a slanted fashion, knees bent at an angle as his boots brush his rear from where he’s pulled them back to.
The evening is calm, a soft fall breeze shakes a few leaves loose from the trees above, drifting through the air without a care in the world. The evening sun sets far below in the valley, and they watch as the shadow stretches across the land. It’s peaceful here, just the two of them. There aren’t a million things to be paid attention to that draw either of them in numerous directions. There is simply the space between and the slow cooling of the evening as the sun sets.
He isn’t entirely sure what he wants to say to Lindir, but he decides, staring into the blooded image of the sun is best as he murmurs, “I almost think I could sit here forever.”
Lindir nods quietly beside him, replying quietly as to not disturb the silence around them, “It feels as though all responsibility is far.”
“Because it is,” he jokes, smiling as the elf beside him chuckles under his breath and nods knowingly. Then, as the humor fades, the look of sadness comes over Lindir’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“You will eventually return to Lórien in the coming days.”
“Yes,” he agrees, understanding the sudden stop in the elf’s happiness. “I do still have my responsibility to Lady Galadriel. As you do to Lord Elrond.” He looks down at his right hand, quietly undoing the straps of the gauntlet before he pulls the silver glove off; reaching over, he takes Lindir’s hand in his own, calloused thumb brushing over velvet smooth skin. “But just because there is distance, does not mean I will stop thinking about you. Nor will it ever manage to bury the ever-burning desire to be beside you.”
He feels Lindir’s pulse jump a little faster when he brushes his pinky over the veins in his wrist. “You will think of me?”
“Every moment I am away from you,” he confesses, gazing at him. “It perhaps is too early to know or even divulge such a deep feeling, Lindir, but my soul yearns to be connected with yours in ways that nothing can ever untangle us from one another.” He lets go of Lindir’s hand, reaching up to gently take the elf’s chin in his grip, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip; Lindir’s lips part at the rough drag of his thumb, a breathless gasp escaping him as his heart thunders in his chest. “Lindir, I love you. And I want to be with you until the end of time.”
Lindir’s breath is warm against his skin, and the poor man tries for words but all that comes out is a pitiful croak, and he breaks into laughter as Lindir’s cheeks practically turn as red as the sun before them. “Stop laughing at me!” he whines out, but he is laughing too hard to even manage an attempt at stopping, collapsing back into the grass.
It is, a moment of happening a look at Lindir’s grumpy expression that has him calming his laughter and he rubs his silver-plated abdomen. “My stomach hurts.”
“Serves you right,” Lindir retorts, crossing his arms over his chest, looking into the sky. “It is not polite to laugh.”
He watches Lindir for a moment before reaching behind the elf and tugs at the end of his braid, waiting until he looks down. “Lay with me,” he encourages and Lindir’s expression breaks from the moodiness to pure contentment as he shifts forward and lays back, head tucked in the crook of his arm where the cloth covers his shoulder. Lindir shifts, gently resting his arm over his stomach and he reaches over with his gauntleted hand, a comforting weight resting on the elf’s forearm. His ungloved hand plays with a few stray strands of Lindir’s hair as they stare up at the slowly starring sky.
“We will need to go back to Rivendell soon,” Lindir murmurs, though the elf sounds as unwilling as he feels.
“In time,” he replies, turning to look at him. “I want to enjoy this time I have with you.”
Lindir gazes at him, heart in his throat as he asks, “You will send letters my way, yes?”
“I will send you so many letters that you will not have a place to put them.” He smiles, wanting to dispel the sadness. “Your room will overflow with letters from me. They’ll pour from the windows.” Lindir’s laugh eases the tension and he resettles himself on his shoulder, shutting his eyes as he lets the peace wash over him.
Yes, they will definitely need to return to Rivendell before true nightfall, but for now, they will enjoy one another’s company.