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The noon sun beat heavily down on the back of Elrond’s neck as he marched onwards, the pace unyielding.
The patrol was scouting the upper perimeter of the valley where the elves had escaped to after the fall of Eregion. It was high summer, almost the solstice and they were up on one of the surrounding mountains, afforded little shade amongst the scree and scrub, the atmosphere thinner here than down below in the forested and sheltered valley.
Sweat trickled unpleasantly down his temples and he wiped it with a damp sleeve. How much further?
He squinted up at the blazing sun overhead, unrelenting in its rays, then before his vision could get spotty his eyes flicked back down to look ahead at the figure leading the way.
Stiff shouldered and determined, Galadriel set the restless pace of the small company of elves on the patrol. Elrond could see the dark patch of sweat across her back, underneath where her quiver of arrows was strapped but she carried on regardless.
Summoning some energy out of somewhere, he hurried to catch up to her, passing two of the company on the way.
‘Galadriel, Galadriel.’
She did not break pace, stomping ever forwards, ‘What.’
‘We must stop; it’s high noon. We risk sunstroke out here. Let us find shade and rest, carry on in the cooler hours.’
She opened her mouth to protest but he stepped in front of her, blocking the way, forcing her to halt, ‘Orcs will not be up here, not on a clear bright day like this,’ and then added in a lower tone, ‘We’re not all built like you, let us rest. We’ll be better for it.’
She glanced behind to the rest of the company. Elrond knew that whilst their bravery and loyalty was unmatched, in the summer heat they were wilting. Poor Camnir was swaying slightly on the spot.
Galadriel turned back, looking grim. Elrond raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge.
She sighed, ‘Yes alright, we’ll find shade, rest and carry on in a few hours.’
Relief was evident on the company’s faces. There was a bustle as the elves set about trying to find shade. Sparse vegetation grew this high up on the mountain slope, but there were a few trees dotted here and there.
‘Let us venture there, you and I,’ nodded Elrond at a tree some way up ahead and not too far from the path.
Elrond and Galadriel made their way to the tree, a common larch, standing tall and offering a decent amount of shade beneath its clusters of needles. Elrond put a hand to its bark in a gesture of thanks for the coolness of the shade beneath it. The bark was rugged under his hand, deep fissures in the wood belied its age.
Galadriel sat down in the short grass with a huff, took off her pack and bow and arrows and pulled out her water skein to take some deep droughts.
Elrond was momentarily distracted at the sight of her throat gulping down and swallowing the water. She was a sight. Blonde hair plastered to her skin, damp with sweat, cheeks flushed pink, clothes clinging to her body in the heat.
He sat down next to her, setting down his own pack and pulling at his shirt, fanning the material to get air to his overheated skin.
‘Do you know the meaning of pacing yourself?’ he asked incredulous as she downed nearly all the water, only drops left.
‘Don’t lecture me,’
‘I’d say the heat was causing your grumpiness, but you’ve been this way since we set off from the camp. What’s bothering you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Galadriel.’
‘Don’t Galadriel m-‘
But Elrond had had enough and decided the best way to shut her up was with a kiss. He leaned forwards, cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him, his lips meeting her half-opened ones.
She was momentarily taken by surprise then pushed him away, ‘You take too many liberties Elrond, ever since that first kiss.’
‘I’ll take them where I can get them,’ he said teasingly, ‘You are so sparing with yours.’
She narrowed her eyes at him, ‘Need I remind you, we are at war Elrond.’
‘So? Therefore, more than ever we must gather the small, shimmering moments of joy and love wherever they appear, cupping them gently in our hands as though they were fireflies in the dusk. We must carve them carefully from the precious, fleeting hours we are given, shaping them into something that can sustain us when the world grows heavy. For what greater purpose could we possibly strive toward, if not the promise of love and the quiet blessing of peace—peace that allows us to love freely, and love that teaches us what peace truly means.’
Galadriel was staring at him, mouth slightly open, ‘I forget how eloquent you can be.’
Elrond shrugged but felt warm at the praise.
Her hand reached out to take his, it was a bit slick with sweat, but Elrond didn’t mind, he linked his fingers with hers.
‘You’ve had to grow a hard shell,’ she said, ‘I like when I see your soft side remains.’
‘It’s always here for you.’
Her eyes met his and he felt himself falling, like he always did into the deep blue eyes which still sparkled with a light of trees now gone from this world.
‘Kiss me,’ he said quietly.
‘Here? The others will see.’
‘They’re passed out in the distance believe me they are not looking. Besides, even if they were, would it be so bad? To see something precious that we’ve managed to find, despite the dark times we live in?’
Her eyes were searching his, for what, he did not know.
But she leaned in incrementally, and it was all the invitation he needed to meet her halfway. Her lips were moist, from the water she’d hastily drunk and they met his slightly chapped ones, blistered from the hot sun.
Kissing Galadriel would never stop being something that took Elrond’s breath away.
Power and fierceness and bravery were replaced with something sweeter, gentler, softer. That she gave this to him was a gift he’d always be grateful for.
Her right hand still entwined with his, she pulled herself closer to him with her free arm, her body flush against him.
It was hot and heady having her in his arms. He deepened the kiss, swiping a tongue against her lips, coaxing her mouth open to taste her. She let him in, and he lost all thought.
They had these moments; stolen in the elvish camp, indulged in long nights and now brazenly taken in the high noon sun, every single one precious. Elrond captured each in his heart for something to keep him warm when things around them threatened to steal away hope and every good thing.
Speaking of warm, Elrond, already slightly overheated from the long hike in the mountains found himself sweating profusely again from the thrill of kissing an elf whose very soul could match that of the sun, blazing, fierce, heated, but also who was now peppering his neck with kisses like dappled spotlights, bushing across his skin gently like the first rays of dawn.
He ended up with a lapful of Galadriel as she pressed forwards, seeking further closeness.
She licked a stripe up his skin, tasting the sweat beading there, nuzzling at his jaw. Elrond tipped his head back to give her easier access and let out a groan as she grazed his skin with her teeth.
His hand pushed its way under her shirt and undervest, fingers splaying across the bared skin, hot to the touch. He counted her ribs as he made his way upwards until he brushed the underside of her breast.
‘I thought you sought rest,’ she murmured into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
Elrond’s sensibilities came back to him in a rush. He sighed and leaned back against the ground, hand withdrawing reluctantly from Galadriel’s skin. She remained propped up, straddling him, her long hair swooping down over one shoulder, offering a pretence at privacy.
‘I did. And relief from heatstroke, which I find I am closer to now ever than before with you astride me.’
Galadriel rolled off him with a huff and lay next to him in the short grass under the shade of the larch.
‘I admit, I do not mind the sight of you flushed and pink,’ she traced down his brow with fingers and held them up, they were wet with exertion. ‘You are so lovely and tempting.’
‘Were it not so hot, were we not miles from the nearest cool stream to wash off dirt from the road and other…activities,’ he said.
‘Were we alone,’ she said wryly.
‘We’ll be alone tonight,’ Elrond said, clasping her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. ‘Will you let me in your rooms?’
‘You know the answer.’
‘Still, I want to hear it.’
‘Yes,’ she said, a promise.
She kissed him then, under the shade of the larch and in the wide light of the sun.