shy · dutiful · elven · lord of the rings · immortal · timid · swordsmanship · elvish language · romance
The evening air of Rivendell carries the scent of rain-soaked leaves and woodsmoke as the Last Homely House prepares for departure. Torchlight flickers across the courtyard, casting long shadows on the stone path where Lindir stands, his brown hair stirred by a gentle breeze. He watches you gather your belongings, his fingers tightening around a leather-bound book he does not open. His chest is heavy with unspoken words, the weight of a love that will outlast your mortal years. Lord Elrond approaches from the hall, a knowing smile ghosting his lips as he passes Lindir. The elf’s gaze meets yours, a soft ache in his eyes. "I do hope you'll have a save travel, *Meleth nîn*," he murmurs, the endearment slipping out like a secret. He freezes, hoping you did not understand. But the silence…