³ hobbits in a whitecoat

“Careful my dear, you are in great danger of stepping on our own tail.”

“Perhaps. But the fact remains: despite your valiant efforts, myself and others have seen what is between you two. Perhaps the fate of Elven kings is fraught with hardship, but is that enough to forsake true love? I do not intend to lecture you, but you both are duty bound, and I think it would be a great shame to not share that burden together. To glean some happiness...” She finished, the last statement spoken more to herself.

“You speak too much sense for someone so young. It reminds me of someone…”

“Please…”

“No, I am serious. You push away exactly that which you urge me towards.”

"Frankly, I am unsure if I am pushing anything away. He does not… see me in that way. I have come to accept it.” She began, though Gelindhil quirked a brow, unconvinced, “And even if through some miracle I could be sure… it would not matter. Not anymore."

"And why ever not?"

“Because I love him." Morinë stated matter-of-factly, though her tone was undeniably somber.

"... you love him?" Gelindhil’s reaction denoted the gravity of such an admission. He had known there was something there before, but to hear her admit it was surprising, “That makes even less sense."

Her face spread in a way that couldn't be considered a smile, though she would try to pass it for one. Morinë's voice was even, eyes locked forward; seemingly frozen at the thought they might spill if moved to meet his. "You know, once Elrond and I went to visit a village of Elves and Onodrim—“Ents” in the common tongue, not far from here. He regaled me tales of this extraordinary arboretum the villagers had recently been tasked with maintaining, and at its center was the sapling of a Wilya tree— absurdly rare. One would be fool to miss such a chance, not to mention with such agreeable company. I was elated. Tools in tow, I naïvely listened as he spoke. I remember as we arrived at the entrance, Elrond walking before me. Distracted, of course, I nearly ran into him he stopped so abruptly. He just stood there, looking upwards towards a wide trunk; he stood there, in the shadow of some great tree, and I in his... It had to have been at least 30 meters tall. Do you know what he spoke then?"

Gelindhil did not guess, his countenance already having shifted from questioning to knowing, sadness reflected in his eyes.

"He said 'Ah, I suppose it has been longer than I thought,' thinking little of it as we continued our tour. That tree was sixty years old. You may think me young, but I would be blessed to live that much longer. It was then that I began to realize that while his behavior has taught me to hope... it is against my better judgement. Even if I were to indulge in such delusion.... it cannot be. For all that I might receive, I cannot give in return what he deserves. Many of the trees I've nurtured will outlive my time for centuries to come, but they will not feel my loss. It is what’s natural. He too will outlive me— by centuries, ages— and our time together will be but a fleeting, painful period in a very long life. Even in the after, our souls...” She spoke as evenly as she could bear, though a tear had already stained her cheek,” …they will never meet again; joined only to be parted. He has already had to say goodbye to too many. This world will provide enough heartache without my adding to it. So, I cannot ask that of him, nor will I."

Gelindhil sighed, putting away the tea pot, replacing it with the pitcher of wine from the basket. Morinë couldn’t help but chuckle as he silently filled their chalices, soon after letting the damn of tears break. Pulling her closer, she hid her face in his shoulder, Gelindhil cradling her head as she wept. The sound a rustling gave her pause before dismissing the sound. Accepting both a handkerchief and chalice, Morinë collected herself to find Gelindhil looking expectantly, rubbing her back, “Please, speak more. It cannot be all doom and gloom. How do you truly feel?"

Exhaling, she bit her lip, looking outward. While reluctant, Morinë decided to oblige, intent on never speaking of it again. "I feel.... selfish. Foolish... and most of all, alive. I have not smiled so in a very long time and diverting my thoughts from him has become near impossible. He is this wealth of kindness yet there is a glimmer in his eyes and I.. I cannot look away. He can be so... so stubborn, so rigid. But then he surprises me."

Gelindhil listened intently on the edge of his seat as he sipped from his glass, “And?"

Gulping, Morinë glanced around as though the very creatures of the forest might be eavesdropping," In truth Gelindhil I...I burn for him."

"Oh my, I am scandalized.”

"Alright well not all of us have such lurid tales as you and your visits to the throne room…”

“Morinë!” He almost choked on his wine in laughter.

“Well, you asked for candor, so please unclutch your pearls, beloved." Morinë joked though the sadness in her countenance remained. "The truth is, he was the first person to make me feel wanted—not simply tolerated or useful but wanted. And though my time may be short in comparison, I can confirm it is an infinitely rare thing, meeting someone so committed, so desperate for a kinder world. To so stubbornly believe it still possible, even after all he's endured. I've never met such a person, and I fear I never will again. I'd give anything to be at his side, creating that reality. But what I fear scares me more is how much I would give to simply awake at his side…A secret that I hope will remain between the two of us, Gelindhil. Though I am grateful to speak it aloud, if even just once."

“You are always welcome, Morinë.” He spoke, pausing before deciding to say one last thing on the matter, "And though I respect your decision, I think it is a great and beautiful shame that such love should go unspoken, especially in a world such as this where you know it is needed more than ever, in all its forms."

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Lightly twirling the glass in his hand, Elrond sat deep in thought, only half-listening to the diplomats exchanging words with the High King. He made mental note of the highlights of the conversation, but his focus remained elsewhere. From the corner of his eye, Gil-Galad peered at him, sensing his disillusionment; he was almost certain at this point to its cause.

“Speaking of great discovery, Herald Elrond is set to embark on an expedition to the Riverlands with our guest and resident researcher, the Earth Smith.” Gil-Galad spoke, his herald’s attention firmly captured for the first time this evening. “While he shall be sorely missed in his absence, this expedition will be brief so we may presume our work on other matters. Isn’t that correct, Elrond?”

“Well, we have made great strides during Mor—the Earth Smith’s time here. The land has changed much since the Great War, but I feel we are closer than ever to discovering the extent and are excited to share our findings with your kingdoms once complete.” He spoke, the diplomats nodding and agreeing, asking varying questions, intrigued by the expedition and research. After a time, the gala was soon set to begin and the small group dispersed, Gil-Galad and Elrond encouraging them to enjoy the festivities as they left the smaller room adjoining the great ballroom. Its lights were enchanting, the blooms illuminated by the warm light of the chandeliers while guests poured into the room dressed in their finery. As they waved them off, Elrond felt eyes on him. He was unsurprised, but no less dreaded whatever thoughts Gil-Galad had kept to himself.

Now seated with only Elrond at his side, Gil-Galad took advantage of the moment. In a low tone, he leaned toward him, still smiling at the crowd. “While I am appreciative of your efforts, I could not help but notice your lack of agreement about the expedition, Herald Elrond.”

His eyes remained forward, though Gil-Galad could tell he tensed, “It is because I cannot commit to the brevity of this expedition, High King. Morinë's methods may take some time, but they are undoubtedly thorough.”

“Hm,” was all Gil-Galad responded, and Elrond found he preferred his usual lecturing. As they scanned the crowd, it was obvious Gil-Galad did so halfheartedly, noticing the tension in his herald’s shoulders had only grown at the mention of the Earth Smith. “She is quite remarkable.”

That seemed to have captured his attention, the look shared between the two felt heavy for such a joyous occasion. Elrond was quick to recover his mask of neutrality, but Gil-Galad was not to be fooled. As a father knows his son, so did he, his expression softening. Turning back to the crowd, his gaze was drawn by flowing silver hair cascading over broad shoulders. His ears tuned to the sound of a voice he’d kept in the deepest recesses of his heart. The elf in question turned, sensing his gaze. Gil-Galad expected him to turn away, but the warmth in his smile as they locked eyes broke his heart anew. The High King raised his head high, nodding to his subject as any king would, while Gil-Galad fiddled with his most treasured possession on his ring finger as a lover would. It would have to be enough.

“She is.” Elrond responds, waking the High King from his own reverie.

“I needn’t remind you that there are some truths we cannot change, no matter how exceptional one’s path might seem.”

“You needn’t.” Gil-Galad gave him a look at his terse response, Elrond softening his tone before continuing, “But is it so wrong to wish to be part of another’s exceptional path, to remain…close?”

“Perhaps not, but I wish to continue trusting that you know the proper distance. Lean too close and you may very well find yourself unable to back away.”

Elrond clenched his jaw, sighing as he followed his king’s line of site to Gelindhil, “Of course, my king. I am ever grateful for your wise counsel.” He spoke, his gentile smile returning as more guests approached, ignoring the look on Gil-Galad’s face.

Scanning the crowd, Elrond found who he was searching for, his smile dropping in awe. Approaching Galadriel and Gelindhil, she seemed to glide across the marbled floors, as if some ethereal creature blessing them with her presence. Her gown entwined with magic, she glimmered under the candlelight, the blooms she passed seemingly coming into flower in her presence. Morinë appeared a rare flower herself, the panels of her gown seemingly made of petals, though her hair remained in the Ture braid, adorned with buds of Niphridel and the pin he’d gifted her. Gil-Galad had never seen him so, Elrond’s countenance shifting from awe to suspicion as the human Prince Thorndir joined their party. To his pride and displeasure, he knew that Elrond might be more like himself than he imagined and they would both have to learn the hard lesson in their own time.

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Admittedly rushing through a few pleasantries, Elrond excused himself to make a b-line toward Morinë, his friends, and Thorndir. He had spent a greater part of the day shoring away his diplomatic duties to ensure he had time for what pressed him, though admittedly he’d spent less time than he should sorting out the feelings behind them. Entering mid-conversation, Galadriel and Morinë were speaking, Gelindhil creating an opening for Elrond to join them as they greeted him. The way Morinë attempted to only spare him a glance, pretending to be unaffected had Gelindhil rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time today.

“I do admire your vision,” Galadriel spoke, tilting her chalice toward Morinë who’d just shared what she intended to do with the next 60 years.

“Your admiration is duly appreciated, milady. But I cannot claim it for my eyes alone. We Men must do what we can,” she spoke glancing toward Thorndir who was nodding as he took a sip. “But it is ultimately up to those who remain; I have no doubt you and your people will continue as Middle Earth's keepers long after I accept the Gift, as you have long before."

“Of course, we all will!” Thorndir replied jovially, never one to tolerate a somber mood during a party. “That I believe is a given as we are all here, working toward the same aim—peace and joy. Particularly that joy found from merriment, good wine, and good company. On that note, would you allow me your first dance, Lady Morinë?” He asked, turning to Morinë in a deep bow.

"I’m sure I can oblige, but you must stop throwing such a title around, especially in a space such as this.” She began, bustling her dress, “I’m aware they mean less to you than others, but I am not a Lady, you know." She chuckled.

“Not yet." Thorndir replied easily to the surprise of everyone, including himself. Galadriel and Gelindhil were peering over their chalices at each other while Morinë stood a bit stunned. "My apologies, the wine must be relieving me of my decorum. I did not mean to say that."

"Yes you did," Morinë corrected with a look border of suspicion and intrigue. She recovered to a more genial expression, deciding that Thorndir had a point and this kind of merriment was precisely what the night was meant for. It had rarely done her good to stew in sadness. Responding light-heartedly she continued,” But, should you prove yourself a worthy dance partner, I might consider letting it pass."

"You will?" Elrond responded a bit more incredulous sounding than he intended. In truth, he hadn’t felt jealously like this before, and he found he was adapting... well, poorly. Morinë's brows shot upward, turning her head slowly to fully look him in the eye as Galadriel and Gelindhil were now both enjoying their positions as voyeurs.

"And you won't?" She retorted, now both confused, staring at each other a moment, unsure of what to say. The first key of the next song began and Thorndir cleared his throat, shaking them from their reverie.

"Um, well then, it sounds like our song is soon to begin. Milady?" Morinë broke eye contact first to smile at Thorndir before taking his hand and bowing lightly. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Watching as she placed her hand on Thorndir’s shoulder and his on Morinë's waist, the pit in Elrond’s stomach grew. He trounced on her delicate feet every now and again, Morine gracefully laughing it off as they twirled about the dance floor. While her and Gelindhil continued speaking, Elrond was beginning to remind Galadriel of a rather angry horse, his ears pinned back and eyes narrowed as he refused to look away. Gelindhil and her sharing a small laugh, clasping his shoulders.

“Perhaps you should make it a point to claim the next dance?” Gelindhil suggested, Galadriel handing him a rather full chalice, knowing she needn’t say a word for him to know what she was thinking.

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After their dance, Morinë parted from Thorndir while he spoke to representatives of the other kingdoms present, having had her fill of diplomacy for the evening. Looking out one of the towering windows toward the sea, it wasn’t long until she felt a familiar presence at her side. While unsure what to make of his earlier comment, for her sake it seemed best not to think further on it, instead waiting for him to initiate conversation. Something was on his mind, but she knew it best to let him speak in his own time rather than prodding. And so, the both stood in a heavy silence, waiting on one another.

“While this view is beautiful, there is a better one, if you would care to join me?” He finally spoke.

“Lead the way.”

Offering his arm, she paused before entwining her own, trying to enjoy the contact for what it was rather than what she hoped it to be. Entering through the lofty glass doors, attendants opened then closed them as the two wandered out to the edge of what was more terrace than balcony. The moonlight did little to help either of them, its glow painting their forms pleasingly in each other’s eyes, the music from the main ballroom filtered faintly outside. Unlinking their arms, Elrond faced her.

“May I… May I have this dance?”

“The song is nearly halfway through.” She replied, her mouth and brow quirking up.

“Then I suppose we shall just have to dance through the next one as well, if your dance card allows.” He spoke feigning resignation.

“I believe I can make some time.”

Smiles on their faces, they drew closer seemingly becoming more nervous at the proximity. Morinë assumed it was because he hadn’t danced often but was swiftly proven wrong. As her hand slid up to clasp his shoulder, so did his glide around her waist to the small of her back, fingertips sending shivers down her spine as they made contact with the bare skin exposed by her rather daring dress. It was almost as distracting as the way he held her hand in his, guiding them about the terrace to the music. It felt so natural she feared she might melt into him and he into her; the dips and curves of their forms molding perfectly to one another.

“Cidran has graciously agreed to lend us a vessel for the journey East. By ship we should be able to cover much more ground, ironically enough.” He spoke rather suddenly. “We may be gone for some time, but I believe it to be worth it.”

“Oh, well that is wonderful news. But the ship should also make our survey much more expedient, since I have a suspicion about the connection waterways and these anomalies. So, you needn’t be away from your post for too long.” She spoke, but the news did not seem to make him any happier. Morinë hoped she hadn’t been too harsh earlier, but his expression appeared tense. The second song ended and though they could have danced for a dozen more, Morinë felt she would be crossing a line of her own making in doing so. "We have made quite a team, but if Thorndir and Lord Rössion are any indication, it is a miracle we have been able to accomplish what we have. Elves and humans often appear to be as water and oil." She spoke, chuckling awkwardly as they swayed.

"I did not know our differences affected you so deeply," Elrond spoke, his tone serious as Morinë's eyes snapped to his somber ones.

A look of genuine remorse, took over her features before she spoke, "They don't, you do." The last words almost a whisper. Collecting herself before Elrond could respond, Morinë parted from him reluctantly, producing a small piece of wood from her dress pocket. “Thorndir passed along this sample today and I believe it proves we are onto something larger.” Walking the short distance to the wide railing of the terrace, Morinë began analyzing the sample. Elrond had oft looked away, knowing a sorcerer’s methods to be rather secretive, but she made no attempts to hide from him. There was no fanfare in her work though it proved no less mesmerizing. Her movements were like poetry rendering one of the most dazzling scenes he'd ever beheld, second only to the way she appeared right then. The wood fanned out into slices that appeared like pages, chronicling the life of the tree to which it once belonged. Flipping through to a specific point, she spoke, "At a glance, this mark here tells me there was an intense blaze during that year but what is strange is that there is no record of it, anywhere. This came from the oldest tree in the Riverlands near the border Thorndir and Lord Rössion share, so there is little to compare. However, this is most certainly one of the largest anomalies recorded and a clear indication we are on the correct path. East, just as the kine said."

“That is both wonderful and concerning news.” He began hoping to appear as unaffected as possible. “It is impressive you are able to glean so much from such a small sample of a tree.”

"They are much easier to read than people" she replied, averting her gaze as she remembered that day in the tower together. “This also confirms a much more specific location we can head to rather than spending too much of your time surveying. This way, you can be free of your obligation to me much sooner.”

“I am in no rush to be free from you, Morinë. If it were up to me, I never would be.”

The admission had her stunned as his gaze heavily weighed upon her. Just as she was sure it would be too painful to believe, Elrond stepped ever closer toward her. While one hand grasped her own, another slid up and around her neck, thumb resting on her jaw, tilting her head slightly back to look up at him. Despite her earlier posturing, she provided no resistance, ready to break her own heart if only to be together for a moment. Tilting his head, he gave into an impulse he’d long stifled. His lips met hers, kissing her deeply, tasting what had long been unspoken between them as song after song played, too lost in each other to care.

Tags: @valar-did-me-wrong, @orehuna, @xcrybaby555x