In the distance thunder rolled.
Alatar smiled to himself and kept writing. Pallando slept soundly on the bed behind him, unaware of the storm outside.
He sat in the window, watching Lorien's gardens as the rain poured down. His hand stilled at the next crack of lightning on the dark sky, and he let the notebook fall shut as he watched the storm. A candle sputtered out unnoticed.
"'Latar?"
Alatar turned around at the sleep-drugged murmur, and smiled. "Morning, 'Lando."
Another flash lit up the room. "Morning." Pallando stood up. "What do you think ruined Ossë's good mood?" It was the first storm they'd had in months.
"No idea." Three steps easily cleared the distance between them, and the kiss (number seven, Alatar's mind supplied, unless you counted the long trails he'd made over Pallando's skin the previous night) was soft and sweet. "Love you."
The rain pounded over their roof, and life went on.
In the distance thunder rolled.