Nope. Just checked. Rumil STILL isn't mine. Neither is Galadriel, but not having Rumil hurts more:(
"We are leaving."
Rumil's eyes fell upon the bundle in the Rohirrim's arms. The child's tiny hands seemed to reach for the elf. "I will not ask why, for the reason is plain to us both," Rumil replied, his mind going back to that night.
His Lady had met him at the humble home of Haman and Lana. They had found Haman's family there. Their bitter dislike for Lana and their distrust of the elves had been thick in the air. But what angered him most was what they had discovered.
Lana had been poisoned. When his Lady had pointed this out, Haman's mother accused the elves, but the Lady of the Woods' piercing eyes found those of Haman's grandmother. The woman admitted to trying to 'purge' Lana. Though the woman's intention hadn't been to poison her, she had meant to kill the child they believed to be the spawn of a witch elf.
For as long as memory itself, he would never forget Lana's hope-filled, desperate face as she pleaded for them to save Hana.
Haman stood ready. His packs were strapped to him and a milk goat trailed behind, held only by a leash in the man's grasp. The wind rustled the leaves overhead, as if they would protest the man's decision. Rumil was sure that they too would miss their mortal friend. "Where will you go?"
"To Gondor," Haman answered. "I would have her safe in Lana's home, among her family," he added, though the words seemed to pain him. For both of their thoughts were on the betrayal of his own kin. "I am grateful to your Lady, for saving Hana, and for trying to save my Lana," he added. Haman pulled a familiar book from a pouch that hung at his side, and made to give it to the elf. "I believe . . . I believe she would have wanted you to have this," Haman said, a slight tremble in his voice, but the elf declined.
"It was a gift. Keep it," Rumil said, "for Hana." The man nodded, before tucking the book away once more and stepping tentatively forward, closing the short distance to where the elf stood beneath an oak. He then passed the infant into a pair of surprised immortal arms.
"You should hold the remnant of Lana that remains in this world before we leave, master elf," Haman said. Rumil gazed at the precious bundle in his arms, and nearly wept when he saw Lana's eyes looking back at him. He knew he would grieve the loss of his vivacious friend beyond the end of Arda, as he would miss watching this one grow.
For a moment, he entertained the thought of going with them, following this tiny creature that already claimed his heart, not only for the love he bore her mother, but for the tie that bound them together. He knew, though, that Mordor was stirring and he had a responsibility to his people, as Haman had to his own.
So instead, he pushed back his hood, allowing the sun's rays to glint, as a halo, off of his golden locks, to the amusement of the infant. He heard the man gasp, but paid him no mind. Rumil had eyes only for the dear burden in his arms. He smiled as Hana grasped a braided lock of his hair, as if she had no intention of letting him go. Freed from his hood, he placed a tender kiss upon her brow and then her tiny little nose. His words were soft, no more than a whisper. A prayer for safekeeping for this most precious gift which Lana had given him, then he told her, "We will meet again, little one."
He then placed her gently into her father's arms once more, before drawing a small dagger from his belt. With it, he deftly cut the braided lock of his hair she had held so firmly and tucked it within her wrap. "Till we meet again."