Disclaimer: Unfortunately, as always, I don't own LOTR, Galadriel,
Lothlorien, or Celeborn.though that doesn't mean I don't wish I did!
A/N: This is my first fic, so reviews are VERY welcome! Thanks for your
comments!
I watch as you sleep, and look into your eyes, wondering if your dreams are pleasant this night before I leave for Valinor. Your peaceful eyes flicker as you roll toward me; I stroke away the hair that falls into your eyes, holding it in my hand and wondering when I will hold you again.
I wonder why, even though we have discussed it, you stay in Arda. You love our Lórien, and I love you for it, even though it draws us apart for a time. Just as you love me, though it is the ring that I bear that is the cause of our parting.
I lie down and put my head on your chest to hear you breathing. Oh! how I will miss these stolen moments alone, watching you, being in your thoughts, communicating. It will be long before we see each other again, I foresee; but long by the years of Men, for they are the future of Arda.
You stir and wake as I move to touch your ears, a sensitive spot that I know well.
"Hiril nin, did you wish to awaken me?" You, my Celeborn, whisper.
"Yes, mel nin. Aniron pedi." I am not sure about what, though talking with you, rather than just looking at you seems a better idea.
"About what, love?" You ask, though it takes me a moment to answer because I am lost in your deep, strong eyes.
"Anything, hir nin." I pause for a few seconds, still trapped in your eyes. "It is almost autumn, love; I will miss the silver mallorn leaves floating to rest on our forest's floor," I finish. You try to hide it, but I catch the silver tear that slides down your cheek.
"Too well I know this, Galadriel," you reply, "too well." I wipe the tear from your alabaster cheek and you pull me closer to you, I am almost atop you now. I do not pull away, though you are the only one in Arda to see me this submissive, this vulnerable. Yet I care not, I need these last embraces with you, Celeborn. I need you.
You pull me in for a kiss, a kiss that feeds the desire in my heart. As I deepen the kiss, I think of the years that will go by without this passion. I run my hands over your face, then back up to the tips of your Elvish ears. I tarry there for a few moments before my hands find their way to your strong, muscular back.
It is my turn for tears as your hand grasps mine and you play with Nenya, my ring; the object that draws us apart.
"Don't cry, mel nin," you try, though it only brings more tears. You begin to talk idly, sometimes in Elvish, sometimes in the common speech. I love that you are trying to soothe me, and I am glad that you continue speaking. I am trying desperately to memorize every little thing about you. I lay my head back onto your bare chest, feeling the warmth of your skin, smelling you. I realize you smell of elanor and herbs; a lovely combination, I decide. We fall asleep like this, on our last night together, my head on your chest, your arm wrapped protectively around my waist, the other atop my head.
Hiril nin: my lady Mel nin: my love Aniron pedi: I wish to speak Hir nin: my lord
I watch as you sleep, and look into your eyes, wondering if your dreams are pleasant this night before I leave for Valinor. Your peaceful eyes flicker as you roll toward me; I stroke away the hair that falls into your eyes, holding it in my hand and wondering when I will hold you again.
I wonder why, even though we have discussed it, you stay in Arda. You love our Lórien, and I love you for it, even though it draws us apart for a time. Just as you love me, though it is the ring that I bear that is the cause of our parting.
I lie down and put my head on your chest to hear you breathing. Oh! how I will miss these stolen moments alone, watching you, being in your thoughts, communicating. It will be long before we see each other again, I foresee; but long by the years of Men, for they are the future of Arda.
You stir and wake as I move to touch your ears, a sensitive spot that I know well.
"Hiril nin, did you wish to awaken me?" You, my Celeborn, whisper.
"Yes, mel nin. Aniron pedi." I am not sure about what, though talking with you, rather than just looking at you seems a better idea.
"About what, love?" You ask, though it takes me a moment to answer because I am lost in your deep, strong eyes.
"Anything, hir nin." I pause for a few seconds, still trapped in your eyes. "It is almost autumn, love; I will miss the silver mallorn leaves floating to rest on our forest's floor," I finish. You try to hide it, but I catch the silver tear that slides down your cheek.
"Too well I know this, Galadriel," you reply, "too well." I wipe the tear from your alabaster cheek and you pull me closer to you, I am almost atop you now. I do not pull away, though you are the only one in Arda to see me this submissive, this vulnerable. Yet I care not, I need these last embraces with you, Celeborn. I need you.
You pull me in for a kiss, a kiss that feeds the desire in my heart. As I deepen the kiss, I think of the years that will go by without this passion. I run my hands over your face, then back up to the tips of your Elvish ears. I tarry there for a few moments before my hands find their way to your strong, muscular back.
It is my turn for tears as your hand grasps mine and you play with Nenya, my ring; the object that draws us apart.
"Don't cry, mel nin," you try, though it only brings more tears. You begin to talk idly, sometimes in Elvish, sometimes in the common speech. I love that you are trying to soothe me, and I am glad that you continue speaking. I am trying desperately to memorize every little thing about you. I lay my head back onto your bare chest, feeling the warmth of your skin, smelling you. I realize you smell of elanor and herbs; a lovely combination, I decide. We fall asleep like this, on our last night together, my head on your chest, your arm wrapped protectively around my waist, the other atop my head.
Hiril nin: my lady Mel nin: my love Aniron pedi: I wish to speak Hir nin: my lord