It was a dance, one they must have danced many times before, and still fascinating to watch.
She would move away from the center of the celebration, and very little time would pass before he would follow her. Silver and gold would stand close, commenting very quietly on this and that, present and yet apart.
At some point, he would wrap one of those long, golden tendrils around his finger, and she would lean into him, hand on his chest. Eventually, they would vanish.
Lord and Lady of Lothlórien they might be, but when alone together, they were as one.