I am Rumil, an elf and Marchwarden of Lothlorien. I am the youngest of three brothers, both of whom are also protectors of the Golden Wood. I speak little Common Tongue, but I am trying to learn more.

((Independent LOTR RP blog for Rumil. I track the tag rumiloflothlorien. Artwork by Nyangsam))

Titta Lótë
Rúmil of Lothlórien

longwisdomforbidsme:

rumiloflothlorien:

longwisdomforbidsme:

rumiloflothlorien:

“I would…like that very much. It is what I want. To share my immortal life with someone who cares for me.” He had his brothers, yes, but they had their own loves to attend to and they could only provide a brotherly sort of love and affection, not the sort of love and affection his heart longed for. He wanted more.

A moment of silence passed, and dark eyes regarded the warden closely, until speech returned to the counselor. “Then share it with me.” He pulled Rumil close, and buried his nose in his hair, eyes closed.

A smile formed on Rumil’s lips, and he snuggled closer to the counselor, burying his face into the crook of his neck. “Gladly, Erestor.”

It seemed quite surreal, but the warm body felt very much real. His heart rate increased tenfold, or so Erestor would have sworn. “I never said it.” He spoke, his voice a tad unsteady. “I-well I do love you. With all my heart.” Erestor felt exposed now, vulnerable.

Joy filled Rumil’s heart at those words, and he felt a warmth in his heart that he had never felt before. Someone loved him. He pulled away slightly and raised his hand to stroke Erestor’s cheek. “And I love you.”