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

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“It seems there is such a thing as ‘taking things too far’ in this odd… Friendship of ours after all.”

“Brother…” Rumil’s blood ran cold, fearing that he had upset his older brother somehow. He hoped that Haldir wasn’t disappointed in him.

An arm wrapped around Rúmil and, hastily, he was drawn in for an embrace. There was something odd in the man’s gaze - something unusual. Anger.  “‘Tis alright, titta lotë,” He spoke, voice calm and quiet as he planted a kiss to the younger silvan’s hair. “I will not allow the Noldo to bully you further.”

Rumil snuggled close to his eldest brother, pressing his face into Haldir’s shoulder. The older ellon’s gaze unnerved him. It wasn’t often that he saw his brother angry. “He will always bully me, Haldir. He will always say I am dirty and lesser and just a tool for his pleasure. It will always be like this because we are Silvan and he is Noldor.”