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

it-grows-perhaps-the-greater:

rumiloflothlorien:

it-grows-perhaps-the-greater replied to your post: 
“You too, Rúmil,” Was hummed silently, as a sigh left him. “Gil-Galad has not… Bothered you again, has he?”

He sighed a bit and closed his eyes, not wanting to think about Gil-Galad and the whole mess that one night of drunkenness had created. “No, but his father has begun to bother me. I guess…it runs in the family.”

A groan left the warden’s throat. A very disapproving one at that. “Must I go ahead and have a chat with him as well?” He asked. Not that he could do much, though. Gil-Galad might have responded to Haldir - not with reason, but he responded nonetheless - but the man’s father was a whole different deal.

And then again, mentioned father also explained why the man was the way he was.

“I’m afraid that it won’t do any good, brother. It won’t stop it.” Rumil paused and frowned. “It’ll never stop. They’ll never leave me alone or stop calling me names. I guess…I’m an easy target.”