((Independent LOTR RP blog for Rumil. I track the tag rumiloflothlorien. Artwork by Nyangsam))
“You—… What?”
The dwarf fell silent at that, eyes narrowing, and heart suddenly pounding. No. No. This was way too familiar. “Y’can’t—-…” He begun. But he was not certain what he would say. He’d been here before, after all. ‘We’re marching to win back Erebor’, he’d said, the young dwarf brunette. ‘We’ll be back in no time’, he’d said. And Tyr never saw him again. War never changed, and the cost was always far too great.
Oh, how Turmio wished he’d stopped the child then. How he wished he’d taken his shoulder and told him he was too young - even though, he knew, his efforts might’ve mostly gone to waste. Why would’ve the nephew of Thorin Oakenshield listened?
Point was, he never had a chance to tell the boy how much he was appreciated and cherished. For all he’d done. So, with his hands curled into fists and chest aching, he spoke;“Don’t go,” He begun, pleaded even, a tremble in his breath. “I can’t lose y’ too.”
Rumil looked down at his lap and chewed on his bottom lip. He could hear the plead in Turmio’s voice, the slight tremble in his breathing. It hurt him more than he ever thought that it would. Never did he mean to upset his dear friend, but such things couldn’t be helped now. “I have to.” He replied, voice barely over a whisper. The young warden looked at the dwarf with sad eyes. “I have been given my orders by my Lord and Lady. I can’t disobey them, Tyr. I don’t want to go to war, but I must fulfill my duty as a marchwarden. I must march to Dol Gulfur with my fellow wardens, my Lord and my Lady.”
He reached out for Turmio and gently stroked his cheek. He wanted to smile reassuringly, but he didn’t want to give false hope. “I don’t…know if I’ll return. I hope I do. I want to come back to the forest, my family, my bunnies and…to you. That…is my goal. To come back home.”
The blue-grey eyes turned to the side. It was visible in his features, how much he tried to think, to set his mind straight. To just… Make sense of this all, though there was none. It was unfair. It was so unfair. How war took everyone he cared from him.
Mayhaps it was his mistake. For thinking there would be something permanent in his life; Something such as love.
Instead of replying at first, he fell to his knees. Leaned his forehead to Rúmil’s shoulder and allowed his eyes to slide shut. He’d cried enough during his life, he’d cried far too much in fact - he had mourned the passing of the Durin’s for so long he wished to not shed a single tear more. And he would not, for he refused to worry the warden as well. “Then,” He begun finally. Pausing, licking his lips. “We’ll welcome ya with open arms.”
Having said this, the dwarf’s arms swiftly wrapped around the elf. One hand being placed in the back of is head, one firmly grasping his clothes. “And ye’d damn better come back, too.”
The young warden bit his lip, watching Turmio. The other, unsurprisingly, wasn’t taking the news very well. As soon as Turmio rested his forehead against Rumil’s shoulder, Rumil wrapped his arms around the dwarf, holding him close to his being. It pained him seeing Tyr like this. He sighed a bit and ran his fingers through Tyr’s hair. A smile finally tugged at Rumil’s lips. “Do you promise, Tyr? That you’ll be here, waiting for me?” He wasn’t sure what the manner of his return would be. He hoped beyond hope that he would come back just fine, but he had never been to war before, never fought anything more than an orc pack. Rumil wasn’t sure what was waiting for him at Dol Guldur.
Rumil couldn’t help but flush at Turmio’s hold on him. “I…I will do my best to come back. To come back alive.” Even if he came back injured, he would still be alive, still be able to perhaps be with Turmio. His hands moved from the dwarf’s hair and back to rest on his shoulder. The warden bit his lip and gently pushed at Tyr’s shoulders, making the other look at him. “Turmio…” Rumil’s flush darkened and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Tyr’s.