orophinoflothlorien:

rumiloflothlorien replied to your post: songsofimladris replied to…

//no no no no noooooooooo

It was Rúmil’s blade that he finally met.

The war took so many lives, and in more ways than just in the traditional sense of killing. And Rúmil - how could he have known? Orophin had vanished years ago. And years ago, he had forgotten who he was. He had become nothing but another creature of Mordor. The silver hair was now grey, body deprived of strength, his bones showing and his skin rotting away. The once grey eyes were now white, staring from dead, sunken, dark eyes. Why did The Dark Lord even keep him around anymore? As a trophy mayhaps. Well, that’s what they told him.

Only when Rúmil was right there, in front of him, did he remember.

It was at Helm’s Deep; Orophin did not know how he got there. His memory did not last for more than a few minutes anymore, there was only the urge to kill. He needed vengeance, but he did not know for what. Maybe he simply came with the other troops. All he knew was, he was right there, in the front lines. Shrieking, screaming, inside his armor, when he spotted something - someone. An elf with silver hair. It reminded him of something - someone. It made him stop his attack, fall silent.

Before he had time to finish that thought, however, a blade pierced his chest. Of the elf he had stopped to stare at. It made a grunt raise from his throat.

Whilst he fell, however, the hand holding the blade was grasped. It was warm, it was soft - it was familiar. A word tried to bubble out of his chest; Words that he had long since forgotten. “Rúmil,” He whispered with the voice that had not been used for anything but screaming for so long.

Once his body reached the ground, it all came back to him. Haldir and Rúmil, the Lord and the Lady. Oropher, Celebrian, and… Lindir.

His eyes slid shut while a gasp left his throat. Oh, how he wished he had not recalled these things. How he wished, indeed, for being a no-one with no meaning was better than being someone who committed such grave mistakes. While he begun to black out, he felt someone remove his helmet, someone gasp and sob.

Mayhaps something remained of his former self after all. Maybe just enough, since he still remembered his beloved little brother. Maybe the Valar would be kind - maybe his punishment would not be solitude but something gentler. He would take any punishment if he could just see his brothers and Lindir as they were, as he used to be, just one last time.

If only.

Oh, how he longed for Galadriel’s light. How he longed for his mother.

((//-curls up and sobs into the night- It HUUUURTTTSSSS))