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Summary: After their escape from Moria, the Fellowship takes a short reprieve before venturing on and one of the members renews a relationship.
Author's Note: The quotes are from the movie but I have changed a few things to fall in line with my story. This is actually a sequel to my fic �The Prince and the Marchwarden,� but it doesn�t require reading that one to enjoy this one.
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Lothlórien, Third Age
The mid-morning sun shone brightly the day the Fellowship arrived at the Golden Wood’s borders, haggard and ridden with their flight from the Orcs and grief at the loss of Gandalf. Legolas looked around at the trees, his spirits rising ever so slightly. At last he could take a deep breath and sense them speaking to him, welcoming him. Not so the wardens that halted the Fellowship from treading further into the protected lands. His heart pounded as he sensed their nearness and though he knew they meant him no harm, he readied his bow, still on edge from the escape out of Moria.
Gimli had been muttering to the Hobbits about the “Elf witch,” which had Legolas hiding a smile. But when four wardens dropped before them, instinct took over, and Legolas’ bow came up, string tight as his nerves, arrow pointed at the protectors. As best as he could, he kept his hands from shaking as he lowered it, for his gaze fell upon their leader.
“The Dwarf breathes so loudly we could have shot him in the dark,” the Marchwarden told Aragorn and Legolas nearly fell upon him at the sound of the beloved voice, even as icy as the tone and words might be.
Aragorn begged Haldir to allow them passage through Lothl órien on their quest, but the Marchwarden would only grant them access to the outpost until word returned from Caras Galadhon regarding their disposition. Legolas remained silent, all the longing in his heart kept to himself. Many centuries had passed since last he had beheld Haldir and given the troubles both realms had experienced, communication had been scant, if not nonexistent.
In silence, Haldir and his brothers led the way to the patrol talan, where the Fellowship would stay the night. The Marchwarden had sent a scout to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn as soon as he knew who had trespassed into the Wood. Once they reached the high platform via rope ladders, Haldir turned to the party, his eyes seeking out Legolas.
“ Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion 1 ,” he greeted his former lover formally.
Legolas paused, then dipped his head and returned cautiously, “Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien 2.”
Instead of any further discourse, Haldir turned to Aragorn. “A Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen 3.”
“Haldir,” the Man returned.
To one side of Legolas, Gimli snorted. “So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we can all understand!” he growled with fierce frown.
Haldir turned a chill look on the Dwarf that Orcs had quailed before. “We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days,” Haldir told Gimli. Legolas prayed his traveling companion would let it lie. He knew of those days Haldir spoke of, for Gimli’s race had murdered Lord Celeborn’s kin in the lost city of Doriath. But no…
“And do you know what this Dwarf says to that? Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul! 4” came the ill-tempered retort.
Legolas cringed and Aragorn sighed, turning to Gimli to remonstrate. “That was not so courteous.”
Haldir ignored Gimli as if beneath his notice, but Legolas knew anger simmered beneath that cool exterior. He had seen it only once or twice and never directed at himself.
Haldir moved to stand before Frodo, studying the Hobbit with a slight crease between his brows. “You bring great evil with you.”
Ah, he had sensed the One Ring the Hobbit bore. His heart sank with Haldir’s next words.
“You can go no further,” he announced to the Fellowship. Aragorn urged Haldir to speak with him to one side, trying to persuade him to allow passage through the Wood.
Nightfall descended quickly in the forest, but the argument between Aragorn and Haldir flowed on, like the relentless sea against the stalwart cliff. Aye, that depicted those two perfectly, Legolas thought. How well he knew that if one worked hard enough, the cliff would crumble and give way, for had he not acted as the sea himself against Haldir all those many years ago?
He heard his name mentioned and looked up, finding Haldir’s intense and piercing gaze directed at him. A tiny smile tugged at his lips as he tried to pour all his feelings into the look he returned. I have missed you, melethron-nin.
Then Haldir turned back to Aragorn and though his face bore traces of aggravation, he nodded and moved toward the small group huddled at one edge of the talan. He held out a hand, his voice soft and melodious and bringing a surge of longing to Legolas he could not control.
“ You will follow me,” he commanded them, and then led the way to the portion of the patrol telain nearest the tree trunks. Despite his distress at the lack of welcome from Haldir, Legolas did his best not to show his amusement, for he knew the Hobbits and the Man Boromir must surely be uncomfortable so high in the trees. Neither Legolas nor Aragorn minded their elevation as both had spent time in trees throughout their lives. Aragorn visited Mirkwood and although Legolas’ people had retreated to the caves in the North of their realm, they still erected telain in the trees surrounding their home.
Haldir left them without a word, indicating with a gesture the places the Fellowship might seek their rest. The Hobbits went about eating the wearisome trail rations, but Legolas had no appetite. Had the years changed what had once been between him and Haldir? He looked up to find Frodo studying him, but he could find no smile for the Hobbit. Instead, he turned back to the view of the moonlit trees, his heart burdened with fresh anguish.
That night he spent in restless contemplation of all that the Fellowship he had joined meant. To them he represented the Elves’ wisdom and strength, yet at this moment he felt anything but those two attributes. He longed to search out Haldir and seek comfort. Instead, he lay upon the talan floor and awaited the dawn.
The next morning word arrived that the Lord and Lady would receive them and after a quick breakfast, Haldir led the way through the forest. In silence, they wove through the trees and shrubs along a path that only sharp Elven eyes and perhaps those of Estel might pick out. Haldir paused when Anor stood high above them, allowing the Men and Hobbits respite and a brief repast, but only the Hobbits murmured among themselves. All too soon, they rose and once more undertook their journey.
As the sun began to dip toward the West, an unbidden memory flitted across Legolas’ mind; bringing a dreamy look to his eyes and pushing away for a few moments the haunted look he had worn since the Istar’s fall into flame and darkness. His musings came to an abrupt end as they pushed out of the thick undergrowth above a bluff and looked down onto the treetops. In the distance, golden leaves rose on pale trunks, heralding to all who saw them that this place remained safe and sacred.
“ Caras Galadhon. The heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light,” Haldir announced proudly.
Legolas stood beside him and to his surprise, he felt the Marchwarden’s hand seek his for a brief touch. A touch that promised so much despite the fact they had not spoken but once.
They rested that night on the Lothl órien ground, the carpet of leaves and needles providing softer beds than any the Fellowship had known since they left Imladris. Despite their safety so deep within the Wood, Haldir and his patrol took turns standing watch. Still, the Marchwarden kept his distance from Legolas until the prince began to wonder if even friendship no longer held between them.
The next day the wardens guided Aragorn and the others toward Caras Galadhon through the beauty of L órien’s forest. Legolas did his best to enjoy the trees and beasts of the wooded area, but his heart remained heavy with sorrow, both for the loss of Gandalf and worry that he had somehow offended the one who had held his esteem as long as he could remember. For an Elf, that meant a very long time.
Night painted the sky above with stars as the group approached the telain where Celeborn and Galadriel lived. Soft lantern light shed an ethereal, otherworldly glow among the trees and the sweet chorus of Elven voices greeted the weary travelers. Tears pricked Legolas’ eyes as he climbed the winding stairs for they evoked memories of his homeland.
Abruptly, they arrived at a larger platform and Haldir had them wait. He formally greeted each of them, despite the fact they had journeyed with him for two days. When at last those indigo eyes turned to him, Legolas prayed he would speak more than formalities.
“Now you will meet my Lord and Lady,” the Marchwarden said softly as if addressing the entire Fellowship, yet his gaze lingered on Legolas.
His thoughts racing, Legolas dipped his head in acknowledgement of the unspoken thread that underlay those rote words. Before he could speak, Haldir turned to bow to Celeborn and Galadriel as they descended the stairs, their gaze taking in the worn and weary Fellowship.
Celeborn asked news of Gandalf and Legolas told him of the Istar’s fall in flame and darkness. The Lady’s look became unfocused and she spoke of the Fellowship’s quest being upon a knife’s edge. All too well the prince of Mirkwood knew how true her words rang.
At last, the rulers of Lothl órien released them to rest and replenish body and soul among the Wood’s denizens. Rúmil and Orophin ushered the dazed Hobbits and Men toward a protected glade with Legolas trailing behind them. How his heart longed to follow their brother, yet not once had there been any indication in those dear eyes that such would be welcome.
Once the others settled, Legolas bathed and changed into his cleanest shirt and leggings. He made his way toward the palace talan where many of the L órien Elves gathered to mourn and give tribute to Mithrandir, the Istar who had shared so much and given selflessly to those of Middle-earth. Joining them, he allowed his grief full rein, as he felt unable to do among those of the Fellowship. Instead of tears, he lifted his voice in the lament until he could no longer give voice to the pain and sorrow of loss. Not just Gandalf’s, but all the loss he had experienced in his life.
When he turned away to rejoin his party, he did not see the hopeful gaze that followed him, nor the movement toward him that the Elf’s kin aborted. Carrying the ewer of blessed water, Legolas made his way toward the glade where Galadriel’s scrying bowl stood, for she had given him the gift of its use this evening. Without speaking the words aloud, she reassured and comforted him in his woe.
What he saw, he told no one and at the conclusion of the vision, he found his place among his newfound friends and attempted to rest. The melodious sound of Elven voices, still raised in the lament for Gandalf lulled him at last into an exhausted reverie.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning broke with the sound of bird song and leaves rustling high above him in a gentle breeze. Although the L órien Elves might not trust Men in general, because of Aragorn and Legolas, the others found themselves amidst the people of L órien as friends. The Hobbits enjoyed learning how the cooks made dishes and through them renewed their good cheer. Boromir remained somewhat aloof, although even his despondency began to lift a bit with the Galadhrim’s offers to spar. Aragorn reinstated his place among them, for he had often visited Elrond’s parents-by-law in his travels with the Dúnedain.
As the others dispersed, Legolas remained in their camp, taking the time to fletch fresh arrows and oil his bow. Soft footfalls heralded a visitor and he looked up, expecting one of the Fellowship had returned. Instead, he gazed up in surprise at Haldir, who had sought him out. Legolas looked around, certain Rúmil and Orophin could not be far behind.
“Nay, they have business elsewhere, meleth-nin,” Haldir replied as if he could actually read Legolas’ thoughts.
“I… I believed…” Legolas stammered.
“That I no longer cared? Oh, how wrong that belief! Though our paths have diverged you have never been far from my thoughts.” Haldir approached, once more extending his hand. “Come, I would show you a place I pray you will find as peaceful as I do,” he urged.
Legolas put aside his bow and laid down the arrows he had finished, carefully wrapping the fletching and shafts in oiled cloth. He then rose and took the proffered hand and followed Haldir more than willingly.
They moved from the heavy cover the mallyrn provided to a sunlit glade graced with a brook and a small waterfall. Pausing at the edge of the wood, Haldir inhaled deeply of the place’s scent, and then turned to Legolas.
“’Tis my favored spot to seek when I have had a difficult patrol and need time to myself. I gladly share it with you.”
No words would harken to Legolas’ mind so he acted upon the intense emotions Haldir evoked within him. Not releasing the strong hand that held his, he moved to embrace the one who had brought him such delight upon his achieving adult status. They might not have been lovers long in the eyes of the Eldar, but in his heart, Legolas knew that none would ever affect him as Haldir continued to do.
“Haldir,” he breathed and found himself wrapped in the welcome embrace he had missed for far too long. The scent of pine, sandalwood, and musk, so familiar and so heady, filled his senses.
All too soon, Haldir released him. “I have set aside a meal for us here, for I know you did not break your fast with the others. They do not know that our people suffer greatly when grieved and so believe us unfeeling as we do not show what lies within our hearts to all.”
Moving out into the sunlight, Haldir led Legolas to a patch of dappled shade beneath an elder where a cloth of Elven make lay, covered with various pots and plates filled with food and drink. The Marchwarden sat upon the cloth and tugged at Legolas’ hand.
“Come, dear one, and join me in this repast. I promise I will ease more than your hunger for food if it be your wish,” he assured the prince.
They sat beside each other, leaning against the tree’s trunk, feeding one another from the tasty delights the cooks had prepared for them. Drowsy and sated with food, Legolas draped himself over Haldir, burying a hand in the silken locks, and laying his head upon the broad shoulder.
“Mmm… Wonderful. What more could I ask for?” he asked, his voice slow and soft with pleasure. “Perhaps a dessert of Marchwarden of Lórien would make this perfect?” He gazed up at Haldir, a question and a promise within his eyes.
“Do you remember the first time we supped thusly?” Haldir replied, his eyes gleaming with memories.
“How could I forget? You gave me so much. None have ever blessed me with such joy,” Legolas exclaimed, then reached up to press his lips against Haldir’s.
Haldir responded in like, opening himself, body and soul to Legolas. Tongues dueled and in response, breathing and heartbeats raced. Reluctantly, Haldir pulled away.
“I want you as much as that first time, meleth-nin. Your beauty of spirit shines even more brightly than that of your form. But I also fear for you. This quest—“
Legolas’ fingers stopped the word. “I have given my word to see this thing through. If the Hobbit succeeds, then the world will be free of the shadow that has lain over it for so long. Should not one of our people stand beside him, defend him, to see this done?”
He grazed the back of fingers against one high cheekbone, a smile lighting his face. “I would rather forget this dire thing for a bit and spend this time with you in celebration of life.”
Haldir leaned forward to nuzzle the dear face, and then pulled Legolas even closer. “Aye, you have it right. Let us not speak of this now. I arranged this day for you, that you might relax and rekindle the flame that has burned between since the day I first beheld you.”
“The first? Surely not! You held me while I lay in swaddling!” Legolas protested.
With a shake of his head, Haldir replied, “Ah, but I knew then that the Valar intended great things for you and you pulled at my heart-strings even at that time.”
“Too much talk,” Legolas protested and proceeded to shower Haldir’s face with butterfly light kisses.
Frustrated, Haldir growled and held Legolas’ face between his hands. “What do you wish, Legolas? To give or receive? I care not which, only that you decide soon and put me out of my misery. Do you realize how much I wished to do this ere I realized who trespassed on my borders? Too much time has passed since last we lay together.”
Legolas swallowed heavily, his heart pounding. Finally, he found his voice.
“In those times we came together my role seemed best as sheath. Would you truly be willing to play that to my sword?”
With a groan, Haldir began to shed his loose tunic and leggings, which had grown far too tight, and then lay back on the cloth. “I am yours, gûr-nin. Do with me as you will.”
A tiny sound of excitement escaped Legolas before he hastily divested himself of his clothing, nearly tearing the fine material. Rather than a hurried coupling, he wanted to worship the Elf who had meant so much to him for so long. With hands, lips, and tongue, the prince of Mirkwood worshiped the Marchwarden of Lothlorien until a fine sheen of perspiration gleamed upon both of their bodies.
Soft cries and moans filled the glade, echoing in the trees around them, which seemed to quiver with the strong emotions the lovers gave off. Aching flesh begged for touches, for friction, for filling. Frantically, Legolas looked around for something to act as lubrication. Even in the haze of desire, he wished no hurt to his beloved.
Sensing his lover’s distress, Haldir turned a bit to one side to rummage through the basket that had carried the foodstuff.
“Hah! Here, use this. I brought it in the event my roughened hands caused you discomfort. How much more appropriate that you use it to ease your way into my body,” he murmured, then opened his legs wider. “Have me, love. My body craves yours.”
Never in his life had Legolas expected to see the proud Marchwarden offer himself in such a way. Their times together in Mirkwood had been sweet and languorous without a hint of the wanton desire so obvious between them now. And always had Haldir taken the lead while Legolas willingly submitted to the older Elf’s knowledgeable ways.
With shaking hands, Legolas unstoppered the phial and poured the musky scented oil into one palm. Carefully, he set the glass aside, then rubbed his hands together. His gaze traveled up Haldir’s body, taking in the finely boned feet, muscled calves and thighs, the heavy shaft that pulsed on a taut abdomen, the testes that had drawn close. Haldir’s chest, broad with centuries of archery and sword, glistened and shone in the spotted sunlight, the pale pink nipples ruched into turgid pips with Legolas’ ministrations.
With one hand, the Mirkwood Elf coated his erection with the oil. The other sought out that tight puckered opening to Haldir’s body, first inserting one finger carefully. Somehow, he doubted the Marchwarden yielded himself to any very often so Legolas took extra time to prepare his lover. Almost impatiently, Haldir flexed his hips, pushing against Legolas hand, urging him to add another and yet another finger to open him. The very sight of the unrestrained need Haldir displayed had Legolas nearly ready to spend before they truly started. He turned his hand over, crooking the fingers slightly to seek that special spot. Alas, even with his long digits he found it difficult.
“Aiya, Legolas! ‘Las, please, I beg you!” the Marchwarden uttered in a breathy voice. “Take me before I renege upon my word and have you upon your back!”
With a smile, Legolas removed his hand and slid up the heated body beneath him. Leaning on one arm, he positioned his arousal at the well-oiled entry to Haldir’s body. He gazed at his lover’s face, watching for any sign of pain as he pushed forward. A slight flaring of nostrils and intake of breath had him nearly pulling away.
“Nay! Wait,” Haldir instructed. “Just need time to adjust,” he whispered. His hands clutched at Legolas arms as if he feared the prince would indeed leave him.
“I will not go, meleth-nin. Let me know when you are ready for us to proceed further.”
A few moments passed and then Legolas sensed the tension leave Haldir’s body as it accommodated to the invasion. The deep blue eyes opened and soft smile graced the handsome features.
“Now, meleth. Now,” he reassured the anxious younger Elf.
On shaking arms, Legolas gradually pressed forward until their hips met. Valar knew it had been a very long time for them both for rarely did either Haldir or Legolas allow others to become close because of their positions. The feel of hot, smooth flesh enveloping his throbbing erection nearly undid him. He laid his forehead on Haldir’s cheek and waited for the urgency to pass.
“You feel so very wonderful,” he murmured. “I could spend eternity like this with you. Sharing both the giving and taking of this love we share.”
Haldir bent his legs to rest on Legolas’ buttocks. “Indeed, but we must take what we can, when we can. For now, I just want you to fill me and then…” A crooked smile quirked Haldir’s full lips. “And then, if we have time, I will return the favor until we both have trouble sitting on the morrow.”
Legolas gave a soft laugh and began to move within the beloved body. Soon, all thoughts save that of the flesh flew away, like dandelion fluff upon a summer’s breeze. It did not take long for the prince to find his release and Haldir’s followed soon after as Legolas continued to thrust against that oh-so-sensitive gland even after climaxing. Indeed, the feeling drove the younger Elf to share in the exquisite sensations to the point that he sensed Haldir’s thoughts and emotions as if they had been his own.
When at last the waves of ecstasy passed, Legolas lay limply over his lover, trembling and finding slow tears leaking from his eyes. The thud of Haldir’s heart seemed in synchrony with his own. Despite his transitory weakness, Legolas raised his head to look into the Marchwarden’s eyes. Did he imagine it or did moisture sparkle in those deep windows into Haldir’s soul?
“No, you see rightly. What we began upon your entry into adulthood has spawned a bond that even time and distance has not severed,” Haldir replied softly, one trembling hand moving to cup Legolas’ face. “I think it safe to say we love each other beyond the ties of friendship. That we have sustained this for so long apart… We cannot be together for both of us have duties that predate and precede what we have formed.”
Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but Haldir shook his head. “’Tis true, and you know it. I have my allegiance to the Lord and Lady and all of the Golden Wood while you have yours to your father and Mirkwood. If that did not stand between our joining enough, you have given your word to see this quest to its end. I fear it will be many years ere we may enjoy each other’s company again.”
Legolas sighed and shifted, his semi-flaccid member sliding from Haldir’s body. He curled up beside his lover, his right leg flung over Haldir’s. “In my heart I know you do indeed speak the truth. The only promise I can give you is that I will wait for you wherever you wish me to. If you remain here when all others have sailed, then I shall make my home at your side. If you feel the sea-longing, then I will take ship with you for the West.”
“You take the words from my mouth, meleth-nin. I know not what the future holds for us. I have never felt the sea call to me for all I have ever known have been the forests of Arda. Perhaps one day I shall, but until then, we must wait for whatever Fate awaits us.”
Legolas nodded as the day’s warmth and total physical satiation finally took its toll. “Sleepy…” he murmured.
“Then rest, meleth, while I watch over us,” Haldir replied, pulling his tunic over their bodies.
The day lengthened past noon as bees lazily sought nectar in the sweet flowers of the meadow. Above the resting lovers a pair of turtle doves mated, renewing and celebrating life in their own way. A soft, grayish-brown feather drifted down to land on Haldir’s tunic. The Marchwarden smiled and picked it up, examining the unexpected gift.
Somewhat reluctantly, he brushed the feather along Legolas’ cheek. “Awaken, meleth. Awaken.”
Legolas stirred and stretched, a smile lighting his face as he realized his whereabouts and who he had wrapped himself around. “You have spoiled me, Haldir. I will not wish to go back to my lonely bedroll and the hardships of the trail,” he mock chastised.
Haldir laughed. “Think you I will enjoy such things either?” He bent down to place a reverent kiss on those soft lips. “Let us bathe and gather our things. I would show you the waterfall and then perhaps we might rejoin the others. If I know my Lady and Lord, they will aid you on your quest, but will also wish to speed you along that the darkness does not approach any closer to the Wood.”
Legolas closed his eyes with a slow nod. The thought of the foul creatures of the Dark Lord soiling Lothlórien soil troubled him greatly. Better that the Fellowship and their fell burden be on their way soonest.
He pushed himself into a sitting position. “Then let us make the most of this day.” Shaking out his clothing, he rose and held out a hand to Haldir.
“What? Am I so aged I require assistance to stand?” Haldir queried, but took the offered hand and rose. Before Legolas could answer, Haldir had him wrapped in his embrace. “With you, I feel as if I had just awoken on the shores of the Cuivienen with the world new and wonderful, yet untarnished with the evil of those who shall remain unnamed.”
Blushing, Legolas returned the caress. “You taught me of love and loyalty. When the day arrives that we must chose to stay or go, let us choose together.”
“It would be my honor to do so,” Haldir responded.
Hand-in-hand, the couple moved toward the crystalline pool at the base of a small waterfall. There they splashed and played as if they had no cares in the world. When at last they had exhausted their time, they retrieved the empty plates and bowls and carried them tied in the cloth toward the city proper. Before they parted, Haldir turned to Legolas extending his hand, palm up. Within it lay the turtle dove’s feather.
“Carry this next to your heart to remember me,” he urged, suddenly fearing what the future might bring.
Legolas accepted the feather, gently stroking it. “I shall indeed, though I will need no such physical thing for it. Still, it will give me comfort in the dark days ahead to have such a gift.”
“Tonight the Lady and Lord plan a feast for your Fellowship. Afterwards, they will bestow upon each member gifts to ease the way along the path you have all chosen. “
With his free hand, Legolas gripped Haldir’s. “The most precious gift I have already received,” he told Haldir quietly. “Someday…”
“Aye, someday. Until then, be safe and know that not only your family and friends love you.” He pulled Legolas close. “I will be here for you whenever you return and then we will renew what we share until the Golden Wood glows with our love.” With that, he pressed a kiss to Legolas lips, then hurriedly turned and made his way toward his home.
The younger Elf held the feather close, watching the beloved form retreat. He thought quickly how he might preserve Haldir’s gift on their journey. When he rejoined the others, he returned their greeting with polite, if distracted, responses. Kneeling beside his bow and arrows, he searched through the bag that held his fletching and repair tools until he found two fine waxed strings of Elven hair. Originally intended to act as replacement bowstrings, he chose one to sacrifice as a holder for the feather. Carefully, he wrapped the quill portion of the feather with the string, leaving a tiny loop at one end. Then, he made a larger loop he could put over his head and threaded the end through the small loop. Once secure, he placed it around his neck and beneath his shirt to lie next to his skin.
Through the feast and the gift-giving, he felt its presence there as if Haldir had a hand laid upon his chest. When the Marchwarden presented him with a Galadhrim bow, Legolas felt hard-pressed not to show his feelings. Instead, he turned to the bow, caressing it as if he gave each touch to Haldir instead of the finely carved and crafted weapon.
The next day saw the Fellowship off on their quest. Galadriel and Celeborn had seen to it that the party had sufficient supplies to last them at least a month. Though their stay had perforce ended quickly, all felt renewed and ready to face the travails they surely must. At least one would always remember more than fondly the days spent within the protection of the Golden Wood and its people.
End
Phrases:
Words:
gûr-nin – my heart
melethron-nin – my lover
meleth-nin – my love
talan – platform based tree dwelling of Sylvan Elves
telain – pl. of talan