Blind Perception
By Nuinzilien

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Contact Email: cats.meow83@gmail.com 

Beta Name:

Main Characters: Rumil, Celebrian, Bronwen (OFC)

Rating: soft R

Written For: Caerali

Original Request: Rumil/? Happy Ending, Angst ok. One-shot fic fine. It doesn't need to be epic length, but hopefully more then two paragraphs. PG to R.

Genre(s): Romance, blatant TWT

Word Count: 2,543

Summary: Fate is seldom an easy thing to accept…

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The Lord of Lothlorien’s voice echoed through the mellyrn trees of his realm. “On this day we announce the alliance of our golden Wood with the Hidden Valley of the Rivendell.”

He paused a moment to allow the curious murmurs of his people to diminish. “One year hence, our daughter, the Lady Celebrían will be wed to Elrond Peredhel, Lord of Imladris.”

A burst of excitement rippled though the listening elves. Though young, the realm of Gil-Galad’s herald promised to be a power worth reckoning. Many felt the encroaching malice of the Necromancer, and now hoped that Celebrían’s marriage would bring with it the combined might of the High King’s forces and the much vaunted tactical skill of Glorfindel o’ Gondolin. While the more seasoned warriors in Celeborn’s guard respected the reborn elf and anticipated fighting beside him when the need arose, many a young buck had visions of being the first to best the famed warrior of old (all agreed that the Balrog didn’t count. The odds of winning that particular match weren’t worth betting against)

Of the thousand plus elves calling Lothlorien home, one solitary elf stood in the shadows of an ancient tree, refusing to celebrate. Though he would not deny the fact that any extra aid against the coming madness would be welcome, he felt the price was too high.

//It is hardly fair,// Rumil brooded. //This union brings aid to us…but what do you get out of it? An arranged marriage to someone you barely know? A new home with no friends and only your new husband as family? You should be here, with the ones who love you.//

A light hand against his back disrupted the brooding thoughts. He turned, hoping that maybe…

“Bronwen.”

One delicate, cornsilk-gold eyebrow arched in amusement. “You need not sound so happy to see me, penneth.” She stifled the urge to strike the stubborn elf, who grunted non-commitally. “Sulking is hardly becoming of a warden of the march.”

The young warrior glared and stalked off.

“Rumil!” Bronwen sighed and hurried after him. “Rumil, please!” She tripped on a root. With a muffled curse, she was back up and running. “Blast you, Rumil, STOP!”

He spun around and snarled. “WHAT?” Stifling his wince, he waited for the explosion. “Bronnie…”

She held up her hand. “I know I taught you otherwise. If you ever address another female in the manner with which you just addressed me, I will personally pull you over my knee and redden your backside. Do you comprehend me?”

Chastened, he lowered his eyes. “Aye, madam.”

“Good. Now, if you are ready to stop acting like a spoiled elfling who has not gotten his way, I was about to tell you that you may still be ABLE to get your way.”

Rumil frowned. “How? You heard our Lord, she is to be wed. It is hopeless.”

Bronwen huffed. “Stop being dramatic and listen. ‘To. Be.’ That means it has not happened yet, and therefore YOU still have time. And much can happen in a year.”

She felt a perverse hatred for the hope she saw in his eyes. After all, SHE had been the one to suggest it…

Rumil gripped her shoulders. “Please, Bronnie, you must help me with this. As her handmaiden, you have access to her when I do not. It would not be anything difficult, just acting as go-between. Please?” he begged.

She wanted to say no. Truly, she did. But, in the end, she nodded. She could never deny Rumil. Not as an elfling, and not as an adult. She loved him too much.

Relief lit his face, and he hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Bronnie. I promise, you will not regret this.”

She carefully schooled her features and hugged him back. “Of course.” //Yes I will. I already do.//

~~~

Celebrian looked up at the knock upon her door, brush hanging in mid-air. “Enter!” She smiled warmly as her old nursemaid slipped into the room. “Good morning, Bronwen.”

“Good morning, sweet girl. How fare you?”

The younger elleth winced as she hit a particularly stubborn tangle. “I barely slept a moment last night..”

Bronwen chuckled. “Nervous, I take it?” She placed her tray of food on a nearby table and took the brush from her charge, pulling it through the silver hair.

“Nervous? Surely you jest! I was excited. Still am, actually. I have fancied him since Gil-Galad’s first visit.”

“You mean KING Gil-Galad, correct?”

Celebrian cast an imperious look over her shoulder. “I am not Noldorin, and he is not MY King.”

“Wed his Herald, and he WILL be.”

The young bride-to-be sat in silence, mulling this new development over. She had always seen Amroth, and then her father as her King. Admittedly, Gil-Galad had seemed a nice enough sort of elf, but was she truly ready to change loyalties to someone she barely knew?

Cursing herself for casting doubt into Celebrian’s mind, Bronwen finished styling the silver locks and fetched the food tray. “To break your fast.” She waited until the younger elleth was well into her meal before reaching into her apron pocket. “I was asked to deliver this to you.”

Polishing off her bread, Celebrian reached for the scroll, holding the lily to her nose. She unrolled the parchment.

Join me at our Spot for dinner?

Rumil

She closed her eyes and sniffed the flower.

~~

Bronwen was all but pounced in the kitchens. “Well??”

She blinked. “Well what, impatient one?”

“Bronnie, what did she SAY?”

Bronwen sighed. “She did not SAY anything, Rumil. She sniffed the flower and waved me off.”

Rumil almost vibrated with excitement. “But she did not say no, correct?”

She shook her head. “Nay, Rumil, she did not say ‘no’.”

He smiled from ear to ear. “Thank you, Bronniewen.” He kissed her cheek noisily.

She pushed him away in mock irritation. “Off with you now, silly ellon. I’ve much more to do than simply be your courier all day.”

Laughing, he sauntered off, stealing a muffin cooling on a table as he left.

“You will never win his heart with tactics like that,” a low female voice spoke behind her. Bronwen turned and dropped into a deep curtsey. “My Lady.”

Wise, penetrating eyes peered down at her. “Do you love my heart-son, Bronwen?”

The elleth in question studiously avoided meeting the Lady’s gaze. “Of course I do, Lady. I had a hand in his growing. I love him as my own.”

Galadriel hummed non-commitally.

“Just as I love your daughter,” Bronwen went on. “In fact, when she weds Lord Elrond, I would like to go with her to Imladris. Perhaps having someone from her old home with her will make the settling in easier.”

The Lady of Light frowned slightly. “If that is your true wish, I am certain she would welcome your company. I will send a missive to Imladris immediately notifying its Chief Advisor of your expected arrival.” Her features softened into an amused smile. “Lord Erestor positively despises last minute changes.”

Galadriel turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and Rumil will be dining alone this evening.”

Bronwen bowed her head. “Thank you for the information, my Lady. I will relay it to him immediately.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My daughter’s heart lies elsewhere. This is something he must learn on his own.” She floated away, her mind seeming to have dismissed the subject and moved on to more pressing matters.

Bronwen chewed her lip. “Aye, my Lady.”

~~~

Rumil inspected himself one last time.

Perfect.

He hurried on to the Grove. He and Celebrian had discovered the place as children, and had quickly adopted it as their favorite place to hide from responsibility and punishment (Celebrian had actually been quite the precocious little troublemaker in her youth.) If he hurried, he would make it just in time to finish the final preparations for his dinner with his beautiful Lady.

He sped through the treetops, jumping from branch to branch with the ease of one long accustomed to tree dwelling. Dropping to the ground, he retrieved the bottle of wine chilling beneath the frigid waters of the Silverlode. The basket of cheeses and breads he pulled from a hollowed out tree stump. He pulled two fragile crystal glasses from his pack, filled them with wine, and sat down to wait.

It was well past dusk and Rumil was working on his forth glass of wine when a rustle sounded just outside the clearing. He quickly stood to attention, a broad smile on his face. “Lady, what took yo – Bronwen?”

She stepped into the light self-consciously, tugging at the hem of her blue dress. “Good evening.”

He frowned. “What are you doing here? Where is Lady Celebrian?”

Bronwen looked away. “She could not make it.”

Rumil swallowed the angry comments springing to his lips. “So you came in her place.”

Her smile was hesitant. “No one should have to eat dinner alone.”

Evidently, it was the wrong thing to say. “Please, have a seat.” He walked toward the edge of the clearing.

“Wait, where are you going?”

He turned back, an angry scowl on his face. “I do not need your companionship, Bronwen. And I certainly do not need your pity.” He left her standing in the moonlight.

~~~

It was another twenty years before Bronwen saw Rumil again. The very next day after the disastrous dinner date, he requested a long-term assignment to the borders. He was gone when Celebrian left with her entourage and married Elrond, taking Bronwen with her.

The intervening years were a time for reflection for Bronwen. She need not have worried for Celebrian’s happiness, as Rivendell’s Lord seemed absolutely infatuated with his new bride, and she with him.

Bronwen herself developed friendships in her new home, particularly among the young scribes fostered under Erestor’s exacting eye. However, as much as she may have wished it otherwise, none caught her eye or her heart as much as one stubborn elf from the Golden Wood.

~~~

The Last Homely House was in an uproar. Its Lady had delivered her children barely a week before. Given Elrond’s family history and the size his Lady had grown during her pregnancy, few had been surprised when she delivered twin heirs.

And today, the Lady’s family was expected to arrive. Nervous and edgy, Bronwen spent most of the day with her new charges and their exhausted mother. The delivery had not been an easy one, and Celebrian struggled to regain her strength.

Bronwen was sitting in the windowsill, cooing to a fussy Elrohir when Rumil saw her. He stared, realizing something that had never dawned on him before.

Bronwen was beautiful.

He had always acknowledged her as being passably pretty. All ellith were. But, perhaps it was knowing her his entire life, seeing her on a nearly daily basis, or maybe that his eyes were always focused on his Lady love, but he had never noticed that Bronwen was more than passing fair.

The sight of her with an elfling in her arms, looking so young and happy, struck a chord deep within the stunned warrior. Swallowing, he approached the distracted elleth. “So this is my newest nephew. He is beautiful.”

Bronwen started, jarring the rarely quiet elfling. He let out a loud, indignant cry, quickly echoed by his brother from across the room. A frustrated, exhausted groan joined them.

Bronwen cooed at the wailing Prince, shooting an impatient glance at her companion. “Well? Make yourself useful and grab an elfling. The Lady needs her rest.”

Laughing softly, Rumil went over to where Celebrian hovered over a cradle. “And what do you think YOU are doing, dear sister? Back to bed with you. NOW.”

Celebrian shot him a dirty look, but did as she was told. He chuckled and lifted the fretting infant. “Here now, what is all of this about then?” He held the elfling close and bounced gently. “Such a fussy little prince you are, wearing your Nana out like this.” He offered the elfling his finger.

Distracted by her own crying bundle, it took Bronwen several moments to realize the other cry had been silenced. She looked up and saw Rumil standing next to her, little Elladan sucking on his finger. Elrohir’s own crying stopped abruptly.

Bronwen sighed. “It always amazes me how Elrohir can sense his brother’s presence the way he does. He only really cries when he is separated from Elladan, and Elladan cries because Elrohir cries. Unfortunately for them, I can only handle one at a time.”

“There are few who could understand the bond between twins. I imagine being away from his twin is like being parted from half of his soul. I cannot say as I would be fond of it, either.”

They stood in companionable silence until it was time for the royal nap. They placed the two elflings in their cradle and made to leave the family to its rest.

“Rumil, wait…”

He waited for Bronwen to leave before approaching the bed and sitting next to the exhausted Lady. “Sister, if I may say so, you look horrid.”

She snorted indelicately. “You are no raving beauty yourself, little brother,” came her sleepy reply. She seemed to fall asleep, her eyes half-lidded.

Rumil smiled and kissed her forehead. He made to leave.

“You still do not see it, do you?”

He paused. “See what, dear one?”

“She loves you, fool.”

Rumil smiled and shook his head. “I think you are overtired. She does not love me. Or if she does, it is as a child, not as a mate.”

“Rumil, all of Lothlorien knew of her love for you. Except for you.”

“You are mistaken, Celebrian,” he insisted. “If she loved me as you say, why did she offer to help me pursue you?”

“Is that not a true sign of love? To place another’s happiness over your own?”

He turned to leave, stopping at the door. “Sleep, Celebrian. You are tired, and Lord Elrond would have my innards if I let you overtax yourself.” He disappeared through the door.

“Fool of an elf,” she muttered irritably.

~~~

A grand celebration was held that night, both to commemorate the visiting elves from Lorien and to formally introduce the newborn sons of their Lord and Lady.

Elrond and Celebrian sat at the head of the table during dinner. Just before the dancing began, Elladan and Elrohir were brought down and presented to the waiting elves, who gathered around, eager to meet the young heirs.

Suppressing a yawn, Celebrian whispered something into her husband’s ear. He smiled and nodded, chuckling. “Unfortunately,” he announced, “my Lady is still weakened from her trial and wishes to retire.”

“But, my Lord,” Lindir called out, “who will open up the dance?”

His smile broadened. “Rumil, will you do the honors?”

Unable to find a polite way to decline, Rumil bowed politely in acceptance. “It would be my pleasure, my Lord.” He met Celebrian’s remarkably clear, energized gaze. His nod was brief, barely perceptible.

He looked around the room and smiled, approaching the corner where Bronwen stood, chatting with Melpomaen. He clicked his boot heels sharply and bowed to her, extending his hand. “My Lady. May I have this dance?”

@>~~~ Fin ~~~<@