Hoofs pounded the ground, a synchronous rhythm that flooded their ears as they looked ever forward towards Falathlorn, the wedding, the guests, the party tree, everything barely a memory now. They rode two astride, and had it been a race it would have been too close to judge. There was no talking, no discussion, no need for it, with the exception of one word uttered by Valanyonnen just before he pulled the reigns slightly, leading them across an open field away from the path. "Shortcut."
However tired they were when they left the festivities, the brisk ride invigorated them. Usually accustomed to tending to his own mount, Bainith only too gladly handed his reigns over to the neighborhood stable master a moment after Valanyonnen did, and the two of them continued swiftly on foot to the cozy two-story house they now both referred to as home.
Bainith reflected momentarily how easily that had happened, from the Shire, to Bree, to ending almost every night nestled in silk sheets, and on the best of those nights, wrapped in Valanyonnen's arms. He set his pack down on the trunk near the door, the very same one he had somehow thought was going to be sufficient for a voyage across the sea. Now it was stuffed with a robe that was destined to remain shoved in the bottom drawer of a dresser. He would worry about wrinkles later; at the moment he was more interested in removing what he was wearing, including the floral wreath that neatly crowned his head. As he pulled a second pin and tossed it onto the table at the center of the room, Valanyonnen scooped them up and stayed his hand. "No reason to be so eager to take this off," he said, using the pins to anchor the headpiece again. "All in due time, anxious little halfling." He winked and left Bainith blushing at the foot of the stairs as he tiredly yet gracefully climbing the steps.
"The ceremony was wonderful," he called down as Bainith checked to be sure he had not forgotten anything at the party tree. "Everything seemed to go perfectly. There was one small problem," he was heard saying, a teasing afterthought.
"What was that?" called up Bainith worriedly.
Valanyonnen peered down around the corner of the steps so that Bainith could just see him from the nose up, missing the smirk on his face, but catching the playfulness and sincerity in his eyes. "No one is supposed to be more beautiful than the bride. How dare you show her up!"
"I did not mean to.." began Bainith, but he was interrupted by a low chuckle that resonated down the stairway. "Besides," he added after a split second, blushing right to the tips of his ears, "you are at fault for the same thing."
An arm curled around the stairway, a hand reached out and one finger coyly beckoned Bainith up the stairs. He would deny Valanyonnen nothing, desire overpowering all other senses and emotions, and Bainith willingly followed his lover up the steps to their blissful canopied haven.
-end-
Story Notes:
LOTRO-verse