Valinor, 10 Fourth Age
Rúmil of Lórien took pride in a job well-done. He had always done so. But when it was done out of love rather than duty, his heart swelled. So now, as he regarded a group of children of various ages heading for the large classroom Fingolfin had built in the center of his garden, he felt more than self-satisfaction; he felt truly alive, as if the smallest particles of his body were connected to the rest of Arda.
His plan had been a success. Not all the communities had adhered in the first year. Many had scorned him and Fingolfin, but he had persisted. When the first Summer came, the children were sent home. The next Fall, they were bringing along their little friends and relatives. Rúmil and Fingolfin had some trouble in organizing all the practical aspects: beds were missing, teachers were hard to come by. Galadriel, at first reluctant in involving herself in something so big, quickly joined her quick and resourceful thinking to their efforts.
Often the children themselves contributed to the resolutions of these small daily problems. They were stimulated to always think for themselves and to respect others. All others. Sometimes a few kerfuffles arose. Instead of punishing the students, Rúmil and Fingolfin had devised a student's court, composed of a table of no less than five children. No race was allowed to be predominant in number in those courts and both parties were carefully listened to. At first the court members themselves almost started new wars, but rapidly they learned respect, then affection. Now, as Rúmil looked upon them, they barely acknowledged their differences or any prejudice any more.
There were of course little groups within the group. Those were inevitable. But they were mostly mixed groups. There were no ill-feelings between them, and that was what mattered the most.
Rúmil heard the door opening behind him, then being softly closed.
"I thought I might find you here," Fingolfin said in his rich, warm voice.
Rúmil glanced back with a smile. "I like watching their antics."
Fingolfin came closer. "And I like watching you watch."
Rúmil turned to face him. "I'll be leaving tomorrow, then."
"You needn't do that, Rúmil," Fingolfin said, stepping back. "You shouldn't do that. You have a place here, that you have made for yourself."
Rúmil gazed at his feet. "We've been through this before."
"Yes, we have. And I told you how I feel."
Fingolfin forced Rúmil's chin up. There they were, those impossibly blue eyes and that mane of liquid gold. Fingolfin made him feel washed out in color, so radiant was his beauty. Rúmil bit his lip.
"And when your lady wife returns from Mandos?"
"Dear Erú. Countless times I told you this is not going to happen. Rúmil, I begged and pleaded for her to join me for countless years. Her reply was always the same. Her break of faith in me was irretrievable. I was angry, then sad. Today, I think that I can understand her feelings, though I still think they were no valid cause to relinquish life as it is. But it is her choice. She will not return, believe me."
"Your children, your brother?"
Fingolfin laughed bitterly. "You are relentless, aren't you? My brother is happy as long as I'm not disputing his kingship. I won't. He turned out to be a much wiser king than I ever was. My children... Turgon won't like it, but Fingon... I think he could understand. Aredhel might never know, so keen that she is in moping in Mandos instead of enjoying the glorious gift of life."
Fingolfin let his fingers slide from Rúmil's chin to his cheek in a slow caress. "Yield. You want to. You wanted it when I visited you last night..." Fingolfin deposited a kiss on Rúmil's lips. Rúmil responded, a slow fire building between them, but then he broke the kiss as a wave of laughter reached them.
"What if the parents of these children find out?" he asked, glancing outside. "How many of them do you think would understand or tolerate. It could be the end of your dream."
"We can be careful," Fingolfin replied. "And we'll fight that battle when it comes our way."
Again he closed the distance between them with a kiss. "Rúmil, I shared a dream with you and you made it bloom beyond the measure of imagination. Now don't let this wilt. Come, there is pleasure to be had, but most of all there is love to be shared. I trust you more than myself. Yield to me for more than a few fleeting moments in the night."
"I will think about it." Rúmil said as he parted. "Maybe I should go today."
Fingolfin followed him and stopped him before he left the room. "You stay tonight."
Rúmil nodded and left.
The moon descended the sky when Rúmil left his bed. It was a chilly dawn, so he dressed quickly. Fingolfin said something in his sleep but did not wake. Rúmil looked at his scantily covered body, and wished he could stay. The gold of Fingolfin's hair turned to old silver under the cold light but it was no less beautiful. Rúmil tried to engrave the memory in his mind as he softly closed the door.
Alqualondë. Rúmil had ridden until the sun rose to Galadriel's house, only to find it empty. He had considered staying all the same, since officially he still belonged to her house, but the empty walls were little comfort for his troubled mind. So he rode up north along the shore to the Swan Haven, to reach it late in the afternoon. He could have chosen no better time, had he tried. The sun painted the water, the ships and the walls of lovely shades from peach to tender rose.
Rúmil's eyes took in the beauty but his heart did not feel it. He waved and nodded distractedly as he rode along the main road, heading for the Lady Galadriel's abode. He barely noticed the change accorded to him – that had been food for thought on other occasions – but he was far from being the withdrawn Marchwarden of before. He was not invisible, but rather known to all who had children in Fingolfin's house and more.
When he reached the entrance to the palace, the Lady Galadriel already awaited him.
"Rúmil, my friend."
Rúmil bowed deeply. She laughed, her deep sad laughter. "Will you never stop being that formal? I thought that uncle Fingolfin was working on that."
Rúmil forced a smile as he followed her into the house.
"So what caused this impromptu visit, my friend," she asked him as she led him to her private parlour. "Not that it's unwelcome, of course."
"Nothing, I just needed some time for myself, for a change." Rúmil knew he had said too much. In fact he knew he did not have to say anything for her to know that something was amiss and what it was exactly. Galadriel respected his reserve, though. She conversed of many trivial matters, mostly related to the school. She tried hard to keep her distance, under the pretext of needing peace and quiet, but she had completely surrendered to the idea, and could not hide her enthusiasm. Rúmil liked to see her so alive.
As if reading his thoughts, and she probably had, Rúmil realized, she observed, "My uncle seems to have been born for a third time, so full of life he is. He positively glows."
Rúmil stayed quiet.
"You don't agree?" she insisted.
"Oh, yes, yes I do. He does look happy."
Galadriel smiled. "Rúmil. I'm dying to meddle, you know? But those days are over for me." She rose from her chair as Rúmil sank on his.
"I'm dying to formally discharge you from my service and bind you to my uncle's house. Then you'd have no choice but to stay there by his side."
Rúmil hid his face in his hands with a deep sigh.
"You know, under all that equality and union between the people's talk of his, my uncle was not that much of an egalitarian before you two met. And I must admit neither am I for most of the time. But you, with your discrete and modest ways, managed to rub our noses in this simple truth – social class has no role in being extraordinary... though it might help getting you into the history books," she added with a wink.
"Rúmil, darling..." She came closer and softly played with his hair, as if he were a child. "Don't be stubborn. You don't know what incredible gifts you might miss."
She walked to her chair and sat down regarding him intently. "There. I meddled, though I promised I wouldn't. Aren't you going to say anything?"
Rúmil shook his head, but then he cleared his throat. "I don't think people will accept."
"Many won't," she agreed. She gave him time to continue, but he stayed quiet, much like before he had met Fingolfin and his life had changed.
"Did I ever tell you about my marriage to Celeborn," she asked after a few moments. "Thingol's Sindar took it very well. Their king was married to a goddess, why wouldn't a prince of theirs marry a simple daughter of a king? My kin, however..." Galadriel sighed. "Well, we still love and respect each other. We, together, outlasted foes, empires, lands, ages of time."
"I'm not you," Rúmil sighed.
"Of course not. You are you, so you'll have to do your own thing. But, you won't be able to do it here in my house, no matter how well-esteemed and welcomed you are. I'm not refusing you my hospitality in any way, but I think it's time you go home. And accept it, all of it."
Rúmil lowered, his head defeated but he was not disappointed. It was hard to be so when one was forced to accept his heart's desire.
When Rúmil entered his room it was way past midnight. He realized his horse had reasons to despise him, but he hoped that a few carrots would appease him in time. He had always been like that: he took ages weighing his motives, his fears, his constraints, but when he made a decision, he put it in practice swiftly, not so much out of fear of his feet running cold, but because if something was worth doing, it was worth doing now.
The curtains were closed, so he clumsily walked to his desk and tried to light a candle. A groan came from the bed as response to the loud thump of the candle holder as it hit the ground.
"Fin?" he asked not believing. "What are you doing in my bed?"
"Rúmil?" Fingolfin tried to contain a yawn. "I wasn't expecting you so soon. I mean," he quickly emended, "I wasn't even sure if I should expect you back, ever..."
Rúmil found the bed in the dark and sat on the side of the mattress, fumbling the linens for Fingolfin. "Well, I'm back. To stay," he said as he found a naked thigh.
"Good," a sleepy Fingolfin said. "Now come here."
"I reek of horse."
Fingolfin sat up. "Damn, will you ever stop putting obstacles to every thing?"
Despite the dark, Rúmil knew he teased; his voice rang of laughter.
"Would you want me if I was less complicated?" he quipped.
"I would always want you."
Fingolfin pulled him close and kissed him. "Now come to bed."
Finis
November 2006
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