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~ Harp and Wave ~
Love by the Sea
By Tuxedo Elf
(Disclaimer: Characters and world belong to Tolkien, not us!)
“Are you ready?” Círdan looked down at Lindir and smiled lovingly. He was eager to go – he had been awake for some hours now, unable to sleep with almost childlike excitement. Though he had managed to put the extra hours to good use – a picnic breakfast was now packed into the wicker basket he was clutching in one hand.
Biting his lip, Lindir took a deep breath and nodded. “I am ready.” Círdan extended his free hand and Lindir took it, pulling himself up. Once standing, he glanced down at his light blue robe, frowning a little. “It feels strange,” he commented.
“You will get used to it soon enough,” Círdan chuckled. Lindir’s new robe only fell to mid-calf – a far more practical design when walking along the seashore. Though he had opted to wear leggings today, they were of about the same length as the robe. Neither wore shoes – they would not be needing them.
“I am sure I will,” Lindir replied, smiling at his mate and brushing an imaginary speck of dust off the brown tunic. “Shall we go, then?” He glanced at the door, feeling both excited and nervous.
“Absolutely,” Adjusting his grip on the picnic basket, Círdan led Lindir to the door, pushing it open and letting a gust of sea air rush over them.
Outside it was a beautiful day – warm and sunny despite the early hour. A few fluffy white clouds sat in the sky and the breeze was soft and pleasant. The beach was an unbroken stretch of soft white sand that led into the vast expanse of blue-green sea, which glittered in the morning sunlight.
The couple stood on the front decking of their seaside cottage, taking in the beauty for a long moment. No matter how many days that passed, this never ceased to take their breath away and seeing it together always made it that much more special.
Eventually Círdan tugged lightly at Lindir’s hand, pulling him towards the two small steps to the beach. Together they walked down, until they stood at last on the warm sand.
Here Lindir paused, looking out at the beach before him.
“Come on.” Círdan led him down the beach slowly, letting his beloved mate take as long as he wished. After all, today was for him, even though he shared in the minstrel’s joy.
Lindir walked slowly, savouring the feel of the sand under his feet and between his toes. He looked in wonder at his own footprints, something he had once feared he would never see again. How many years had passed since he had last walked along this beach? He did not care to remember – it was too long. Ever since he had first started to heal he had dreamed of this. So much so that his bonded had picked up on his wishes and brought him here so they would be ready when the day came.
That day was today.
All the stumbling, clumsy steps of the previous months seemed worthwhile now; the frustrations caused by learning to walk again now only a distant memory. He was here, walking along the beach on his own, the hand holding his there through choice, not necessity. He was strong again.
Círdan would argue that Lindir had always been strong, even in the dark days when he was first injured. Yet it was plain to see what this meant to the minstrel, the light that shone in his eyes was so bright it could not be ignored. He took utter delight in watching Lindir’s every step, marvelling at the gracefulness with which he carried himself.
“Here.” Suddenly, Lindir stopped, smiling broadly. “This is it.”
Looking around, Círdan wondered how he knew. “You are sure?” he asked.
“Quite certain,” Lindir replied. Turning his gaze from the sea to his lover, he reached up to touch Círdan’s face. “This is where we first met.”
Setting the basket down, Círdan took Lindir’s small hand in his much larger one. “Then it is the perfect spot.” The beauty of the sea was lost on Círdan as he gazed adoringly at Lindir. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Lindir replied. “Thank you, for never giving up on me, even when I did.”
Círdan shook his head at the words. “Never. I could never give up on you. Just like you never gave up on me.”
“We’re a good match then.” There was an undertone of amusement in Lindir’s voice, though he meant every word.
“We are.” Círdan agreed and he leaned down, claiming his minstrel’s lips in a sweet kiss, as they stood together by the sea.