Fic: The Simbelmynë
The Simbelmynë
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A/N: This is a little fic that was swirling into my head and I just had to write it. I hope you enjoy it. And yes it’s a Legolas/Eowyn story, so if you don’t like the idea of this pairing, refrain from reading and don’t flame. Also, English is not my native language, so if you notice errors, don’t hesitate to tell me.
Elvish - Meleth nin: my love in Sindarin.
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Eowyn walked swiftly, she seemed unaware of the cold wind swirling around her. Her grief was still too near, and she needed to find a shred of peace. She slowed as she saw the tombs lying under the grass of the plain, covered in lovely white flowers. The rohirric lady had changed her gown, the dark clothing she wore for Théodred’s funeral felt too heavy on her shoulders and she had chosen instead a light blue dress, her tall and slender frame creating a soft contrast on the green of the burial place.
She shivered, her eyes lost between loving memories of her late cousin and the uncertainty of the immediate future.
“Darkness is coming”, she murmured bitterly, “Oh, Theodred, how we are in desperate need of hope, but I am unable to conjure none for myself in this hour. The Westfold is burning, the king wants us to leave for Helm’s Deep to sustain the attacks of Saruman’s army. I fear for the worst”
She fell on her knees and felt wetness on her face; she realized the tears she had been holding for so long were now flowing freely.
A shadow at her side suddenly startled her, she looked up and her eyes fell on the sylphic form of the wood elf, who was gazing at her intently.
“Lord Legolas!” she stammered, rising to her feet as fast as she could, the shame of her temporary weakness bringing a red colour to her pale cheeks.
The maiden eyed the elf of Mirkwood shyly, wondering what he was thinking of her behaviour. Even if she did not quite understand why, she did not want him to see her as a mere woman in need of protection, like the men in Rohan often did.
“Do not be embarrassed My Lady” he told Eowyn softly, and his tone held no pity, and his ageless blue eyes were full of tenderness. “We are experiencing tough times, and my heart is bleeding with you and your people.”
And without warning, Legolas took her in his arms, whispering soothing words in his native tongue. She melted in the surprising warmth of his hard body, and all the poisoning events of her last months within the cold walls of Méduseld seemed to vanish. Gone were the poisoning words and clammy hands of Grima Wormtongue, the anger of her brother’s banishment seemed to be toned down and the sorrow of her cousin’s passing tasted bittersweet.
She relished the light of the Firstborn she barely knew, and when the wood elf took her face in his hands, his lips shadowing hers, she closed the space between them and kissed him, softly, almost reverently, as if she was receiving a precious gift.
The couple lingered as the night was slowly falling upon them. Eowyn smiled sweetly at Legolas, her lips swollen by their kisses.
He picked up one of the white flowers at their feet and studied it carefully:
“This is how I see you, meleth nin” he said, looking at the lovely woman, “Slender, tall and white and with a tender heart. You are my simbelmynë.”
And for the first time in months, Eowyn smiled, really smiled, as they left hand in hand back to the King’s Hall.
Whatever her future held, she was ready to face it, with Legolas at her side."