After a million years, the legends became true...the author is alive and there are stories she is now eager to share. Bahahahahaha! Another lovely request idea from CurleyCue17 I have never thought to write one for this guy but I'm willing to give it a go haha. Oh and this is her OC! I am honored to have been granted her character. Again, I hope I don't butcher her...

Lindir refrained from vocally groaning as he watched the horde of dwarves sit themselves around the table, their filthy clothes and unsanitary beards already soiling the fine cushions and table cloths. It was going to take days for the stench to be washed out of them, if not beaten with a broom. And they hadn't even started eating yet.

Biting the inside of his cheek, the tall adviser of Rivendell took a small step back, doing his best to breath out of his mouth rather than nose as Lord Elrond started talking to the thirteen....guests. Lindir was highly against this, alas it was not his place to advise the lord of Rivendell to whom he may or may not host at his table. However, that being said, Lindir was very much in his place to interact with them as little as he dared and distance himself as much as respect allowed. If he looked off to the trees and thought bout anything but what was going on at the table, Lindir thought for the first time that evening that he might be able to withstand this interaction until they got tired and gone off to bed.

 That is, if dwarves go to bed. 

It wasn't until he heard his name that Lindir let his attention turn to the table for a moment before facing Lord Elrond. The graceful leader nearly smiled at the pain that Lindir thought he had kept hidden off his face. 

"You look as bothered as I feel." Elrond swallowed a laugh. "However, I am going to need you to bring some other food for our guests. They do not seem satisfied by what we have for them. I am sure Gelsrae will have some sort of meat stored for such occasions."

Just as Lindir was about to bow and leave, Lord Elrond's hand reached out and grabbed hold of his adviser's wrist, his grip strong but not painful. He leaned to the side, keeping his eyes on the dwarves as he spoke in a low voice. 

"Do be swift. I already envy your slight reprieve from," he waved a hand to the table, no words needed. 

"My lord," Lindir bowed, trying his best to not seem too eager to leave the loud hoard of dwarves and their cries for proper food despite the greens and fruits being what they needed more than any leg of some animal. Even his son knew how to behave at the table and he had only passed his fifth birthday.

Lindir wished Gelsrae had not been so eager to share his meat supply, quickening the trip by tenfold as he mustered all his huntsmen and carvers to help bring the food to the hungry dwarves. Now they stood there, watching the guests eat eagerly, laughing loudly and smacking their lips with gusto. Lindir could no longer keep the sneer of disgust off his face as he watched them. He did not get paid enough for his. 

There was a yell at the end of the table, bringing everyone's attention to them. There was a sudden up rawer followed by laughter and the unmistakable sound of food being thrown. Lindir watched with unmatched horror at the mess they were making, Lord Elrond hiding his face behind his hand. But where the leader of the Rivendell elves was laughing, Lindir about cried. 

Suddenly a handful of mashed potatoes came flying through the air and would have hit Lindir had he not moved, the solid sound of it hitting the statue behind him. His eyes stayed glued to the food slowly falling down the leg of the statue, a small whimper escaped his lips.

~~~~~

Gilrean cooed at the small bundle in her arms as Alastre ran around and between her legs, waving his wooden knives around. He let out a battle cry to the pillows he had surrounded the three of them with, his hair falling out of the loosely braided plaid down his back. Gilrean couldn't help but laugh, reaching down to pat her son's head.

"You are being an amazing guard, but your sister is wishing to join you rather than sleep. Do make it seem less exciting so that she may rest and we may continue to defend the home."

Alastre smiled up at his mom then furrowed his brow, raising his voice slightly. "Oh no. This is so hard and boring. I don't want to do this any more!" He looked at his mother and waved his knife as if to remind her that he did not at all think this was boring. She smiled and nodded her head. Alastre put a hand to his mouth and whispered loudly. "You should sleep, sister, it is not fun anymore."

Gilrean bit back a laugh as her son went back to defending but this time moving slowly and quietly, glancing up at his sister to make sure she no longer found it fun. As it were, Silestre had fallen asleep, a small smile on her pink lips as her brother quickly forgot his task of being quiet. Softly stepping over the pillow wall, Gilrean proceeded to put her small one in her room, shutting the door quietly before heading to the kitchen to make her son a small meal before dinner. 

But the sound of the front door opening and the sound of "FATHER" echoing through the small house redirected Gilrean's steps. She smiled as she watched her husband kneel down and take his son into his arms, closing his eyes as he held him close. 

"How is my warrior son?"

Alastre stepped back and brandished his wooden weapon, smiling wide. "Mother fixed it and I have been keeping her and sister safe. But I had to help sister know that it wasn't fun. Only brother can do unfun things so she can sleep."

Lindir smiled and brushed stray hairs from his son's face. Gilrean leaned against the wall and smiled a bit more. Despite her husband detesting the idea of war and anything louder than a gentle laugh, she loved him all the more for supporting their son who wished to be just like his grandfather, her father who happened to be the captain of the guard. Perhaps Silestre will go the more diplomatic route. 

Alastre continued to talk and show his father battle moves and quite versions of his battle cries. But it wasn't until he started running around did Gilrean notice that her husband looked like he was about to collapse. With quiet steps, she approached him, reaching a hand down to help him up. 

"It looks like our son wasn't the only one who went to war today."

At hearing his wife's voice, Lindir looked up and instantly every weight on his shoulders lifted and he smiled. He placed his slightly trembling hand into her calloused one. He loved how real her hands felt. Like she was more than just a gentle woman but his wife and partner in all that he went through. 

And now, more than ever, he needed her. 

"Gilrean," he breathed, coming to his feet. Her hand squeezed his and she smiled at him. "You grow more beautiful every day." 

Gilrean's heart skipped a beat, her cheeks warming. Despite having been married for nearly seven years, Lindir still seemed to have the charm to make her feel like a young married couple again. She never wished it away. 

"Thank you, dear husband. Now come to the kitchen and let us get you something to eat. Your night clothes are clean and on the bed should you like to change into those a bit early."

A smile pulled at his lips as he leaned forward an pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, her smell filling his senses. "Thank you, dear wife."

Alastre trotted in, a stick horse between his legs, his eyes wide. "Father! Did you know grandfather is out on patrol this week? One day I am going to join him." Then with not so much as wanting to hear a reply, he went off, making horse noises as he disappeared. 

Husband and wife looked on as smiles set softly on their lips. Lindir reached out and enveloped his wife. "I am going to wash up and change. I can put Alastre to bed tonight."

Gilrean nodded against Lindir's chest. "I will get him ready as you eat."

With one more kiss to the forehead, Lindir went to their room and Gilrean left for the kitchen, her skin still tingling where his kiss lingered. 

"Come, Alastre, time for supper then a bath."

~~~~

Lindir leaned against the door frame, his arms folded as his head lulled to the side. Alastre asked for three stories all about the little hairy men who sing loud songs. Lindir would have objected had the awe in his son's eyes not won his heart over. So Lindir spared no expenses in describing them as grossly and obnoxious as he could. But that only made his adventurous son wish to meet fascinating foreign creatures. Now Alastre lay with his swords by his head, his long hair bound high just as he likes should he need to jump to action at any given moment. 

Gilrean came up behind her husband, wrapping her arms around him, laying her head on the back of his shoulder. "You are a horrible father."

Lindir's relaxation to his wife's touch suddenly froze at her words. He opened his mouth to ask why she thought such a thing but her silent laughter made his brows pinch instead.

"You were trying so hard to make him feel the way you do about all things different. How long will it for you to accept the fact that your son will be bringing home weird creatures before a gentle wife."

Lindir couldn't help but laugh as he turned around, collecting Gilrean in his arms. Reaching up, he stroked some hair behind her ear. "There is a very large part of me that believes that "gentle" will not be the first thing we will use to describe his wife. If he isn't too busy traveling the world to get married."

Gilrean narrowed her eyes playfully. "There is a very large part of me that knows someone that did just that when she met the man that grounded her without clipping her wings."

Warmth blushed his cheeks as he cleared his throat. "He does wonder how in the greatness of the Creator that happened in the first place."

Gilrean smiled wide as she pulled away, slipping her hand in his as she closed the door to their son's room. "Have I not told you about the story of the girl who lived in the trees finding the most beautiful stone of a man in the river of life that threatened to drown her."

Lindir's eyes widened as they made their way to their own room. "There is hardly any reason to be so dramatic about it. Besides," his voice lowered as he scratched the back of his head, "I was not that much of a rock."

Gilrean's brows rose. "You refused to do anything more than study, scribe, and take a walk around the inner gardens for exactly forty five minutes. Not a second more. You also never wore anything more than the color of cold rice stew."

The both of them laughed quietly at the memory of the first time Gilrean had eaten with him, spilling her stew all over him and them having a hard time finding where it spilled due to the miraculous color similarity. Lindir looked at his wife as she held her hand over her smiling mouth to keep her laughter down, her eyes sparkling brighter than all of the lights of Lothlorian. Suddenly the trepidation, stress, and anxiety of the day fell away in that river that Gilrean had found him in. 

Before he lost himself in the memory of the day they met, he closed the gap between them. In one fail swoop grasped her hand away from her mouth, interlacing their fingers as he eagerly pressed his lips against hers. Gilrean's eyes widened and she paused but just as quickly closed her eyes and pressed closer to him. They both smiled into the kiss, Gilrean stepping forward as Lindir walked back, pushing their door open to their bed room. Gilrean then closed it behind her without pulling away, her smile growing wider.