Lindir quickly made his way to the little spot that he had first spoken to the unusual female dwarf. That first night, he and (Y/n) had spoken until the sun had risen; the equerry only leaving her when his duties had called him away. He had discovered so much about her, that night; that she disliked one Mirkwood elf in particular, but no others; telling him that it would not be right to think all elves were bad just because a certain elvenking had banished her mother and refused to help her kin when the dragon had taken their home. That she knew very little about her mother, or where she had gone after she left Erebor. About her life in the Blue Mountains. And that the reason that she was on the quest with her family, was because even Thorin Oakenshield knew better than to argue with her. Lindir even finding himself laughing at some of her stories, about the way that she spoke of things. The ellon discovering that his intrigue, his desire to know more about her, only grew with every passing moment; and that was why he was ignoring the looks of the other elves as he made his way to find (Y/n), that morning. The pair having met every day that the company had been in Imladris; it now feeling as though it was as much a part of his day as any other. Yet this time, instead of finding the beautiful half-dwarf, half-elf princess in the secluded little grove, all he found was her harp laying on the stone bench. Lindir looking around for her, even calling out her name, before making his way over to the instrument. His brows furrowing as he found two rolled up scrolls attached to it. The ellon taking a seat and opening the first, to find that it was a letter.

Mellon nin Lindir,

I am sorry that you have to find out this way; but by the time you read this, we will be gone from here.

I so wish that I could have remained in Rivendell longer; but the Mountain calls and we have but a little time left to do what we must.

I confess that I fear what is ahead of us; I sense that whatever is to come, will far overshadow all that we have already been through, and given that, I have left my harp in hopes that you will take care of it for me. I cannot see that such a thing will be needed on the rest of this journey; and if the worst comes to the worst, well, I would like you to have the one thing I have left of my mother. I feel that it that there are no better hands than your, for it to pass to. See it as a thank you for the kindness that you have shown me, since I have been in your wonderful home.

I pray to Mahal, to the Valar that one day you and I will get to meet again, my friend; but until then, I have left you a composition I penned. A mix of my own strange dwarf and elf music. I hope you like it.

Your strange dwarf.

Lindir felt his heart drop, as he read her words. A part of him had hoped that she would stay in Imladris. That she would stay with him, when the rest of the Company took their leave. But he knew that he should have known that she would follow her family, even if it meant her death; the notion of it, of never seeing her again, affecting him more than he had ever thought such a thing could. The equerry not realising until that moment, how much the half-elven, dwarf, had come to mean to him. His fingers ghosting over the harp as he reached for the second scroll. Opening it to see the music that had been placed onto the parchment; the ellon able to hear the tune, as he looked over the delicately drawn notes. The song speaking to him of the princess; of the wonderful mix of both worlds, she was. Lindir picking up the harp and promising himself that he would not only learn the song, learn to play like her; but that one day, he would give the instrument back to her, in person.

                                                    >>-----------------------------------<<

(Y/n) sat next to the small fire that had been lit, doing her best to ignore the snoring of the others. Rivendell seemed so far away now; or should that be Lindir seemed so far away now. From the moment that she had seen him making his way down the staircase to greet Gandalf, she had been taken with the dark haired ellon; there something about the equerry that had nothing to do with his undoubted beauty, but more his kind soul and spirit that had appeared greater to her, than even her surroundings. The princess not appreciating how much he had come to mean to her, in such a short time, until she knew that she would probably never get to see him again; that she could well lose her life any time. But at least her harp was safe; the one possession of her mother's that she had, now in the hands of someone she knew, would appreciate it. The princess letting out a heavy sigh, before throwing one of the few sticks that they had been able to find, into the dancing flames, then down onto her bed roll. The last thought as she closed her eyes, being of a certain elf that she had left behind.