The city of Minas Tirith was a cliff built fortress of the white stone on open plains of grass covered valley. It dominated the landscape and the white stone shone under the golden sunlight as the dusk set in. Namir watched the golden light gleam on the angles of buildings and the gloom settle over the blood strewn battlefield. What had been grass covered plains was scorched and covered in the corpses of the dead. Riders of Rohan, men from the south, orcs and Oliphaunts. All of them littered the earth and watered the grass with their blood. Everything equal in death.

Namir's eyes traced the distant figures of people finding the corpses of their friends, family, lovers. They weaved across the dead plain like ants. Shadows in the distance from this level if it wasn't for his sharp cat eyes. His tail flicked as he watched them cluster together then separate, ears twitching. "What are you watching?" Legolas' voice broke his stare. The large black cat turned his head to watch the elf.

The blonde was drying his damp hair. It hung over his shoulders half in a towel, leaving damp spots on his night shirt. Namir leaned over, one paw steading himself where he was balanced on the thick stone wall of the balcony of their room, and ran his cheek against the elf's shoulder. Legolas made a small fond noise, an exhale of air and leaned his head closer. Their foreheads pressed together for a moment. Namir closed his eyes and let a purr rumble his throat. "Your turn for the bath", the elf reminded.

Namir replied with a sniff and pulled away. Legolas laughed. "You're still sticky with orc blood. Miog. Come on".

Namir flicked his tail. Legolas narrowed his blue eyes. "I am not kissing you until you've bathed. You know this rule. You ripped an orc's throat with your teeth".

Namir huffed and turned to hop down onto the stone floor. His paws padding into their room. It was a simple guest room in the castle at the top of the citadel. All white stone inside as well as out. A fourposter bed with heavy drapes. A roaring fire set into the opposite wall. A set of furniture all matching carved oak, ornate and far richer than Namir was normally used to. Not that he cared. He did not care for wealth in the same way as humans seemed to. Legolas closed the balcony doors behind him as he followed the panther through to the room adjourning the bedroom.

The bathing room was smaller. Big enough for another door, a copper tub big enough for a human to lie back in, and a table of soaps. He heard Legolas stop in the doorway as Namir stretched and changed. His body shifting and reforming until he was in human form, standing naked by the tub. He pressed a hand into the steaming water, the servants already come and gone with warm water. He stepped in, long hair trailing in waves down to the back of his thighs, unbound and sticky with dried orc blood. It floated on the water as he sunk down to submerged himself fully, tossing his limbs so that the water's surface was unbroken, hanging over him like glass.

Namir held his breath and enjoyed the silence and warmth of being underwater for a moment. Then Legolas' face ripped above him and he slowly surfaced. The droplets rolling over his skin as the elf reached down to comb his hair out. Namir sat up and busied himself with brushing his teeth with the brush and the cup of water left on the table while the blonde began washing out his hair. He was still unused to the length and had yet to bother to learn how to properly care of it, though he suspected that Legolas had taken on the chore with such gusto because it made him feel secure. The elf played with Namir's hair far more than he did his own. Twisting it into braids, washing it, combing oils through the wavy tresses so that it shone healthily. It was a grounding mechanism, it reassured Legolas that Namir was actually there.

He spat the mixture of charcoal, salt and mint that flavoured the toothpaste they had been given back into the cup and set it aside. Legolas had finished washing his hair and was now rinsing it all out with clean water from a bucket on the floor. Namir tilted his head back and let the purrs build in his throat as the water cascaded down his back. "Are we close to the end?" He asked after a moment, voice breaking the comfortable silence that had hung between them.

"I hope so", Legolas replied. "Even to me, this has been a long journey. I wish to take you home now".

Namir let himself think of home. His father, the animals that surround their cottage. The way the sun shone over the garden in spring. How the branches of Mirkwood tangled and wove around each other. The bees that flew lazily over head and the mice that squeaked across the dining table. The beams where he had left claw marks and the warmth of his bed. The scents and sounds of his father moving around the house. He missed it all. Back in Isengard it had ached so much it physically hurt. He refused to think too much on it, lest it leave him a wreck.

Namir raised one hand to press lightly to the thick burn scars across his neck. "I wish to go home too". There was an illogical hesitation in his voice. A stupid anxiety. What would his father think of the slavery scars that now adorned him? He did not want to cause the old bear any more pain or disappointment.

Legolas must have read it on him, or felt a stirring of it through the bond. "Your father loves you very much. He will be glad that you have returned". The water stopped and was replaced with the elf's fingers gently weaving the strands together.

"Does he know?"  He did not need to specify what.

"I sent him a letter when we were in Rohan. I told him that I have found you and that we would return after our quest is finished".

Namir hummed in answer and turned around, dislodging the braids from Legolas' grasp. His mate frowned at him for a second before welcoming the kiss that Namir pressed to his lips. The water sloshing as he leaned over the edge of the tub. The kiss was warm, deep and familiar like the warm cocooning darkness of your room on the verge of sleep. Namir leaned back to break it but the elf pressed forwards to return the kiss with another. Namir chuckled as he broke off the second kiss, eyes still closed. "You're going to get wet", he warned.

Legolas sighed. "Wash up. Let me finish your braids and then come to bed, Radag". His tone too soft for it to be a demand, yet it was not a question either.

Cats did not like being told what to do but Namir would make exceptions. Especially if it was something he wanted. He let out a confirming purr and turned back around to continue scrubbing the flakes of orc blood from his skin as behind him, Legolas wove stars into his hair.

Unedited

Just a cute little chapter for you to start the new year.

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