°°°Autumn beauty°°°
Friends, @crowrelli has made me the happiest woman today by sending me the rendition of a silly little idea of mine...
Autumn is upon us and I want all of you to start into it well and happily, so I give you...The very soul of autumn comfort...
Ori...❤️❤️❤️
I love him so much, that I've even written him a tiny one-shot...
I found him in a little nook by the window, the autumn leaves mirroring the myriad colours of his warmth.
Subdued, they said, whenever referencing a man they called “Little brother” behind his back, but Ori had a melody of his own to me.
Far from being like a roaring storm, Ori was the sound of my own breathing and the beat of that broken heart within my chest.
Looking up, he let his eyes rest on my face for just the shortest of moments before drawing his legs up for me to snuggle into the space he had created so generously.
“Hi.” He mumbled; his voice muffled by the sempiternal book in his hands. Ori was a man faithful to his books.
“Was it a bad one?” He asked gently, handing me his steaming cup with one of those shy smiles that fell like a cloak around my shivering soul. Oh, sure, there were dwarrows who were like wildfires – fierce and dazzling – but this one, the one I’d come back to each and every time, he was like a hearth.
Ori was home. Ori was the smell of warm wool and hot beverages; he felt like sun-warmed moss rather than unforgiving stone, and he spoke with the soft murmur of fall rains rather than the screeching storms of winter gales.
Every rushing river needed a riverbank, every tall tree was rooted in fertile earth, and every story had a chronicler besides the obvious hero.
He was the strength that didn’t need to thunder its prowess; he was the steady presence that chased the chills of a windy autumn day.
“It was.” I sighed. Another bad day, another nightmare.
With another one of those discreet smiles, he handed me my favourite book, set aside already…just in case, as he’d say.
Yes, there were dwarrows like swords, dwarrows like hammers, dwarrows like diamonds, hard and dazzling, but Ori was my golden boy: soft and easy to melt, shining warmly, and so precious.
He had seen misery and pain; he had gone through deprivation and fear; he had never faltered, he had never turned back, he had never once given up on his principles.
While I cracked open the creaking spine of the book, wedged between him and the bookshelf, I took a deep breath. Ori smelled like books and the herbal concoctions Dori had rubbed on him for fear he’d fall sick, and it smelled like the hallowed sanctuary I didn’t dare hope for.
“Are you okay? Should I fetch you a blanket?” He looked up; dark eyes full of quiet affection gauging the extent of the damage. He really was Dori’s creature.
Like a king in his own right, he rested on his throne of comfort, his seat of solace, surrounded by books and bathed in golden light; his was a quiet beauty akin to the golden autumn sun that warmed up the heart and the body gradually. There was no sting to Ori, but that didn’t mean that he lacked strength or courage.
“I am alright.” I replied, softly, sinking into the ready embrace he had offered me all my life.
He hummed quietly, just as he did everything else; he was not a man for great deeds and acts of reckless bravery, he was the ever-flowing source of solace and affection, the endless warmth of the sun no matter the season, and the steady scratching of a quill on paper.
I had been falling in love with him for years. It had not been a tempestuous love, no audacious courtship, no indecent proposals in dark halls; it had been cuddles in the library and soft words of comfort muffled by the dusty pages of some old tome, but he had become the rain on my plain, the wind in my trees, and the sun on my most fragile saplings.
One day, I’d tell him. One rainy afternoon, snuggled up between rows and rows of books, I’d let him know that I wanted him to write me a happy end.
Please go support @crowrelli, they're amazing and I'll cherish and respect him forever for this...