Tolkien Secret Santa Advent Calendar Day 18: A Peaceful Moment
Elemmakil and Voronwë take a walk in the snow together.
For day 18 of the @officialtolkiensecretsanta 2020 Advent Calendar!
Rating: G | No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: queerplatonic Voronwë + Elemmakil Characters: Voronwë, Elemmakil Word count: 431
Read it (with notes!) on AO3 - or continue below :)
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The mountainside is quiet, even the murmur of their voices muted by softly falling snow. Voronwë slips his hand into Elemmakil’s, twining their fingers together, and earns a smile from his dearest companion.
“Vorno, what’s this?” Elemmakil teases. “You haven’t been this clingy since you got drunk at the last winter solstice.”
Voronwë huffs, only squeezing his friend’s hand tighter. “Your fingers get cold,” he scolds. “How often do I have to pester you into wearing gloves on a frosty morning?”
“I’m wearing gloves now,” Elemmakil laughs.
Voronwë shrugs, his eyes reflecting the starlight above. “Maybe I just like being near you.”
Elemmakil softens. “Alright, Vorno. But don’t get too sappy on me!”
They walk hand in hand for a few minutes more. The air is cold, the snow drifting down like falling feathers, gentle and calm. At last Voronwë halts, gasping.
“El, look!” he cries. “You can see the whole city from here! It’s lit up in the moonlight—I wonder if even Tirion was so beautiful.”
Elemmakil had been only a child at the Darkening, one of the few children who survived the Ice, and his memories of the time before are hazy. But staring down at Ondolindë, gleaming in Isil’s light, he knows that nothing compares to this, his home.
“There was no Moon when I was in Tirion,” he says softly. “Nor was there snow. This, I think, is a sight for us alone.”
Voronwë sighs, leaning into Elemmakil’s embrace. “I almost wish we didn’t have to go back,” he admits. “It’s so peaceful up here.”
“We must return,” Elemmakil chides. “I am a guard—if I abandon my post forever, who shall keep us safe, and this peace perfect?”
“Oh, all the Lords,” Voronwë dismisses, but he knows his friend is right. “Still, perhaps you have a point. The White Lady has brought down a great elk, and there will be a feast tomorrow—I would not want to miss such a celebration!” Nor, he thinks to himself, the warmth of a friend beside a fire.
He turns to descend down the mountain, but Elemmakil tugs him back. Voronwë looks up at him, asking a silent question.
“Just a moment longer?” Elemmakil asks, his voice soft as the snowflake that lands on his nose. “You’re right. As much as I love the city, and all the bustle this time of year, I feel at peace in this moment, with you.”
“Of course,” Voronwë agrees, his fëa warm and bright with love for his companion of many years. “Any moment with you, El, is a good one.”