TOLKIEN; imagines

54: Softer Than Roses - Lindir

Request from egrubbs101 Could you do a Lindir one? Where he and the reader are married, and the reader gets kidnapped for 100 years and he has to help her readjust to life in Rivendell.

Also for felicia_wang because she wanted some Lindir too.  

A/N: Aww, Lindir, my elf child. Gawd he's my favorite. It physically hurt me to write him hurting. Also, I may rewrite this at some point because its not where I want it to be at all. 

Abbreviations: E/C: eye color, H/C: hair color. 

Translations: guren vell: my sweetheart

Warnings: Mentions of torture, abduction. 

Words: ~2.3k

The golden sun seeped through the trees and fell upon the rocks and rivers that surrounded Rivendell, bathing the mountain valley in the honey-gold light. Its gentle kiss was warm to the touch, and everything flourished beautifully under its loving embrace. Everything except for one particular ellon, that is. 

Lindir couldn't have cared if it the valley was being drowned in hail, rain or snow. He couldn't have cared if the valley was whipped into unlivable conditions by the harshest of winds. He couldn't have cared if the sun never rose again and the valley was cast into eternal darkness. His Y/N, his sun, his flower, his very heart's blood... was gone.

Ever since her abduction 100 years ago, the sun and stars in his heart, hung there by Y/N's gentle hands, had set and his very existence had been plunged into total obscurity. He had been blinded by grief and now, not even the boldest ray of light and happiness could strike his heart. The flowers that once blossomed in Lindir's soul were now strewn about his fragmented soul, their blackened petals littering his being with terror.

And now, in his darkest and eternal hour, his memories were a pack of bloodthirsty wolves who preyed and massacred the rabbits of his hope that were so weak, they could not even bear to run. Memories of her grazed and bloodied neck, of her terrified, heart-wrenching screams, of her rattied and blood-stained clothes, of the absolute terror that had resided in her E/C eyes haunted him every moment since she had been ripped from his arms by the scarred orc's long, clawed hands. His dreams had turned to nightmares that shook him to his very core. His memories of her pink lips spread as a blood-curdling scream ripped through the air splintered him from the very depths of his being to the very highest and outermost points.

"It's only been a century," people would say.

But to Lindir it was much more. It wasn't even 100 years to him. It was each and every one of the 36,500 days upon which he had awoken to find her missing from his arms. It was each of the 36,500 days that he had come home to a cold, lifeless room that was void of her warmth and comforts. It was the 36,500 days that he had been bound by the chains of grief in a prison of utter misery, tears streaming from his face as he sat upon the floor, hands laying useless in a lap upon which she had once sat... the remains of his shattered heart scattered upon the grounds around him.

It was 36,500 days that his broken heart was without her healing touch, and that was the tragedy that had become his life.

-

The very last rays of the sun's golden light had begun to disappear and the once crystal sky had been painted with violets and roses above the deep sapphire mountains. Guards stood like statues about the perimeter of the fairly peaceful elven town when a figure in a tattered and torn robe stumbled over the bridges that connected the main entrance of Rivendell and the world across the raging rivers below and fell at the foot of a massive flight of stone stairs.