Maybe he had resorted to coming here because it was further down, away from the wind. Maybe it was because he was done with the bitter nip of his skin as the breeze hurt his ears and flushed his cheeks. Maybe he came because the weight of ruling through harsh conditions and toppled structures was too much.
Whatever the reason, Scott couldn't bring himself to care, sat by the campfire as soft songs seemed to calm the raging gales and leave time for respite. The voices hushing his thoughts as the night grew cold.
Yet it wasn't like Rivendell. The crisp bite of it was more of a cool draught, those you find on a day in June when the sun had burnt your skin and overheated the house. It was more friendly than spiteful, leaves waltzing instead of fighting with it.
Then there was the food, filling and warm. Rivendell was more known for its baked goods and icy delicacies, even drinks at special events. But here, their was steaming stews and more meat than he had seen in one place. Though not because his Kingdom didn't eat it, but for the reason of him never having the time, responsibility too much for a slow meal anymore.
He had missed this after being thrown in leadership. Missed the tales and stories, smores and eating as much as you could take. Missed the gentle sound of music as the citizens played and harmonized. It was so much more sensitive and sentimental than the work-centric ways of his empire.
It surprised the Elven king that he had fit into this dynamic so well.
Because maybe it wasn't the domain he ruled that was cold, the inhabitants and advisors that revolved around productivity and progress. Maybe it was him. Cool, collected and workaholic Smajor of Rivendell, born to rule and guided by a god he had never seen nor heard before. Maybe he thought this place was warmer because it didn't hold the weight of a darkened past and countless centuries of conflict. Maybe the lights were brighter and fire more prominent because it wasn't surrounded by ancient stone and ruin; not shadowed by extravagant and loud buildings that, in reality, were small and claustrophobic.
Maybe this place was more of a home than his house and people because of him.
Blonde hair, as bright as the sun and glowing with health, eyes brown like the dirt they stood on, the same as the foundations he grew from. Green clothes with gold, soothing and natural; successful and prosperous, just like him and his empire. Because he was warmth and cold, fire and ice, love and hate, day and night, light and dark, good and evil, selfish and selflessness wrapped in a bow and glowing over the rest.
That could have been for many reasons. He was a king. He was Kind. He put people first.
But it was because he was Jimmy. Sweet and innocent, yet sour and aggravating. That wasn't for the countless bad jokes and lateness. That's because Scott had managed to fall in love with someone he couldn't have. Because who was Scott to take the burning bundle of fondness to the freezing paths of loathing.
It was unfair, it was unjust and it was just morally wrong.
So as the mocking feel of gust against his wings carried Scott home, the wind carrying whispers of a truth he could only dream of, he settled into his bed, alone; cold, listening to the howling wind.
And if he watched the trees battle with the breeze, looking upon last night this morning, that stayed between Scott and yourself, dear reader.
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Lets make this February challenge amazing!
A huge shout out to @sketchers_writes for putting this together!!