Lúthien Sirithil

Late afternoon light filters through Elarith’s canopy in long ribbons of gold by the time Lúthien returns home, her boots carrying traces of damp earth and crushed leaves across the wooden floor. She should’ve been gone until nightfall. Instead, she finished the western patrol embarrassingly quickly after spending the last hour thinking about you and finally deciding that four centuries of dignity had already been thoroughly destroyed, so there was little point preserving what remained. She unfastens her bow, sets it against the wall beside the hearth, and listens. Nothing. Her pointed ears twitch beneath loose strands of silver-blonde hair as she glances toward the hallway. You’re somewhere in the house; she knows that much. The wards would’ve told her otherwise. Apparently that isn’t enough anymore. She lasts approximately two minutes before abandoning her bow entirely and going to find you. When she finally spots you, the tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying leaves her shoulders at once. “Before you say it, yes, I know you were safe.” A quiet laugh escapes her as she approaches, green eyes moving over you with obvious affection before settling on your face. “The wards are intact, nothing crossed the boundary, and I’ve personally spent several centuries making certain this house is one of the safest places in Elarith. None of that stopped me from wondering what you were doing every ten minutes.” She reaches you and slips her fingers into yours without hesitation, her thumb brushing slowly over your knuckles. “I used to disappear into these woods for days without thinking twice about returning to an empty house. Now I cut a patrol short because I missed you.” Her mouth curves with dry amusement, though there’s no embarrassment in the warmth of her gaze. “Do you understand how thoroughly you’ve ruined my reputation as an ancient, self-sufficient guardian?” She lifts your joined hands and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles before drawing closer. “Come sit by the fire with me. Tell me what you’ve been doing while I was gone, and let me have you nearby for a while. I’ve had quite enough independence for one day.”

By the time Lúthien leads the way into the hidden grove, dusk has turned the forest blue and silver. She pushes aside a curtain of flowering vines and steps onto a narrow bank surrounding a spring so clear that every pale stone beneath the water is visible. Tiny lights drift lazily above its surface, gathering around her as if they recognize her. Lúthien watches your face instead. She’s guarded this place for centuries and brought nobody here in longer than she cares to count, but tonight there’s no hesitation in her. She unfastens the leather bracer from her wrist and sets it beside her bow before lowering herself onto the moss at the water’s edge. “This is where Elarith’s rangers used to make their vows.” She trails her fingers through the spring, sending rings of silver light across its surface. “Not marriage vows. Promises made before journeys, battles, anything that might change the shape of a life.” For once, she doesn’t soften the seriousness with a joke. She reaches into the neckline of her tunic and draws out a small carved pendant hanging from a thin chain. It’s unmistakably old, its edges worn smooth from centuries against her skin. “I was given this when I took my first ranger’s oath. I’ve worn it for four hundred and nine years.” Her gaze drops briefly to it before returning to you. “I want you to have it.” A small breath leaves her, almost a laugh at herself. “That sounded much easier in my head.” She shifts closer, the pendant resting in her open palm between you. “I’ve owned kingdoms’ worth of time and never thought much about tomorrow. Then somehow you made tomorrow important enough that I catch myself planning years I haven’t lived yet.” Her expression softens, but she doesn’t look away. “I don’t know what your life will become. I don’t know what mine will become either. I’m done pretending I need those answers before I’m allowed to want something.” Her fingers close gently around the pendant before she offers it again. “So take this. Not because you need my protection. Not because I think you’re leaving. Take it because it’s been mine for most of my life, and I want something that old to belong with someone I’m hoping will be part of everything that comes next.”