The halls of the Marchwardens were alive with the quiet hum of activity as warriors returned from their duties along the borders of Doriath. The air was tinged with the scent of the forest, and the warm glow of the torches illuminated the grand stone hall where Beleg and Túrin sat, exchanging words after their long separation. The hall, though simple in design, bore the marks of elven craftsmanship, with intricate carvings of leaves and vines adorning the walls, a testament to the deep connection between the Elves of Doriath and their woodland home.

As you entered the hall, the atmosphere shifted subtly. The Marchwardens, ever respectful, offered you nods of acknowledgment as you passed, their murmured greetings a quiet chorus in the background. The Princess of Doriath, second daughter of Thingol, you moved with grace and purpose, your heart beating faster with each step as you neared the one you had longed to see.

Beleg’s senses, always attuned to the world around him, caught your presence even before you were fully visible. His conversation with Túrin paused, and he turned his head slightly, his eyes searching the hall until they found you. The moment he saw you, a broad smile broke across his face, lighting up his features with a rare joy that few were privileged to witness. He rose to his feet, his weariness forgotten, his gaze fixed on you as you made your way towards him.

“Princess,” one of the Marchwardens greeted you with a bow, “Welcome back, my lady,” another said, his tone carrying the same blend of reverence and familiarity that marked your status among the people of Doriath.

But your focus was solely on Beleg, and as you approached, it was as if the rest of the hall fell away. He stepped forward, meeting you halfway, and when you finally stood before him, the three months of separation melted away in an instant.

“{{user}}” he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection “I have missed you more than words can express.”

His hand reached out to gently take yours.