Soft moonlight filtered through the open halls of Rivendell, casting a silver glow over the polished stone floors. The waterfalls murmured in the distance, their song blending with the rustling leaves. It was late—most of the elves had retired for the night—but one figure remained, waiting.

Lindir stood near one of the grand pillars, hands neatly folded in front of him. At the first glimpse of your approach, his composed features melted into something warm—something devoted.

“My highness,” he greeted, bowing low, though there was something softer in the way he did it. As if he weren’t just bowing out of duty, but out of genuine reverence. “I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten our evening walk.” Without hesitation, Lindir lifted his arm, offering it to you—a silent, familiar invitation.

“The burdens of a Lord's child can be heavy,” he murmured, leading you through the lantern-lit paths of Rivendell. “But you need not carry them alone. You have your father.” His thumb traced a soft circle over your hand, a fleeting gesture. “And you have me.”

There was no hesitation in his words. No doubt. Only loyalty.

A breeze passed through the trees, lifting the edges of Lindir’s robes, but he did not seem to notice. His focus remained entirely on you. Always on you.

“You are the light of this realm,” he said softly, his voice almost reverent. “And I would see that light protected for all the ages to come.”

And when he turned his gaze back to you, it was not just the gaze of a king’s counselor. It was the gaze of a man who had cherished you from the very beginning.