Color

Mellow Soulmate AU.  Or whatever AU Cleansed is a part of.  Winter is slowly passing beneath a chilly spring of the soul.  No Quenya names here.  Elrohir is referred to as Elrondion (son of Elrond) once.  This story is, of course, an almost direct continuation of "Winter", "Isolation" and "Untouchable", but is also related to "Cleansed", "Life" and "Push" as well as "Dismiss", "Compromise" and "Journey".  And that is that.  Takes place in Lothlórien in the very early Fourth Age.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion

Pairings: sort of Elrohir x Mithrellas

Characters: Mithrellas, Elrohir (mentions Imrazôr and Elrond each in a slightly roundabout fashion)

Warning: non-canon compliant, cultural differences, non-canon relationship, not-quite-romance, possible friends-with-benefits, hints as character death and past trauma

Song: Kagayaku Sora no Shijima ni wa [English]

Words: 915
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color (noun): a phenomenon of light (as red, brown, pink, or gray) or visual perception that enables one to differentiate otherwise identical objects; blush; character, nature; vitality, interest; the quality of timbre in music
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/color

His hands were warm.

That was the first thing she noticed about Elrohir Elrondion beyond his dark glances and his stagnant bath of self-hatred.

His hair was starkly black against his pale complexion, but his cheeks were ever flushed with anger or with bashfulness, never wane and blanched.  It was plain that he did not know what to say to her as they walked side by side upon the snow-covered paths, their bodies touching only where her hand curved into the crook of his elbow and the awkward, warrior-calloused palm of his opposite hand rested atop her knuckles.

Together, they traversed, leaving not even footprints upon the ground to mark their passage.  Eventually, the tense quietness broken by the creaking of barren trees ceased, driven away by the cold and the moon.  Left them with only companionable silence and the whisper of memories echoing upon bark.  With the heat of his anger simmering under the cap of black emotion and her sorrow near to overflowing from its vessel of icy control--but both of them bubbling at a steady temperature and held in place, knotted and bound by the opposite.

Somehow balancing.  It was... peaceful.  Pleasant and warm, as his stroking fingertips upon the back of her hand.

Words needn't be spoken between them.  Mithrellas leaned against his shoulder and felt her eyes drift shut against the sight of whiteness and gray in every direction.  To block out the heaviness of winter descending upon the land, the chill brushing its frostbitten fingers to her cheeks and the darkness of the sky cutting off the heat of Anor.

It was nice, this silence.  For the first time in a very long time, Mithrellas felt her breath slowly escape her lips in a sigh, not of regret or despair, but of contentment.

His eyes glanced down at her at the soft sound.  From beneath her lashes she could see them, his eyes, so terribly hot--white-hot stars set in alabaster, the glare of a golodh carved out of stone--and yet when they settled upon her there came the crack in their shell.  The tiny liquid gleam of curiosity.  A strange and inexplicable sort of softness.

A sigh to match her own was released, his breath tickling at the wisps of her hair.  They continued to walk even as his eyes dropped shut.  Walked until they came back to where they had first met.  Where they had first started their small journey.

And then they parted, moving in opposite directions.  Not even bothering with a fare-thee-well.

Because the next day, again, they met in the same place beneath the same skeletal trees.  And Mithrellas once again enjoyed the warmth of those broad palms and the high color of wind-licked cheeks.

The strange softness of hollow eyes.

---

Eventually, it was hard to imagine life without that warmth.  Without his touch melting away the snows of her winter and leaving something new beneath.  Something slowly blossoming beneath the soft brushes of his fingers and the caresses of his blazing eyes.

Perhaps it was foolish.  She, Mithrellas, the wife of a mortal, the widow of a dead man, playing at courting with a bitter elf aged well beyond his years.  They were a recipe for discord and failure waiting to burst forth as a rotted, withered bloom.  But they yet still complimented one another so subtly, so perfectly.  Allowed one another to be soothed of harsh thoughts and jagged memories when all there seemed to be in the world was turmoil pulled them downwards.

Elrohir, with his stiff smiles and low, hoarse hums, was erasing the gray that had enveloped for so long her existence, weighing her down as a wingless bird.  Was painting over the scars in the wake of isolation and separation, the recollection of leaving behind all that she loved so dearly, that so crippled her spirit.  Was giving her the weightlessness of her feet upon the clouds to replace the feeling, day by day, of the little life and vibrancy she had once possessed slowly slipping away.

When she was at his side, she did not feel transparent.  Did not feel the thinness of her material raiment as it stretched and pulled.  Did not feel as though, at any moment, she might disappear entirely.

She looked at her hand and saw the healthy flush of life instead.  She looked at the snow and saw the thousand-color array of light gleaming off the miniscule crystals.  She glanced up at the once-evergreen trees and came to appreciate their blue shadows of their quivering arms in the red light of the setting winter sun.

It was not happiness.  Maybe it never would be--for either one of them, broken and lost as they were in their own tragedies--but it was release.

It was something other than the frightful decay.  The descent into a shadow of death.

It was enough.

Enough to hold his hand and soak in his color until it shone through her flesh.  Enough to lean against his shoulder and hear again a heartbeat strong beneath her ear to negate her loneliness.  Enough to stand beneath the boughs of Lothlórien and watch together new buds blooming upon the white, naked branches.  

Until spring came upon the world to match her blistered heart.
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They just aren't cooperating much.  They just refuse to help fix each other.  Ah, well, my sweet characters, I love thee so!  If you were real, I would hug you!  Maybe they should travel... meet up with Amroth and Nimrodel somewhere... have an adventure or something.  They can maybe run into the other twins... though that might be a bit awkward... Hm... possibilities...

Anyway, I blame Fiondil's Elf Academy for this, too.  Were it not for that story, Nimrodel and Mithrellas would never have even been on my radar, though the stereotypical joker-twins that appear in that story bug me to no end.  Still, it's an awesome story, and part two is finally finished.  In any case, we'll have to see... I haven't even touched upon the "traveling through the mountains" thing, or even on the friendship of Nimrodel and Mithrellas.  Something to hopefully look forward to.

The song doesn't necessarily match (lyric-wise) to the story, but you could twist it around until it does.  In any case, I'm used to the Japanese lyrics, but this is a fan-made English version of the song Kagayaku Sora no Shijima ni wa originally done by Kalafina.  Amanda Lee is the lyricist for this version, though.  As with A Slightly Chipped Full Moon, some of the non-official covers are just as beautiful and enchanting as the original composition, and they ought to be appreciated.

Hope you enjoy. <3