Hearts Entwined

The Sixth Year of the Sun

The days in Doriath passed like a gentle stream, flowing quietly yet deeply. Anórien found himself drawn to the forest paths, his steps often leading him back to the places where Galadriel walked. They did not seek each other intentionally—at least, that was what he told himself—but the forest seemed to conspire to bring them together beneath its starlit canopy.

It was on one such evening, as the sun dipped low and the golden light faded into twilight, that they met again. Galadriel stood by a still pool, the water reflecting her golden hair and the soft light of the sky. She turned at his approach, her face lighting up with a smile that sent a warmth through Anórien's chest.

"Anórien," she greeted him, her voice like a melody. "You walk the woods again."

He returned her smile, inclining his head slightly. "Perhaps the woods walk me, my lady. They seem intent on bringing me to you."

She laughed softly, a sound that seemed to make the very air lighter. "And do you mind their guidance?"

"Not in the least," he admitted, stepping closer. "If it leads me here, how could I?"

They fell into an easy rhythm, their conversation weaving through the quiet hum of the forest. They spoke of many things—of Doriath's beauty, of the Avari and Noldor, of the stars above. Yet, as the evening deepened, their words became fewer, replaced by the unspoken language of glances and shared silences.

At last, Galadriel paused, her gaze resting on him with an intensity that made his breath catch. "You speak of your people often, Anórien. Of their strength and resilience. But you seldom speak of yourself. Why is that?"

He hesitated, his hand brushing against the bark of a nearby tree as he considered her question. "I am my people, in many ways. Their burdens are mine, their joys mine. To speak of them is to speak of myself."

"And yet," she said, stepping closer, "there is more to you than the crown you wear."

Her words were quiet, but they struck him deeply. He met her gaze, the warmth in her golden eyes both comforting and disarming. "You see much, Galadriel. Perhaps more than I am ready to show."

She smiled, a gentle curve of her lips. "I see what you are willing to share. And I think there is much more to you than even you know."

The distance between them seemed to vanish, and Anórien felt a sudden, undeniable pull toward her. He took a step closer, his voice quieter now. "You have a way of drawing truths from me, Galadriel. It is both unnerving and… exhilarating."

"Perhaps it is simply the truth wishing to be spoken," she replied, her voice soft.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the forest around them holding its breath. Anórien reached out hesitantly, his hand brushing against hers. The touch was light, almost accidental, but it sent a spark through him that he couldn't ignore.

Galadriel didn't pull away. Instead, she turned her hand slightly, letting her fingers curl gently around his. Her gaze met his, and in her eyes, he saw something he hadn't dared to hope for—an echo of the emotions stirring within his own heart.

"Galadriel," he began, his voice steady despite the storm of feelings within him. "You are unlike anyone I have ever met. There is a strength in you, a light, that draws me in ways I cannot explain."

She didn't look away, her expression soft yet serious. "And you, Anórien, are like a flame in the dark. Fierce, unyielding, and full of life. I see it in your eyes, in the way you carry yourself. It is… compelling."

His heart pounded, and for a moment, he felt as though the world around them had faded away, leaving only the two of them beneath the stars. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his hand to her cheek, his fingers brushing against her skin.

"Galadriel," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "If I am a flame, then you are the starlight that guides me. I have never felt this way before. Not for anyone."

Her eyes softened, and she leaned into his touch, her voice equally quiet. "Nor have I. Perhaps it is the meeting of fire and light, destined to find one another."

The words hung between them, fragile yet powerful. Then, slowly, she closed the remaining distance, her hand resting lightly on his chest. Their foreheads touched, and Anórien felt a warmth spread through him, not from the stars above but from the connection they shared.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—not the burdens of leadership, the weight of history, or the uncertain future. There was only the quiet rhythm of their breaths, the warmth of her touch, and the undeniable truth that their hearts had found one another in the vastness of the world.