'' The world was young ....'' ( Back stories )

[aurora]

'You are thinking again,'
She could always tell when he was, most who saw him could, the way his eyes hardened with ancient memories, often she never knew, memories good or bad, of times of darkness, of which there were many, but his life had been a full one, and he was not without his moments of joy, of risk and of true living, the sorts of moments in life she knew she had yet to dream of, let alone experience, but perhaps, the true extent of the darkness he has seen, was still beyond her.
'You are,' her smile flashed, 'tell me, what of?’

Aurora had met Tindomion young in her life, and had been awed by him, his face which was sculpted as if from the finest marble by the skilled hands of the Valar, with eyes set like stones, from the depths of the ocean, like grey storms, sometimes they rages and sometimes they were calm, but always, so beautiful.

‘My Lord, can you hear me? Or have your memories taken you that far that you cannot?’ she nudged him slightly. He had always been her friend, well, always for her, but such a short stretch really, in his long life. They had been lovers also, but then she knew him, he loved beauty and spirit, and women were drawn to him, expectantly and excitedly, and he were he less careful with those who he took to take to his bed, he would leave an endless trail of cracked and broken hearts in his wake.

Aurora always thought herself fortunate, that she was he type of woman he was attracted to, her hair was dark, and wild, even when braided or bund back, it was windswept, not pristine and perfect like most Elven maidens chose to wear it.
But it was her eyes, always her eyes that he thought to comment on, when they were together, they were dark, smouldering, they could match his in their intensity, and that was what he needed in a mate, one who would not sigh and swoon and look away with a blush in her cheeks, he liked fire…and so did she.

[aurora]

‘Forgiven,’ she said, taking the goblet, which cooled her hands. ‘Things lay heavy on your mind as of late… I am becoming used to the lack in conversation,’ she smiled fondly, almost teasingly, relaxing back onto the large throw pillows in front of the magnificent fire, which cast its glow across their faces.
Aurora’s father had, on occasion, when he had still dwelled in Lasgalen, tried to arrange marriages for his daughter, which she declined or refused, though their family was not great in name, and he had hoped her to be married to one of the revered Sylvan Lords.

Her father had never known about Tindomion, which perhaps was a good thing, for he was one of those who had little love for the Noldor, and would have forbidden his daughter to know or be with him, least of all as a friend, most of all as a lover.

She had first seen him, and a day or so later come to meet him, during a short stay in Imladris. She had ridden there from Lasgalen… formostly for her, to part herself for a short while from her father, who was again seeking for her to marry, as already she was past the age when an Ellyth should.
What she would not say, in later days, was that the mere sight of the dark and proud Noldor, had swayed her forever from the more slender and lithe males of Lasgalen.
She had seen too, Lord Elrond, who was tall, thoughtful, ever quiet unless it was to speak with words of wisdom, or to his family and friends, words of love. He spent much time in his library, or with his healing herbs and medicines.
Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower… he had been there also, and with Tindomion and Elrond, seemed close, with an unspoken bond of the elder days between them.
Perhaps it was because Tindomion was less intimidating to a young, overly curious wood elf. She had come across him one evening, whilst most of Elrond’s household were at dinner in the Hall of Fire. Aurora had elected to spend the evening in the Library, to take advantage of the great wealth of knowledge of Imladris, and it was there she came across Tindomion, reading.
Although it had been forbidden in Lasgalen, Aurora who was ever curious, had learned, and greeted him in Queenya, though in holding a conversation, she was not yet as fluent as she would someday become.
‘Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, I had thought that all would be at dinner with Lord Elrond.’
She had not expected him to smile, and to smile so beautifully, the Noldor all looked strangely aloof, cold, and almost uncaring to those who were unused to them.
She had found in him, a kindred spirit, or so she believed, who wanted to, and indeed did, live as he might, unbound by marriage, for he had not fallen in love and even were he to do so… marriage was… somehow not right for him.
He was a great warrior, she knew, and her own hands were proficient with a bow, but she wished to learn, there were evil things moving in the world, and in her own home, Spiders which would soon claim her mother, Orcs who stalked ever closer to the borders of the woodland realm, sightings of which were becoming more bold, in the wild lands of Rovannion and even towards the shire lands.

Aurora spoke much with him that evening, and late into the night, when all in Imladris had retired to their chambers, she learned little of him, then, but told him of her life, and a little of how bored she was with it, how she longed to travel and see all of Arda before it was consumed by war, which many now felt was coming, and would come, but not how it would end.

‘I will not marry a man who would have me stay at home and dress nicely, and… spend an hour braiding back my hair and greeting his guests, I can think of nothing more boring,’ she had sighed, sitting beside him.
‘You are indeed lucky, my lord, to have such rule over your own life. I love my father, but...’ she laughed, ‘he has no eye for men.’

[aurora]

‘If it is for me, it is not known to me yet, my Lord, and I am in no hurry, to bind to one mate for eternity, and until that is a thought that is undaunting, I will not entertain it. My father is good to me, he wishes only that there is enough provision for me, he does not understand that that sort of security… bores me, immensely, I would rather do as I wish, than do so in fear of offending my husband,’ she laughed, ‘and I do not think I would make anyone a fine wife just yet… Nor do I think you would make too fine a husband, you seem far too single minded.’
She watched him carefully, he seemed kind, but guarded, in his face and in his eyes, he would not melt and pour out his heart to any woman, or any one, of that she was sure.
‘I do not wish to ride across the world seeking adventure and battle, just to see it, and feel it, and know it is there, more than the trees of Mirkwood, and the flats lands of Rovannion, but I know also that the world is dangerous, and I do not want to be helpless in it, or without valour and honour should it be called on.’ She smiled, and shook her head, her long hair waving behind her.
‘No, none in Mirkwood… perhaps... In other lands,’ she laughed, ‘I do not know, not yet, though my father would wish my mate to be Sylvan in blood of Mirkwood, he feels great loyalty to the King and his realm, but my people are wary of the world, and venture little beyond our borders, let alone involve themselves in the woes of others… that is not the sort of life I wish to lead,’ she watched him, ‘but then neither to I wish to take and fulfil such great oaths.’
He was magnificent to behold, to watch, she didn’t know men like him in Greenwood, he excited her, in doing nothing but speak, his voice was like music, not feminine or soft, it made her feel, in the pit of her stomach, as wonton as if she were in love. It was desire… such as she had never felt before.
‘What would you do with your life, my lord? If you were free to choose? Free of your oaths and loyalties, and memories?’