Do What Matters by Elwin Fortuna

---

Chapter 1

---

"But you saw me in my armour," Ninnachel said in answer to the request Baindir made as they lay in bed, cuddled cosily up together. It was the second day of Ninnachel's visit home, and the planting, unfortunately, was being neglected. "I was wearing it when I arrived yesterday." After flinging themselves into Baindir's arms, the armour had somehow managed to go flying in multiple directions, torn off by them both in eagerness. Ninnachel had gathered it up later, some of it covered in mud, and cleaned it very thoroughly.

"I saw your face," Baindir said, laughing, reaching out and stroking the curve of Ninnachel's jaw tenderly. "You could have been wearing bearskins or the King's own robes of state, for all I cared, once I saw that it was you riding up to me, so fine and dashing."

Ninnachel made a show of glancing out the window, a blush staining their cheeks. "Don't you have plowing to do?"

Baindir glanced out the window too, and then swiftly drew the blanket over Ninnachel's eyes and cuddled harder. "No, look, terrible day, pouring with rain, can't possibly stir. Thunder, lightning, all that. Besides, I've a field I can plow right here!" He nipped Ninnachel's shoulder, laughing.

Ninnachel groaned at the awful pun, shaking their head. "Fortunately, I'm not with you for the sparkling wit," they said, but their bright eyes shone with laughter in the dark under the blanket, and the way they leaned up and kissed Baindir took all the sting out of the words. "Very well," they said after a moment. "I'll put the armour on, so you can take it off me again."

----

Outside, it was misty and overcast, but would be a bright spring day in the afternoon. Ninnachel, playing the part to the full, gave it their best official business stride, and walked up to the door of the house, preparing to knock firmly. They looked very fine in the armour - silver polished to such a brightness that it was nearly blinding, with blue garments showing beneath, and a blue cloak over top. On the breastplate of the armour, slightly curved to accommodate the contours of their chest, the heraldic device of the House of Finwe, Fingolfin's variation, had been carved, and the rayed sun gleamed brightly.

Ninnachel glanced across at the neglected fields, plow still lying where Baindir had dropped it yesterday when Ninnachel rode up on the white horse so suddenly. For a moment, they thought that perhaps they should insist the planting be done on schedule. Crops would not wait forever to be planted, and the spring was hastening swiftly on. But then a flying thought, so alien that it was almost like it had come from outside them altogether, occurred: it would not matter, not this year.

Ninnachel's hand fell from the door where they had been about to knock, and the sudden foreboding was like a blow. It was nothing more than a feeling, like the clouds overhead had suddenly grown darker, and in truth a storm was coming, but it rang all through Ninnachel, leaving them pale and shaken. Ninnachel turned, stepping away from the door for a moment, and looked out again over the fields, which lay quiet under the overcast sky, half-shrouded in mist, with daggers of light piercing through now and again, shining down like Feanorian lamps in the gloom. One such ray of sunlight fell on the doorway and Ninnachel themselves, turning the armour into a shining beacon. Ninnachel looked out from it, straightening their gauntlets carefully, and reflected for a moment.

If it truly does not matter, then do what matters most. The voice inside Ninnachel was soft but strong, quietly assuring. It was the same voice which had guided them in the midst of the Darkening, long ago, which had accompanied them in the freezing danger of the Grinding Ice, which had borne them up even when their sister was lost to the Ice and their niece in the Battle of the Lammoth - slain or taken, they knew not which. The same quiet, self-assured, voice had kept them going even in the midst of despair and pain, had given them strength when all looked hopeless and helpless, time and again throughout the long years.

What matters most? Here and now, only one thing - or rather, person - mattered. Ninnachel turned back again swiftly, the look on their face bright and determined, and knocked on the door.

-----

"I bring a message from the King," Ninnachel said as Baindir answered the door. He was barefoot and clad in only a tunic, and he reclined against the doorframe with an indolent grin, silver hair loose and flowing down his back.

"What message requires a member of the King's own bodyguard to deliver?" Baindir asked, looking very much as though he wanted to lean forward and kiss Ninnachel, but resisting for the sake of the game. "Especially to a Sinda of little family, a farmer of Hithlum? Would you not be better off seeking my cousin's husband, Annael, who is the King's vassal for these lands?"

"Nay," Ninnachel said. "The message I bring is for one Baindir of Hithlum only. It concerns him greatly, and was sent with the assurance that it would be received safely and with the greatest of care. May I come in so that it can be delivered?"

Baindir stepped aside, laughing, giving a lazy wave of his hand to the living room just inside. "Come in, then, King's guard." Ninnachel stepped inside, and Baindir closed the door. Outside the clouds were breaking and the mist clearing. Light shone through the kitchen windows onto the bright armour, and Baindir stepped back, admiring. "Those of the King's guard cut a fine figure in their shining armour, but yours is the fairest I have seen yet."

"Often have occasion to see the King's bodyguard, do you?" Ninnachel couldn't help teasing, with a laugh.

Baindir smiled, but carried on with the game. "Now and again in my years," he said. "But one in the guard in particular interests me most. I find their grace most beauteous, the movements of their body delightful, their words intriguing, their wit infectious, and most of all, their love for me - mysterious as it may be to fathom why such a one as they are could love me! - most inspiring of love on my own part. I would do anything at all in the world for this one, and I have reason to believe they would do the same for me."

"Then we have come to my message," Ninnachel said, formally, with restrained laughter hiding in their eyes. "The King has seen your love for this guard, and far from condemning it or denying it, approves, for he himself is in a like position. He bids you, with his blessing, ravish your beloved guard most thoroughly today and send them back to Barad Eithel with all the memories of love you can fit into a single day, to sustain them and yourself until we may meet again." Ninnachel couldn't help the smile from breaking through, then. "What say you, Baindir of Hithlum, to the King's command?"

"Never before has the King given a command I am so willing to fulfil in every particular," Baindir said, moving forward. And then, breaking character somewhat, "Ninnia, please tell me I can kiss you now." The request was plaintive, and Ninnachel laughed, then moved forward, taking off their helmet and laying it aside, then twining their arms around Baindir's neck, and lifting their mouth to his.

-----

The armour came off in careful pieces, and Baindir kissed each part of Ninnachel's body that lay revealed as he removed each bit. Ninnachel stood quiet, a smile on their face, letting Baindir serve them as though he was their squire, basking in the loving attention as though it were a small sun shining down on them. Baindir spoke murmured words of love and passion all the while, telling Ninnachel how beautiful they were, how every part of them was lovely.

Baindir did not quite know what to do with the armour once it was removed. By the time Ninnachel had been stripped of it completely and wore only the loose blue garments that went beneath it, there were pieces of armour scattered all around the room, and Ninnachel was laughing quietly as Baindir knelt before them, pressing kisses to their exposed wrists and the curve of their hipbones. "Does something amuse you, oh guard of the King?" Baindir murmured against Ninnachel's stomach, his arms around them.

"We have to put the armour away properly," Ninnachel said, affecting sternness. "It's most important." Their hand stroked gently over Baindir's silver hair, belying their mock-stern tone.

"Very well," Baindir said. "Direct me, beloved." He rose to his feet.

Ninnachel grinned. "We'll do it together," they said. "Faster that way." They started picking up pieces of armour and arranging them properly according to how they always stored their armour at Barad Eithel.

"Eager, are we?" Baindir flashed them a smile, and Ninnachel gave a quiet but intense look back.

"For you, always."

----

When the armour was properly stowed away, Ninnachel found themselves being caught up by Baindir without further ado and carried into the bedroom, both of them laughing. Outside the mists had cleared and it was a bright day, white clouds rolling across the spring sky, a faint breeze coming in through the window, just enough to make them both eager to get underneath the covers once they were naked.

Their love was full of laughter, traded kisses and caresses, snuggled down against each other like they never had to part. For a long while they just lay curled up together afterwards, Baindir's mouth pressed against Ninnachel's shoulder, his arms around Ninnachel, the welcome weight of his larger body a shelter and a home. For over four hundred years they had known each other, and Ninnachel was seized with the overwhelming feeling that it was far too little time, that a parting could be coming and the future was unknown.

"Ninnia, beloved," Baindir murmured softly against their shoulder, halfway to sleep. "Are you not due for a year off soon? One year in every ten, is that not the case?"

"Next year," Ninnachel said, laying their hand over Baindir's arm around their waist. "I'll arrive once more in my beautiful armour and then you can take it off me as swift or slow as you might care to." Their tone was very low, painting a picture, building a dream of a world that Ninnachel knew they might never see. "It'll be winter, so you can bundle me up in furs, lay me down by the fire, and love me until I'm warm all over, unwrap me like a Yule gift, put your mouth on me and taste me until you've had your fill of me." Baindir's breath was a little quicker now, and Ninnachel went on. "And then in the quiet months before the spring arrives, we can spend our days in bed if we desire, wrapped up here just like this - except in warmer blankets - safe in the knowledge that we are together, and that matters most of all."

"Ninnia," Baindir said, voice warm and soft, "Ninnia, no matter what might befall, in life or death, whether your great battle succeeds and you return to me in triumph, or whether it fails and you fall, and when we might meet again is unknown, we will always be together." He pressed a hand to Ninnachel's chest, just over the heart. "Since I first looked at you - and you know what I mean by that - you have held my heart in your keeping, and neither distance nor time has truly parted us."

Ninnachel smiled, and turned over, facing Baindir, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I do know," they said, and raised their eyes to meet Baindir's. "Then if we must leave this bed tomorrow morning, and I go one way and you another, our hearts will stay here, wrapped around each other until the day comes that we meet again, no matter what lies in-between."