Winterwonderland by daughterofshadows

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Winterwonderland

A TMP story!

Featuring:

Angainë: Original character by myself. Rōka's younger sister. She/her

Laurendil: Original character by Lyssa. Married to Salakanto. She/her

Rōka: Rog of the Hammer of Wrath. He/him

Salakanto: Salgant of the Harp. He/him

Taminalma: Original character by Lyssa and myself. Married to Rōka. They/them

Telemnë: Original character by myself. Rōka's younger sister. She/her

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Laurendil slowly drifted back to consciousness. Salakanto’s arms were wrapped around her, and she snuggled closer to him.

“Good morning, dreamflower” he whispered, and pressed a kiss on the crown of her head.

She smiled. They had spent many nights together in Rōka’s bed, but these kisses were new.

Laurendil would be lying if she said she did not like this development.

How long had they been dancing around their feelings before Laurendil finally worked up the courage to ask what they were to each other?

And now they were married and still falling asleep in their best friend’s bedroom.

Rōka had jokingly said it was the only reason why they had the second bedroom, even now he and Taminalma were long sharing a bed.

Laurendil thought that was an excellent decision, for it meant that she and Salakanto had no need to return to their own home when an evening had lasted far longer than planned, and their own place felt too far away, even though it was only a few streets from Rōka’s and Taminalma’s home.

 

She blinked drowsily.

“Good morning to you, too.”

Laurendil nuzzled against his throat.

“Does the light feel different today, or am I not quite awake yet?”

“No, I do believe it indeed looks different this fine morning. Telperion’s light feels even whiter than usual.”

“Let us go investigate this oddity then! What an exciting start to our day!” Laurendil exclaimed with a grin and moved to leave the bed.

Salakanto groaned but joined her anyway.

He had known her long enough to know that she would drag him into her adventures no matter whether he wished to be dragged or not.

 

The house was quiet when they ventured out of their room, but Taminalma had left them a note on the kitchen table, written in their looping hand.

“The first snow of the season has graced us tonight. We are outside with the twins to enjoy it. Come and join us when you wake up!”

And just below it, Rōka had added in clean, crisp lines:

“We have left warmer clothing on the armchair should you wish to wear it. Aicarossë has promised hot chocolate and mulled wine later tonight. Hopefully, we will see you soon!”

 

Laurendil perked up.

“Snow? Oh, I cannot wait! Quickly, find the clothes and let us join them!” she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious enough to draw a smile from Salakanto’s lips, too.

They bundled up in soft, knitted sweaters—less out of any need to shield themselves from the cold, and more for the joy of feeling the wool on their skin—and headed outside.

 

They followed the laughter down the road towards the houses Rōka and Taminalma used to call home.

Laurendil and Salakanto had barely rounded the corner when they were under fire. Snowballs were flying all over the place. One hit Salakanto square in the chest.

“Oh no! I am so sorry, Kanto!” one of the twins called out. He thought it was Telemnë. Her hair was falling out of the braid it had been corralled into, and her eyes shone with excitement. Next to her, Angainë still looked far more put together, even if her cheeks were flushed.

“You came!” Rōka exclaimed delightedly. “Come join in!”

Laurendil cast a look at her husband as if to ask: ‘Are you up for it?’

Salakanto grinned and bent down to scoop up some snow.

“Let us show them how it is done!”

 

No clear winner had emerged when Calairë called them inside, and they were all drenched to the skin, but Salakanto could not remember the last time he had had this much fun.

The twins had begged a ride off their brother and his spouse, and Rōka was carrying a giggling Angainë.

Telemnë was clearly too out of breath to do more than smile brightly and squeeze Taminalma gratefully when they lifted her up.

“I left some dry clothes in the bathroom. You better put those on before you join us in the kitchen”, Aicarossë called from the kitchen after they had all shuffled inside.

Rōka gently set his sister back on her feet and looked at his friend.

Salakanto nodded. “You should go first. Get the girls into something dry”, he offered.

Taminalma gave him a grateful smile and shuffled the twins in the direction of the bathroom, Laurendil following in their wake.

 

By the time, Rōka and Salakanto joined their family again, Aicarossë had set out mugs of steaming hot chocolate on the kitchen table.

Salakanto could not see Taminalma anywhere, but Laurendil was curled up on the couch, one twin on either side.

With her head on Laurendil’s leg, Angainë looked ready to fall asleep, but she shuffled around to make space for Salakanto.

He sat down on her other side and immediately, Angainë pressed her bare feet against his thigh.

Even now, fifteen years after their birth, Salakanto marvelled at the twins’ willingness to seek out his touch.

Of course, Laurendil, Rōka and Taminalma all touched him as well, be it a clasping of shoulders, a hug, or even a cuddle pile on a bed after a long day, but all of them were considerate of his boundaries, kept their distance when it seemed that their affection would be unwelcome.

The girls have never cared about this. From the moment they were old enough to move on their own, they have clambered up into his lap, sprawled across him or simply curled up tucked into his side.

Just as they did with Rōka and Taminalma. As if he were just another one of their siblings.

And Salakanto had found that often, even when he thought he did not wish for physical contact, their unguarded touch would settle him, ground him until he felt ready to face the world again.

But even now, after a hundred years of Rōka’s friendship, and gentle but persistent encouragement, he was still afraid to ask for a hug when he needed it.

And so he never did anything to discourage the twins. After all, if they came on their own, he did not have to ask, right?

 

Laurendil linked their fingers together, letting them rest lightly on Angainë’s back, and smiled knowingly, as if she had guessed his thoughts.

He blushed and was about to ask where Taminalma had gone to divert her attention, when a commotion came from the kitchen.

“Keep your hands to yourself, child! Those are not cool enough to eat yet!” Aicarossë exclaimed, followed by the sound of someone being swatted away with a dish towel.

“Taminalma”, he added in a warning voice. “Off to the living room with you! You will wait like everyone else!”

There was a defeated sigh, and Taminalma slunk into the room, falling onto the couch next to Rōka with a pout.

He pressed his lips against theirs as if to kiss the pout away.

“You know this is a battle you cannot win. Why do you try anew every time?” Rōka asked, amusement clear in his voice.

Taminalma gave him their most serious look.

“This is about ginger biscuits. They will always be worth the fight.”

 

Laurendil squeezed his fingers and Salakanto glanced at her to see she was biting her lip to keep from laughing.

He huffed. “I see you have not yet had Aicarossë’s ginger biscuits. Taminalma is right, they are worth every battle. I would happily kill for them.”

Rōka frowned. “No violence in front of my sisters. Especially not over biscuits.”

It was the final blow to Laurendil’s self-control. She burst out laughing.

Her entire body shook and Telemnë grumbled as her rest on Laurendil’s shoulder was disturbed.

When Laurendil did not manage to reign in her laughter, giggles spilling out again whenever she had stamped them out, she sighed and slipped off the couch to tuck herself against Rōka’s side instead.

He was watching them with a fond smile, his hand coming up to brush through Telemnë’s hair as she settled against him.

In the kitchen Salakanto could hear Calairë and Aicarossë quietly talking, while next to him Laurendil’s laughter finally died off and Angainë remained a warm force against his leg.

Yes, he thought. This was home. Thank the Valar Laurendil had dragged him out of bed this morning.