Kurt always said it was sunrise that he favored of all light on Middle-earth, but it was Blaine who stayed awake to watch the first beams of day lift the fog of night while Kurt slept, his head on the Dwarf's chest, sighing in complete and utter contentment. It was a pleasant morning, a blessed morning, a morning of ease and relaxation within the protected borders of Lothlórien, where the Lady Galadriel herself gave Elf and Elf-friend permission to take their leave, to regain their strength, and to find for themselves much needed peace.

Blaine breathed deep the fragrant Forest air. He basked in the sunlight beneath the stately trees of the Golden Wood. Strong and silver rose their pillars, and high above their heads a canopy of pure gold, twinkling and bright, putting the sun to shame, stretched as far as his eyes could see. It was more glorious than any spectacle he'd ever beheld, even more than the lovely Elf Lady's own luminous golden hair.

A more glorious spectacle, of course, save one, and that was the Elf lying over him, waking with the rising sun and smiling down upon him, his eyes bluer than the sky in summer, lips blushed pink as the buds of spring, smooth skin, flawless as the first winter's snow, hair of autumn chestnut falling over his shoulders. In fact, Kurt of Rivendell was of all nature's treasured gifts an ethereal beauty. He was sun and sky, snow and rain, the rising of the moon at night and her handmaiden stars. He was the tender green grass and the cool sea mist.

He was the whole of Middle-earth, its bounty and its wealth, though that paled in comparison to even one of Kurt's smiles.

“Good morning, Master Dwarf,” Kurt said, gifting Blaine with a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Good morning, Master Elf,” Blaine replied, accepting his gift graciously. Blaine's expression didn't change as Kurt settled into a more comfortable position over him, one that allowed him to look into Blaine's eyes. Blaine's smile, wide enough to fully color his face, lent joy to their borrowed corner of the immense Wood.

“What is it that you think, Dwarf, when you look at me with that smile on your face?”

Blaine chuckled, raising a hand to run fingers through Kurt's silken hair.

“Do you object to me smiling at you, my love?” Blaine returned, though he needn't ask. Kurt cherished every one of his Dwarf's smiles.

“I do not,” Kurt replied, turning his head to lay a kiss in Blaine's calloused palm. “But this isn't just any smile you wear. It is one of many secrets, and I would like to know what I did to deserve it so that I may conjure it again at my leisure.”

Blaine rested his palm against Kurt's cheek, watching Kurt creep higher up his chest to shorten the distance between their lips.

“I was thinking that you, set against the rays of the golden sunrise and these statuesque Mallorn trees, are a wondrous sight to behold.”

Kurt's cheeks turned pink though he held Blaine's gaze.

“Am I?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Blaine affirmed. “The most wondrous, the most heavenly, the most…”

Blaine paused, his breath stolen when Kurt pressed lips to his and kissed him.

“The most…” Kurt whispered as the kiss came to an end.

“The most…precious.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you shine much brighter,” Blaine said. “I see you in the dark behind my eyes with them shut tight. I could see you if the sun went black and the whole world thrown into endless night. I've seen you past the very shadow of Death.”

Kurt ducked his head, his heart stopped by a distant pain. Blaine put a hand beneath Kurt's chin and raised his eyes from hiding.

“You, Kurt, are vanimelda.”*

“Alas, I am not.” Kurt laughed over his words to keep denigrating tears at bay. “And once again, your flowery words are wasted on me.”

Blaine looked at his Elf, his beautiful face etched with a deep sadness. So much sorrow did Kurt carry – the loss of his mother, the loss of his brother, the hate of his father which forced him to leave a beloved stepmother. And yet, it bothered Blaine that Kurt so easily disregarded his feelings. Blaine wrapped strong arms around Kurt and carefully rolled him over, laying Kurt out upon the ground in the soft blanket of moss that covered the Forest floor in preparation for golden leaves to fall.

“Blaine,” Kurt said with surprise at Blaine's forwardness, “what are you…”

“Kurt,” Blaine cut in softly, not raising his voice an inch to command Kurt's attention, “I have given you my heart, you have possession of my soul, but my feelings are my own. Not you, or my father, rest his soul, or Mahal, can sway them.” Blaine stopped to watch his words render his outspoken Elf still. “Do you understand me?”

Kurt swallowed at the serious gleam in Blaine's dark eyes.

“But Blaine, I…”

Blaine lowered his forehead to Kurt's, silencing him with a single poignant sigh.

“When I look at you, Kurt,” Blaine said, “I see the fires of the forges simmering in the mines beneath the earth. I see the Eagle Prince beating his mighty wings in the sky above. I see the silver stars at night that guided us away from Evil, the powerful roaring rapids that tried so hard to drag us under, that you fought against and won. I see your sword shining as you protected us from danger…” Blaine brought a finger to Kurt's stunned face to catch a solemn tear. “And I see the tears you shed the first time you kissed me, the kiss that brought me back from beyond the veil of Death. So when I say you are vanimelda, it is neither a shallow nor flowery compliment.” Blaine leaned in close when Kurt shut his eyes to whisper the words against his lips. “You are vanimelda, to me, and to all who are fortunate enough to know you for who you really are.” Kurt sobbed quietly, and Blaine kissed him. “You are vanimelda, Kurt, and you always will be.”

“Amin mela lle, Blaine,” Kurt cried, letting the sorrow within him diminish, paving a way for Blaine's infectious joy.

“Amin mela lle, Kurt,” Blaine said, returning to Kurt's lips, determined to kiss him happy, even if it took till the golden sun set again.