Chapter Text
Halbrand likes order, it’s no secret amongst his friends and family. Things need to be neat and tidy, that’s all.
But somehow this memo has been missed by the box of Galadriel’s Christmas decorations currently sitting on the floor in the middle of their living room.
They’d spent a lovely morning picking out their Christmas tree. Now that it's time to decorate it, though, the sight of the many mismatched baubles gives him pause.
This is their third Christmas together, and he realises that he never paid attention to her Christmas tree in previous years. If truth be told, when visiting her flat, Halbrand had been concentrating far more on kissing her senseless on the sofa or not leaving her bedroom because his head had been buried between her thighs.
But now, sitting here looking at the box of decorations, ahead of their first Christmas living together, he feels like he should have been paying more attention.
“Gal?”
“Hmm?” Her voice comes back with a muffled acknowledgement. Halbrand hears a thud, swiftly followed by a faint “ouch” before Galadriel appears in the living room doorway, slightly out of breath, carrying a large, tangled bundle of fairy lights.
“What’s up?”
“Why do none of your Christmas decorations match?”
“Are they supposed to?” She’s not completely paying attention to him, starting to work on the knotted mass in her arms. Halbrand considers the question before settling on an answer.
“Ours always did.”
She looks down at him, blue eyes round with curiosity. “Ours never did. Mum and Dad’s tradition was that anywhere we went on holiday we bought a new Christmas decoration.”
She drops down beside him on the carpet, carefully selecting a bauble from the box. It’s a rich, emerald green with leaves outlined in bronze paint.
“See, this one’s from The Mirkwood. I think I was about 5 when we went on holiday there. The twins got lost, and Mum was frantic.”
She begins to pull out others.
A dark charcoal coloured sphere from Mines of Moria.
A rust-coloured globe with a black geometric outline of the Bridge of Khazad-dûm.
A blue wave shaped decoration from the island of Númenór.
A silvery one showing the harbour at the Grey Havens.
He sits and listens as she recalls the tale behind each bauble, watching as she handles each decoration with such care. Her face lights up with each story. They're all new to him, but well-loved, ancient history for her.
Galadriel is part way through a story about the white sparkling snowflake—from her holiday to the Helcaraxë with Finrod—when Halbrand leans across and kisses her deeply.
His hazel eyes are soft and warm with awe as he gazes at her.
“It’s still ridiculous that they don’t match, but I love how important they are to you.”
She bites her lip nervously, “Maybe when we visit Orodruin next year, we can look for our first holiday bauble?”