𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 || 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊

ᴛᴏʟᴏǫᴜᴇ

... some post-therapy introductions and more Boromir bonding incoming! Sindarin translations at the very bottom.
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Thanarwë and Robb returned from their reclusive place in the late hours of the afternoon.

Robb felt… strange. Unbalanced. In a good way, mostly—there was now someone who knew of his past in greater detail than just panicked ramblings or vague visions, and it was someone who had pledged to help him without judgment. He felt lighter now. But there was still a slight restlessness in his bones, like bugs crawling under his skin. His mind had been working hard all afternoon and he needed to let loose somehow.

Upon reentering society, so to speak, they were intercepted by a slightly shorter Elf who almost jumped into Thanarwë's arms as soon as they saw them.

Thanarwë let out a soft 'oof' on impact but managed to keep the flower crown in their hand safe. They had made several more after that first one, which was now probably slightly wilted and had been sent to float down the small creek earlier.

"Suilad, Maeniliel," Thanarwë said with a smile, hugging back until the other Elf—Maeniliel?—left their embrace. Taking a step back, Thanarwë carefully placed the flower crown on Maeniliel's silver hair. "I hen angin."

Maeniliel gasped in delight. "Gin hannon!"

"I 'ell nîn," Thanarwë said before turning back to Robb. "This is my wife, Maeniliel. Meleth nîn, that is Robb."

He inclined his head with a small grin. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady."

Maeniliel beamed back and curtsied. "Likewise!"

Robb turned his attention back to Thanarwë. "Thank you again. I'm sure we will see each other soon. For now—" he tilted his head—"I think I shall seek out the training grounds."

"Very well, Robb," they replied, an amused sparkle in their eyes. "Have fun."

"I'm sure I will. Goodbye, Thanarwë. Maeniliel."

"Novaer!" Maeniliel beamed with a small wave.

Thanarwë slung an arm around their wife's waist and together they walked off, gods only knew where.

Robb, in turn, tried to orientate himself. Caras Galadhon was surprisingly big for a hidden city, and at the moment, he had no idea where he was. On a whim, Robb decided to go left, where there appeared to be more people. He wandered aimlessly for a while and only when he saw  flashes of the lunch hall's pearly white ceiling did he regain any sense of his position. From there on, he knew that the training grounds were not a long ways away.

However, Robb realised, his sword was still at their camp. Sighing, he took a sharp right turn.

A few short minutes later, Robb was just putting on his sword belt, the sword itself now firmly attached to his side, when Boromir entered the camp.

"Good afternoon, Robb," he called out.
Robb's head whipped up at the voice, still not used to it, but he conjured up what he hoped was a smile when he realized his mistake.

"Likewise."

"Are you going sparring?"

Robb nodded, patting the sword at his side. "No need to carry that around with me, otherwise."

Boromir chuckled. "Indeed.—Do you mind if I join you?"

The real answer was probably 'yes' but Thanarwë had just advised Robb to spend more time with Boromir, to get used to his appearance and voice and mannerisms; to maybe, eventually, overcome his discomfort.