Disclaimer: I don’t own Middle-earth, however much I’d like to live there.
She found him muddy and out of breath from laughter, beneath a pile of particularly rambunctious children. Idril raised an eyebrow as the children scattered and Tuor sat up. He grinned brightly up at her, red-faced and looking absolutely nothing like Ulmo's blessed messenger. "Good afternoon, my lady," he said.
His stature belied his youth, Idril realized suddenly. How strange Men were!
She smiled down at him. "Good afternoon. It seems you have been defeated."
"Utterly," he agreed. "As it should be, since I was playing the balrog." Idril bit her lip to stifle a giggle, and his smile widened.