°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

━━━━»•» act three. age of anguish

36. wherever you stray «•« ━━━━

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019

𓇻 rohan; edoras

*.                           ✦                             °.

THE WIND HOWLED OMINOUSLY ACROSS THE GRASSY PLAINS. Like a voice warning them about a certain danger coming to knock at their door. But, as always, Gyda greeted danger with determination and steadfastness. As soon as the Elleth reached the two children, she knelt down beside the boy, wrapped her arms around him and lifted him up. With her sharp gaze, Elgarain noted he was unconscious. Though whether it was from his fall or some previous injury, she could not yet say.

Gyda shared a few words with the girl, but Elgarain was unable to hear them above the roaring wind. Whatever it was she said though, it seemed to be enough for the child to trust her. The girl followed dutifully on the back of the horse as Gyda hurried back towards the city, the boy clutched safely in her arms.

"Elgarain!" Gyda called out as they approached the gate. "Elgarain, he's hurt!"

Instantly, she felt the familiar calm confidence of her healer instincts take over, her mind already forming a list with what to do. Her gaze found one of the guards standing at the gate, who had been watching the boy in Gyda's arms with a pitiful gaze.

"Hand the boy to him," she told Gyda, gesturing in his direction. "It looks like the girl trusts you. Take her to the Hall. She doesn't need to see her brother in this state and the king will probably want to hear her story."

Gyda nodded and carefully handed the boy to the guard. Then, with a kind smile, she helped the girl get down from the horse, which was way too big for her to have been riding in the first place. The poor child looked completely shaken as she wearily eyed the strangers surrounding her.

But Elgarain trusted her guard to comfort the girl, caring for her was not her priority right now. She turned to Aragorn, who had already been watching her.

"What do you need?" he asked softly.

"Take the horse to the stables. He's in need of rest."

He nodded and walked towards the horse, muttering softly in elvish to the exhausted animal.

Finally, she looked at the guard. "Where are the healing rooms?"

"This way my lady."

She followed him through the gate and up the path to the top of the hill. The healing rooms were located in a large wooden house near the stairs leading towards the King's Hall. The smell of herbs and blood greeted her as she entered behind the guard. Somehow it was comforting to know that wherever she went, the healing quarters would always resemble each other.

The room was large and light, with many windows placed in the walls to let the sun in. Several beds were placed along the wall to her right. To the left stood tables upon which herbs and other medical equipment were placed, neatly ordered and cleaned.

"Fridwyn!" the guard called out.

A blonde woman with a stern face came walking through a door in the back. She took one look at the boy in his arms and gestured towards one of the beds. "Put him down."

The guard gently placed him on the sheets and then excused himself with a soft mumble about having to return to his post. Elgarain was barely listening, gaze focused on her patient. First, she made sure he was breathing okay and that there was no blockage to his airway of any kind. When it seemed that wasn't the case, she carefully placed her ear on his chest and listened to his breathing.

"Lungs seem alright," she muttered to herself. "Heart rate is rather high but no wounds of any kind."

Fridwyn watched her with what looked like a skeptical frown, but Elgarain ignored her stinging gaze. She put her hand against his forehead. While his skin was flushed, he didn't appear to have a fever. Her gaze was then drawn to his chapped lips and her conclusion was drawn. It appeared he was simply dehydrated.

"I'll get some water," Fridwyn said, having come to the same conclusion.

The promise of quenching his thirst made the boy stir, though his eyes did not yet open.

"You're going to be alright," Elgarain whispered, stroking his hair from his face.

With the sloshing of water in a bucket, Fridwyn came walking back into the room. She put the bucket down and handed Elgarain a clean cloth without ever looking at her. But Elgarain was far too busy with her patient to worry about the strange hostility from the healer of Rohan. She wet the cloth and carefully dabbed the boy's face.

He groaned, his eyes moving restlessly behind his eyelids.

"What happened to you?" Elgarain muttered. She didn't really expect an answer from the healer and slightly jumped in surprise when one came anyway.

"It's Grima's doing," Fridwyn snarled, spitting out the name with venomous hatred. "He banished our soldiers and now our borders are left unprotected against Wild Men and Orcs."

Elgarain felt her heart ache with sympathy for the broken people of Rohan. She'd found it hard enough to protect her own people from Orc raids when her kingdom was at full strength. It was difficult to imagine how they would've managed without their well-organized patrols. Rohan had been forced to make do with much less.

A trembling gasp fell from the boy's lips. Suddenly his hand grabbed her wrist, and she halted in her movements, waiting patiently. His eyes fluttered open and as soon as they landed on her face, she could see the shock and fear that appeared there.

"It's alright," she said calmly. "You're safe."

The boy was quick to release her and backed away, as far as his stiff limbs would allow. With a sting in her heart, Elgarain was once again reminded of the fact that the people in this part of Arda had probably never seen one of the Elves. Never before had a patient been scared of her. It made her heart stutter with a strange kind of pain. Rejection, she realized then.

Wordlessly Elgarain nodded at Fridwyn, who understood her meaning at once and replaced her at the boy's side. Upon seeing one of his own people, he calmed slightly.

"You're alright now. You're in Edoras," Fridwyn said with a smile. Without the stern frown on her face, she looked many years younger. "You must be thirsty."

The boy nodded and eagerly grabbed the cup the woman handed to him. He greedily swallowed the cold water.

Fridwyn chuckled with a softness Elgarain hadn't expected from her. "Not too fast, you don't want to choke on it."

He listened and slowed his pace.

"What's your name?" Fridwyn asked.

With an audible gulp the boy put the, now empty, cup down. "Éothain," he replied with a hoarse voice. He looked far less frightened now, though his gaze still darted between Fridywn and Elgarain with uncertainty. Then, another thought seemed to cross his mind and he frantically looked around the room. "Where's my sister?" he demanded, though his throat was still too dry, and he choked on the words. He coughed loudly, his body shaking.

Fridwyn gently patted his back and looked to Elgarain for answers.

"She's fine. She's in the King's hall," Elgarain answered softly.

When the last of his coughs had subsided, he looked at her with an unexpected fire in his eyes. "I want to see her."

Fridwyn's features instantly transformed back into the stern frown of a healer dealing with a stubborn patient. "You're not allowed to leave this bed before you've got some strength back."

"I'm strong enough!" Éothain protested bravely and to prove it he got out of bed before either of the healers could stop him. He stood on his wobbly legs with a fierce flame burning within his gaze. He was fighting to keep his balance and blinked rapidly, probably to stop the world from spinning around him.

The High Queen had had her fair share of stubborn patients. In fact, the determined kid in front was very much reminiscent of Gyda whenever she refused to stay in bed much longer than necessary. She was very much aware that trying to stop them was a hopeless task. Unable to hide her amused smile, Elgarain shared a look with Fridwyn, who was still looking rather doubtful about letting him go.

"Some food would do him good," Elgarain offered, "there's enough of it in the hall."

As soon as he realized the Elf was more likely to help him get to his sister than the human healer, Éothain seemed to lose all his former fear. He took a step closer towards Elgarain, nodding fervently.

Fridwyn sighed deeply. "Fine, but if he worsens, I will hold you personally responsible."

Elgarain nodded. "Of course."

Then she offered her arm to the boy, watching the conflict on his face as a flicker of his fear and awe returned. With a small nod, he decided to set those feelings aside and took her arm. Together they left the healing rooms behind and with a slow but steady pace, they made their way up the stairs towards the Hall of Meduseld. By the time they reached the doors, Éothain was panting far more than a boy his age should.

Elgarain quickly checked his pulse but before she could tell him to sit and get some rest, he darted out of her grasp and into the hall. "Freda!" he called out.

From the other side of the hall came his sister running towards him in a blur of blonde hair. "Éothain!" she cried in return, wrapping her arms firmly around her brother.

A smile found its way onto her face at the sight of the reunited siblings. It was Gyda who beckoned the children back towards the table and with a soft push against their shoulders, Elgarain urged them to listen so Éothain could take a seat. She wasn't eager to face Fridwyn's wrath should the boy faint or fall. Eagerly, Freda returned to her plate and just as Éothain sat down, Éoywn set a plate in front of the boy. As Elgarain had expected, there was more than enough food for the children to get their strength up.

Gyda looked to Elgarain with an expression she knew all too well.

"He's fine," she answered the question before it could leave Gyda's lips. "He was in more need of food than any medicine I could offer."

Relief was clearly visible on her face but as Gyda pushed herself up from the wooden bench and approached Elgarain her face became serious. "Did the boy say what happened?" she spoke softly to prevent the children from hearing her words, brows pinched in worry.

Elgarain sighed. "I didn't get the chance to ask between his demands to see his sister and his insistence that he was perfectly capable of looking for her himself." The tiniest of smiles appeared on her features, though her eyes remained wary. "Which reminds me of someone..."

Gyda coughed awkwardly, averting her gaze. "I do not know of whom you speak, Elgarain," she replied firmly but as she looked at the children, her face fell. "Whatever made them leave may have chased them," she whispered.

Elgarain nodded, her smile making way for a frown. "Then we better find out what happened to them."

Before Gyda could approach the little girl, footsteps creaked on the wooden floors. From behind a wooden pillar, Théoden came walking forward. His face was hardened, firm lines drawn on his forehead as he tried to hide the turmoil of losing his son. Behind him, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf appeared like fateful shadows.

Elgarain looked back towards the children and saw the girl speaking softly with Éowyn. The beautiful features of the woman contorted in despair. At the sight Elgarain felt a shiver crawl down her spine and she shared a worried glance with Gyda.

"They had no warning, they were unarmed," Éowyn spoke strongly, eyes focused on Theoden as he sat down on his throne. There was an all too familiar ache in her voice as she continued: "Now Wild Men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go."

A cold dread spread through her stomach.

"Rick, cot and tree," Éoywn muttered with a shake of her head.

"Where is mama?" Freda questioned fearfully, looking up at the White Lady of Rohan.

But the only comfort Éowyn could give the girl was that of a soft blanket around her shoulders.

The cold had spread to her heart as she was reminded for the second time that day of her own kingdom. Of the pain her people had suffered at the hands of Sauron's armies. But she wasn't there to help them and so she would do whatever was in her power to help the people of Rohan instead.

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash." Gandalf broke the heavy silence, but his words did little to help lift the weight. "All the more potent for he is driven now by his fear of Sauron." Gandalf turned to face Théoden. "Ride out and meet him head on."

But the king said nothing. The news visibly pained him, as did the choice laid out before him.

"Draw him away from your women and children," the wizard continued, his voice stern and urgent. "You must fight."

The hall remained silent as they awaited Théoden's answer but instead, it was Aragorn who spoke. "You have 2000 good men riding north as we speak. Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

It was a good plan but if Saruman's armies were to reach them first, they would be wiped out. There weren't enough soldiers left in the city to defend it. A fact of which Théoden seemed well aware. He pushed himself up on his feet and walked down the steps upon which his throne was placed. "They will be 300 leagues from here by now. Éomer cannot help us."

Gyda frowned and cautiously stepped forward. "I will ride out in search of him. I shall be swift as the wind. I will find him and bring him here before they'll attack."

Her stomach ached at the thought of Gyda leaving, but it turned out she didn't need to worry because Théoden shook his head.

"I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death upon my people. I will not risk open war," the king spoke with conviction.

Gyda's shoulders slouched but Elgarain couldn't help but agree with him. The people of Rohan weren't in any capable state to survive or fight a war right now.

Aragorn, however, seemed to be on the same page as Gyda. He lowered his pipe and spoke: "Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not."

Théoden frowned at the man. "When I last looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan."

Gandalf stood up, hoping to cut through the tension by forcing an answer. "Then what is the king's decision?"

For a moment, the only sound to be heard in the hall was the crackling of the embers in the hearth. At last, Théoden turned to look at his guard. "Háma, gather the people. We set out for Helm's Deep."

The guard bowed and hurried outside.

Théoden glared at those left in the hall, as if daring them to oppose his decision. When everyone remained silent, he retreated with quick steps to his own quarters. Whether to reflect upon the path before him or to pack his belongings, Elgarain could only guess.

With a frustrated grunt, Gandalf got to his feet and stormed out of the hall, followed by Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gyda. Elgarain took one last look at the children but after a reassuring nod from Éowyn, she followed what remained of their fellowship.

As she stepped outside, she could hear Háma's voice above the wind as he delivered the king's message. "By order of the king, the city must empty. We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. Do not burden yourself with treasures. Take only what provisions you need!"

She hurried to catch up with the blur of white that was Gandalf as he marched down the stairs. "Helm's Deep," Gimli muttered angrily. "They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their king?"

"They are scared," Elgarain spoke softly. One look at the women, elderly and children gathering their things was enough to see it. The fear and shock on their faces made her heart ache.

"He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Aragorn added, as if wanting to make up for his earlier challenge of the King's orders. "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

Gyda shook her head. "Whatever it did so then, this is a fight he should have fought head on." She clenched her fist. "He's drawing them into a corner, many will die."

"There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf agreed as he headed inside the stables. "Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre." Suddenly he turned to face Aragorn, his gaze softening somewhat. "Théoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses have to hold."

The air was thick with tension as the two regarded one another. It was clear what Gandalf meant by his words, but was Aragorn ready to accept his role as leader and ruler?

Finally, Aragorn nodded, resolutely. "They will hold."

Gandalf held his gaze for another moment, as if wanting to be sure of the truth of his words. Then he turned and headed into the stable where Shadowfax had been waiting patiently for him. He stroked the mighty horse with a sigh. "The Grey Pilgrim. That's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time." He mounted his horse as Aragorn opened the stable doors for him. "With luck, my search will not be in vain." He turned to look at them all. "Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look at the east."

Gandalf tightened his hold on the reins and set off with such a high speed that Gimli and Legolas were forced to jump out of the way. She'd barely even blinked before he was gone from their sight.

Gimli took one glance at the horses and then quickly left the stables, mumbling beneath his breath about 'foul beasts'. He was followed by Legolas and Aragorn, who shared amused glances. But it seemed Gyda wasn't done talking about the matter yet.

"I cannot believe he wishes to hide away."

"Edoras is not exactly well defensible," Elgarain responded carefully, recognizing the growing anger in her friends' voice. "Besides, their warriors are scattered and who knows how long it will take for Gandalf to gather them all? I'm not sure I would have decided anything different."

Gyda turned to face her. "A fight will come, whether he wishes for it or not. He'll condemn them if we are to go for Helm's Deep. Its defenses will not hold, and we will not be able to leave. His people will die, he will die." She paused. "You should know running away is never an option."

It took her all the strength she could muster to ignore the sting of those last words. "Why must you always assume the worst? Helm's Deep is famed for its strong walls that have never been breached. Is it not better to try and hold the enemy off instead of meeting them in the open when the numbers are against us?" Elgarain frowned, her face taking on her stern Queenly mask she always used to try and calm her advisors, though it seemed to have the opposite effect on Gyda.

"Because I do not live in a land of fairy tales, Elgarain!" She raged, pointing her finger at the High Queen. "Saruman is not an enemy to be underestimated, especially with the forces of Sauron on his side. Those walls will crumble like sand pillars. Helm's Deep is only a facade of idle hopes that have no way of protecting his people."

"I had hoped you knew better by now than to think I have my head in the clouds, Gyda," she said earnestly, still desperately trying to reign in her anger. "I know as well as you not to underestimate Sauron. However, that doesn't mean a fight is always the best or only option. We can't all have your warrior spirit and skill in battle."

Gyda scoffed. "You have your head in the clouds Elgarain if you think Théoden is right. It is not about spirit or courage; it is about what must be done." She took a steadying breath. "Do you think those children got away by mere force of fate? Saruman is no fool. He knows Théoden is scared. He lost his son, he dares not think of losing anyone else, so he runs to a safe haven that will not protect him. It is a trap, Elgarain. You must see reason."

Her features hardened and her voice was cold as ice. "Of course, it is a trap, Théoden knows it too. But I would rather fight somewhere well defensible than charge headlong into an open battle." With those words, Elgarain spun around and marched toward the exit of the stable, hoping to get out of there before she would lose all control and say something she'd truly regret.

"I have always known you to be an optimist, Elgarain!" Gyda called after her, making her come to a halt beneath the archway. "But I've never taken you to be a fool."

Elgarain didn't look back as she stormed outside. She wasn't arrogant enough to think she knew better than Gyda in matters of war. She was also well aware of the fact that Gyda's advice had saved her country more than once. But, for all her insight into battle, her friend had the tendency to forget one very important fact: Not everyone was a capable warrior like her.

A kingdom wasn't merely composed of warriors but of farmers, scholars, the elderly and the sick, children and their mothers and fathers. And while, in her experience, a lot of them often wanted to fight, they weren't always capable. Meanwhile Saruman had bred an army that knew no other purpose than to fight.

If they were to win this battle, they had to use every advantage they had. And if that meant taking refuge in a stronghold that had never been breached, Elgarain would rather take that chance than to remain in such an exposed city as Edoras.

And if Gyda thought that made her a foolish Queen, then she would accept the insult. She would rather be made out as a fool than a warmonger.

Lost in her raging thoughts, Elgarain found her way back to the healing rooms. She was completely out of medicines and healing equipment, and something told her she would need everything she could carry in the days to come. But before the packing could begin, she needed to do something to get her strength up. The aftermath of her fight with the Orc in Fangorn still made her body feel weak and left her skin pale. A small voice in the back of her mind told her she should be worried about the fact she wasn't healing, but it was overruled by the task at hand: help these people survive.

The healing rooms were bustling. Fridwyn was busy commanding her healers left and right about what they absolutely had to bring along and what could be left behind. As soon as her eyes fell upon Elgarain, that hostile frown appeared on her features again. But she had far more important things to do than to worry about it.

"I wondered if you had some leaves of henbane or hemlock available for me to use?"

Fridwyn frowned. "Who are you planning to do away with?"

Elgarain smiled. She too had been very confused when Lord Elrond first taught her about the use of the plants. "The plant is poisonous, yes, but only when eaten. When used as a salve the leaves relieve a great deal of pain in the muscles and joints."

The woman still looked rather skeptical but then decided she had far more important things to do than to ponder about Elvish medicine. "Top shelf, to the right."

Elgarain muttered a quick thanks and gathered the leaves, along with a bowl, some cloth and water. She took the equipment to a quiet room and sighed in relief at being alone for a moment. The familiar rhythm of grinding the green leaves and adding them to the water made her forget about her argument with Gyda for a moment and bathed her in a blissful illusion of peace.

When the salve was finally done, she applied it to the cloth and wrapped it around her aching ribs. Normally when making a salve she preferred to add beeswax or oil, but with the city evacuating she didn't have time for such luxuries. Besides, with the small number of flowers growing on the plains of Rohan, she doubted if there were enough bees to gather the wax and still leave enough for the little creatures to use.

A sharp knock on the door pulled her from her pondering. She put the cloth aside and pulled her clothes straight. "Come in!"

It was Aragorn who stepped inside, a smile on his face. "I knew I could find you here." Softly he closed the door behind him, eyes scanning the room. As soon as his gaze landed on the henbane and hemlock a spark of recognition lit up his features. Apparently, the healing properties of the plants were known to him.

"There are bound to be elderly with aching joints on a journey across rough terrain," Elgarain quickly explained. "I thought it best to take some with me. Though the healer in charge thought me rather insane."

His gray eyes drifted towards her face and for the smallest of seconds, she could see the doubt lingering within his gaze. He knew she was lying. But then he blinked, and it was gone. "Not many are familiar with the elvish ways of plants," he said.

"I didn't think you were either," she jested as she got to her feet and walked towards him. "You never showed much interest in healing when we were younger."

The smallest of smiles tugged at his lips. "I changed my mind after spending some time in the wild. The Dúnedain are quite skilled in the use of Elvish medicine."

"So I've heard," she nodded. "Is that why you're here? To help with the packing?"

His gray eyes studied her. "I came to see how you're doing."

"What do you mean?" She raised a brow, her mind already searching for some sort of excuse about her health, but it turned out that wasn't what he meant.

"You two have always argued very loudly," he answered somewhat apologetically.

Rage flared up inside of her at the mere mention of her guard. And despite her attempts to master her anger, the words left her mouth before she could stop them: "I can't stand it when she acts like she is the only one who knows the cost of war. She isn't the only one who's lost someone!" She bit her lip, regretting the words as soon as she said them. Taking a steadying breath, Elgarain tried to reclaim some dignity. "No one can truly know the burden of ruling until a crown rests upon your head."

Aragorn regarded her with a softness that made her heart flutter. "She has the mind of a soldier, you the mind of a ruler. There is no right or wrong, only what we believe will protect those we love."

The confident way he'd spoken against King Théoden earlier flashed through her mind. It was the first time she'd seen him speak to another ruler. As if he was finally starting to accept they were equal.

She took a step towards him. "And which one are you?"

He froze, like a deer catching wind of its hunter. "I am no king, Elgarain."

"Then why do you act like one? You are meant to be so much more than a soldier. You deny it all you want but it's clear you're no longer running from it," she spoke bitterly.

It wasn't fair to feel angry, yet she couldn't help it. She knew all too well of the struggles that came with a great legacy. But wasn't that legacy exactly the reason they'd said goodbye to each other? If he chose to throw that away, what had all the pain and heartbreak been for?

Despite the small smile lingering on his lips, a glint of sadness flickered within his eyes. "You always did know me best."

Her heart jumped in her chest as her anger melted away like snow beneath the snow, but she managed to keep her features carefully controlled.

He sighed. "You're right. Those harsh words I spoke to you in Lothlórien were always meant more for me than they were for you."

With a shake of her head, she took a step closer towards him. "I don't believe that. Whatever is holding you back, whatever doubts still linger, I know one day you will be ready. Just like I was. I just wished-" she bit her lip and swallowed the words at the very last moment.

Gently he took her trembling hands in his own. "Elgarain?" he murmured. "What are you saying?"

The sound of her name on this tongue was like a weapon she wished he wouldn't use, for her heart ached at the very sound of it. She couldn't even bear to look at him as she whispered: "I thought it would get easier with time. That I could learn to accept the choice we made was indeed best for our people. Best for us, but..." The words got stuck in her throat. She had made many mistakes in her life, and she was sure she would continue to make many more, but perhaps the greatest of them all was pushing him away.

A trembling breath fell from her lips and finally she raised her gaze to look at him. "Please tell me that this can never last," she said, her voice begging. "Tell me that we'd only bring ruin upon each other, on our kingdoms."

The flame within his gaze made a shiver crawl down her spine.

"I cannot tell you that," he whispered with a shake of his head.

She wanted to scream at him, but hope flared in her chest and choked the sound before it could leave her throat. "Why not?"

All her hope lay in that one answer. Words she'd been dying to hear for so long. She couldn't ignore the way her soul cried out for him any longer. All she needed was for him to say it.

A small smile appeared on his face as he reached out and touched her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine. "Because we'd be living a lie."

He spoke with so much conviction that her head started spinning. She reached for his hand still resting on her cheek, covering his fingers with her own. She could feel his warm breath on her face and knew she would hate herself later for giving in. But she would hate herself even more if she were to give up on him once again.

And then he kissed her, with flaming intensity, making up for all the long years, the endless moons, that their souls had been apart.

Her heart kept missing beats as her hands reached for the collar of his tunic, pulling him closer. Though it was never close enough...His hands tangled in her hair, lips warm and sure against her own. He whispered her name, and she knew for sure then her body had been set aflame.

With a soft nudge he walked her backwards, gently lifting her off her feet before sitting her down upon the table. She wrapped her legs around his waist, it still wasn't close enough.

The loud and foreboding blow of a horn came floating in through the window, forcing them apart. Though they remained closely tangled, foreheads pressed together. The sound was followed by the warning shout of a guard, instructing everyone to head to the gates.

"They're leaving," Aragorn breathed hoarsely as he ran his thumb over her lips.

"We'll catch up with them," she muttered, eyes finally fluttering open.

He grinned and for a moment he looked years younger, back when she knew him under a different name... "As you say, anarinya."

She giggled, but the sound faded into a moan as placed his lips back upon hers.

Maybe it lasted minutes, maybe it lasted hours. The room fell away. All she knew was him and how his hands held her tightly, moving from her hair to her waist. Even if some part of her brain had forced her to forget him, forget this, now she knew for sure this was where she truly belonged.

The horn blew once again, sounding much further away already.

Reluctantly she pulled away. "They'll come looking for us if we're not there," she whispered, out of breath. More specifically, Gyda would come looking for her. Her guard might be angry with her right now but that didn't mean she would ever forget about her duty.

He sighed and nodded. Tenderly he pressed his lips against her forehead before stepping away. He held out his hand and helped her down from the table.

She wasn't planning on ever letting go of him again.

°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

IT HAPPENED GUYS! *insert 'stay fucking calm' meme*

I am really proud of how this scene turned out. I've always struggled with writing kiss scenes but this one just turned out exactly as I wanted! (It's not like I took two full weeks to complete this chapter lol). Also, extra cake for anyone who can guess what song the title is a reference to ;)

Please leave some comments with your thoughts! Let's scream about these two together before tragedy strikes again...

xx Nelly