He stopped eating, stopped sleeping. He was completely wrenched and dejected. He would go to the edge of the forest for days. Other elven maids tried to court him while she was away, but none of them could do what only she could. No one could speak to him. He would stare at nothing for hours. He was dying.
Grief took over his body, depression set in. The only thing he held onto was the chance of her coming back. That was his only shred of hope.
When at last she came over the crisp dark mountains from the west, he didn't trust his own eyes until she was but a mile away. Then, he ran as fast as his battered body could take him to the one thing that could heal him. She dropped her bags and caught him in her fierce embrace.
Shakily, the agitated elf kissed her hair, down her cheek until his lips met hers for the first time in a long time. The tightness in his chest finally release. She was real. The sweet wholeness she brought was not a dream. She was not of his half crazed delusions, of his lovesick hallucinations. She was real, and she was his.
