The horse snorts sending a cloud of billowed breath into the air. Behind
me, the rest of the Fellowship sleeps, alert but in the deepest slumber.
Sleep is necessary for our trek, long and arduous as it is. And important…
I revel in the feel of the warm horseflesh between my thighs. It overwhelms the chill of the morning. In the east, the sun has yet to rise, but it still spreads its loving rays out, igniting the gray sky into hues of blue and red and pink and orange and the slightest, purest green. It rivals the green pastures that spread around me, the blades of grass coated with perfect frost. So full of life, so brilliant in contrast to the gray cold peaks of the North that I see. Where we sleep on the gentle rolling hills, our journey will lead us through the snow and peaks…where life does not dare to stir.
Death and life…promise and prophesy.
My beloved, hear my heart. Know that it was the purity, the importance of this trek, of this fellowship that takes me from your side. The look in your pure eyes as I mounted my horse, as I gathered the reins in my hand; the way that your hand stroked at my thigh, at the horse; the clear ring of your voice in the quiet of Rivendell telling me of love and life; they tug at me now.
Will I do as my ancestors did? Will I fail…not only my birthright, but myself, and by the dearest, closest proxy, you as well? Can you give your heart, your life to a man that falls short of that which destiny has preordained for him?
Know, my beloved, that even now in the chill of the harkening winter, I think of you. I ache to hold you in my arms. I burn to hear your voice in my ears, in my mind, telling me of the wonders of love. Know that all that I do is for you and the hope that I might be worthy of the gift that you offer me. Immortality for love is hardly an even trade.
Against the cold peaks, I see your eyes, Arwen, beloved. Gods, I miss you, my love. Keep safe. Keep that purity of life that shines in your heart that lights my way. I will see you again. And I will come to you as all the man I am destined to be.
I hold you in my heart. The honesty of it shines there…against the dark cold of the ring. I will keep you there. My beloved.
The horse snorts and I lean forward to pat at his neck. Behind me the Fellowship rises, first in Boromir's waking snort and Gimli's moan. Then in the Hobbits, asking about breakfast, and finally in Legolas' gentle sigh. My brothers awake. Turning, I lead the horse back to the camp, my back to the peaks and the hooves breaking through the frost. It is a lonely road even in the presence of brothers, Arwen, for you are not here. But it is a road that will be traveled.
I revel in the feel of the warm horseflesh between my thighs. It overwhelms the chill of the morning. In the east, the sun has yet to rise, but it still spreads its loving rays out, igniting the gray sky into hues of blue and red and pink and orange and the slightest, purest green. It rivals the green pastures that spread around me, the blades of grass coated with perfect frost. So full of life, so brilliant in contrast to the gray cold peaks of the North that I see. Where we sleep on the gentle rolling hills, our journey will lead us through the snow and peaks…where life does not dare to stir.
Death and life…promise and prophesy.
My beloved, hear my heart. Know that it was the purity, the importance of this trek, of this fellowship that takes me from your side. The look in your pure eyes as I mounted my horse, as I gathered the reins in my hand; the way that your hand stroked at my thigh, at the horse; the clear ring of your voice in the quiet of Rivendell telling me of love and life; they tug at me now.
Will I do as my ancestors did? Will I fail…not only my birthright, but myself, and by the dearest, closest proxy, you as well? Can you give your heart, your life to a man that falls short of that which destiny has preordained for him?
Know, my beloved, that even now in the chill of the harkening winter, I think of you. I ache to hold you in my arms. I burn to hear your voice in my ears, in my mind, telling me of the wonders of love. Know that all that I do is for you and the hope that I might be worthy of the gift that you offer me. Immortality for love is hardly an even trade.
Against the cold peaks, I see your eyes, Arwen, beloved. Gods, I miss you, my love. Keep safe. Keep that purity of life that shines in your heart that lights my way. I will see you again. And I will come to you as all the man I am destined to be.
I hold you in my heart. The honesty of it shines there…against the dark cold of the ring. I will keep you there. My beloved.
The horse snorts and I lean forward to pat at his neck. Behind me the Fellowship rises, first in Boromir's waking snort and Gimli's moan. Then in the Hobbits, asking about breakfast, and finally in Legolas' gentle sigh. My brothers awake. Turning, I lead the horse back to the camp, my back to the peaks and the hooves breaking through the frost. It is a lonely road even in the presence of brothers, Arwen, for you are not here. But it is a road that will be traveled.