The narrow lane skirted its lazy way bordering the Brandywine's west bank, it was the second day after the attack on the ferry and a glorious sunshine pervaded through the Shire's early morning hours. A scattering of hobbits ambled their way through the lane, mindful of their own business they just barely paused before the startling sight of the Smokey Black stallion and the two figures that rode it, nevertheless they made sure to regale the horse's occupants a scornful scowl before moving on, undoubtedly they thought nothing good could come from those two.
If anything the look on his fellow hobbits faces amused Eldric even more, making his singing rise an octave every time a hobbit appeared beyond the next bend or rise of the earthy lane.
Elanrandir sighed as he distractedly scratched at the rough cloth bandage that circled his forehead and then patted his mounts flank as it slowly walked up the lane, if anything a vain gesture that attempted to reassure the horse just as much as himself, that hopefully and eventually the hobbit would cease his incessant howling.
Eldric grinned from ear to ear as he waved at the latest hobbit that had stood up from his gathering mushrooms task and somewhat dumbly waved back, the grin turning to a giggle as he cheerfully ended his song, and casually remarked to the man behind him…
"That one can't wait to get back to his gaffer and tell him about us"
The man nodded sullenly and glumly replied…
"Aye soon, as you term these lands, the whole East Farthing will know about us, not to say that those who do not see us will hear of our passing"
Again the hobbit giggled, tittering on the saddle he nonchalantly replied...
"Aye so let them gossip tonight! A good tankard of ale on one hand and a fast tongue breeds a colourful discourse my unlearned friend!"
The man shook his head as his eyes rolled and somehow despite the ringing inside his head had the clarity of thought to refrain from commenting on the hobbit's wisdom, or lack thereof, not that the hobbit gave him any choice on the matter for he mischievously carried on...
"And how be thou swollen head this splendid sun bathed morn my faithful Elan?"
Even though the man's smirk passed unseen to Eldric's eyes, the grumbled tone of his words was enough to bring a delighted chortle from the Halfling...
"It would ache far less if someone had not decided to spend the said morning singing"
Eldric giggled with aplomb and obligingly started another ridiculous song about a cow and the moon leaving an exasperated Elanrandir time to reflect on his own questionable wisdom in having foolishly accepted the hobbit's bait.
The morning grew older and sun climbed higher above the eastern horizons as the stallion walked up the lane bearing its two occupants steadily towards the Brandywine Bridge. If anything the journey proved that the hobbit seemed to have an inexhaustible repertoire and as soon as one song died, another began to sound of his lips. By then Elanrandir of Gondor had long since ceased to even pretend he was listening, or even caring, his determined face just stoically staring ahead up the path. Almost maybe lulled to a dreamy state by the monotone voice of the hobbit, Elan's thoughts wandered back in the past to another sunlit morning.
Elan smiled as at last his eyes found her, for a moment he stayed hidden behind the thick bushes that grew profusely in the vale, eye softening in a yearning look that gazed over her. Arana was clad in a white gown that defined the form of her hips curves, a gentle white caress that revealed those contours of flesh the fabric fell over, her upper body bound under a dark leather corset partly hidden by the long flowing locks of darkest ebony hair. The man stopped almost breathlessly held in ransom by the sight, for standing there in the small clearing she seemed bathed in a golden hue that the piercing sun's rays cast over her. Slowly after a few seconds had passed, Elan stepped over the branched towards her from behind, his voice soft as he spoke before she had noticed his approach…
"Your father would not approve my lady of you being so far from the refuge"
Arana's crimson lips broke into smile as she turned towards the familiar voice, an inquisitive eyebrow lifting teasingly as she replied mockingly, though warmly…
"Oh he would not would he? And pray tell me my lord; are you familiar with those herbs that my poultices require or indeed those that savour your venison?"
Elan chuckled as he reached her, slowly circling around her, light gleaming in those grey eyes that reached out to drown her own emerald orbs…
"Perhaps you had no need Lady Arana, perhaps I have lost the taste to savour anything evermore unless it be the warm moist ridges of your satin lips. Maybe in them lay's my unquenchable thirst"…Elan stopped before her, just a hands breadth away, his own finger curling under the smooth softness of her chin, gently raising her face up to his intense eyes,… "And stop calling me that"
Arana's eyes blossomed full of mischief as she held his eyes for a few moments then abruptly shook her head free and turned against him, her voice tainted with a soft teasing tone…
"But my lord you are now Lord Faramir's right hand, how else could I call you other than by the noble title you so deserve?"…as she ended her words Arana's smile intensified away from Elan's eyes.
Her response won a grin from Elanrandir and the need to move closer to her drew him into her, brushing into her back, his whisper mingled within the scent of her dark flowing locks…
"Do not part in me the blame for my uncle's foolishness Arana. I never asked for such honour"…as his voice died and his last whispered breath warmed the flesh of her neck, Elan felt his body tense, her essence, the touch of her hair on his face, all overpowered him, leaving him weakened. His lips brushed the smooth silkiness of her neck's nape, tenderly mouthing into the warm skin's shivers. He felt her neck arch as his lips gently nibbled the flesh, lips that explored through the contoured curves, till the bewitching song of her risen breath was finally broken by his whisper…
"You have not yet answered my request"…even as his voiced faded, regret flowed through his deep sigh, a regret that increased as he felt her stiffen against him and finally turn to face him. Her eyes softened in sympathy as she gazed into his troubled eyes, yet there was a stubborn determination in her voice even as her slender fingers reached for his cheek…
"No Elan, do not ask of me that, I will not leave for Minas Tirith"…she paused, offering him a comforting smile, her fingers trailing down his cheek… "For I will not be parted from him that has claimed my heart"
Elan nodded torn by the conflict in his heart, for the same love that he bore for her, held him in fear's ransom. Slowly his hand rose to grasp her own hand and lead her flesh to his lips, brushing kisses that left a warm lingering touch in his lips. His fiery eyes gleamed anew with those smouldering embers that his spirit forged deep within his being, eyes that locked right into her emerald eyes and reached for her soul. Arana blushed as that intense gaze delved deep into her feelings; somehow she heard his words, soft though tinged with strength...
"You blush Ranger's daughter"
Despite the turmoil that raged through her risen heartbeats, she managed to breathlessly whisper back...
"The way you look at me tears my defences down"
Elan smiled, touched by the shared intimacy that needed no words, unless it could be said that words are but wisps of feelings, then his face regained that intense stare that held her eyes captured and through his lips breathed alive his emotion...
"I would hold forever your eyes pierced by mine, undressing those veils of light you hold for eyes just with my gaze, till your heart was mirrored naked in them, bare to the warm caress that claims your innermost dreams, I will hold you in my arms where no nightmares could reach you, just the warmth of a dreams cradle will my arms let through to hold your nights sleepless, till a dawn seems but a cruel fate to a night that was yearned to be eternal"
Slowly their forms drew together as they searched for each other's lips, to weave that ageless dance between a man and a woman, lost in the embrace of a kiss.
Maybe it was the sudden realisation that the hobbit had stopped singing, or that his horse sensing the feelings of those it bore, had instinctively stopped its gait, but Elanrandir was forcibly pulled away from his thoughts. There before them stood the twin stone spires of the Brandywine bridge, a crossroads that spanned the river and led to a parting that somehow both man and hobbit had come to dread.
