Fall 900 TA

The rain poured hard in the south of the forest that night. It came in thick drops, and the wind made the limbs of the trees groan and churn. But still the elves kept watch in the pitch of the night. Unede sat peering out into the forest, and listening hard for the foot falls of orc's or the cackles of goblins in search of a dry reprieve, but none came. Nothing dry and warm dared to move from its haunt.

A gentle tap came to her shoulder, and Unede turned to see her fellow guardsman come to relieve her of watch duty. They gave a gentle nod to each other and exchanged brief pleasantries before Unede climbed gingerly across the slippery moss of the tree limb and higher still towards the talans at the center of the outpost. She ducked under the branches of a linden tree and climbed until at last she came to a little flet where she had slung an oiled cotton tarp over a branch and pinned it to the limbs crossing below her and there she found a reprieve from the wet of the night. She dipped into the entrance and pulled off her drenched cloak and hung it across the opening, then removed her sword and wrapped herself in a warm wool blanket she had saved.

At last a she had a relief from the rain, and decided then to sit and rest her mind and thoughts until morning came. She took a bite of cheese, and a sip of cold tea, and hummed a song to dispel the cold and gloom of the dark night. Then at last, feeling the creep of exhaustion, lay her back against the trunk of the tree and fell into an elven dream.

But her rest was soon disturbed and she jumped a little when her cloak was flung back and the dripping figure of Legolas tried to desperately squeeze into the shelter as the rain picked up. He peeled off his cloak and hung it next to hers as she raised and eye brow, and could not help but smile as he tried to dry his face and squeeze the rain from his hair without wetting her in the small space.

The smiled at each other and he folded his belongings into the corner and undid his bracers and quiver, and unstrung his bow. Unede reached for the quiver and tipped the water out of it with a giggle and the two grinned wider in the darkness. From his breast pocket Legolas pulled out an oiled leather sachet and produced a candle, and without a second thought Unede filled a cup with water and lay tea leaves into it and set it on top of the clay bowl the candle had been placed into. They folded themselves as small as they could and sat tightly around the candle and the warming water.

"You're a sight for sore eyes." She reached over and put his dripping hair behind his back so that the water did not extinguish their scant fire.

"We have only just arrived from scouting, and I do not have watch until the morrow." He said.

She nodded at his words. He had left before her, not long after the summer dances, and she had arrived nearly a fortnight ago. She thought desperately, 37 days, she finally concluded, since she had seen him, 40 since the merry embrace of wine had led them to share dances all night by the fire and she steadied herself, for she still felt dizzy from all the spinning when she thought of his hand around her waist and the way his eyes sparkled in the firelight. It had rained for nearly three days, and already she had forgotten what it was to be dry, and she thought a herself a far cry now from that same elleth in a fine dress with flowing hair. She watched him and searched herself for braveness and stirred the tea a little in the pot.

"Just some goblins in the south, quieter than we expected." He commented and picked on the cheese that she had left out.

"That's surprising." She shrugged.

"Not with all the rain." He said. "Do you want a bit of rabbit?" He pulled out the last of his jerky and offered her the slice which she took gratefully as the water began to steam.

"I" She said quietly blushing. He looked at her quizzically and smiled as she added a soggy lump of sugar to the tea and gave it another stir.

The rain picked up and Unede laughed as a few drops leaked through the sides of the pitch and dropped onto Legolas's head. He crawled over on his hands and knees and shewed her a little to the side, and she gladly made room for him on the trunk and offered him a part of the wool blanket. They watched the water drip down the canvas and slip through the cracks of the flet, and the water over the candle came to a gentle boil and he poured the tea into little clay cups and handed her one. She took it gratefully and as she leaned back she found that Legolas's arm was bound around her shoulders, and had pulled her into a warm embrace as the winds clapped and blew outside of their scant shelter.

"I thought." She started again and lay her head on his chest. "I thought that for a little while, we might ignore the all the omens." They had played this game before, a more delicate dance than that of a fire circle. They had stepped delicately around topics of courtship, and feigned indifferent friendship on these long assignments in the forest. But for all the pretend they took part in, neither was brave enough to speak of the topic of actual love. So instead they shared rabbit, and saved candles for tea, and hid sugar for each other rather than the other friends. Little acts of defiant affection.

She sat there for a few moments sipping her tea and listening to the rain, and the whispering candle and then broke from his embrace and reached for her pack. She undid the clasps and noticed her hands shook as she took a parcel from its depths. There bound in leaves and oiled leather she brought forth a half stale cob and set it next to the flame, then settled back into his arms. After a few minutes he turned the bread, and poured the more tea. She watched him there in the orange glow of their little candle, wet, and humming, still as glad as she had ever seen him.

Gently she opened the leaves and revealed to him the crisp brown of the bread.

"It's a cob." He said giddily and took her hand in his. The twinkle in his eye was all she had imagined it would be, and she felt a hearty blush rise to her cheeks.

"A soggy cob as luck would have." She stammered and drank her tea, and then broke the bread apart and handed him a piece. "and probably tough and lumpy."

"You made this?" It was more of a statement than a question, and he stuffed a bite into his mouth. She nodded a little, and pulled herself closer again in the warmth of the wool.

"Maybe in a decade you'll have a right cob to eat."

"This one is as right as rain I think." He whispered, and with his words the rain picked up and fat drops rolled down the edges of the their little tent, and they ate quietly to the patter of the water. "It would be nice if for a while we pretend that we were destined to live happy lives together." He whispered and set his chin atop her head.

"Shall I carve our names into the wood as the men of the world do?" She teased and smiled up at him.

"Though I would delight it in, I do not think the tree would much like that." And the tree shuddered a bit to affirm his observation. "Perhaps we could have circumvented all of this, if we had taken our intended paths and been the enemies we should have been."

She nodded into his shoulder and whispered "Perhaps." They were quiet then for a long while, and when he had finished his bread he looked down and saw that his love was once again lost in an elven dream with open eyes and a gentle breath. He pulled her a little closer and waved his hand to extinguish their little flame, and then after many days of travel, tried to find a little rest himself.