Title: Elvish Dreams
Warnings: Um. Not a thing, yet.
Parings: Tuor/Voronwe preslash.
Author's notes: Pretend there is an accent mark over the 'e' in Voronwe and Aranwe. This is Silmarillion/Unfinished Tales based. Tell me what to do with it, I beg you. Also, has this pairing occurred to anyone but me?
Voronwe son of Aranwe cast his eyes about is hopes of finding a suitable place to rest for the day. Tuor walked beside him, deep within his own thought. The robe of Ulmo made it difficult for even elven eyes to find him in the shadows underneath Ered Wethrin, but his guide had no such garment, and they would need a warmer place then open air to shield them from the chill of the beginning of the Fell Winter. When walking botch felt the cold eat at their bones, but at rest that discomfort would be deadly.
Voronwe stopped of a sudden, and motioned for Tuor to follow him. The elven guide had found a small alcove in the crux of two large hills, and that would serve them until the light failed again. The pair settled themselves into the small space, sharing what covers that Tuor had thought to bring from his former home in the caves of Androth.
Tuor passed quickly into uneasy slumber, but Voronwe was restless. He felt no need of further sleep, having spent his slumber while walking that night, turning his mind to strange elvish dreams. For his thought had not been needed while journeying thus far, the ways of the faded paths long known by his feet, and no Orc had yet assailed them. The usual course of action before Tuor slept ere the beginning of dawn was for the two to converse, and tell the other of the happenings of their respective parts of the world. However, as time passed they grew closer, as two paired constantly are wont to do, and they had taken to telling the other of dreams, hopes and fears.
The night's march had been more difficult then most, though, so Tuor swiftly falling asleep was not unexpected. Still, Voronwe could not find it in him to relax, or even sleep much more, since the dreams he had been giving thought to were stranger then even elves were wont to dream. "I am not usually so given to think of such things. I wonder why my thoughts turn to such thoughts now..." Voronwe whispered, in a voice as soft and clear as the brink of dawn. And Tuor heard those words, for though he had been sleeping, his instincts to wake upon any word at all were still present, and he wondered at them.
At the next nightfall Voronwe stood up quickly and shook his head to clear the last traces of dream thought. He was dismayed to note that his hair and clothing had frosted in the day, and looking down he saw that the same had happened to Tuor. His dismay turned to amusement when he saw the frost clinging to the whiskers of Tuor's chin, making it look white with age. He tried to school his face into a stern look upon Tuor's awakening, but failed when he saw Tuor run his hand over his chin, and then looked in surprise at the damp. Voronwe smiled slightly, then walked out of the small lair, stopping to wait for Tuor a few paces from the opening.
Warnings: Um. Not a thing, yet.
Parings: Tuor/Voronwe preslash.
Author's notes: Pretend there is an accent mark over the 'e' in Voronwe and Aranwe. This is Silmarillion/Unfinished Tales based. Tell me what to do with it, I beg you. Also, has this pairing occurred to anyone but me?
Voronwe son of Aranwe cast his eyes about is hopes of finding a suitable place to rest for the day. Tuor walked beside him, deep within his own thought. The robe of Ulmo made it difficult for even elven eyes to find him in the shadows underneath Ered Wethrin, but his guide had no such garment, and they would need a warmer place then open air to shield them from the chill of the beginning of the Fell Winter. When walking botch felt the cold eat at their bones, but at rest that discomfort would be deadly.
Voronwe stopped of a sudden, and motioned for Tuor to follow him. The elven guide had found a small alcove in the crux of two large hills, and that would serve them until the light failed again. The pair settled themselves into the small space, sharing what covers that Tuor had thought to bring from his former home in the caves of Androth.
Tuor passed quickly into uneasy slumber, but Voronwe was restless. He felt no need of further sleep, having spent his slumber while walking that night, turning his mind to strange elvish dreams. For his thought had not been needed while journeying thus far, the ways of the faded paths long known by his feet, and no Orc had yet assailed them. The usual course of action before Tuor slept ere the beginning of dawn was for the two to converse, and tell the other of the happenings of their respective parts of the world. However, as time passed they grew closer, as two paired constantly are wont to do, and they had taken to telling the other of dreams, hopes and fears.
The night's march had been more difficult then most, though, so Tuor swiftly falling asleep was not unexpected. Still, Voronwe could not find it in him to relax, or even sleep much more, since the dreams he had been giving thought to were stranger then even elves were wont to dream. "I am not usually so given to think of such things. I wonder why my thoughts turn to such thoughts now..." Voronwe whispered, in a voice as soft and clear as the brink of dawn. And Tuor heard those words, for though he had been sleeping, his instincts to wake upon any word at all were still present, and he wondered at them.
At the next nightfall Voronwe stood up quickly and shook his head to clear the last traces of dream thought. He was dismayed to note that his hair and clothing had frosted in the day, and looking down he saw that the same had happened to Tuor. His dismay turned to amusement when he saw the frost clinging to the whiskers of Tuor's chin, making it look white with age. He tried to school his face into a stern look upon Tuor's awakening, but failed when he saw Tuor run his hand over his chin, and then looked in surprise at the damp. Voronwe smiled slightly, then walked out of the small lair, stopping to wait for Tuor a few paces from the opening.
