~*~* A/N: This is something I've been dwelling on for a while.. the first chapter is in Celeborn's PoV, but the rest will be in Taluniel's. Enjoy! *~*~*~
Love is a funny thing; beautiful, splendid, yet it can slash at one's soul like nothing else. Galadriel was my love, and she had been, for thousands of years. I could feel her heart, I knew her, from her beautiful golden-blonde tresses to her delicate feet. She had been the Lady of my Wood since the First Age, when she came over the mountains, and journeyed into my lands. She had been mine then.
Now it is the beginning of the Fourth Age, and I feel that she wishes not to remain in Lothlorien. Her heart is pulled into the West, into the Undying Lands, and I know that soon she would depart. I do not think even she can tell yet, but I do - I can tell, as one can tell that a single leaf has fallen from a tree, if one has seen that tree each day for thousands of years.
She is distant; removed from her emotions, her heart. When we make love, it is as though she is not even there, not her mind, at least, for her mind, and her heart, are in the West. I grew weary of it, and, until this very morning, found myself quite cross.
This morning, I saw her.
I'm certain I must have seen her before, but not like this; never like this. The sun seemed to jump from her dark hair. Dark hair, so exotic to one of Lothlorien such as myself, so accustomed to the light colors of my people. Her eyes the softest green, and even though she tried not to, she glanced up at me.
A handmaid, she was, to my wife Galadriel. I found that I wanted her, yearned for her; it was nothing like love, you see, the type I felt for Galadriel - not at first, at least. Nae, it was pure, simple, almost animalistic. I wanted to have her; I needed to have her.
I watched her move, saw how she waited upon Galadriel. She was young; far too young for a man of my age and position to favor properly, indeed. Funny, isn't it, how the heart often refuses to be proper.
~*~*~* A/N: I hope you likesies! Review!!! *~*~*~
Love is a funny thing; beautiful, splendid, yet it can slash at one's soul like nothing else. Galadriel was my love, and she had been, for thousands of years. I could feel her heart, I knew her, from her beautiful golden-blonde tresses to her delicate feet. She had been the Lady of my Wood since the First Age, when she came over the mountains, and journeyed into my lands. She had been mine then.
Now it is the beginning of the Fourth Age, and I feel that she wishes not to remain in Lothlorien. Her heart is pulled into the West, into the Undying Lands, and I know that soon she would depart. I do not think even she can tell yet, but I do - I can tell, as one can tell that a single leaf has fallen from a tree, if one has seen that tree each day for thousands of years.
She is distant; removed from her emotions, her heart. When we make love, it is as though she is not even there, not her mind, at least, for her mind, and her heart, are in the West. I grew weary of it, and, until this very morning, found myself quite cross.
This morning, I saw her.
I'm certain I must have seen her before, but not like this; never like this. The sun seemed to jump from her dark hair. Dark hair, so exotic to one of Lothlorien such as myself, so accustomed to the light colors of my people. Her eyes the softest green, and even though she tried not to, she glanced up at me.
A handmaid, she was, to my wife Galadriel. I found that I wanted her, yearned for her; it was nothing like love, you see, the type I felt for Galadriel - not at first, at least. Nae, it was pure, simple, almost animalistic. I wanted to have her; I needed to have her.
I watched her move, saw how she waited upon Galadriel. She was young; far too young for a man of my age and position to favor properly, indeed. Funny, isn't it, how the heart often refuses to be proper.
~*~*~* A/N: I hope you likesies! Review!!! *~*~*~