:::
(Eowyn)
:::
I ran my fingers over the black gown trimmed in silver, feeling the fine velvet and careful stitching. Perfect. I slipped it on and looked in the mirror. The dress looked beautiful, tight at the waist, bell sleeves flowing and the long train trailing behind. I adjusted the low, rounded collar and put on the black veil that shielded my face. My large blue eyes were bright against the black clothing, and my hair carefully pinned up. I suddenly looked older than my 24 years. Was this what a widow looked like? No, a widow would have tears in her eyes, I had a devious innocence in mine.
Tomorrow was the funeral. Hundreds upon hundreds of visitors were arriving. I didn't look forward to all the old royal sentimental ladies coming to me, hurling their flabby arms around, sobbing, and expecting ME to sob with them. I practically knew what they would say. 'Oh, my poor sweet girl, it was such an awful tragedy, so awful. You must be crushed! Look at you, so beautiful, so thin, my, we do need to find you another husband quickly.' And then I'd have to fake tears welling in my eyes but hold it in ever so daintily to prove my 'strength', although they all knew I was 'suffering infinitely' on the inside.
Rubbish. I frowned and adjusted my dress again. Then, I carefully slipped it off and laid it carefully on the bed for tomorrow.
My thoughts wandered to Aragorn, and my spirits lifted a notch. The King would be arriving tonight, of course, in mourning of his Captain. I knew he would suffer for the great loss, and a small part of me felt guilty. Faramir was not a man of evil, nor was he jealous, selfish or useless. He'd made a seemly Captain of Gondor, and possibly even a better husband.
Ah, well, too bad he wound up with my treacherous intentions and me.
:::
(Arwen)
:::
A drizzling grey rain fell, shrouding the air with a silver haze. I could barely see my horse's ears twitching in front of me. Despite almost everybody's protests, I'd insisted on riding by myself. This morning, my stomach had begun to ache terribly. I didn't tell anybody, but my mood was sunken and the rain was making everything cold, wet and slippery. Ahead of me, Aragorn rode with a straight back and a tall chin. I loved seeing his dark hair, his broad shoulders, his lean flanks.
As if reading my thoughts, my king tensed the reins to slow his horse and waited for me to ride by his side. We rode in silence, content by the other's presence. His grey eyes blended in with the rain as if they were a part of the endless mist.
Oh, Estel, it would be that your name meant Hope, for you were the Hope of men, the Hope of our treacherous lives. Can you count the nights I gazed up at the black sky littered with stars, praying you were still alive? Is it possible to collect all the tears I shed for you, the righteous King of Men beneath a black cloak of a wandering vagabond?
It was always in these times of darkness did I think about Aragorn, the Lost One, the righteous one. There was a tragic side to his life, the death of his great father Arathorn when he was a mere child. Oh, and how his mother fled from Gondor when 'twas in ruins, how she hid amongst the trees and traveled by feet into the hidden refuge of Rivendell, how she brought her little boy, only to die shortly after from illness. How he met and loved me, how I made the choice to stay, I wanted to entirely break down and weep. I loved this man so much, and although nothing would ever diminish my love for him, I felt as if his pain and sorrow was mine. There was a great sadness behind his deep-set eyes, his sparse and wise words, his lean physical body.
"Are you feeling all right?" his deep voice breaking through the rain, grey eyes filled with concern. "I know the rain makes everything difficult, but we should be arriving at Meduseld shortly."
"I'm fine," I reassured him. But a tight feeling was in my throat, and deep down, every step the horse took sunk my spirits even more. I didn't want to go to Meduseld.
And I definitely wasn't looking forward to seeing Eowyn.
:::
(Legolas)
:::
All night I laid in my bed, unable to drift off into the unconscious realm of Elven-sleep. My thoughts kept on wandering to her, and a million thoughts ran through my sleepless mind. I knew she was to arrive with the King that very evening and spend a night under the roofs of Meduseld, and that I would see her in less than six hours in the morning, but the night seemed endless. Every second passed like an Age.
Was she in good condition? The rain wasn't harsh tonight, but it was enough to dampen any spirit. Did she arrive yet? I assumed it was two or so in the morning. Oh, of course she was here, how could she not be...unless the rain slowed the journey, or there was an attack, and she was out in the cold, shivering and wet...
Stop it, Legolas, you fool, I chastised myself. You're worrying about nothing, you'll see Arwen in the morning. Get some sleep, or she'll think you some drunkard with a hangover tomorrow.
Oh, but how could I ever stop thinking of her? I'd been mad with desire for Ages, and my beloved was due under this same roof any minute...
Eru, this was going to be the longest night of my three thousand years.
:::
(Eowyn)
:::
I woke to the pitter-patter of rain. Rubbing my eyes and looking out the window, I saw no hint of sunshine. It was going to be a dreary day. I grimaced to myself. This was the perfect weather for a funeral. Nice planning, Eowyn.
I threw off the covers and properly washed myself, making sure to rinse my hair and apply herbal lotion to my soft skin after a quick soak. It was still quite early in the morning, but I knew Legolas was already up and knowing Aragorn, I assumed he'd awaken also. He didn't strike me as the type who slept long after dawn.
Quickly, I laced and tightened my corset, then put the black gown on. It fit just as well as it had last night, catching every curve perfectly. I turned around slowly, admiring the fine velvet, dark as ebony. The dress was really beautiful on me. I walked over to my bureau and, peering into a handmirror, darkened my lashes and rouged my cheekbones and lips. It took a while to do my hair, but I managed to pin it up into an elegant, high bun. I set the veil ever so carefully on as to not mess up what had taken me so long to make. I laced my black, high-heeled boots and finally, threw on a long overcoat that trailed the ground. Looking into the floor-length mirror one last time, I could barely recognize myself. My hair pulled back showed the dainty thin shape of my face and the high cheekbones, and I looked so much thinner, so much taller in black. Any girl would be pleased by the reflection.
Maybe you should do this more often, I smiled to myself as I walked downstairs. What I didn't expect was seeing Aragorn at the bottom of the staircase. He was standing pensively, hands clasped behind his back, looking as if he were waiting for someone.
Aragorn heard the sound of my footsteps and turned around. By the look of his face, I knew he hadn't been expecting to see me, either. I stopped a few steps above him, and for a second, our eyes were locked. Blue and grey, what a beautiful combination.
"Eowyn," he broke the silence, tearing his eyes from my face. Elbereth, he looked gorgeous. His hair was neatly parted and hung loose to his shoulders, and he wore a long black robe of rich wool. On his finger glinted his ring with the two serpents, and on the left hand, I wasn't pleased to see the silver band with inscription. The wedding ring, of course. I quickly averted my eyes from his hands and scanned his face for any expression, but besides being pensive, he looked neutral. Good. He wasn't upset to see me, or at least I hoped.
"Eowyn," he repeated, taking my hand and brushing his lips upon my skin. His lips were soft and smooth, sending tingles down my back. "Your loss is mine also," he lowered his eyes. Oh, had he thought I'd looked distressed? I hoped I didn't look desperate or pathetic, because I certainly wasn't feeling that way!
"Yes, I believe all across Middle-Earth do people mourn for - him," I said softly, deliberately choking on the last word. By the look in his eyes, I'd fooled him. Estel was an intelligent man, but he was probably too distressed to be noticing how my eyes never lost their coldness or how my tone wasn't sad at all.
Ever so gently, he took me in his arms for an embrace. For a second, I was startled, but found myself sinking into his body. I could feel his strong arms around me, feel the power they held. Oh, this was where I belonged, right in Estel's arms...
The embrace lasted for an eternity of joy, yet it broke off too soon. He looked at me almost expectantly before speaking. "The ceremony will begin shortly, milady. Go on, I must wait for Arwen."
Ugh. What was that woman doing, lathering on a foot of makeup on her face? I, I would never make my beloved husband wait for me! I grew immensely cold at the sound of her name, and turned away from that lovesick expression in his eyes. Heavens above, he was still so damn enamored by her. Before my face would burn in jealousy, I calmly nodded and walked ahead, leaving Aragorn where I'd first seen him in quite a long time.
But, my eye briefly caught a shadow upstairs, a shape that darted sharply back into the darkness. Or was that my imagination? Of course that was. I was seething, and this rage was probably making me hallucinate or something. Deep down, I knew it was silly to be so enraged, but I couldn't help it. SHE had to ruin it all, right from the beginning, when I was supposed to be with him. Me. ME.
Arwen. How I hated her, her beauty, her grace, her Elven perfection. What was she that I wasn't?! Endless thoughts raced through my mind as I passed corridors and halls until I reached the grand courtyard, where the ceremony was taking place. Most of the guests had already arrived, and I was a bit shocked to see how many people there were. Hundreds. No, thousands, and all clothed in ebony. Out of the mass, I spotted Eomer toward the front and made my way toward him, trying to forget that horrid name that rang over and over in my head. I could only mingle with the crowd and wait the hours until all the guests arrived, and then the ceremony would begin.
:::
(Arwen)
:::
I awoke late, for we arrived the night before in the wee hours of the morning. My head throbbed and my stomach had begun to ache again. The room was dark and humid. I felt as if I was going to vomit. Desperately throwing off the sheets, I got up and groped my way in the dark for the window. Finding it, I pushed with all my strength, trying to unclasp the latch. Finally, it succumbed and opened-
Rain.
Grey, cold, ceaseless, pounding, hard. I turned away from the grey nothingness outside, sick of it. How I hated that rain, how I wished it were a beautiful, fresh day! Turning around, I noted that Aragorn wasn't in the bed, but that wasn't unusual. He was more of a morning person than I and I often awoke to an empty bed. A draft had begun to chill the room, and I shut the window shut and lit a candle instead. Light. Much better. I navigated my way to the washing room, grateful for the prospect of a cold shower to refresh myself from a horrible night of sleep.
Thirty minutes later, after properly washing myself, I was glad to exit the clammy guest bedroom. The bed was unmade and my nightclothes had been strewn carelessly on the ground, but I felt too tired to straighten the room. My head was pounding as I stepped out and headed down the hall to go downstairs. When I was just making the turn to go downstairs, what I saw surely made my heart skip a beat.
Eowyn and Aragorn. Embracing.
I gasped involuntarily, then clamped a hand over my mouth, but they seemed too busy to have heard me. I quickly stepped away into the shadow of the wall where they could not see me, but I surely could witness them, and witness them I did.
The embrace went on forever, both of them locked to each other. I watched, almost in an enchantment, as she leaned her head on her shoulder, how close they were together. I saw his strong arms wrapped around her thin waist, I noted how perfectly she fit into him...Gods above, was this real? In a stupefied horror, my eyes seemed to be unable to tear away from the horrible scene. Finally and seemingly reluctant, Aragorn released her. My throat tightened impulsively.
He said something to her I couldn't hear, and she nodded and walked away. As she walked, seemingly distracted by something, her sight wandered upstairs-and for a second, I was sure she saw me. She blinked and I darted back, waiting apprehensively if she'd come up and find me...
No. She shook her head, blinked again and resumed walking. Good, she probably thought she saw a random shadow or something. Relief surged through me.
Aragorn had had his back turned to this the whole time. Just thinking his name brought tears to my eyes. I bit my lip, but found rivers flowing down my face, blotching my skin, wetting my dress. I felt so ugly, so rejected as I wept. My dark hair, still a bit damp from washing, tumbled down my face limply. Nothing compared to her golden river of hair. My weakness nothing to her strength, how she could fight for herself. My solicitude inferior to her outgoing attitude, how she was adored by everyone, when I only had Aragorn...
Oh, why was he with her? What were they doing? Eru, were they in love? I knew this was ridiculous, but this couldn't be let go. He'd loved her before, hadn't he? All the rumors, all the whispers, all the looks everyone gave me when she'd shown up at our wedding had planted suspicion in my brain. But now, now, I was sure of it...they'd been in love...
How could this be?
Suddenly, it hit me. They were perfect together, weren't they? Perfect for each other. Man and woman, destined to die together. The King of Men and the White Lady of Rohan at his side, not a begotten, immortal she-Elf. I grew faint suddenly, my body weakening.
Below, Aragorn was still standing by the staircase, waiting for me. Oh, was he that oblivious? Couldn't he hear my sobs? Didn't he care that his wife, his beloved wife, was weeping fifty yards away?
I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly tired and my breath short. I was gasping for air desperately. Something was wrong with me, my heart pounded painfully and my side ached. My tongue tasted the salt from my tears. I felt weak, so weak, and a jolt from my stomach sent my vision spinning. The shadows, the light, all the colors, the grey rain...everything was blurred. I felt my knees buckle, my head lose control, and the last thing I knew was a pair of green-blue eyes peering at me and strong arms catching me, before falling into the world of blackness.
:::
Please review, and criticism is always welcome!
(Eowyn)
:::
I ran my fingers over the black gown trimmed in silver, feeling the fine velvet and careful stitching. Perfect. I slipped it on and looked in the mirror. The dress looked beautiful, tight at the waist, bell sleeves flowing and the long train trailing behind. I adjusted the low, rounded collar and put on the black veil that shielded my face. My large blue eyes were bright against the black clothing, and my hair carefully pinned up. I suddenly looked older than my 24 years. Was this what a widow looked like? No, a widow would have tears in her eyes, I had a devious innocence in mine.
Tomorrow was the funeral. Hundreds upon hundreds of visitors were arriving. I didn't look forward to all the old royal sentimental ladies coming to me, hurling their flabby arms around, sobbing, and expecting ME to sob with them. I practically knew what they would say. 'Oh, my poor sweet girl, it was such an awful tragedy, so awful. You must be crushed! Look at you, so beautiful, so thin, my, we do need to find you another husband quickly.' And then I'd have to fake tears welling in my eyes but hold it in ever so daintily to prove my 'strength', although they all knew I was 'suffering infinitely' on the inside.
Rubbish. I frowned and adjusted my dress again. Then, I carefully slipped it off and laid it carefully on the bed for tomorrow.
My thoughts wandered to Aragorn, and my spirits lifted a notch. The King would be arriving tonight, of course, in mourning of his Captain. I knew he would suffer for the great loss, and a small part of me felt guilty. Faramir was not a man of evil, nor was he jealous, selfish or useless. He'd made a seemly Captain of Gondor, and possibly even a better husband.
Ah, well, too bad he wound up with my treacherous intentions and me.
:::
(Arwen)
:::
A drizzling grey rain fell, shrouding the air with a silver haze. I could barely see my horse's ears twitching in front of me. Despite almost everybody's protests, I'd insisted on riding by myself. This morning, my stomach had begun to ache terribly. I didn't tell anybody, but my mood was sunken and the rain was making everything cold, wet and slippery. Ahead of me, Aragorn rode with a straight back and a tall chin. I loved seeing his dark hair, his broad shoulders, his lean flanks.
As if reading my thoughts, my king tensed the reins to slow his horse and waited for me to ride by his side. We rode in silence, content by the other's presence. His grey eyes blended in with the rain as if they were a part of the endless mist.
Oh, Estel, it would be that your name meant Hope, for you were the Hope of men, the Hope of our treacherous lives. Can you count the nights I gazed up at the black sky littered with stars, praying you were still alive? Is it possible to collect all the tears I shed for you, the righteous King of Men beneath a black cloak of a wandering vagabond?
It was always in these times of darkness did I think about Aragorn, the Lost One, the righteous one. There was a tragic side to his life, the death of his great father Arathorn when he was a mere child. Oh, and how his mother fled from Gondor when 'twas in ruins, how she hid amongst the trees and traveled by feet into the hidden refuge of Rivendell, how she brought her little boy, only to die shortly after from illness. How he met and loved me, how I made the choice to stay, I wanted to entirely break down and weep. I loved this man so much, and although nothing would ever diminish my love for him, I felt as if his pain and sorrow was mine. There was a great sadness behind his deep-set eyes, his sparse and wise words, his lean physical body.
"Are you feeling all right?" his deep voice breaking through the rain, grey eyes filled with concern. "I know the rain makes everything difficult, but we should be arriving at Meduseld shortly."
"I'm fine," I reassured him. But a tight feeling was in my throat, and deep down, every step the horse took sunk my spirits even more. I didn't want to go to Meduseld.
And I definitely wasn't looking forward to seeing Eowyn.
:::
(Legolas)
:::
All night I laid in my bed, unable to drift off into the unconscious realm of Elven-sleep. My thoughts kept on wandering to her, and a million thoughts ran through my sleepless mind. I knew she was to arrive with the King that very evening and spend a night under the roofs of Meduseld, and that I would see her in less than six hours in the morning, but the night seemed endless. Every second passed like an Age.
Was she in good condition? The rain wasn't harsh tonight, but it was enough to dampen any spirit. Did she arrive yet? I assumed it was two or so in the morning. Oh, of course she was here, how could she not be...unless the rain slowed the journey, or there was an attack, and she was out in the cold, shivering and wet...
Stop it, Legolas, you fool, I chastised myself. You're worrying about nothing, you'll see Arwen in the morning. Get some sleep, or she'll think you some drunkard with a hangover tomorrow.
Oh, but how could I ever stop thinking of her? I'd been mad with desire for Ages, and my beloved was due under this same roof any minute...
Eru, this was going to be the longest night of my three thousand years.
:::
(Eowyn)
:::
I woke to the pitter-patter of rain. Rubbing my eyes and looking out the window, I saw no hint of sunshine. It was going to be a dreary day. I grimaced to myself. This was the perfect weather for a funeral. Nice planning, Eowyn.
I threw off the covers and properly washed myself, making sure to rinse my hair and apply herbal lotion to my soft skin after a quick soak. It was still quite early in the morning, but I knew Legolas was already up and knowing Aragorn, I assumed he'd awaken also. He didn't strike me as the type who slept long after dawn.
Quickly, I laced and tightened my corset, then put the black gown on. It fit just as well as it had last night, catching every curve perfectly. I turned around slowly, admiring the fine velvet, dark as ebony. The dress was really beautiful on me. I walked over to my bureau and, peering into a handmirror, darkened my lashes and rouged my cheekbones and lips. It took a while to do my hair, but I managed to pin it up into an elegant, high bun. I set the veil ever so carefully on as to not mess up what had taken me so long to make. I laced my black, high-heeled boots and finally, threw on a long overcoat that trailed the ground. Looking into the floor-length mirror one last time, I could barely recognize myself. My hair pulled back showed the dainty thin shape of my face and the high cheekbones, and I looked so much thinner, so much taller in black. Any girl would be pleased by the reflection.
Maybe you should do this more often, I smiled to myself as I walked downstairs. What I didn't expect was seeing Aragorn at the bottom of the staircase. He was standing pensively, hands clasped behind his back, looking as if he were waiting for someone.
Aragorn heard the sound of my footsteps and turned around. By the look of his face, I knew he hadn't been expecting to see me, either. I stopped a few steps above him, and for a second, our eyes were locked. Blue and grey, what a beautiful combination.
"Eowyn," he broke the silence, tearing his eyes from my face. Elbereth, he looked gorgeous. His hair was neatly parted and hung loose to his shoulders, and he wore a long black robe of rich wool. On his finger glinted his ring with the two serpents, and on the left hand, I wasn't pleased to see the silver band with inscription. The wedding ring, of course. I quickly averted my eyes from his hands and scanned his face for any expression, but besides being pensive, he looked neutral. Good. He wasn't upset to see me, or at least I hoped.
"Eowyn," he repeated, taking my hand and brushing his lips upon my skin. His lips were soft and smooth, sending tingles down my back. "Your loss is mine also," he lowered his eyes. Oh, had he thought I'd looked distressed? I hoped I didn't look desperate or pathetic, because I certainly wasn't feeling that way!
"Yes, I believe all across Middle-Earth do people mourn for - him," I said softly, deliberately choking on the last word. By the look in his eyes, I'd fooled him. Estel was an intelligent man, but he was probably too distressed to be noticing how my eyes never lost their coldness or how my tone wasn't sad at all.
Ever so gently, he took me in his arms for an embrace. For a second, I was startled, but found myself sinking into his body. I could feel his strong arms around me, feel the power they held. Oh, this was where I belonged, right in Estel's arms...
The embrace lasted for an eternity of joy, yet it broke off too soon. He looked at me almost expectantly before speaking. "The ceremony will begin shortly, milady. Go on, I must wait for Arwen."
Ugh. What was that woman doing, lathering on a foot of makeup on her face? I, I would never make my beloved husband wait for me! I grew immensely cold at the sound of her name, and turned away from that lovesick expression in his eyes. Heavens above, he was still so damn enamored by her. Before my face would burn in jealousy, I calmly nodded and walked ahead, leaving Aragorn where I'd first seen him in quite a long time.
But, my eye briefly caught a shadow upstairs, a shape that darted sharply back into the darkness. Or was that my imagination? Of course that was. I was seething, and this rage was probably making me hallucinate or something. Deep down, I knew it was silly to be so enraged, but I couldn't help it. SHE had to ruin it all, right from the beginning, when I was supposed to be with him. Me. ME.
Arwen. How I hated her, her beauty, her grace, her Elven perfection. What was she that I wasn't?! Endless thoughts raced through my mind as I passed corridors and halls until I reached the grand courtyard, where the ceremony was taking place. Most of the guests had already arrived, and I was a bit shocked to see how many people there were. Hundreds. No, thousands, and all clothed in ebony. Out of the mass, I spotted Eomer toward the front and made my way toward him, trying to forget that horrid name that rang over and over in my head. I could only mingle with the crowd and wait the hours until all the guests arrived, and then the ceremony would begin.
:::
(Arwen)
:::
I awoke late, for we arrived the night before in the wee hours of the morning. My head throbbed and my stomach had begun to ache again. The room was dark and humid. I felt as if I was going to vomit. Desperately throwing off the sheets, I got up and groped my way in the dark for the window. Finding it, I pushed with all my strength, trying to unclasp the latch. Finally, it succumbed and opened-
Rain.
Grey, cold, ceaseless, pounding, hard. I turned away from the grey nothingness outside, sick of it. How I hated that rain, how I wished it were a beautiful, fresh day! Turning around, I noted that Aragorn wasn't in the bed, but that wasn't unusual. He was more of a morning person than I and I often awoke to an empty bed. A draft had begun to chill the room, and I shut the window shut and lit a candle instead. Light. Much better. I navigated my way to the washing room, grateful for the prospect of a cold shower to refresh myself from a horrible night of sleep.
Thirty minutes later, after properly washing myself, I was glad to exit the clammy guest bedroom. The bed was unmade and my nightclothes had been strewn carelessly on the ground, but I felt too tired to straighten the room. My head was pounding as I stepped out and headed down the hall to go downstairs. When I was just making the turn to go downstairs, what I saw surely made my heart skip a beat.
Eowyn and Aragorn. Embracing.
I gasped involuntarily, then clamped a hand over my mouth, but they seemed too busy to have heard me. I quickly stepped away into the shadow of the wall where they could not see me, but I surely could witness them, and witness them I did.
The embrace went on forever, both of them locked to each other. I watched, almost in an enchantment, as she leaned her head on her shoulder, how close they were together. I saw his strong arms wrapped around her thin waist, I noted how perfectly she fit into him...Gods above, was this real? In a stupefied horror, my eyes seemed to be unable to tear away from the horrible scene. Finally and seemingly reluctant, Aragorn released her. My throat tightened impulsively.
He said something to her I couldn't hear, and she nodded and walked away. As she walked, seemingly distracted by something, her sight wandered upstairs-and for a second, I was sure she saw me. She blinked and I darted back, waiting apprehensively if she'd come up and find me...
No. She shook her head, blinked again and resumed walking. Good, she probably thought she saw a random shadow or something. Relief surged through me.
Aragorn had had his back turned to this the whole time. Just thinking his name brought tears to my eyes. I bit my lip, but found rivers flowing down my face, blotching my skin, wetting my dress. I felt so ugly, so rejected as I wept. My dark hair, still a bit damp from washing, tumbled down my face limply. Nothing compared to her golden river of hair. My weakness nothing to her strength, how she could fight for herself. My solicitude inferior to her outgoing attitude, how she was adored by everyone, when I only had Aragorn...
Oh, why was he with her? What were they doing? Eru, were they in love? I knew this was ridiculous, but this couldn't be let go. He'd loved her before, hadn't he? All the rumors, all the whispers, all the looks everyone gave me when she'd shown up at our wedding had planted suspicion in my brain. But now, now, I was sure of it...they'd been in love...
How could this be?
Suddenly, it hit me. They were perfect together, weren't they? Perfect for each other. Man and woman, destined to die together. The King of Men and the White Lady of Rohan at his side, not a begotten, immortal she-Elf. I grew faint suddenly, my body weakening.
Below, Aragorn was still standing by the staircase, waiting for me. Oh, was he that oblivious? Couldn't he hear my sobs? Didn't he care that his wife, his beloved wife, was weeping fifty yards away?
I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly tired and my breath short. I was gasping for air desperately. Something was wrong with me, my heart pounded painfully and my side ached. My tongue tasted the salt from my tears. I felt weak, so weak, and a jolt from my stomach sent my vision spinning. The shadows, the light, all the colors, the grey rain...everything was blurred. I felt my knees buckle, my head lose control, and the last thing I knew was a pair of green-blue eyes peering at me and strong arms catching me, before falling into the world of blackness.
:::
Please review, and criticism is always welcome!