Chapter 11
"So, Delemir, you have figured out my little game, have you?" Onaumbar smirked as he stepped into Delemir's line of vision.
"Yes. It will not work. I will not let you take her from me," he told the dark man.
"Oh really? What's to stop me from taking her now, while you are with me?" Onaumbar laughed.
"You can't," Delemir said simply. This time, a smirk crossed his face.
"What?" Onaumbar tried to hide his shock. "What makes you say that?" he added, calmer.
"Because of this." Delemir stretched his arms out to the place around them. They were on a mountaintop, overseeing lakes and rivers and forests below them. The sky was a brilliant blue, with thick, white clouds dotting here and there. The sun was beating down warmly upon them. Everything looked real.
"And what, pray tell, does my little "playworld" have to do with disabling me of taking her now in her dreams. She dreams peacefully," Onaumbar added before Delemir could speak. "She dreams of flowers and writing peaceful stories. She dreams of you." A smirk crossed his face.
"Me?" Delemir seemed shocked. "Why me if she has everything else she wants or can have now? She has said numerous times she never wishes to marry."
"Do you think that she really means that?" Onaumbar slowly walked over Delemir, his smirk turning to a sympathetic smile. "Do you think that's what she really wants? I know what she wants! She wants to be married and have children. That is what she wants," Onaumbar said as he drew near to Delemir and came within two inches of him. "I have given her that, but she denies herself of the pleasure. Why do you think she does that, Delemir?"
"She doesn't remember any of it happening. She told me." Delemir found thrill in the distorted look that crossed Onaumbar's features. "One other thing she has told me before is that the best part of life are the memories we make along the way." Then, a look of pleasure crossed Onaumbar's face and Delemir saw his mistake.
"So, you are saying that she does not believe it because she has no memory of anything ever happening?" the Fate Giver asked.
Delemir bit his tongue.
"You are saying that if I give her memory of marrying you, of conceiving the children she wishes to have in her life, of them being born, she will be content? She denies my gift for the lack of memory? That is no—"
"I would not quite call it a gift, Onaumbar. I would call it a trick," Delemir interrupted.
The fury flared in Onaumbar's eyes and he lifted his hands, and Delemir floated in the air at the level with them.
"You wish to steal her soul as you stole mine! You will not!" Delemir said, strained from the increasing pressure on his chest. He brought his hand to his heart and had a feeling; a bad one. "You're hurting her! Let her be!"
Onaumbar laughed maniacally at Delemir. The pain increased, even as Delemir was thrown from the side of the mountaintop.
Springing up in the bed, Delemir looked around. Nothing was amiss. There were no noises sounding that shouldn't be. It was dark, though. That was what frightened Delemir. How long had he been asleep? How long had Onaumbar had him in the dark confines of the place therein one's own mind?
Upon hearing a slight noise from Lissa in her sleep, he looked down at her. She looked peaceful. Had Onaumbar taken Lissa into one of her dreams and harmed her? He hoped not. Delemir hoped Lissa was as peaceful in her sleep as she looked, and, Delemir found himself thinking, as peaceful as the Death Giver had said.
Lissa's eyes fluttered open and focused on Delemir. A smile crept onto her face as she lifted her hand to his cheek.
"You did watch me sleep," she murmured softly, her voice still heavy from sleep. "Your cheeks are warm. Seems like you caught a little sleep yourself." She knew she wasn't in a dream. She could tell.
"Yes, I did." Delemir shifted his head so his lips brushed against her palm gently. He opened his mouth and began to say something, but shut it before he had the first word out. Now wasn't the time to tell her. He still had his conversation with Onaumbar on his mind. And, he thought, he still felt the pain.
Letting his hand, still encasing Lissa's, trail down to his heart, he winced slightly.
"Oh, gosh, he had you? Delemir?" Lissa sat up and pulled her robe tighter around her with her other hand upon Delemir's silence. "Delemir, are you all right?" She said it slowly as she rested her hand over his cheek again, making him look at her. His eyes were glazed slightly, like he'd zoned out.
"I'm fine, my love," he told her after a moment. The endearment caused her to wince slightly, but she swallowed it to let it process later.
"Good," Lissa murmured, leaning towards him to hug him.
Delemir stopped her shortly. "Put some clothes on," he told her. "Put some clothes on then come back."
Lissa looked at Delemir in puzzlement, but nodded. She turned and slipped off of his bed—it smelled so much of him that she'd been lost in his scent. She cast a look of confusion over her shoulder at Delemir as she stepped out of his room to go into the bathroom and find her clothes from earlier that she'd set out to wear again.
When she reached the doorframe, she only stood there and stared in. The water, probably cold now, was still there. The wineglass, long empty, was still on the edge, teetering dangerously there and close to falling into the water. Her book was on the floor, and the radio was on the same station still. Her clothes were in a neat little pile by the laundry hamper, ready to have been put in there when she'd stepped out of them calmly, unlike when she'd stepped out of the tub. The other clothes, the clean ones, were stacked over the heater, warmed for her use, on the other side of the room.
Taking a deep breath, Lissa stepped in and felt the presence there, still. She swallowed and took another step slowly. The presence increased and her vision began to dim from the amount of it. She became dizzy and lightheaded, like under the influence of too much perfume. Her hands began to shake as she reached over to take the cotton shirt off of the heater. She stopped her movement two inches from the garment.
She was completely intoxicated by the feel of the presence there. She couldn't think. What was she doing in the bathroom? She couldn't see. What was she reaching for? She couldn't breathe. How long had it been since she'd taken a breath? As her eyes fluttered shut, she tried to remember those answers.
Delemir, meanwhile, was thinking his lecture through when he saw it had been five minutes. It didn't take Lissa that long to dress herself. It took her about two or three minutes if her clothes were set out in front of her, which he'd seen they were. He wondered where she was.
"Delemir!" he heard her cry suddenly, strained.
He jumped up and ran down the hall to the bathroom and saw her bent over, about to grab her clothes, but stopped in the motion. She was tilted to the side and leaning further every second. He rushed for her, but stopped at the amount of pressure there was and how hard it felt to breathe in the room. Ignoring the sudden shock of it best he could, he pulled Lissa over, and immediately the pressure subsided then disappeared. He and Lissa both took a gasping breath as she fell backwards over him.
"Delemir," she whispered frantically. "He was here! He was here inside my head! I could hear him! He was talking to me. Oh, he was saying that he could give me everything I wanted and that'd I'd remember it all being given to me!"
Delemir stood, bringing Lissa with him. She fell limply against him, but she quickly tried to right herself. He pulled her out of the bathroom quickly and sighed, shaking his head as he felt a slight throbbing in his chest.
So, this was how it was to be? Every time Lissa was going to be caught in a dream brought on by Onaumbar, he would feel it. It could be like a warning system, he thought as he pushed her against a wall to keep her there. He pressed his finger over her lips to quiet her fast rants.
"Shh," he said. He pulled his hand away, and she continued ranting and explaining what she'd felt. Delemir sighed, tired of hearing about Onaumbar and what he'd said in her head, and leaned closer. He rubbed his lips over hers firmly and felt her protest against him for a moment, then give in and quiet. She bunched herself up as a grin spread over her face—against his lips—and she lifted her hands to his shoulders.
"Oh, that makes everything better. Kiss me again," she said, her eyes still closed.
"In a moment," Delemir said and retrieved her clothes. "Go in your spare room and change."
"But what if—"
"He won't. If he does, tell him to shove it. You're good at that with Connor."
Lissa grinned as she took the clothes from Delemir, but still shivered. She took two steps then stopped. She turned slowly around to see Delemir watching her.
"Delemir?" She felt a little foolish and sheepish now.
"Yes?" Delemir leaned against the wall, amused at her.
"I—" She paused, unable to think of anything to say. Then, she jumped forward and swung her arms around his neck and let a sentimental tear slip down her cheek. "Thank you," she said at last, blinking back the rest of her tears.
She withdrew, with a goofy smile on her face, and walked into the other guestroom to change into her clothes. That was when she decided she really—honestly and truly really did—did want to marry him. Just the hard parts now were convincing him of the same thing and ridding themselves of Onaumbar or whatever the guy's name was.
Delemir sighed as he watched her walk into the room. He'd seen the goofy grin on her face and it was normally only one the people in the movies had when they were in love, deliriously in love. He hoped so. He had to tell her, but not now. Not when Onaumbar was still in the air, still in memory.
As Delemir walked past the door Lissa was behind, he heard her humming a little ditty she listened to a lot. He recognized it as a love song by one of her favorite singers. He sighed, knowing she was deliriously in love with him now. What would he do? How would he tell her? When would he tell her? Eru, when and how would she tell him and what would he do during that?
"Delemir?" Lissa said as she stepped out into the hallway, snagging his attention again.
"Yes?" He saw a no-nonsense look in her eyes. It was serious. Then, he saw the tears brimming in her eyes.
"I want to leave this house. I can't stay here anymore," she told him, nonchalant for the house's feelings. "I can't deal with this guy invading my dreams anymore. Invading yours, for heaven's sake." She took a step towards him and laid her hand over his heart. "He hurt you. I don't want him to, and I don't want you to hurt." She kissed him gently.
Delemir laid his hand over hers at his heart, wondering how many times they would do that same thing. "I'm fine. It is you I am worried about, my love," he told her, returning her soft kiss, but longer and more coaxing.
"Don't leave me," Lissa said once they were in his room.
"What?" Delemir looked at her in puzzlement.
"Onaumbar said you would leave me. Don't. I don't want his prophecy to come true. I don't want you to leave me," she elaborated. "I'll call a hotel in Pentagon City. We can stay there for a few days until we figure out everything," she added before he could say anything.
"All right," Delemir murmured as she went straight to the phone in his room.
She stopped at the base of it and made a funny noise. "Where is it?"
"Hmm?" Delemir tried to be innocent as he came behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nibbling on her neck.
"The phone. Where is it?"
"Over there," he said against her flesh. He jerked his head slightly in some off direction.
Lissa laughed then said, "There are a lot of 'theres,' Delemir. Where is it?" She pulled away and turned around to face him. She saw him jerk his head again towards the adjoined room that was a sitting room now. She walked over to it and looked around. "I don't—" She stopped herself when she saw its antenna sticking out from under a mound of pillows on the couch.
She walked over to it and pulled pillows off. She scoffed when she saw a stuffed animal or two there. She laughed ironically when she had to pry wads of paper—some of which she'd been looking for forever—from around it.
She began to yank it from the cushion of the couch when she felt Delemir watching her. She knew he was grinning. She could see it. There was a slight crease on his left cheek—it seemed odd, she thought, to say a man had a dimple, so was a crease—that she still had yet to run her fingers over. It would be barely be winking, but would still be cute. She laughed at herself as she found victory at pulling the phone out of the couch.
"Why'd you do that?" she asked, coming up to him and standing with her hands on her hips. She had a defiant glint in her eyes, and it hinted in the sassy tilt of her chin. His grin widened and the crease deepened.
"I hate the phone," he murmured. "I rid myself of it." He lifted his hand to her hair and toyed with the ends of it absently. It'd already become a habit.
"Well, you shouldn't do that. I might need it for a time like this." She grinned and lifted her hand to his left cheek. She was going to explore that manly dimple. "You know, whenever you grin like you are now, there's this really sexy crease right here," she murmured, tracing it as it deepened and reddened in a blush. She laughed at him. "Did I embarrass you?"
"No," he denied.
"Then why are you cheeks red, love?" She laughed again at his being flustered and patted his cheek gently. "Let's go make those hotel reservations." She took his hand and led him to the table in his room. "Gosh, I hope he doesn't come back while I'm on the phone," she murmured, producing a phonebook from the drawer in the table.
"Who?" Delemir already knew. He was wanted her to elaborate to see if she was afraid of him.
"Onaumbar. Oh, hold on. I'm going to ask you what type of room we want, so be creative here and there, and answer with what I give you to answer with," she said. Then, Delemir heard the click on the other line and a faint, muffled voice.
"Yes, I'd like to book a room for two adults. We'll be coming in tonight, if that's all right. How many nights?" She looked to Delemir.
"Five, six at the most," he told her.
"Okay. Write that down," she told him. She produced pen and paper just as magically as the phonebook and set it in front of him. He scribbled it down. "Okay, so, could we have the room for five or six nights? Great. Could I describe what type of room we want and you could see if you have one like it in your database? All right, thank you." She looked to Delemir again.
"One or two?" she asked, having been put on hold for another call.
"One or two what?" Delemir asked, looking up from doodling on the paper.
"One or two?" she repeated. "Quickly."
"One," he answered.
"Okay." Lissa took the paper and wrote something in messy shorthand. "Good or bad?"
"Good, of course. We have enough bad right now," he whispered.
"True." She scribbled again. "One or two again, and have some variety," she murmured, coloring in a star he'd drawn.
"Two, then." He tried to decipher the shorthand, but only saw what looked like chicken scratch.
"Mini or no?" She looked up to see his reaction.
"What? Mini what?"
"Never mind. Too slow," she said as she was picked up off of hold. "Yes, I'm still here. And I know what kind of room we want now. Yes. Okay, a one bed—" She cast a wry look at Delemir while he looked at her in horror of his choice "—a good view of the monuments, two bathrooms—" She mouthed the words 'Thank you' to Delemir with a grin still "—and a miniature fridge if that's available. It is? Great. Okay. Room what? Is that the top floor? Oh. 1208," she murmured. "Okay, we'll pack and be there in about an hour. Thank you." She hung up and looked at Delemir.
"One bed?" he asked.
"There's a couch bed. Or I could request a roll-a-way bed." She grinned up at him. "Hey, you answered the questions," she improvised, standing.
"Yes, but I did not know they would imply to those specific details." He lifted his eyebrow at her growing smirk. He knew she wanted to be casual. She wanted to forget the rendezvous with Onaumbar in her bathroom, and the trance he'd put her in. He could be casual, but it wasn't easy with the knowledge that Onaumbar would find them wherever they went. It also wasn't easy with the light throbbing in his chest that increased whenever he was near her. Was she a reason as to why it was there? Was he?
"What are you thinking of?" Lissa asked him, standing and leaning on the balls of her feet in front of him.
"Nothing you would care to know about," he said simply. The look that crossed over her face made him wonder what he'd said wrong. "What?"
"Have you been talking to Emily or Jenny on the phone lately? What have you been watching? Have you been listening to my phone conversations?" she accused, shocked from thinking the implied.
Delemir thought a moment and shook his head, finally realizing where her mind was. He laughed, pleased with himself for making her think something bad when he was purely good.
"Well? Do you have an explanation for yourself?" she pressed further, like a mother catching her son with a full bottle of liquor and a pack of tobacco. "You're an Elf! You're not supposed to think bad thoughts!"
"Yes, Mother, I do have an explanation. And, I'll have you know, that there have been plenty of Elves who have had dirty minds. I am not one of them—right now." He stood and took a step forward, putting his hand to her temple. "I was not in the gutter, you were. I was thinking of Onaumbar, when I know you wish to be casual and leave him out of conversation when at all possible. So that is why I said I was thinking of something you would not care to hear about." He laughed again at the look coming over her face. It was embarrassment now.
"Well," she said, fighting down the blush in her face, "you should elaborate more, Delemir." She looked up at him and saw the grin playing over his lips. "Meanie."
"Child," he returned, having a memory of some time he couldn't remember.
Lissa looked up with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Old one," she murmured, grinning back at him and the shock.
"I beg your pardon?" He was appalled someone had called him old.
"I said, 'old one!' Want me to spell it for you?" Lissa offered as the phone rang. "Hold that thought." She sprang for the ringing phone. "Hello?"
"We sound exasperated," Emily grinned.
"We do?" Lissa hadn't noticed her breathing had quickened under Delemir's stare. "Oh." She laughed.
"What were you doing? Running a mile?"
"Not quite." Lissa threw a glance over at Delemir that promised more mischief later. "What do you need?" she asked, sitting down on the desk and toying with one of the glass figures.
"Do you still have cookies left from the other day?" Emily wanted to know. She, too, was sitting down in a comfy chair, drawing anything that came to mind.
"I doubt it. With the way Delemir has been eating my cookies," she said, raising her voice for him to zone in and hear, "I doubt if even the ingredients are left!"
Emily's spurt of laughter only increased when she heard Delemir shout over the other end of the line. "No, I have not been eating the cookies, you have!" he accused Lissa.
"Cookie thief! There was a pile of them two days ago by your bed and it's gone now," Lissa said matter of factly.
"Because you took them and ate them for yourself," Delemir insisted.
Emily, finally controlling her laughter, looked over at the sheet of paper she'd been doodling on. Her eyes widened and nearly popped out of her head. "Whoa!" she said through the phone. "Lissa, you and Delemir can fight about the cookies later. You have to see this thing I just drew. It's of a guy with long hair. The facial features are like—wow. His eyes are so deep, you feel lost looking into them."
Lissa immediately knew who Emily had drawn, and how. Swallowing her shock, she said, "Hey, you come on over with that drawing and you can help me pack, all right?"
"Pack?" Emily was puzzled as she pulled a plastic cover out of her drawer for the paper.
"Yeah. Delemir and I are going to be staying at a hotel over in Pentagon City. I'll talk to Delemir to see if we can tell you about it." They would have to be careful about who they told now.
"Sure, all right. Just don't leave any details out if you do tell me," Emily said, carefully setting the picture in a plastic cover. "I'll see you soon."
"Sure," Lissa murmured, still in shock. "Bye."
When Lissa hung up the phone and turned to him, Delemir saw the shock on her now pale face. "What? What is it?" he asked her, staying where he was.
"Emily said she'd drawn a picture of Onaumbar," Lissa told him. She took a long breath and let it out slowly.
"What?" Now Delemir did go to her. He took her hands in his, feeling the chill there.
"Not exactly. She doesn't know it. She doesn't know anything about Onaumbar yet. She doesn't know about the dreams. I haven't risked telling anyone," she murmured, letting Delemir's warmth seep into her hands. "There's a saying that two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead. I have an addition to that. Two people can keep a secret if they try."
"I like yours better," Delemir said, touching his neck gingerly. "A lot better."
Lissa laughed and smiled at him, making herself think of anything else but the shock and Onaumbar. "Come on. Let's start packing your stuff best we can until Emily makes it here. I think there's a suitcase in your closet on the top," she said, going over to it and opening the door. "Yep." Then she stretched herself out fully like a cat and left Delemir flabbergasted at how tall she could make herself.
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"So, you're saying I drew the guy that's been haunting Delemir since he came here, and has started haunting you now?" Emily said ironically to Lissa.
"Yes." Lissa felt foolish telling Emily about these dreams and that this guy—one of the head people, kind of, in the Valar in Middle Earth—trying to tear them both apart by giving Lissa what she wanted.
Emily stated the obvious, saying, "Well, he's trying to tear you both apart and give you what you want—" She shot a glance at Delemir and he shook his head "—and he's trying to take you away from Delemir. Think, both of you. Why would he try to do that? What would motivate him to?"
"You mean you believe us?" Lissa exclaimed.
"I don't know. I believe that you've hardly told a good lie since I've known you, and you would have had to practice this if it were a joke," Emily said, leaning against the couch in the sitting room. "And, as you have stated and we all have seen, you're terrible at acting since you have to laugh at things like these."
Lissa rolled her eyes. "He was—" She cleared her throat from the slight fear that coated it. "He was here earlier today. When I took a bath, I was listening to my favorite opera. I drank a glass of Chardonnay and felt a little tired since the opera's two hours. I dozed off, thinking I'd wake up when the music stopped or when Delemir said someone was on the phone or something. That's where I messed up. When I opened my eyes a moment later, I wasn't in the tub. I was in bed." Here is where it became a little embarrassing. She shot a look to Delemir. This was the first time he was hearing it all too, but she'd told him he had been in the dream.
"Alone?" Emily wanted to know when she picked up on the looks going between the two. "Oh, too weird. With him?"
"We're married and have children in my dreams, Emily. Onaumbar said that he gives me all I want in my dreams." She stepped up to Emily and began to whisper something when she saw Delemir watching them intently. "Delemir, zone out." He grinned and looked elsewhere. Lissa whispered, "Maybe Onaumbar is right. Maybe that is what I want."
If Emily had been drinking something then, she would have choked on it and spat it across the room. "Are you serious?" she wanted to know. Lissa nodded sheepishly. "Big change."
"Anyway. We talk for a minute, then I shower and we go and wake up the kids," Lissa murmured.
"How many?" Delemir asked, watching her now.
"Two. Adam is six in this dream, and Genevieve is a few months," Lissa told him. "It's Christmas and we open our gifts. I live an entire day in the dream without knowing it's a dream. It seemed so right and I didn't suspect anything until I thought of something." She cleared her throat again and sipped the water beside her. "I'm an artist in my dream, and a new one at that. New artists, as you know Emily, since you're an artist by now a well renowned one, always have struggles with cash. My thought was how did we manage income? I mean, we were living in this house. It's huge. It takes a good three hundred plus dollars for the bills, and then there's the extra expenses, like food, clothing, things for Genevieve and Adam, and then other miscellaneous things.
"How did we manage to rake in enough cash to stay stable enough to have a giant Christmas like we did? There were twenty or so presents under the tree." Lissa looked at her audience of two and took a shallow, shuddered breath. "Things became distorted slightly as I was lying on the couch with Delemir. Soon, both of the children began screaming bloody murder and the dream distorts further. The colors of the room mix and bleed and twist around me. Then, I hear the radio—the end of the opera—and sirens. I'm suddenly in an accident, dying. As the white sheet is pulled over my head, I feel my mind believing that it's dead, so therefore shutting down. Then I sprang up, out of the bath water, shouting."
Lissa was quiet after that.
"Then she came down the hall in her robe and hysterics," Delemir continued for her. "She attempts explaining, but doesn't quite say it right, so that's why all of that was new to me besides the part about Onaumbar trying to kill her."
"That must have led to the thought of 'why?' correct?" Emily put in. "So, we're stuck wondering why this 'Onaumbar' character is trying to kill Meliss here, right?"
"I know why," Delemir murmured. "To kill me. He wants me dead for some reason—both of us." His gaze strayed from Emily's to Lissa's, and he saw the shock on her face. Her water glass fell from her hands and hit the floor, breaking on the finished hardwood. She snapped back to reality and bent down to pick up the pieces of glass.
"I'll go find the broom and a towel," Emily said, walking quickly out of the room.
Delemir nodded and knelt in front of Lissa. He picked up a jagged piece of glass and inspected it. It was smooth, thinly cut glass. It was part of the lip of the cup. He looked up when he heard Lissa suck in a breath quickly, retaining an oath.
"What?" He took her hand in his and saw a neat little cut along the lifeline of her palm. She tried to pull it away, but Delemir kept his grip firm on her wrist. He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the flowing blood out of the way and see a medium deep cut.
"Let go, I'm fine," she said quickly, still trying to pull away to tend it.
"This is symbolic," he said, ignoring her demand. "See this line here?" He ran his finger along the line in her palm until he reached the cut. She hissed in a breath when his finger dipped over the cut slightly. "This is your lifeline." He looked up at her now. "He means to cut it short, like he did mine."
Lissa's jaw dropped and quivered, her hands beginning to shake. She looked straight at Delemir and saw the depthless blue of his eyes, and the memory of his death in Lothlórien.
"Back!" Emily exclaimed, running back in with a towel for the water, a bag and the broom for the glass. "What is it?" She saw the look of shock on Lissa's face, and the understanding on Delemir's.
"He means kill me soon," Lissa gasped. Then Emily saw the blood.
"What happened?" she demanded, using the towel to wipe the blood away.
"She cut her hand while she was cleaning up the glass," Delemir said, trying to help calm Lissa to no avail.
"Come on, we'll clean this up in the bathroom."
"Uh-uh, not going in there!" Lissa said quickly. She pulled her hand out of the two people's hold and stepped back, lifting both hands palm out in the air.
"Why not?" Emily wanted to know.
"You would have had to have to been there to understand it," Delemir said.
"I'm a writer and an artist," Emily pointed out. "Whether or not I'll understand it, I'll make sense of it, at least."
"He was there earlier and pulled me into a trance," Lissa murmured.
"And would have killed her then had I not found her." Delemir wiped the blood that was still oozing out of Lissa's hand away. "We have to clean this," he told her softly.
"First aid kit in your room. In the desk by the window," Lissa said, swallowing. Emily stepped out to find it. "Oh, gosh, I feel him. He's here, but just barely. He's letting us know he can do anything." She paused a moment, and her eyes took on a glazed appearance. "I hear him. He's saying he's only showing us what he can do, and more blood will spill," she murmured slowly.
"What's she saying?" Emily asked Delemir quietly when she stepped in to see Lissa walking towards the window slowly. Delemir shrugged.
"My blood is not the only blood that will be spilled, though he will spill it. In fact, that's just what he's doing," Lissa said and threw the window open.
"Lissa!" Delemir pulled her back, and obviously out of her trance.
"What happened?" she asked as Emily started to bandage her hand. "Oh, he's here!"
"Yes, we know Mrs. Obvious," Emily said sarcastically. "He just tried to kill you. Don't you remember flinging that window open and almost succeeding in throwing yourself out?"
"No." Lissa swallowed and grabbed Delemir's arm with her other hand. "No, I remember just standing there talking, then all of a sudden, I'm being yanked away and pushed here."
"What do you remember when you were going to change your clothes in the bathroom earlier?" Delemir demanded.
"Nothing, really. I remember that I was reaching for the clothes, and then my vision was clouded. Then I didn't feel anything until you pulled me out," Lissa said.
"So what he's doing," Emily said, picking up on Delemir's thought process, "is whenever you're in a trance or whatever, you don't remember what you're doing, or it seems you're doing something else until someone pulls you out of it. Otherwise, you're like a rag doll, ready to be thrown around. How would he have killed her in the bathroom?"
"She would have fallen and hit her head on the bathtub. The wineglass there would have been hit and might have fallen and broken as well. Or she might have fallen forward onto the heater," Delemir said.
"Both have to do with falling," Lissa murmured.
"What?"
"We have to finish packing. I have to leave this place," Lissa said, looking at Emily, then Delemir. "I never thought I'd want to leave my own house. Let's go downstairs." She pulled at Delemir's hand, but he wouldn't budge.
"You said something about falling," he told her.
"Yes, now let's go. Let's take your bag out of your room and go downstairs to finish my bag," Lissa said, tugging his hand. She looked to Emily for help, who was just watching in amusement. Lissa felt helpless, even in her own home. That's why she wanted to vacate it. She felt suffocated. She couldn't breathe here. She needed air. She couldn't think anywhere. She had to gather her thoughts.
Seeing neither of them would move, she sighed and let Delemir's hand fall from hers. "Fine," she said, her voice quivering. "I'll pack my own bag. I'm a big girl." She turned and started down the stairs again.
Delemir stood, seeing he'd pushed her too hard and tried to make her do something she didn't want to. "Lissa, wait a minute," he said, seeing her halfway down the stairs.
"I'm fine. I can pack my own bag, Delemir," she insisted, her voice still quivering, continuing down the stairs.
"That's not what I mean," he said, throwing a glance at Emily, who only shrugged her shoulders.
"When Lissa's mad, she gives you the cold shoulder," she pointed out, having experienced it before.
"Yes, I've noticed." Delemir sighed and continued after her. "Lissa, what did you mean when you said both had to do with falling back there?" he asked, following her through the house. Emily slowly followed suit after them.
"My own realization that no one else will understand because no one else thinks like me," she said as she stepped into her room. "Now, if you'd like a seminar on my thought and my thought process, I'd be happy to give you one in a million years when the technology is more advanced."
Emily smirked behind Delemir at that. She stayed out of sight in the dining room, though, while Delemir stood at the threshold of the door in Lissa's room. She stood on the other side of the room, watching his back.
"I want to know now," Delemir said lowly.
"Go away."
Now Emily restrained a laugh at that, but continued grinning.
"I want to know what you meant so I can help you—help us—make it through this alive, Melissa," Delemir said.
"Go away," Lissa said again and shut her door in his face. Before he could try to open it, she pushed the latch at the top of the door.
Delemir sighed and leaned against it, forgetful of Emily's watching eye. He sighed out a breath slowly, leaning on his wrist heavily against the wood. "Lissa, please open your door," he said calmly, keeping his voice flat and emotionless. "Please?"
Lissa sat on her bed like an Indian and with her arms folded across her chest in a pout, sure to be scowling at the empty suitcase on her bed. She just wanted to scream and shout and tell him she loved him right then. She didn't want to think of Onaumbar then. She didn't even want to think of Onaumbar at all. But then that always lead to being haunted by more dreams and pulled into more deathly trances she alone was powerless to stop.
Scowling at the door now, she heard Delemir speaking again.
"I have to tell you something, Lissa. It is important. Now, I can tell you through the door and make everything I say have no power or meaning whatsoever, or you can open the door and let me in so you can either slap me in the face—" That one appealed to Lissa "or kiss me like you have no other chance in the world to ever again." Delemir sighed. This was it.
Lissa sighed in unbeknownst unison with Delemir, thinking the same thing at the same time but pertaining to different thoughts. She felt tears spring to her eyes as she realized she had to talk about Onaumbar and not just ignore him. That was probably what he wanted her to do anyway. Making the pain in the butt happy was the last thing she wanted to do.
So, with Onaumbar on her mind, and her heart on her sleeve, Lissa stood and walked to the door. She unlatched it slowly. Taking a breath, she opened the door.
"Give us a minute?" Delemir asked Emily—she walked off to the kitchen to look around and wait like a person with respect to romance—as he saw the door open.
Lissa only expected him to walk in and beat around the bush, taking forever with his point and make her want to slap him, but she didn't expect for him to near about jump all over her in one single kiss. She was completely shocked, so her reaction would have been late had she not decided to only stand there in his arms and refuse to feel anything. It was nearly impossible and driving her senseless, yes, but she managed to stand there with his lips over hers, firm and possessive and hungry.
Delemir felt it. The cold rejection she was giving him right now hurt like nothing before, he thought as he pulled away from her. Especially since he'd made up his mind to tell her finally. So, when he saw her only staring at him blandly, as if her blood had never run hot in her veins because of him, he swallowed his hurt and pride and replaced them with words.
"Melissa, please look at me when I tell you this," Delemir said when she turned to survey herself in the mirror. He leaned backwards and shut the door slowly. The click of it made Lissa look at him.
"Yeah?" she asked, as if she couldn't feel the love boiling in the air. In truth, she felt it and could barely resist going to him now and exclaiming she loved him more than anything in the world, but she kept that purely on the inside. "Look, I know you probably want to talk about Onaumbar, but right now, he's the last thing I want to think a—"
"Be quiet, woman, for Eru's sake!" Delemir exclaimed, striding over to her and taking fistfuls of her hair in his hands so she looked at him. "Be quiet so I can say this." He took another deep breath, fighting back the urge to kiss her again. "Melissa, I love you."
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Whoopee! He told her! Uhm...sorry it took so long to update. Really, really sorry. But to make up for it, tonight, I am going to read through the next chapter and update on Valentine's Day! I think it's the right chapter for it. But anyway...
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Lord of the Rings, or the Valar. I only own my people. Anyway, I don't think there'll be a lot of long rambling here. But anyhow...I will talk to you on Valentine's Day! But hopefully I will get a kitty by then! I'll let you know!
But a quick special thanks and shout out:
Aragorns-gurl33 says: Whoever is reading her stories "Cautious Love" and "Hope is not lost" that she has NOT given up on them. She is still waiting for the inspiration to hit. But this need only apply if she hasn't gotten it yet.
THANKS TO:
Lady Gwen of Avalon for sticking here, and congratulations to her for her wedding!
Aragorns-gurl33 for reviewing faithfully to the chapters!
Sam (you know who you are!) for reading!
Snooboostoo for reviewing, and I hope to hear from you again soon!
Scarlet-Lolita for updating the first chapter and being the first person ever to review Love's Philosophy! Hope to hear from you soon!
Thanks to all who read this story, and I hope you enjoy it!
"So, Delemir, you have figured out my little game, have you?" Onaumbar smirked as he stepped into Delemir's line of vision.
"Yes. It will not work. I will not let you take her from me," he told the dark man.
"Oh really? What's to stop me from taking her now, while you are with me?" Onaumbar laughed.
"You can't," Delemir said simply. This time, a smirk crossed his face.
"What?" Onaumbar tried to hide his shock. "What makes you say that?" he added, calmer.
"Because of this." Delemir stretched his arms out to the place around them. They were on a mountaintop, overseeing lakes and rivers and forests below them. The sky was a brilliant blue, with thick, white clouds dotting here and there. The sun was beating down warmly upon them. Everything looked real.
"And what, pray tell, does my little "playworld" have to do with disabling me of taking her now in her dreams. She dreams peacefully," Onaumbar added before Delemir could speak. "She dreams of flowers and writing peaceful stories. She dreams of you." A smirk crossed his face.
"Me?" Delemir seemed shocked. "Why me if she has everything else she wants or can have now? She has said numerous times she never wishes to marry."
"Do you think that she really means that?" Onaumbar slowly walked over Delemir, his smirk turning to a sympathetic smile. "Do you think that's what she really wants? I know what she wants! She wants to be married and have children. That is what she wants," Onaumbar said as he drew near to Delemir and came within two inches of him. "I have given her that, but she denies herself of the pleasure. Why do you think she does that, Delemir?"
"She doesn't remember any of it happening. She told me." Delemir found thrill in the distorted look that crossed Onaumbar's features. "One other thing she has told me before is that the best part of life are the memories we make along the way." Then, a look of pleasure crossed Onaumbar's face and Delemir saw his mistake.
"So, you are saying that she does not believe it because she has no memory of anything ever happening?" the Fate Giver asked.
Delemir bit his tongue.
"You are saying that if I give her memory of marrying you, of conceiving the children she wishes to have in her life, of them being born, she will be content? She denies my gift for the lack of memory? That is no—"
"I would not quite call it a gift, Onaumbar. I would call it a trick," Delemir interrupted.
The fury flared in Onaumbar's eyes and he lifted his hands, and Delemir floated in the air at the level with them.
"You wish to steal her soul as you stole mine! You will not!" Delemir said, strained from the increasing pressure on his chest. He brought his hand to his heart and had a feeling; a bad one. "You're hurting her! Let her be!"
Onaumbar laughed maniacally at Delemir. The pain increased, even as Delemir was thrown from the side of the mountaintop.
Springing up in the bed, Delemir looked around. Nothing was amiss. There were no noises sounding that shouldn't be. It was dark, though. That was what frightened Delemir. How long had he been asleep? How long had Onaumbar had him in the dark confines of the place therein one's own mind?
Upon hearing a slight noise from Lissa in her sleep, he looked down at her. She looked peaceful. Had Onaumbar taken Lissa into one of her dreams and harmed her? He hoped not. Delemir hoped Lissa was as peaceful in her sleep as she looked, and, Delemir found himself thinking, as peaceful as the Death Giver had said.
Lissa's eyes fluttered open and focused on Delemir. A smile crept onto her face as she lifted her hand to his cheek.
"You did watch me sleep," she murmured softly, her voice still heavy from sleep. "Your cheeks are warm. Seems like you caught a little sleep yourself." She knew she wasn't in a dream. She could tell.
"Yes, I did." Delemir shifted his head so his lips brushed against her palm gently. He opened his mouth and began to say something, but shut it before he had the first word out. Now wasn't the time to tell her. He still had his conversation with Onaumbar on his mind. And, he thought, he still felt the pain.
Letting his hand, still encasing Lissa's, trail down to his heart, he winced slightly.
"Oh, gosh, he had you? Delemir?" Lissa sat up and pulled her robe tighter around her with her other hand upon Delemir's silence. "Delemir, are you all right?" She said it slowly as she rested her hand over his cheek again, making him look at her. His eyes were glazed slightly, like he'd zoned out.
"I'm fine, my love," he told her after a moment. The endearment caused her to wince slightly, but she swallowed it to let it process later.
"Good," Lissa murmured, leaning towards him to hug him.
Delemir stopped her shortly. "Put some clothes on," he told her. "Put some clothes on then come back."
Lissa looked at Delemir in puzzlement, but nodded. She turned and slipped off of his bed—it smelled so much of him that she'd been lost in his scent. She cast a look of confusion over her shoulder at Delemir as she stepped out of his room to go into the bathroom and find her clothes from earlier that she'd set out to wear again.
When she reached the doorframe, she only stood there and stared in. The water, probably cold now, was still there. The wineglass, long empty, was still on the edge, teetering dangerously there and close to falling into the water. Her book was on the floor, and the radio was on the same station still. Her clothes were in a neat little pile by the laundry hamper, ready to have been put in there when she'd stepped out of them calmly, unlike when she'd stepped out of the tub. The other clothes, the clean ones, were stacked over the heater, warmed for her use, on the other side of the room.
Taking a deep breath, Lissa stepped in and felt the presence there, still. She swallowed and took another step slowly. The presence increased and her vision began to dim from the amount of it. She became dizzy and lightheaded, like under the influence of too much perfume. Her hands began to shake as she reached over to take the cotton shirt off of the heater. She stopped her movement two inches from the garment.
She was completely intoxicated by the feel of the presence there. She couldn't think. What was she doing in the bathroom? She couldn't see. What was she reaching for? She couldn't breathe. How long had it been since she'd taken a breath? As her eyes fluttered shut, she tried to remember those answers.
Delemir, meanwhile, was thinking his lecture through when he saw it had been five minutes. It didn't take Lissa that long to dress herself. It took her about two or three minutes if her clothes were set out in front of her, which he'd seen they were. He wondered where she was.
"Delemir!" he heard her cry suddenly, strained.
He jumped up and ran down the hall to the bathroom and saw her bent over, about to grab her clothes, but stopped in the motion. She was tilted to the side and leaning further every second. He rushed for her, but stopped at the amount of pressure there was and how hard it felt to breathe in the room. Ignoring the sudden shock of it best he could, he pulled Lissa over, and immediately the pressure subsided then disappeared. He and Lissa both took a gasping breath as she fell backwards over him.
"Delemir," she whispered frantically. "He was here! He was here inside my head! I could hear him! He was talking to me. Oh, he was saying that he could give me everything I wanted and that'd I'd remember it all being given to me!"
Delemir stood, bringing Lissa with him. She fell limply against him, but she quickly tried to right herself. He pulled her out of the bathroom quickly and sighed, shaking his head as he felt a slight throbbing in his chest.
So, this was how it was to be? Every time Lissa was going to be caught in a dream brought on by Onaumbar, he would feel it. It could be like a warning system, he thought as he pushed her against a wall to keep her there. He pressed his finger over her lips to quiet her fast rants.
"Shh," he said. He pulled his hand away, and she continued ranting and explaining what she'd felt. Delemir sighed, tired of hearing about Onaumbar and what he'd said in her head, and leaned closer. He rubbed his lips over hers firmly and felt her protest against him for a moment, then give in and quiet. She bunched herself up as a grin spread over her face—against his lips—and she lifted her hands to his shoulders.
"Oh, that makes everything better. Kiss me again," she said, her eyes still closed.
"In a moment," Delemir said and retrieved her clothes. "Go in your spare room and change."
"But what if—"
"He won't. If he does, tell him to shove it. You're good at that with Connor."
Lissa grinned as she took the clothes from Delemir, but still shivered. She took two steps then stopped. She turned slowly around to see Delemir watching her.
"Delemir?" She felt a little foolish and sheepish now.
"Yes?" Delemir leaned against the wall, amused at her.
"I—" She paused, unable to think of anything to say. Then, she jumped forward and swung her arms around his neck and let a sentimental tear slip down her cheek. "Thank you," she said at last, blinking back the rest of her tears.
She withdrew, with a goofy smile on her face, and walked into the other guestroom to change into her clothes. That was when she decided she really—honestly and truly really did—did want to marry him. Just the hard parts now were convincing him of the same thing and ridding themselves of Onaumbar or whatever the guy's name was.
Delemir sighed as he watched her walk into the room. He'd seen the goofy grin on her face and it was normally only one the people in the movies had when they were in love, deliriously in love. He hoped so. He had to tell her, but not now. Not when Onaumbar was still in the air, still in memory.
As Delemir walked past the door Lissa was behind, he heard her humming a little ditty she listened to a lot. He recognized it as a love song by one of her favorite singers. He sighed, knowing she was deliriously in love with him now. What would he do? How would he tell her? When would he tell her? Eru, when and how would she tell him and what would he do during that?
"Delemir?" Lissa said as she stepped out into the hallway, snagging his attention again.
"Yes?" He saw a no-nonsense look in her eyes. It was serious. Then, he saw the tears brimming in her eyes.
"I want to leave this house. I can't stay here anymore," she told him, nonchalant for the house's feelings. "I can't deal with this guy invading my dreams anymore. Invading yours, for heaven's sake." She took a step towards him and laid her hand over his heart. "He hurt you. I don't want him to, and I don't want you to hurt." She kissed him gently.
Delemir laid his hand over hers at his heart, wondering how many times they would do that same thing. "I'm fine. It is you I am worried about, my love," he told her, returning her soft kiss, but longer and more coaxing.
"Don't leave me," Lissa said once they were in his room.
"What?" Delemir looked at her in puzzlement.
"Onaumbar said you would leave me. Don't. I don't want his prophecy to come true. I don't want you to leave me," she elaborated. "I'll call a hotel in Pentagon City. We can stay there for a few days until we figure out everything," she added before he could say anything.
"All right," Delemir murmured as she went straight to the phone in his room.
She stopped at the base of it and made a funny noise. "Where is it?"
"Hmm?" Delemir tried to be innocent as he came behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nibbling on her neck.
"The phone. Where is it?"
"Over there," he said against her flesh. He jerked his head slightly in some off direction.
Lissa laughed then said, "There are a lot of 'theres,' Delemir. Where is it?" She pulled away and turned around to face him. She saw him jerk his head again towards the adjoined room that was a sitting room now. She walked over to it and looked around. "I don't—" She stopped herself when she saw its antenna sticking out from under a mound of pillows on the couch.
She walked over to it and pulled pillows off. She scoffed when she saw a stuffed animal or two there. She laughed ironically when she had to pry wads of paper—some of which she'd been looking for forever—from around it.
She began to yank it from the cushion of the couch when she felt Delemir watching her. She knew he was grinning. She could see it. There was a slight crease on his left cheek—it seemed odd, she thought, to say a man had a dimple, so was a crease—that she still had yet to run her fingers over. It would be barely be winking, but would still be cute. She laughed at herself as she found victory at pulling the phone out of the couch.
"Why'd you do that?" she asked, coming up to him and standing with her hands on her hips. She had a defiant glint in her eyes, and it hinted in the sassy tilt of her chin. His grin widened and the crease deepened.
"I hate the phone," he murmured. "I rid myself of it." He lifted his hand to her hair and toyed with the ends of it absently. It'd already become a habit.
"Well, you shouldn't do that. I might need it for a time like this." She grinned and lifted her hand to his left cheek. She was going to explore that manly dimple. "You know, whenever you grin like you are now, there's this really sexy crease right here," she murmured, tracing it as it deepened and reddened in a blush. She laughed at him. "Did I embarrass you?"
"No," he denied.
"Then why are you cheeks red, love?" She laughed again at his being flustered and patted his cheek gently. "Let's go make those hotel reservations." She took his hand and led him to the table in his room. "Gosh, I hope he doesn't come back while I'm on the phone," she murmured, producing a phonebook from the drawer in the table.
"Who?" Delemir already knew. He was wanted her to elaborate to see if she was afraid of him.
"Onaumbar. Oh, hold on. I'm going to ask you what type of room we want, so be creative here and there, and answer with what I give you to answer with," she said. Then, Delemir heard the click on the other line and a faint, muffled voice.
"Yes, I'd like to book a room for two adults. We'll be coming in tonight, if that's all right. How many nights?" She looked to Delemir.
"Five, six at the most," he told her.
"Okay. Write that down," she told him. She produced pen and paper just as magically as the phonebook and set it in front of him. He scribbled it down. "Okay, so, could we have the room for five or six nights? Great. Could I describe what type of room we want and you could see if you have one like it in your database? All right, thank you." She looked to Delemir again.
"One or two?" she asked, having been put on hold for another call.
"One or two what?" Delemir asked, looking up from doodling on the paper.
"One or two?" she repeated. "Quickly."
"One," he answered.
"Okay." Lissa took the paper and wrote something in messy shorthand. "Good or bad?"
"Good, of course. We have enough bad right now," he whispered.
"True." She scribbled again. "One or two again, and have some variety," she murmured, coloring in a star he'd drawn.
"Two, then." He tried to decipher the shorthand, but only saw what looked like chicken scratch.
"Mini or no?" She looked up to see his reaction.
"What? Mini what?"
"Never mind. Too slow," she said as she was picked up off of hold. "Yes, I'm still here. And I know what kind of room we want now. Yes. Okay, a one bed—" She cast a wry look at Delemir while he looked at her in horror of his choice "—a good view of the monuments, two bathrooms—" She mouthed the words 'Thank you' to Delemir with a grin still "—and a miniature fridge if that's available. It is? Great. Okay. Room what? Is that the top floor? Oh. 1208," she murmured. "Okay, we'll pack and be there in about an hour. Thank you." She hung up and looked at Delemir.
"One bed?" he asked.
"There's a couch bed. Or I could request a roll-a-way bed." She grinned up at him. "Hey, you answered the questions," she improvised, standing.
"Yes, but I did not know they would imply to those specific details." He lifted his eyebrow at her growing smirk. He knew she wanted to be casual. She wanted to forget the rendezvous with Onaumbar in her bathroom, and the trance he'd put her in. He could be casual, but it wasn't easy with the knowledge that Onaumbar would find them wherever they went. It also wasn't easy with the light throbbing in his chest that increased whenever he was near her. Was she a reason as to why it was there? Was he?
"What are you thinking of?" Lissa asked him, standing and leaning on the balls of her feet in front of him.
"Nothing you would care to know about," he said simply. The look that crossed over her face made him wonder what he'd said wrong. "What?"
"Have you been talking to Emily or Jenny on the phone lately? What have you been watching? Have you been listening to my phone conversations?" she accused, shocked from thinking the implied.
Delemir thought a moment and shook his head, finally realizing where her mind was. He laughed, pleased with himself for making her think something bad when he was purely good.
"Well? Do you have an explanation for yourself?" she pressed further, like a mother catching her son with a full bottle of liquor and a pack of tobacco. "You're an Elf! You're not supposed to think bad thoughts!"
"Yes, Mother, I do have an explanation. And, I'll have you know, that there have been plenty of Elves who have had dirty minds. I am not one of them—right now." He stood and took a step forward, putting his hand to her temple. "I was not in the gutter, you were. I was thinking of Onaumbar, when I know you wish to be casual and leave him out of conversation when at all possible. So that is why I said I was thinking of something you would not care to hear about." He laughed again at the look coming over her face. It was embarrassment now.
"Well," she said, fighting down the blush in her face, "you should elaborate more, Delemir." She looked up at him and saw the grin playing over his lips. "Meanie."
"Child," he returned, having a memory of some time he couldn't remember.
Lissa looked up with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Old one," she murmured, grinning back at him and the shock.
"I beg your pardon?" He was appalled someone had called him old.
"I said, 'old one!' Want me to spell it for you?" Lissa offered as the phone rang. "Hold that thought." She sprang for the ringing phone. "Hello?"
"We sound exasperated," Emily grinned.
"We do?" Lissa hadn't noticed her breathing had quickened under Delemir's stare. "Oh." She laughed.
"What were you doing? Running a mile?"
"Not quite." Lissa threw a glance over at Delemir that promised more mischief later. "What do you need?" she asked, sitting down on the desk and toying with one of the glass figures.
"Do you still have cookies left from the other day?" Emily wanted to know. She, too, was sitting down in a comfy chair, drawing anything that came to mind.
"I doubt it. With the way Delemir has been eating my cookies," she said, raising her voice for him to zone in and hear, "I doubt if even the ingredients are left!"
Emily's spurt of laughter only increased when she heard Delemir shout over the other end of the line. "No, I have not been eating the cookies, you have!" he accused Lissa.
"Cookie thief! There was a pile of them two days ago by your bed and it's gone now," Lissa said matter of factly.
"Because you took them and ate them for yourself," Delemir insisted.
Emily, finally controlling her laughter, looked over at the sheet of paper she'd been doodling on. Her eyes widened and nearly popped out of her head. "Whoa!" she said through the phone. "Lissa, you and Delemir can fight about the cookies later. You have to see this thing I just drew. It's of a guy with long hair. The facial features are like—wow. His eyes are so deep, you feel lost looking into them."
Lissa immediately knew who Emily had drawn, and how. Swallowing her shock, she said, "Hey, you come on over with that drawing and you can help me pack, all right?"
"Pack?" Emily was puzzled as she pulled a plastic cover out of her drawer for the paper.
"Yeah. Delemir and I are going to be staying at a hotel over in Pentagon City. I'll talk to Delemir to see if we can tell you about it." They would have to be careful about who they told now.
"Sure, all right. Just don't leave any details out if you do tell me," Emily said, carefully setting the picture in a plastic cover. "I'll see you soon."
"Sure," Lissa murmured, still in shock. "Bye."
When Lissa hung up the phone and turned to him, Delemir saw the shock on her now pale face. "What? What is it?" he asked her, staying where he was.
"Emily said she'd drawn a picture of Onaumbar," Lissa told him. She took a long breath and let it out slowly.
"What?" Now Delemir did go to her. He took her hands in his, feeling the chill there.
"Not exactly. She doesn't know it. She doesn't know anything about Onaumbar yet. She doesn't know about the dreams. I haven't risked telling anyone," she murmured, letting Delemir's warmth seep into her hands. "There's a saying that two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead. I have an addition to that. Two people can keep a secret if they try."
"I like yours better," Delemir said, touching his neck gingerly. "A lot better."
Lissa laughed and smiled at him, making herself think of anything else but the shock and Onaumbar. "Come on. Let's start packing your stuff best we can until Emily makes it here. I think there's a suitcase in your closet on the top," she said, going over to it and opening the door. "Yep." Then she stretched herself out fully like a cat and left Delemir flabbergasted at how tall she could make herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So, you're saying I drew the guy that's been haunting Delemir since he came here, and has started haunting you now?" Emily said ironically to Lissa.
"Yes." Lissa felt foolish telling Emily about these dreams and that this guy—one of the head people, kind of, in the Valar in Middle Earth—trying to tear them both apart by giving Lissa what she wanted.
Emily stated the obvious, saying, "Well, he's trying to tear you both apart and give you what you want—" She shot a glance at Delemir and he shook his head "—and he's trying to take you away from Delemir. Think, both of you. Why would he try to do that? What would motivate him to?"
"You mean you believe us?" Lissa exclaimed.
"I don't know. I believe that you've hardly told a good lie since I've known you, and you would have had to practice this if it were a joke," Emily said, leaning against the couch in the sitting room. "And, as you have stated and we all have seen, you're terrible at acting since you have to laugh at things like these."
Lissa rolled her eyes. "He was—" She cleared her throat from the slight fear that coated it. "He was here earlier today. When I took a bath, I was listening to my favorite opera. I drank a glass of Chardonnay and felt a little tired since the opera's two hours. I dozed off, thinking I'd wake up when the music stopped or when Delemir said someone was on the phone or something. That's where I messed up. When I opened my eyes a moment later, I wasn't in the tub. I was in bed." Here is where it became a little embarrassing. She shot a look to Delemir. This was the first time he was hearing it all too, but she'd told him he had been in the dream.
"Alone?" Emily wanted to know when she picked up on the looks going between the two. "Oh, too weird. With him?"
"We're married and have children in my dreams, Emily. Onaumbar said that he gives me all I want in my dreams." She stepped up to Emily and began to whisper something when she saw Delemir watching them intently. "Delemir, zone out." He grinned and looked elsewhere. Lissa whispered, "Maybe Onaumbar is right. Maybe that is what I want."
If Emily had been drinking something then, she would have choked on it and spat it across the room. "Are you serious?" she wanted to know. Lissa nodded sheepishly. "Big change."
"Anyway. We talk for a minute, then I shower and we go and wake up the kids," Lissa murmured.
"How many?" Delemir asked, watching her now.
"Two. Adam is six in this dream, and Genevieve is a few months," Lissa told him. "It's Christmas and we open our gifts. I live an entire day in the dream without knowing it's a dream. It seemed so right and I didn't suspect anything until I thought of something." She cleared her throat again and sipped the water beside her. "I'm an artist in my dream, and a new one at that. New artists, as you know Emily, since you're an artist by now a well renowned one, always have struggles with cash. My thought was how did we manage income? I mean, we were living in this house. It's huge. It takes a good three hundred plus dollars for the bills, and then there's the extra expenses, like food, clothing, things for Genevieve and Adam, and then other miscellaneous things.
"How did we manage to rake in enough cash to stay stable enough to have a giant Christmas like we did? There were twenty or so presents under the tree." Lissa looked at her audience of two and took a shallow, shuddered breath. "Things became distorted slightly as I was lying on the couch with Delemir. Soon, both of the children began screaming bloody murder and the dream distorts further. The colors of the room mix and bleed and twist around me. Then, I hear the radio—the end of the opera—and sirens. I'm suddenly in an accident, dying. As the white sheet is pulled over my head, I feel my mind believing that it's dead, so therefore shutting down. Then I sprang up, out of the bath water, shouting."
Lissa was quiet after that.
"Then she came down the hall in her robe and hysterics," Delemir continued for her. "She attempts explaining, but doesn't quite say it right, so that's why all of that was new to me besides the part about Onaumbar trying to kill her."
"That must have led to the thought of 'why?' correct?" Emily put in. "So, we're stuck wondering why this 'Onaumbar' character is trying to kill Meliss here, right?"
"I know why," Delemir murmured. "To kill me. He wants me dead for some reason—both of us." His gaze strayed from Emily's to Lissa's, and he saw the shock on her face. Her water glass fell from her hands and hit the floor, breaking on the finished hardwood. She snapped back to reality and bent down to pick up the pieces of glass.
"I'll go find the broom and a towel," Emily said, walking quickly out of the room.
Delemir nodded and knelt in front of Lissa. He picked up a jagged piece of glass and inspected it. It was smooth, thinly cut glass. It was part of the lip of the cup. He looked up when he heard Lissa suck in a breath quickly, retaining an oath.
"What?" He took her hand in his and saw a neat little cut along the lifeline of her palm. She tried to pull it away, but Delemir kept his grip firm on her wrist. He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the flowing blood out of the way and see a medium deep cut.
"Let go, I'm fine," she said quickly, still trying to pull away to tend it.
"This is symbolic," he said, ignoring her demand. "See this line here?" He ran his finger along the line in her palm until he reached the cut. She hissed in a breath when his finger dipped over the cut slightly. "This is your lifeline." He looked up at her now. "He means to cut it short, like he did mine."
Lissa's jaw dropped and quivered, her hands beginning to shake. She looked straight at Delemir and saw the depthless blue of his eyes, and the memory of his death in Lothlórien.
"Back!" Emily exclaimed, running back in with a towel for the water, a bag and the broom for the glass. "What is it?" She saw the look of shock on Lissa's face, and the understanding on Delemir's.
"He means kill me soon," Lissa gasped. Then Emily saw the blood.
"What happened?" she demanded, using the towel to wipe the blood away.
"She cut her hand while she was cleaning up the glass," Delemir said, trying to help calm Lissa to no avail.
"Come on, we'll clean this up in the bathroom."
"Uh-uh, not going in there!" Lissa said quickly. She pulled her hand out of the two people's hold and stepped back, lifting both hands palm out in the air.
"Why not?" Emily wanted to know.
"You would have had to have to been there to understand it," Delemir said.
"I'm a writer and an artist," Emily pointed out. "Whether or not I'll understand it, I'll make sense of it, at least."
"He was there earlier and pulled me into a trance," Lissa murmured.
"And would have killed her then had I not found her." Delemir wiped the blood that was still oozing out of Lissa's hand away. "We have to clean this," he told her softly.
"First aid kit in your room. In the desk by the window," Lissa said, swallowing. Emily stepped out to find it. "Oh, gosh, I feel him. He's here, but just barely. He's letting us know he can do anything." She paused a moment, and her eyes took on a glazed appearance. "I hear him. He's saying he's only showing us what he can do, and more blood will spill," she murmured slowly.
"What's she saying?" Emily asked Delemir quietly when she stepped in to see Lissa walking towards the window slowly. Delemir shrugged.
"My blood is not the only blood that will be spilled, though he will spill it. In fact, that's just what he's doing," Lissa said and threw the window open.
"Lissa!" Delemir pulled her back, and obviously out of her trance.
"What happened?" she asked as Emily started to bandage her hand. "Oh, he's here!"
"Yes, we know Mrs. Obvious," Emily said sarcastically. "He just tried to kill you. Don't you remember flinging that window open and almost succeeding in throwing yourself out?"
"No." Lissa swallowed and grabbed Delemir's arm with her other hand. "No, I remember just standing there talking, then all of a sudden, I'm being yanked away and pushed here."
"What do you remember when you were going to change your clothes in the bathroom earlier?" Delemir demanded.
"Nothing, really. I remember that I was reaching for the clothes, and then my vision was clouded. Then I didn't feel anything until you pulled me out," Lissa said.
"So what he's doing," Emily said, picking up on Delemir's thought process, "is whenever you're in a trance or whatever, you don't remember what you're doing, or it seems you're doing something else until someone pulls you out of it. Otherwise, you're like a rag doll, ready to be thrown around. How would he have killed her in the bathroom?"
"She would have fallen and hit her head on the bathtub. The wineglass there would have been hit and might have fallen and broken as well. Or she might have fallen forward onto the heater," Delemir said.
"Both have to do with falling," Lissa murmured.
"What?"
"We have to finish packing. I have to leave this place," Lissa said, looking at Emily, then Delemir. "I never thought I'd want to leave my own house. Let's go downstairs." She pulled at Delemir's hand, but he wouldn't budge.
"You said something about falling," he told her.
"Yes, now let's go. Let's take your bag out of your room and go downstairs to finish my bag," Lissa said, tugging his hand. She looked to Emily for help, who was just watching in amusement. Lissa felt helpless, even in her own home. That's why she wanted to vacate it. She felt suffocated. She couldn't breathe here. She needed air. She couldn't think anywhere. She had to gather her thoughts.
Seeing neither of them would move, she sighed and let Delemir's hand fall from hers. "Fine," she said, her voice quivering. "I'll pack my own bag. I'm a big girl." She turned and started down the stairs again.
Delemir stood, seeing he'd pushed her too hard and tried to make her do something she didn't want to. "Lissa, wait a minute," he said, seeing her halfway down the stairs.
"I'm fine. I can pack my own bag, Delemir," she insisted, her voice still quivering, continuing down the stairs.
"That's not what I mean," he said, throwing a glance at Emily, who only shrugged her shoulders.
"When Lissa's mad, she gives you the cold shoulder," she pointed out, having experienced it before.
"Yes, I've noticed." Delemir sighed and continued after her. "Lissa, what did you mean when you said both had to do with falling back there?" he asked, following her through the house. Emily slowly followed suit after them.
"My own realization that no one else will understand because no one else thinks like me," she said as she stepped into her room. "Now, if you'd like a seminar on my thought and my thought process, I'd be happy to give you one in a million years when the technology is more advanced."
Emily smirked behind Delemir at that. She stayed out of sight in the dining room, though, while Delemir stood at the threshold of the door in Lissa's room. She stood on the other side of the room, watching his back.
"I want to know now," Delemir said lowly.
"Go away."
Now Emily restrained a laugh at that, but continued grinning.
"I want to know what you meant so I can help you—help us—make it through this alive, Melissa," Delemir said.
"Go away," Lissa said again and shut her door in his face. Before he could try to open it, she pushed the latch at the top of the door.
Delemir sighed and leaned against it, forgetful of Emily's watching eye. He sighed out a breath slowly, leaning on his wrist heavily against the wood. "Lissa, please open your door," he said calmly, keeping his voice flat and emotionless. "Please?"
Lissa sat on her bed like an Indian and with her arms folded across her chest in a pout, sure to be scowling at the empty suitcase on her bed. She just wanted to scream and shout and tell him she loved him right then. She didn't want to think of Onaumbar then. She didn't even want to think of Onaumbar at all. But then that always lead to being haunted by more dreams and pulled into more deathly trances she alone was powerless to stop.
Scowling at the door now, she heard Delemir speaking again.
"I have to tell you something, Lissa. It is important. Now, I can tell you through the door and make everything I say have no power or meaning whatsoever, or you can open the door and let me in so you can either slap me in the face—" That one appealed to Lissa "or kiss me like you have no other chance in the world to ever again." Delemir sighed. This was it.
Lissa sighed in unbeknownst unison with Delemir, thinking the same thing at the same time but pertaining to different thoughts. She felt tears spring to her eyes as she realized she had to talk about Onaumbar and not just ignore him. That was probably what he wanted her to do anyway. Making the pain in the butt happy was the last thing she wanted to do.
So, with Onaumbar on her mind, and her heart on her sleeve, Lissa stood and walked to the door. She unlatched it slowly. Taking a breath, she opened the door.
"Give us a minute?" Delemir asked Emily—she walked off to the kitchen to look around and wait like a person with respect to romance—as he saw the door open.
Lissa only expected him to walk in and beat around the bush, taking forever with his point and make her want to slap him, but she didn't expect for him to near about jump all over her in one single kiss. She was completely shocked, so her reaction would have been late had she not decided to only stand there in his arms and refuse to feel anything. It was nearly impossible and driving her senseless, yes, but she managed to stand there with his lips over hers, firm and possessive and hungry.
Delemir felt it. The cold rejection she was giving him right now hurt like nothing before, he thought as he pulled away from her. Especially since he'd made up his mind to tell her finally. So, when he saw her only staring at him blandly, as if her blood had never run hot in her veins because of him, he swallowed his hurt and pride and replaced them with words.
"Melissa, please look at me when I tell you this," Delemir said when she turned to survey herself in the mirror. He leaned backwards and shut the door slowly. The click of it made Lissa look at him.
"Yeah?" she asked, as if she couldn't feel the love boiling in the air. In truth, she felt it and could barely resist going to him now and exclaiming she loved him more than anything in the world, but she kept that purely on the inside. "Look, I know you probably want to talk about Onaumbar, but right now, he's the last thing I want to think a—"
"Be quiet, woman, for Eru's sake!" Delemir exclaimed, striding over to her and taking fistfuls of her hair in his hands so she looked at him. "Be quiet so I can say this." He took another deep breath, fighting back the urge to kiss her again. "Melissa, I love you."
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Whoopee! He told her! Uhm...sorry it took so long to update. Really, really sorry. But to make up for it, tonight, I am going to read through the next chapter and update on Valentine's Day! I think it's the right chapter for it. But anyway...
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Lord of the Rings, or the Valar. I only own my people. Anyway, I don't think there'll be a lot of long rambling here. But anyhow...I will talk to you on Valentine's Day! But hopefully I will get a kitty by then! I'll let you know!
But a quick special thanks and shout out:
Aragorns-gurl33 says: Whoever is reading her stories "Cautious Love" and "Hope is not lost" that she has NOT given up on them. She is still waiting for the inspiration to hit. But this need only apply if she hasn't gotten it yet.
THANKS TO:
Lady Gwen of Avalon for sticking here, and congratulations to her for her wedding!
Aragorns-gurl33 for reviewing faithfully to the chapters!
Sam (you know who you are!) for reading!
Snooboostoo for reviewing, and I hope to hear from you again soon!
Scarlet-Lolita for updating the first chapter and being the first person ever to review Love's Philosophy! Hope to hear from you soon!
Thanks to all who read this story, and I hope you enjoy it!
