Disclaimer: Not mine. Except for Talgo and Eria and Osta.

By the way, I wrote this like a year ago, and have noooo idea why I'm posting it now. So if it sucks, forgive me, I don't suck as much now. xD Now, on to the vignette!

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The sun was high when she heard the news.

Her beloved was to be sent off. Why Talgo? The misgiving in her heart was too strong to be ignored. She sighed as a tear trickled down her pale cheek, the colors of the now setting sun reflecting off the liquid, the array of colors dancing as fires flickered nearby. In despair she tucked the one tress, which was loose from the bun that kept the rest of her long, dirty locks, behind her ear, looking down at her bare feet. Her hazel eyes began to glaze over again as she smelt her love near.

She smelled dirt, the dirt that lay on the bottom of his hut, always covered with old heirlooms, rusty and ancient. She smelled his hair, the bundle of auburn grease that hung to his shoulders, which had stood through all the weathers ever known to man. She smelled orc blood, foul, disgusting. And most of all, she smelled herself.

She remembered all the times they had been together, all the times she pressed up to him in the cold, the times they laughed together, the times he was her only comfort in the cruel world. The times he had first brought her flowers, their colors shining as it seemed like all light was on them. She remembered where she put them, where they still lay.

"Eria," was whispered. His soft, gentle voice that ringed about the air, the voice that comforted, the voice that had brought joy to all that it spoke to. She didn't look up, she couldn't bear even glance at him. "Eria, look at me." That voice again, how could she disobey it? She hesitated for a moment, before gazing upward into his dark, caring eyes. The brave eyes which had sought her out after seeing her once. The eyes that had never experienced a single tear.

"Why do you have to go?" she heard her own voice choke out, the weak voice she could barely control. He bent down, never breaking the contact of their eyes as he clasped his rough hands in her own frail ones. Her shaking ones. She watched as his head cocked to the side, questioning her silently.

"I have left so many times, love. What makes this time different?" His voice was so considerate, so kind. He ran a thumb down her cheek bone as she trembled and looked down again. She opened her mouth as if to answer but closed it again. "What is it?"

"I don't think you will come back," she muttered, as if ashamed at her answer. Surely he would think her weak, maybe even stupid. He lifted her head, forcing a small smile to reassure her, but to no avail.

"I will come back. I promise." She sobbed again, and he brought her body to his gently, whispering words of comfort to her as she quivered in his embrace.

--

They were leaving. Her stomach was turning over as she ran back inside her home, running to the farthest wall. She had not been back there for years, keeping it as a sort of memory room, to come back to in times of need. She saw a black feather, one she had found when she was young. It was with her old friend, Osta. She wondered what had ever happened to that almost sacred companion as her eyes lingered to her feet. In front of them were flowers, aged and dry. The earliest ones given to her by Talgo.

She grabbed them, trying to take in their scent, though it had faded over time. She rubbed her temples with remorse before rocking them against her heart, finding consolation in them. With a sigh she ambled outside, looking at the ground as she did so.

"I have to go, Eria." The voice was back again, yet different. It held something new. . . Sorrow? She gazed upwards into his face, suppressing a tiny gasp as she saw a tear stream down his face, his eyes directed to the flowers she held. "But I don't want to." The last part was a murmur, a condolence to both of them. Silently she took his hand, opening his fist and placing the flowers in them, smiling softly in grief.

"Keep them," she said. As he started to protest, she silenced him with a finger. "Please." He brought them to his chest, knuckles turning red as he clutched them, but nodded. Wordlessly he knelt down, bringing his lips to his in a swift motion, filling them both with bliss for just a moment.

"Goodbye, love," he whispered, before standing to an upright position, running his hands through her curls one last time before turning and walking away, the blossoms still in his hands. Right before he was out of sight, she called,

"Remember your promise!" She did not know that he had lied.