Guys, I know this is really short, really I do. But it was either give this now or give a longer one weeks later. Ya, um, that's the bad news. . . see, the thing is I'm horribly busy right now, and I seriously don't have any time to write. Why oh why does God make exams. . . So. I'm going to. . . disappear for a time. With exams, with vacation. . . Give me two, three months? I know I'd be pissed at myself, but. . . pleeaase?
I might post in between then if I somehow find the time, and the urge to write unbearable, but it'll be short. Pretty much as short as this.
Btw, thanks so much for the reviews. Meluivan Indil: We all love a challenge, don't we. But I do see the end result really clearly. Not how it'll get there though, I'll figure it out as I write. But come on, fire and water, what better match? IceKube: Heh. . . you'll see my name in the bookstore's list, under "Worst Selling Authors".: ) But thanks, I was in happyland for a while: ). Alasse: Dark Angel? TV show, yes? Yes, I know, I'm a caveman. Don't rub it in. . .: ). ZombieGurl98: Yikes, then you'll really be pissed at this chapter. . . heh. SORRY! faeriekittie306 animelover: Thanks so much so sorry about the updating thing. . . what can I say? School should die. . .
. .>
It was wet.
That thought had been with Tera for the past God-knew-how-long hours.
It was very wet.
Not that Tera didn't like the rain, oh no, definitely not. But there came to a point where soaked breeches and wretched cold really did state that enough was enough.
And that point came. . . a long time ago.
"It is about three days to the orc stronghold," a soft, stiff voice came from in front.
"Only?" she asked, surprised. Just three days by horseback, that was about five, six on foot. Which really wasn't that far from Rivendell.
"Only," he confirmed, ice hardening his voice, "so you now see our dilemma."
Tera nodded slightly, knowing he'd not be able to see her reply, but knowing that he'd either assume he'd nodded or just take it as another of her personality flaws. She didn't care. She preferred the passion, the fire, the gaping flaws of fight to. . . that, that serene cultivation of water, those hidden emotions, that harsh coldness of ice. They could hide anything, those, those, those. . . those black and white people. How could one live without the constant red of anger, or black of fear, or whirlwind of color of intense joy?
"They do not know the location of the House of Elrond, currently. However, they had taken a scout captive about a year ago." The chill of his voice seemed to radiate from his entire person, and his usually stiff form was held so still he seemed almost statuesque in the new wash of moonlight.
"They had taken a scout?"
"He died." The answer was short, cold, harsh. Tera kept silent. She knew this. She knew grief. She remembered how she'd longed for silence, for solitude. Solitude she could give.
She let the silence afterwards stretch and linger, and engulf them both. But there was no comfort in that silence, just an unfinished foreboding that made the cool after-rain breeze thickly compressing. And she knew that he would continue. He had to continue.
"He was. . . tortured –to death – and his body was laid for us to find. His name was Arendur. He was there for six months." His voice was cold, and emotionless.
She let the silence come again for a few moments. And then –
"He was brave," she said softly.
It was strange, was it not, how freely elves gave their names. How free they were with so many things, hospitality, description, wealth, and yet Glorfindel sat still as marble on his mount, eyes unseeing and impassive.
"He was braver than you and I could ever be."
"He was," she replied, and she knew that they were the right words to say.
It surprised her, her caring. Maybe it was because she knew grief, knew its dark form well enough to stand by those who had known it as well. It was not black, was grief. No. It was a dull, shadowed gray, which threatened to engulf and overwhelm and render helpless.
And she knew that only too well.
If Glorfindel was surprised by her sudden change of attitude, he didn't comment. He'd probably not have noticed, so engulfed was he by some distant memory. Tera kept watch, keeping her sight and hearing sharp to the woods around, knowing that the elf, though forcing himself to focus on his duty, would probably not be at his best. It would be a stupid way to die, and Tera had ceased to be stupid long ago.
Glorfindel sat still, silent, statuesque on his steed. There was no grief in his eyes, yet it echoed off of him, muted but still apparent.
And he stayed that way until night came too far for much to be seen anymore, before offering a curt stoppage for the night.
Tera immediately felt her hackles rise, and she nodded with a curtness of her own.
They set up camp in silence, but it was not the same silence as when they were on horseback. No. This was a familiar. This silence was full of tension, full of explosive hostility.
It was, she had to admit as she picked out Reggie's hooves, a good change to normality.
"First watch?" she asked diffidently, not bothering to glance up from her horse.
"That would be best. I need not the rest you do," he replied coolly.
"Ah, oh course not. Not the Great Elf Glorfindel. I'm surprised you need any sleep at all." Heavy, heavy sarcasm. Cynical little smirk. Definitely back to normal.
The silence filled a darkened cloud between them both, and Tera could feel annoyance practically radiated off of the elf. Another lecture, then. She wondered if he'd not realized yet that reason had absolutely no effect on her.
"Lady, if we are to succeed in this, I suggest we find a way to communicate without-"
"Snarling like pit-bulls? Pity, I enjoyed it so much."
"It appears that every time I attempt to right a wrong you grow intent on letting the ill fester."
"Mmm? You just figured that out?" She had really no idea why exactly she so enjoyed prodding at the elf.
Then, silence again. And when Tera looked back, Glorfindel was gone.
She shook her head slightly in amusement, and returned to her task.
It was about half an hour before she'd finished with the stallion, and she opted without hesitation to skip dinner and take the first watch some distance from camp. Maybe she did enjoy needling the elf, but violence might not be such a good thing here. She had enough against her as it was.
Glorfindel watched her darkly from narrowed eyes. Already he felt his control fading, cracks creeping into his coldly built wall of ice. He felt torrents of raging waters behind them, knew that this wall he must hold up. Emotion was deadly. Anger, frustration, fear, joy; those were fickle, quick to come and quick to leave. Devastatingly quick to leave.
And that was why she was so dangerous. The woman surrounded herself with emotion, raw, uncontrolled emotion. She may blaze like glory, allure like leaping flame, but she would fall in the end.
She drew him to her. Yes, fine, he'd admit it. Such fire, such defiance, such emotion would draw many people. She was of hatred and anger and fiery boldness, and he could not deny that he wanted to soak in even the shadow of her flame. Fire worked that way, so passionate, compelling, exciting, so tempting in its heat and life. It was invincible and immortal and exposed and frail. It was strong and weak and life and death and God help him, he needed a bit of her warmth, a bit of something beyond the cool and calm of his life. But he knew fire. There was danger in it, and he knew more than to give in to its call. That fire would burn was cliché, and yet there was a reason for that. Fire did burn.
Shaking his head, he bent to retrieve her dinner. If she wanted seclusion, it was hr choice, but she must at least have something to sustain her until the 'morrow.
