Post by Sevanstarre on Jun 7, 2012 13:04:02 GMT -5
(Soppy-ness warning.)
The wind shifts as evening falls, carrying a warm breeze from the east across the land. Leaves delicately cascade from their trees and gently kiss the surface of Middle-Earth, rustling as they dance into each other under the wind's gentle fingers. A perfect evening, on the shoulders of a perfect day.
Silence, as the last of the day's travellers on the road disappear towards Bree, leaving the road and the surrounding plains almost deserted. And then, a gentle strain of music flows into the air, broken only by the occasional nocturnal insect and the steady, comforting breeze.
He sits in the grass, just south of the road, watching her and listening. Moonlight shines from behind her as the surface of the moon peeks out from between the trees, bathing her in a clear, white aura. Her face delicately framed by the falling leaves from the trees behind her, her eyes closed as her fingers dance, lightly, across the strings of her instrument. He searches his vocabulary, not managing to find a single word sufficient to describe what he sees.
Slowly and softly, almost whispering so as not to disturb the music, he says the only words he can think of.
'You're beautiful.'
She smiles, speechless, and continues her song.
It has only been two days since he first worked up the nerve to approach her at all, shyly stammering and blushing out his words. His confidence has slowly grown since then - they've hugged each other, he's kissed her hand. Once, blushing like a sunset, he even kissed her on the cheek. Not too long ago, either. Now, he walks with her to their homesteads, dreading a time when they will go their separate ways and wishing he could make this moment, right now, last forever.
...The music of the night...
After her song finishes, he walks with her, smiling shyly as she takes his hand, awkwardly trying to find things to talk about. She doesn't seem to mind. He discusses the flowers they pass and the scent they play into the warm breeze. The constellations he sees in the night sky. Light-heartedly, he discusses the various annoyances and quirks of the instruments he plays. She smiles. He blushes.
A perfect evening.
And then, too quickly, it's over. They stand together at her house as he prepares to say goodbye and begin the short journey, alone, back to his own house. He squeezes her hand, kisses her on the cheek. She smiles and repeats the gesture, and they say their goodbyes.
But somehow, for the first time since he spoke to her, he feels his confidence growing. His blush fades, momentarily. He stops shivering. He turns back to her, with her expression of faint puzzlement, and gently reaches out to take both of her hands in his, softly rubbing his fingers against her palms as he does.
'You know...' he begins, and then hesitates to gather all of his confidence. 'You know how, last night, we were talking about how sometimes you have to make your wishes come true yourself?'
She nods quietly.
He takes a deep breath, trying desperately to control his nervousness. This is happening. Oh my goodness, this is happening...
He gently tugs her hands, encouraging her to step closer to him as he moves towards her. Eyes closed, blushing furiously, he kisses her lips.
'I... I just did.'
She steps back, and for a moment he's terrified as he struggles to interpret the expression on her face. But, after a moment, the surprise fades, replaced by the warmest, sweetest smile he's ever seen.
It lasted forever.
Afterwards, they stood at the door to her house and exchanged goodbyes once more. He knelt before her and kissed her hand, then descended the stairs reluctantly, mounting his horse and preparing for the ride back to his own neighbourhood. But before he left, he turned to face her and look into her perfect eyes, every trace of his blush gone.
'Good night, Sevan,' she said softly.
'Good night, Glorie,' he replied.
From the safety of her front door, Morninglorie watched him go.
The wind shifts as evening falls, carrying a warm breeze from the east across the land. Leaves delicately cascade from their trees and gently kiss the surface of Middle-Earth, rustling as they dance into each other under the wind's gentle fingers. A perfect evening, on the shoulders of a perfect day.
Silence, as the last of the day's travellers on the road disappear towards Bree, leaving the road and the surrounding plains almost deserted. And then, a gentle strain of music flows into the air, broken only by the occasional nocturnal insect and the steady, comforting breeze.
He sits in the grass, just south of the road, watching her and listening. Moonlight shines from behind her as the surface of the moon peeks out from between the trees, bathing her in a clear, white aura. Her face delicately framed by the falling leaves from the trees behind her, her eyes closed as her fingers dance, lightly, across the strings of her instrument. He searches his vocabulary, not managing to find a single word sufficient to describe what he sees.
Slowly and softly, almost whispering so as not to disturb the music, he says the only words he can think of.
'You're beautiful.'
She smiles, speechless, and continues her song.
It has only been two days since he first worked up the nerve to approach her at all, shyly stammering and blushing out his words. His confidence has slowly grown since then - they've hugged each other, he's kissed her hand. Once, blushing like a sunset, he even kissed her on the cheek. Not too long ago, either. Now, he walks with her to their homesteads, dreading a time when they will go their separate ways and wishing he could make this moment, right now, last forever.
...The music of the night...
After her song finishes, he walks with her, smiling shyly as she takes his hand, awkwardly trying to find things to talk about. She doesn't seem to mind. He discusses the flowers they pass and the scent they play into the warm breeze. The constellations he sees in the night sky. Light-heartedly, he discusses the various annoyances and quirks of the instruments he plays. She smiles. He blushes.
A perfect evening.
And then, too quickly, it's over. They stand together at her house as he prepares to say goodbye and begin the short journey, alone, back to his own house. He squeezes her hand, kisses her on the cheek. She smiles and repeats the gesture, and they say their goodbyes.
But somehow, for the first time since he spoke to her, he feels his confidence growing. His blush fades, momentarily. He stops shivering. He turns back to her, with her expression of faint puzzlement, and gently reaches out to take both of her hands in his, softly rubbing his fingers against her palms as he does.
'You know...' he begins, and then hesitates to gather all of his confidence. 'You know how, last night, we were talking about how sometimes you have to make your wishes come true yourself?'
She nods quietly.
He takes a deep breath, trying desperately to control his nervousness. This is happening. Oh my goodness, this is happening...
He gently tugs her hands, encouraging her to step closer to him as he moves towards her. Eyes closed, blushing furiously, he kisses her lips.
'I... I just did.'
She steps back, and for a moment he's terrified as he struggles to interpret the expression on her face. But, after a moment, the surprise fades, replaced by the warmest, sweetest smile he's ever seen.
It lasted forever.
Afterwards, they stood at the door to her house and exchanged goodbyes once more. He knelt before her and kissed her hand, then descended the stairs reluctantly, mounting his horse and preparing for the ride back to his own neighbourhood. But before he left, he turned to face her and look into her perfect eyes, every trace of his blush gone.
'Good night, Sevan,' she said softly.
'Good night, Glorie,' he replied.
From the safety of her front door, Morninglorie watched him go.