She

Two: One Day


He is leaving.

I knew immediately that something was wrong; for the first time since we began our unlikely attachment, it was I who waited for him. And when he did arrive, he was distracted, almost angry, and there was a new gravity in his touch.

I wanted to cry when he told me. I wanted to kneel before him and beg him not to leave me. I did not listen as he blurted out the words causing him so much anguish; his father…a council…a dark shadow over Middle Earth. I did not care then why he was leaving; I knew only of his abandonment. But I did not weep, and I did not plead. Instead, I began to beat him with clenched fists, my rage uncontrollable as I screamed insults into the wind.

He caught my wrists to stop the blows raining down on him, and crushed his lips against mine to swallow my protests. The hunger in his kiss was more than matched by the urgency in my own. We stumbled through the wood together blindly, refusing to part our mouths for more than a second, until we found our home. He pinned me against the oldest tree in the forest as he pulled my dress away from my body, almost tearing the thin fabric in his hurry. There was no time for delicacy. Our romantic interlude had been brought abruptly to an end, with time for only one more coupling. 

The bark of the tree was rough against my back as he pressed me against it, but I felt no pain. The searing intensity of his kisses wiped every coherent thought from my mind and I could think only of the delicious pressure of his hot flesh next to mine. 

He was more impatient than I have ever seen him before; within seconds of removing my clothes he too was naked, and poised to enter me. But still he waited for my consent, and in that instant I fell in love with him even more.

As he pushed inside me, I was gripped by a shudder of completeness, and I moaned aloud as the tremors slowly dispersed. I was made to be filled by him; there surely could not be a more perfect fit. I am only truly whole when we are joined as one.
 
I wrapped my legs around him as he grabbed my arms and trapped them above my head, pinning me to the tree. I arched my body to meet his as he thrust into me, all pretence of control abandoned in our desire for fulfilment. It had never before been this savage between us, because before we could think of the seemingly endless tomorrows stretched ahead of us. But today…our last day…today was all of our tomorrows, and all of our yesterdays too.

Our eagerness brought us both to the brink quickly, and as we toppled over the edge together I longed to whisper my name in his ear, I wanted to give him a more concrete memory of me to take with him. But I could not tell him; if he knew who I was, I could surely no longer be his.

 He avoided my eye as we dressed; he did not try to claim a farewell kiss. I waited, and waited, until finally I was forced to speak. 

“I have to go,” I said. “I have to get back…” I made no move to leave him; I did not want the moment to end.

 “Will you wait for me?” he asked suddenly, his question a surprise to us both. He doesn’t even know my name, and yet he is willing to offer me his future.

 “Yes.” I answered him without hesitation, because I love him. I have always loved him, from that very first moment we collided so serendipitously. It is our destiny to be together, no matter how brief our time may be.

 “Promise me,” he demanded, and for the first time I saw his full fury, and realised the strength of his fear.

 “I promise,” I said. “I promise you with all my heart and until I draw my last breath, I will wait for you.”

At that, he kissed me again, only this time it was not a kiss created in love but one borne of desperation. It was the kiss of an elf being forced to leave all he loved behind to follow an unknown path, the kiss of someone who suspected he would never see me again. The fear and the pain and the sadness mingled and made him rough; too rough. I struggled to free myself from his iron grip as our teeth clashed, but he is much stronger than I am, and his tongue continued to wrestle with mine. Finally, I bit down hard on his lip, and as he cried out in pain and released me I saw his mood change in a moment. His anger was gone; in its place there was only bewilderment.

“I am sorry,” he whispered, and then turned and ran from me.

As I watched him go, I allowed my tears to spill over.

I did not want it to end like that. I could not allow us to end like that.
 
Which is why I am here, watching him sleep.

His face is still, his breathing deep and even. I have never see him like this before; I am accustomed to seeing his expression contorted with pleasure, and his breath is always ragged in my ear as he presses down on top of me. I briefly imagine myself lying next to him, waking to find his arm wrapped around me protectively, but then force such impossible thoughts from my head. Any moments spent with him are enough to satisfy me; it does not matter how or where they occur.

I shift slightly, and the floorboard emits a tiny creak from beneath my foot. He sits bolt upright in bed, as alert as always. His acute awareness is what makes him so responsive, and such a passionate lover.

“Who’s there?” he says, in a voice still fuzzy with sleep.

For a moment, I am paralysed, then somehow, I find my voice.

“It’s me.” I do not know how I expect him to know who ‘me’ is. 

I see him move to light the candle at his side, and then as he looks at me, standing frozen in his gaze with my heart in my mouth, it is as if he is seeing me for the first time. His eyes survey the scene before him for an eternity before he speaks.

“You work here,” he realises. 

It is, I know, the only explanation for my presence; how else can I roam so freely without alerting the patrolling guards, and how else can I know exactly where to find him? I have spent the days since fate brought us together hiding behind pillars and diving headlong through doorways to avoid his approach. I could not let him see me as I truly am, for how could he love me then? I am a servant; a maid worn down by a life devoid of love, with no reason to hope for a better existence. He is all that has kept me alive. And now he is leaving me.

I nod silently as the moment I have always dreaded is suddenly upon us. This is where he tells me to leave, get out, and never approach him again. I am not his equal, and not worthy of his attention.

Except he does not. Instead he reaches out and grabs my wrist, quick to pull me to him.
“Why didn’t I notice you before?” he asks wonderingly, and I smile.

“Because you did not look before, Legolas,” I say teasingly, and then stiffen. I have made a mistake. His name hovers in the air between us for a moment.

“Who are you?” he asks quietly.

I shake my head, and as I do so I feel a tear roll down my cheek. He reaches up to gently brush it away, and strokes his thumb tenderly across my dampened skin.

“I cannot tell you,” I say despairingly.

He frowns. “Why not?”

I sigh. “Because that will make this real. And something like this…it cannot happen.”
 
He laughs quietly, and cups my chin in his hand as he gazes into my eyes.

“We are real,” he says firmly, “and we can happen.”

I see the light of his desire for me burning brightly in his eyes, and I believe him.
I believe him even more as he drops a soft kiss onto my bare shoulder, then whispers his lips across the exposed skin to the base of my neck. He trails butterfly kisses upwards, determinedly seeking out my lips with his own. I cannot help moaning quietly as his tongue invades my mouth, gently tangling with mine.

Every nerve in my body is tingling with anticipation, and I long to press myself against him without the barrier of cloth between us. I move to pull my dress over my head, but he stops me.

“Can I?” he beseeches, and obediently I allow the folds of material to fall back down around my feet.

He turns me around, and his nimble fingers begin to work methodically through the many fastenings at my back. After each clasp has been liberated, he pauses to place a kiss on the newly exposed patch of skin. It is an age before I am naked before him, and the slightest touch of his hand is enough to provoke uncontrollable shivers of passion.

He stands back for a moment, and allows his eyes to sweep over the length of me. I know he is fixing the moment in his mind forever. After an eternity, he holds out his hand, and I take it gladly.

Once we are settled comfortably on his bed, he takes his time; lavishing attention on each breast in turn, then returning for more. My nipples tighten almost unbearably as he teases them: rolling them between his lips, he alternates between licking and sucking, and I am mad with desire. His nails scratch lightly across my stomach as his hand reaches down between my legs.

My love is determined to prolong our final moments for as long as he can. He infuriates me; as his gentle circles at the centre of my passion bring me tantalisingly close to release, just as I am about to fall into welcome oblivion, he takes his hand away, only to repeat the action moments later.

But he is not the only one capable of such devious acts.

I wriggle away from him, and slither down his body to take his hardness in my hands. My feather-light strokes do not satisfy him, but then that is my intention; revenge is sweet indeed. I caress him with the length of my tongue, then gently nibble on the sensitive skin. Finally, I take him fully inside, and the warm wetness of my mouth provokes a violet moan.

After a moment, he wants me to stop, because he is close to breaking point, but I ignore his pleas and continue my teasing actions. He begins to twitch violently, at first only within my mouth, but then his whole body follows suit and he is forced to capitulate completely to its demands. I suck him until he is dry, and then climb back up to smile down into his eyes. He smiles back.

“I will have revenge for that,” he threatens, and grabbing my waist quickly flips me onto my back before sliding down to rest his head between my legs.

His tongue is almost lazy in its attentions, and the excitement it creates is far more powerful than any I have experienced before. I am unable to focus as every sense is engulfed by a wave of unadulterated pleasure. As I climax, he gently covers my mouth with his hand to stop me crying out, then gives me an apologetic kiss. I laugh, my heart so full of joy I cannot stop myself.

“It is your own fault,” I tell him.

He grins, and kisses me again. We roll playfully as one until we fall off the bed; we lie silently on the floor for a moment until we are sure no-one intends to investigate the sudden noise.

“Careful,” he teasingly scolds me, and then pulls me onto his lap. He slides inside in one easy movement, and we begin to rock back and forth, grinding our hips together, slowly at first and then with growing need as we begin to scale those dizzy peaks once again.

I bury my face in his neck to muffle my cries as the world begins to spin around me; when he finds his own release moments later he murmurs countless words of love in my ear. I am so spent by the incredible events of this amazing night I am unable to lift my head to smile at him for several moments.

“Thank you,” is all I am able to say as I gaze into his eyes.

“Well, I would have called out your name, but I’m afraid I do not know it,” he teases.

He stands, and for a moment I feel cold and alone; lost in the darkness without him. Then he scoops me up in his arms and places me gently back on his bed. He climbs in beside me, and wraps his body around mine. His arm rests protectively across my waist just as I always dreamed it would. We lie together in silence, our limbs rendered incapable of movement by the strength of our love.

I wait until I think he is asleep, then consider making my exit. I slowly slide my body away from his, careful not to disturb him, and slip out of his bed. Quick as a flash, he grabs my arm and pulls me back.

“Stay,” he murmurs into my hair.

“Why?” I ask, but in my heart I already know the answer. I just need to hear him say it.

“Because you want to. Because I want you to. Because you love me. Because I love you, whoever you are. How many more reasons do you need?”

There are no other reasons; only one of these would be reason enough. So I stay.

I know that tomorrow, after we’ve made love again and he’s reluctantly torn himself away from me, as I’m forced to watch him leave without being able to share one final kiss, I will regret not telling him how much I love him. I will regret not telling him who I am. But I can’t, not yet. As I lie there, unspeakably grateful for this moment in his arms, I make a solemn vow.

One day, he will know my name.