Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness

Chapter XXXVIII

Iavas T.A. 2933

Annúminas though but a ghost of its former glory was still a beauty. A faded beauty perhaps but no less enchanting when one recalled its fabled history or looked upon the ruins of what once was. The Dúnedain of the North had resumed intermittent residence in the ancient royal city of Arnor after the fall of Arthedain. They did not restore her; could not for they had dwindled and the men-folk led a nomadic existence for the better part of each year. But they had rebuilt or repaired what they could and quartered their wives and children here while they carried out their avowed quests to protect and preserve the lives of lesser Men and other Free Folk. Therefore, this once beauteous city on the southern shores of Nenuial, or Lake Evendim in the Common Tongue, served as a relatively secure base for the descendants of the noblest race of Men in Middle-earth.



Galvreth let his eyes roam about the great hall of what had been the royal residence of Elendil and his heirs. The south and east wings of the palace were no longer inhabitable having long ago fallen into disrepair after the abandonment of the city. But the main hall and kitchens, the residential wing and the royal library and council chamber remained sound and thus were put to good use by the Chieftains of the Dúnedain down through the generations. The surrounding gardens had also been lovingly tended to a semblance of its erstwhile splendor and lent the otherwise largely deserted royal estate warmth and hominess.



Gone was the magnificence of ages past. In its place were graceful remnants that called to mind what the vagaries of time and fortune could wreak on anything that was fashioned by less than divine hands. Annúminas in its heyday had been resplendence incarnate. Now the city bore a rather desperate dignity as it strove to survive long enough to see a king upon its crumbling throne once more.



The woodland prince sighed. That day seemed farther away than ever. The Dúnedain would have to abide leaderless for many a year now. Arathorn son of Arador was dead and buried and in his place toddled a child of little more than two years of age. Young Aragorn was the Chieftain of his people but only in name. It could not even be presumed that he would live to be so in deed as well. Not in these fell times.



Galvreth considered the grief and shock that pervaded the ranks of these indomitable folk he had come to regard as kin in the past five centuries. Death they knew with an intimacy no Elf could truly fathom. In his time of sojourning amongst them, Galvreth had witnessed the passings of no less than nine of their Chieftains. Yet it was Arathorn's death that burdened them nigh to breaking their spirits.



It could not be because of the manner of his dying, pierced in the eye by an orc-arrow while riding against the foul creatures with the sons of Elrond. Others of his forebears had also met violent ends. The first Aragorn was slain by wolves. Arathorn's earlier namesake had also perished thusly. And his own father Arador had been killed by hill-trolls just two years previously.



Nay, it was not the manner of his death but perhaps rather its untimely occurrence. For Arathorn had been a mere sixty years old and only three years wed when he fell. Short-lived for one of his race and even more so for one of his line. And no Chieftain before him had left behind an heir of such tender years. Who would stand as father to his son now? There was none bold enough to approach his widow in courtship. One did not aspire to wed she who had been wife to one's king and thereby assume guardianship of his heir.



An arm curled around his waist and he turned his head to look at his darkling mate. Elladan glanced out the window by which Galvreth stood and regarded the regal figure of the woman who slowly strolled down a blossom-lined pathway, a little boy at her side clinging to her hand.



“She is strong,” Elladan murmured. “She will weather her loss and the grief and live to see her child grow.”



“But not in joy,” Galvreth remarked. “I do not think it her lot to know much happiness from hereon.”



“What happiness there is she will find in her child,” Elladan said. “And in her kinsfolk's care. 'Tis more than most people have these days.”



“You are harsh,” Galvreth retorted somewhat curtly.



Elladan looked at him in surprise. “The truth is oft harsh,” he pointed out, removing his enclosing arm. “In your dark mood, you assail me. May I at least know the reason for it?”



Galvreth heard the edge in his voice and remembered that Elladan had more reason than he to mourn Arathorn's death. He clasped his mate's hand apologetically.



“Forgive me,” he entreated. “'Tis only that I have seen so much death all these years. True death,” he added with a shudder.



Elladan's pique promptly gave way to concern. He knew whereof Galvreth spoke. The Elves of this later day did not mingle much with the Hildor or Aftercomers. As such only a few had come face to face with the permanence of the gift Iluvatar had bestowed on Men. Even fewer understood the full implications of the gift. But Galvreth and his brother Legolas had seen what perhaps a scant handful of Wood-elves had ever witnessed. The relentless loss of mortal comrades to the eternal oblivion of human demise. In their journeying with their Imladrin spouses, the princes had laid eyes on much that was beyond their usual ken. It was daunting to say the least for an immortal being to try and truly comprehend the finiteness of Men's existence.



Elladan slid his arm back into place and Galvreth promptly gripped his hand to keep it there. “They pass beyond the circles of the world, that is true,” the older twin softly affirmed. “But where they abide, they find rest and peace from the evils and griefs of their lives. 'Tis a blessing that even an Elf may come to envy when the toll of endless years becomes too great to bear.”



Galvreth fell silent for a space. At length he shook his head and said: “That might be so for those who have not given their hearts into the keeping of others.” He smiled wanly. “Eternity has been a joy to endure thus far because I have you, bereth.”



Elladan's answering smile was a shade more radiant and Galvreth's soon turned as sunny when his Peredhel love brushed their lips together in an affectionate caress.



“Come, the others are already at table,” Elladan invited. “Let us join them in honoring Arathorn's memory.”



The long tables were laden with trenchers of the simple but hearty fare the Rangers favored. They had just laid their captain to rest and now needed to go forward, to move on as life demanded. And so they feasted and remembered him in their toasts and tales.



But when Gilraen entered the hall, her son in her arms, a reverent hush fell upon the assembly. Dark-haired and doe-eyed, Gilraen though only four and twenty years of age carried herself with the stately grace of a queen of greater years. Many of the Men present deemed it a tragedy that such beauty and youth would be wasted in chaste and life-long widowhood. But to Gilraen there was no other recourse. Her heart would not abide another in her late husband's place even did any dare to woo her. In the manner of Elves, the men and women of the line of Elros seldom if ever gave their hearts more than once. Gilraen was not only wife to Arathorn but also kin. Traces of their elven heritage surged as strongly in her as it had in him. Small wonder that their son looked more an Elfling than a mortal child.



She warmly greeted the men-folk ere seating herself at the table of the twins and their Mirkwood spouses. The dishes had been cleared and she sat Aragorn upon the table where she could keep an eye on him whilst she conversed with the brethren.



Aragorn looked at the Elves in wide-eyed curiosity, discerning with a child's innocent perspicacity that they were different from the others. He reached out a small hand to grasp a lock of Legolas' hair, no doubt puzzled by its fair color. Gentle laughter accompanied the prince's attempt to extricate himself from the child's grip. Shorn of that distraction, Aragorn looked hopefully at Galvreth, as fascinated by the argent brightness of his hair as he had been by the shining gold of Legolas' locks. Galvreth smiled but prudently leaned back out of reach.



Pouting, Aragorn looked about for something else to play with. He soon espied the jeweled hilt of Elrohir's ceremonial sword where it hung at the younger twin's belt.



“Give!” he imperiously demanded, tiny hand extended toward the weapon.



Elrohir regarded him a moment then unstrapped his sword in its fine leather sheath. He laid it on the child's lap. It was too heavy for Aragorn to unsheathe but not too heavy that he could not lift its hilt. His eyes sparkled with pleasure as he rubbed his pudgy fingers over the embedded gems.



“Mama, I Ranger!” he gleefully crowed.



Murmurs of approval resounded through the hall at this early sign of the little Chieftain's affinity for what would one day be his constant companion and likely the preserver of his life. Gilraen smiled proudly at her minute warrior ere shifting her attention once more to the brethren. Her keen regard did not go unmarked.



“Is there something you need of us, my lady?” Elladan inquired.



Gilraen nodded. “I wish to discuss Aragorn's future with you.” She dropped her voice to a cautious murmur. “But we need to speak in private for there may be some who will object to my plans for him.”



“Tomorrow morn then while we break our fast,” Elrohir suggested. “We can have our meal in the terrace by the nursery.”



To this Gilraen readily agreed.



The gathering broke up soon after. Galvreth watched the Rangers depart, most of them voicing their eagerness for their women's sultry arms. A small number however sought out not the fairer sex to share their beds but each other. But Gilraen returned to her quarters with the only male who would henceforth share her life with any intimacy of note.



Galvreth felt a wave of pity wash over him accompanied by another still nebulous emotion. It became less vague a moment later when he saw Legolas pull Elrohir to his feet, a telling smirk on his face. With a soft chuckle, Elrohir acquiesced. As they walked away together, his hand dropped from the small of the archer's back to one lean hip, caressing it possessively. Galvreth stared after them, his feelings suddenly clear as sunlight and just as potentially hazardous if he was not ready for their scorch. A slight tug on his arm told him Elladan was ready to leave the hall as well and he fell into step beside the older twin.



Elladan wondered about his uncharacteristic mercurial temper as they retired to their small bedchamber. Galvreth had always been the least impulsive of their party, outstripping even Elrohir in patience and forbearance. Yet now his moods were as changeable as quicksilver. What troubling thoughts beset him so?



To his surprise, Galvreth began to strip as soon as they entered the room. Eyes closed and lips slightly parted, he made a delectable if enigmatic picture as he slipped out of his light shoes, doffed his tunic and pulled off his shirt, dropping everything on the floor in careless abandon. He glanced at Elladan then pointedly stared at him until the older twin began to shed his clothing. Assured that Elladan was undressing as well, Galvreth unlaced his long breeches.



Elladan watched him raptly as he pushed the breeches down his spare hips then let them slide down his legs to pool around his ankles. He stepped out of them and without a word lay on the bed and quietly waited for Elladan to join him.



There was something provocative about his posture though Elladan could not quite put his finger on the cause. He approached his reclining mate, eyes darkening as he took in the latter's argent beauty shamelessly displayed for his perusal. Galvreth drew him down into his embrace. Soon they were locked in passion, mouths sealed together, hands roaming with impunity and hips bucking upward with the delicious slip and slide of their straining shafts.



Hungry for the taste of his woodland mate, Elladan pressed Galvreth down and began a wickedly slow, almost torturous exploration of his body. Soon the fair-haired Elf's throat bore the crimson leavings of his marauding lips and his nipples tightened and peaked when he sucked them hard enough to elicit soft cries from the prince. Galvreth's belly was duly tended, as was his crotch - a particularly sensitive spot for the Wood-elf as evinced by his gasping groans.



His prize all the sweeter for the effort made afore reaching it, Elladan took his time to appreciate it in full. He ran his tongue up and down the tumescent flesh ere he took the whole of it into his mouth. His reward was the helpless quiver of his mate's body and the melodious cries that told of his pleasure.



He slid a hand beneath the prince to hold him steady. As he did, his thumb slipped into the cleft of Galvreth's taut buttocks. Elladan tensed when his finger touched what he had not seen, much less caressed in nearly two millennia. He knew he should withdraw his hand before Galvreth felt the intrusion and got upset. But he could not.



So many years had passed since he'd last known the pleasure of touching his lover thusly. Indeed, much too many. Lust got the better of him in that moment. Burning with need, he pressed his forefinger into the heated haven he so missed.



Galvreth's startled gasp stopped him from going further. The prince had gone utterly still. Elladan lifted his head and looked at him. Widened brown eyes met his, apprehension lurking in their depths. Elladan quickly dropped his eyes lest they betrayed his acute disappointment.



“I am sorry,” he whispered, pulling his hand away.



“Elladan, wait.”



He glanced up at Galvreth's plea. They locked gazes and a question and answer passed between them. Swallowing nervously, Galvreth wordlessly spread his legs wider in tacit invitation. Elladan stared at him, dumbfounded by his unexpected capitulation. But shock swiftly evolved into fierce desire when his suppressed yearning flared into a conflagration.



Just barely holding on to the shreds of his control, he hooked his hands behind the prince's knees and pushed them up. Though Galvreth shut his eyes and averted his face in lingering anxiety, Elladan could not resist what was offered. He dipped his head to pillage a heretofore forbidden delight.



He felt Galvreth tremble with every swipe and stab of his tongue. Heard his whimpered cries as he was steadily delved. Elladan wondered if there could be anything more gratifying than the chance to know his spouse so intimately once more. Galvreth's next words proved him wrong.



“Have me.”



Incredulous, Elladan snapped his gaze to Galvreth's face. But Galvreth had flung an arm over his eyes as if to withstand the very thing he had asked for.



“Are you certain?” Elladan gently asked.



The barest nod was his only reply. Elladan hesitated then thought to distract his lover from his unease. Once more he attended to Galvreth's shaft until he felt it swell in his mouth. Knowing his mate adequately diverted, he anointed his finger with the burgeoning cream of his own arousal then slowly slid it into tight, satin-soft heat.



Instinctively, Galvreth flinched but Elladan held him fast. The Elf-lord proceeded with his onslaught, sucking voraciously while assiduously preparing long unbreached flesh for its first piercing in more years than either Elf cared to remember.



Galvreth spent himself convulsively, driven over the edge by Elladan's twofold assault. For some minutes he lay limp and unmoving, trying to catch his breath. Elladan gazed at his lover appreciatively. The throb in his shaft reminded him of his need for release and soon. But he was not so far gone that all sense had forsaken him as well.



His spouse had not borne penetration in so long and for good reason. It would not do to cause him discomfort and recall to him the torment he had endured. The elven mind's nigh limitless capacity for remembrance could be as much a curse as it was a talent. Elladan would need to ease his way with more than his own seed.



He stretched toward the small bedside table and opened the topmost drawer. From within he retrieved a jar of salve which was used for the soothing of aching muscles and the like. Glancing at Galvreth, he saw that the prince was watching him, his eyes faintly clouded with nervousness.



Elladan sat back on his heels and studied Galvreth, noting how the Wood-elf darted a quick look at the jar in his hand. At last he said in as even a voice as he could muster: “We need not continue if you are not ready.”



Galvreth eyed the still unabated evidence of his spouse's arousal ere lifting his gaze to peer at his countenance. There was no hiding the desire in Elladan's features though the twin made no move to pressure him to attend to it. Galvreth slowly breathed out and took the jar from him. Removing the lid he extended it to Elladan. Eyes glittering, Elladan dipped his fingers into the creamy unguent and scooped up a generous dollop. Holding Galvreth's gaze, he thoroughly anointed his shaft, hissing slightly as the caress of his own fingers set his sensitive flesh a-sizzle.



Galvreth's eyes widened as Elladan's shaft lengthened and thickened to its fullest extent. Trembling, he closed his eyes again then rolled over onto his stomach and parted his legs, hands loosely clenched into fists on either side of his shoulders. Elladan gazed at him with concern. The prince's position was reminiscent of the posture his long ago tormentors had forced him into before they savaged him.



“Do you truly desire this?” he murmured as he moved between Galvreth's outstretched legs.



“I want to be whole again,” Galvreth whispered.



Elladan could only wonder at his mate's methods of righting a wrong in his mind. Others would have balked at being taken in the same position in which they had been violated. But it was apparent that Galvreth intended to expunge the memories of his torment by reenacting his enforced submission then and replacing it in his consciousness with his willing surrender now. Though he maintained some caution, Elladan decided to trust Galvreth's reasoning.



Kissing his way down the slope of the prince's back and pausing to pay particular attention to the silvery remnants of the most grievous scars, he had Galvreth shivering before long. Coming to Galvreth' bottom, he gently parted the firm cheeks and once again pillaged the sensitive flesh therein. Galvreth moaned helplessly into the pillow as he was nibbled and licked and tasted for an inordinately long time. By the time Elladan moved to take him, the argent-haired Elf was virtually thrumming with need.



Holding Galvreth's hips steady, Elladan poised himself to enter him. Gritting his teeth with the effort to keep from summarily burying himself in long-missed velvet heat, he slid into Galvreth in stages, deepening his thrusts slowly and gently while stroking the prince's flanks, back and thighs. His head virtually swimming from the ecstasy of berthing himself within his beloved's body after so many centuries, he fought to prolong the bliss, refusing to permit himself completion ere he had secured Galvreth's first.



Elladan began to thrust in earnest, embedding himself further with every lunge of his hips. Galvreth had turned his head to rest one side of his face on the pillow and Elladan took care to observe his reaction. He listened to Galvreth's gasps, watched how he clutched at the beddings and soon felt the lift of his hips when he intuitively pushed back as invasive bliss pervaded his senses. But his eyes every now and then fluttered open and Elladan could descry his turmoil as tenacious memories of pain and brutality battled it out with the rapturous sensations of his breaching.



Though he longed to spare his love more suffering, Elladan knew he could not stop now. He was leagues beyond the point at which he could still forego the heady pleasure of being gloved in such exquisite confines. Not after all his waiting. Reaching around, he gently urged Galvreth to raise himself onto his elbows and knees. Leaning over the prince's back, he suckled the flesh of his nape and the side of his neck, drawing pleased gasps. He stroked his hands over his mate's abdomen ere moving them lower to caress the tender flesh where groin met thighs. Still he did not touch Galvreth's shaft but instead gently cupped the tender pouches beneath, almost teasing them with his fingers. Galvreth's tension began to diminish somewhat.



To his shock, Elladan pulled him up and back so that Galvreth straddled his groin. The prince cried out as he completely slid down his mate's unyielding flesh. Shuddering, almost whimpering, he grasped Elladan's thighs with shaking hands. But if it was his intention to disengage himself from his impalement, Elladan foiled it. The older twin pressed him down, forcing him to take in his shaft to the hilt. Galvreth's grip on Elladan's thighs tightened. Memories of a fearsome instrument of pain clawed their way to the fore of his consciousness. Eyes shut tight, he raggedly begged for a cessation of their play.



Elladan carefully shifted their position but Galvreth was no longer able to comprehend aught but his emerging panic at being so fulsomely speared. A hand cupped his cheek and compelled him to raise his head.



Open your eyes, melethron.



Galvreth reluctantly obeyed the unspoken command. His breath hitched when he complied. They now faced a corner of the room. And the large beveled mirror that stood there.



The woodland prince gaped at the erotic vision that met his eyes: He atop the Elf-lord's lap, their bodies joined in the uttermost act of intimacy between any two beings and Elladan's reflected gaze blazing with concern, passion and abiding love.



Whatever fearful memories Galvreth still harbored slowly dissipated. With a sigh, he turned his head and gained the scalding kiss he desired ere he determinedly returned his gaze to the mirror and the potent image therein. For the visual reminder that it was Elladan who filled him served to edge out his hurtful recollections and he soon ceased to flinch from the cleaving of his flesh.



He groaned as he watched Elladan slide his hand down to fondle him, fingers sensuously caressing every inch of his member, stroking it to its fullest length. The sight shattered the remnants of Galvreth's reservations and before too long he was wantonly riding Elladan's shaft, eagerly sheathing his gallant spouse with every descent of his hips.



No fear marred their joining now. Only raw, unmitigated passion flowed between them in this intense mating of body and spirit. Letting go, Elladan permitted his lust full sway, relentlessly driving as deeply as possible into Galvreth until the prince was nigh sobbing from the burn and bliss of it.



A particularly hard upward thrust into his core and a few firm, almost brusque tugs on his shaft propelled Galvreth into an abyss of excruciating ecstasy. His strangled cry accompanied the profuse dribble of pearlescent cream that stippled their thighs and the sheets. With silk-bound muscles contracting around his length, Elladan could do naught but follow him into rapture and Galvreth moaned when he was flooded with the warmth of his mate's spending.



They sank down together, Galvreth nestling in the curve of Elladan's body, their legs loosely entwined. Such a torrid coupling required a lengthier than usual recovery before they engaged in further love-play. That is, if Galvreth could endure it.



Brushing strands of silver from his mate's cheek, Elladan stiffened when his fingers encountered damp skin. Alarmed, he leaned over Galvreth and found the latter's face wet with tears though the prince made nary a sound. Elladan berated himself. Valar! Had he gone too far?



“My heart, forgive me, I should not have--” he began to say. But Galvreth quickly turned over and silenced him with a passionate kiss while ardently pressing their forms together. The warrior groaned when he felt certain nether parts surge to life anew and he wove his arms around Galvreth's warm body, smoothing his hands down his back.



“Why did you weep?” he asked when they suffered their mouths to part. “I thought I had done you harm.”



Galvreth tucked his head in the crook of Elladan's neck. “Nay, you did nothing that I did not desire. Indeed, that stroke with the mirror was ingenious. The sight of you taking me made me forget my fears.” He snuggled deeper into Elladan's embrace. “If I wept 'twas because I realized how much you were forced to forego and what I had missed for so long. You are a most glorious lover and I have known naught but joy in our couplings. But I confess, I have not been completely content these past many years.” He quickly preempted any worried responses, pressing his fingers against Elladan's lips. “'Twas not you who has been lacking or that I have not enjoyed our loving. But I have since realized that though taking you is bliss beyond compare, even more do I enjoy feeling your flesh fill me. I was happiest when I sheathed you, seron vell. That has not changed though I have not done so for far too long.”



Elladan regarded him with astonishment. “All this time, you felt thusly?” he murmured. At Galvreth's nod, he queried, “Why did you not tell me?”



“And raise your hopes untimely? Nay, I could not bear to disappoint you yet again. Do not deny it, Elladan. You have desired this as well. You could not always hide your yearning from me.”



Elladan pursed his lips then said: “But why now? I could see how fearful you still were. Why did you persist?”



“Because of what befell Arathorn and Gilraen,” Galvreth explained. “They were wed for only three years. Three years of bliss I assume considering how deeply she mourns him. But now she must live her life without him. What regrets might she harbor? What promises to each other did they not fulfill that she might now rue?” He sighed and nuzzled Elladan's throat. “Life is not kind or patient nor does it grant certitude of any sort. You or I could be snatched away from each other in the course of discharging our duties. I did not want that evil to happen whilst this still lay between us. I wanted to heal, Elladan; to feel as I did when we first lay together. To know myself utterly and inarguably yours.”



As he listened, Elladan felt his desire swiftly mount. And when Galvreth declared the depth of his wanting, his lust erupted into a ferocious need.



“Verily I have indeed longed for this moment,” he murmured huskily. “More than you can ever imagine, melethen.”--my love.



He claimed Galvreth in an incendiary kiss while he reached down between the Wood-elf's thighs to slide his finger into him. Enjoying the sound of his mate's indrawn breath of delight, he stroked the silky passage and deemed that there would be no further need for the salve. The prince was adequately slick with Elladan's spending.



He rolled Galvreth beneath him, nudging the prince's legs apart. The Wood-elf eagerly pulled his knees back and spread them enticingly.



No slow, tender entry heralded their second joining but a deep and hardy plunge that left both atremble with sensation. Elladan drove repeatedly into Galvreth while he plied his lips on the luminous flesh of his mate's throat and shoulders. Trapped beneath his mate's formidable form, the woodland Elf could do little more than wrap his arms around Elladan's shoulders and meet his thrusts as vigorously and joyously.



In the moment before their spirits met in ecstatic union, a quietly sobbed avowal of love was heard. Who made it neither Elf could recall in the sweet aftermath of their coupling. Not that it mattered when the words mirrored what they felt deep in their heart of hearts.

**********

The twins' meeting with Arathorn's widow yielded an unexpected resolution though not wholly surprising. When the sons of Elrond and their Mirkwood spouses departed Annúminas afore the end of autumn, Gilraen and her son journeyed with them. For it was her intention that he be reared in Imladris under the full guardianship of Elrond.



Love and the security of familial care she could give her child. But Elrond would give him much more that she could not. The lore and wisdom of the ages. Safety from his foes of whom there were many. Kinship without the almost inevitable imposition of conditions wrought by ambition or exigency. But above all, the Peredhel lord could provide him with a father's guidance.



Her prudence in keeping her plans to herself paid off. Many were there who protested her choice when they learned that the last heir of Isildur would be raised not by his mother's kinsfolk but by the brother of his long-dead forefather. By then, mother and child had already crossed the borders of Rivendell and come under the protection of Elrond and there was naught more the naysayers could do beyond grumble. There were few who cared to besmirch their good names should they be perceived by their peers as harboring dreams of wielding power through the child-king-to-be. And so they held their tongues and were slowly relegated to the background while those more steadfast in loyalty gained the ascendancy.



But to the little boy they were sworn to serve, such intrigues and gambits were of small consequence. His child's memories of life in the ancient city by the dark waters of Nenuial and any remembrance of his royal heritage were supplanted by the here and now of his Imladrin upbringing under Elrond's care and tutelage. Soon enough, he did not even recall his true name.



For the Peredhel lord deemed it best to hide his identity even from his mortal ward. Those who sought to discover his whereabouts going by his birth name were told by the Elves that no such child lived in Rivendell. None could question their veracity for indeed no child was there in all the vale who went by the name Aragorn son of Arathorn. And so the child who did live under Master Elrond's roof grew up in safe obscurity whilst in the world outside the years continued their implacable march and destiny unfolded for many a soul, unsuspecting and otherwise.



********************************

Glossary:

iavas - Sindarin for late summer and early autumn

bereth - husband or wife; spouse

melethron - male lover

seron vell - beloved



To be continued…