Month: January 2015

Letters: Musings and Misadventures

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Dearest Sister,

The first sketch is from where I sit writing to you. I doubt the cold and harshness of Forochel would suit you, but how I wish you could see this beautiful land shrouded in snow and ice.

Hallem and I went ice climbing the other morning, and as he accused me of being naturally gifted (which I assured him I was not), my thoughts immediately went to you. As talented as you were a year ago, it amazes me to see how you’ve grown as an artist. I think only your keen eye and steady hand could properly make the frozen beauty of this place come to life on canvas.

Speaking of a year ago, I woke this morning and realized that this time last year you had moved into my spare room. We already had this conversation, but I just want to thank you for being in my life. When we get back you and I should have a day out. Whatever you want to do.

How are you? How is home? I hope you and Eirikr are getting along all right. Be safe and stay warm, and I will write again soon.

With all my love,

Eruviel

– – – ~*~ – – –

Dearest Sister,

Today might have been the longest day I have had in a while. After returning home today I did not even make it to the Lodge. I’m tired and beat in every way. This will sound odd coming from an Eldar, but all I want right now is a hug and a hot bath.

Abbi stayed behind with a few of the others today to speak with the young woman who is intended to wed Panja, the young chieftain that we came up here to aid. Myself, Cwen, and several others departed for the spirit world with the intentions of calming a wind spirit that hindered our continued exploration of the realm. The talk of Cwendlwyn’s story-telling at yule did no justice to her gifts of speech. The tale she read to appease the disgruntled entity brought several of us to tears.

Moving on, we came to a vast waste and traversed over a good portion of it till we came upon a most curious place. I will not lie and say that the thousands of little glass pools dotting the landscape were not a breathtaking sight, but I also will never peer into one again. Nearly all of us did so, the Master Dorsett excluded, and the spell of some vision gripped all of us. A few were amusing; Cwen thinking she was a lusty cat and Atanamir thinking he was a mammoth, but Oendir’s and my own were not so. If it had not been for a jolly spirit named Karhulaulu I fear I would have been lost to despair and a fruitless search for something I had lost. A brilliant, shining spirit in the form an an elf appeared and freed us from our individual curses. Oh, but he was a sight to behold. The spell is gone, but not the aching memory of having lost something of utmost importance or the feeling of being utterly, eternally alone. Now that I think about it, after I rest I should find Abbi and the others. I wish you were here. Your company always has a way of boosting my spirits.

Returning safely to Sûri-kylä, most of us promptly departed again along with Panja and a tall, golden-eyed hunter named Taja. A great ice drake had been attacking caravans and when we found it we hoped to reason with it. As our fortunes dictated, the monstrous animal attacked us and we did our best to subdue it. Atanamir was nearly eaten,Taja, Sage, and the Eldar Kemendin all suffered injuries, and Panja and I are battered and bruised, but it was poor Hallem who had been hurt worst; the beast having collapsed on his legs. Sage, who spoke to a spirit who appeared to him, assured us that we could release the animal, and we reluctantly did so. Do not tell worry. We made it back to the village safely, and I and everyone here are in good hands.

On a happier note, I forgot to tell you that several days ago Abiorn, Hallem and I got to help harness puppies who will grow to be sled dogs. I do not think I have seen anything so adorable in my whole life as that tumbling, yipping mound of puppies. We all got to harness a pup; Abbi’s being eager to take to his harness, mine being sweet tempered and willing, and Hallem’s pudgy charge not cooperating at all. Puppies might be one of the best creatures in the world.

Aside from the impending wedding, I cannot think of much else to report on at the moment. I will try to send your letter with Eirikr’s next week, along with a few more sketches of Forochel. I miss you, and pray that you are well, oselle. Enjoy the peace and quiet and the lesser cold that is winter in Bree-land. I have a feeling Abbi may be more boisterous than ever upon our return. Greet our brother for me and take care of yourself.

With all my love,

Eruviel

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Letters: Warmth in Spite the Cold

It was quiet, and peaceful. A serene smile stole over her face as Eruviel burrowed beneath a pile of blankets, nesting in the pocket of blessed warmth. The cold did not bother her, but the heat and cocoon of furs just added to the overwhelming sense of delightful calm that enveloped her. It was a rare thing to be surprised by something completely alien to all she knew, and Forochel was it. The excitement of being there and for the ice climbing planned in the morning traveled through her limbs like electricity. She wanted to go now! She wanted to run barefoot through the snow and drink in the colors that danced over the night sky. It was wonderful, being on such a trip with Abbiorn. She’d had the hope that they could have their own adventure some day, and The Wayfarer’s trip to Forochel had been it. It was perfect. Almost.

Tossing a rejected wad of stationary into her pack to be discarded later, Eruviel took up a fresh piece of parchment and began to write.

Dear Eirikr,

We arrived in Sûri-kylä today, well and whole. The cold had long since gotten to a few of our number, but there was no harm done. The long road had been full of new sights for my eyes, and thankfully uneventful. We have all been furnished with ice huts, and though I miss the comforts of home, there is nothing quite like curling up in a bed of furs in a small hut with the whistle of the cold, winter wind sounding outside.

Abbi’s unbridled excitement nearly dwarfed the wild beauty of this harsh, cold land. He is always wide-eyed, listening and bounding around exploring. Some times I think he is more bear-like as a human, for all I can picture is him as a cub, lolloping about and tumbling everywhere new. I thank you again for allowing him to come with us. I have never seen him so alive. He has been behaving, and fortunately, so far, only I have fallen victim to his somewhat inappropriate teasing.

Today seemed like a week in new sights and experiences. Though frozen and cold, the people we have met thus far have seemed lively and warm. In spite of the cold life here endures and somehow seems deserved and hard-won. All of us were taken in to the spirit realm this evening and it was . . . it was one of the most breathtaking and liberating feelings. With the rush of everything I hope we get to do so again so I may more properly describe the sensation of lifting out of one’s body and being borne upon the wind, soaring up into the twilight sky.

I do not wish to bore you with my ramblings on all that is wonderful and new here, so I will desist for now. With the best lie I can muster I assure you that I have kept my word and am not enjoying the start of our stay here. We are safe, Abbi and I. Cwen did most definitely come with us, and I hope that that knowledge puts your worries to rest. Be well, hir vuin. Enjoy the peace and quiet while you can. Give Anyatka my love, and I will write again in a week or so.

Till then, I remain yours,

Eruviel

January 18th: The Kissing Willow

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Little nose prints decorated the bottom of the frosted window pane. Brooke had grown just enough that she could rest her chin on the wooden sill facing the Dunwash River. If she leaned juuuust right, she could see The Kissing Willow.

Oh, The Kissing Willow. Brooke had seen the shadows of some of the young couples beneath it now and then. The notion was so romantic. Papa had huffed whenever The Warbler had gossip about people kissing, and ever since Miss Esthyr had taught her her letters, six year-old Brooke would sneak peeks at the daily newsletter. Fits of giggles seized her at the silly couplings. Maggie would never kiss Mr. Atan! He was too scary to kiss . . . and looked like a pretty girl too.

Huffing a despairing breath that fogged up the corner of the cold glass she leaned against the wall, chin on the window sill, arms dangling at her sides. The other girls had prattled on about kisses. At first it sounded gross. Boys were gross. Papa had said so. But then again, Papa was a boy too, wasn’t he? And he called her pretty and kissed her . . . well, not like Mr. Rheb had kissed Miss. Cisse. That had been a while ago though and . . . Why had the lady Cwen been visiting Mr. Rheb? Wriggling her nose she pushed the questioning aside. Papa’s voiced echoed in her head from when he’d grumbled about the gossipers of town. Besides, that didn’t solve her problem. She wanted a kiss under the tree!

No one had been under the tree in several days in spite of The Warbler’s tale-telling. Then her eyes widened, filling with an idea. Oh, and it was a good one.

“Where ya goin’, sweet-pea?” Papa called after her as she bolted from her room.

“Out!” she chimed sweetly, her little arms overflowing with her cloak, scarf and mittens. Before he could protest she was out the door and flying down the path to the road. Wrapping her scarf around her face as she dashed over the empty, snow-powdered street, Brooke nearly missed the corner that would take her onto the bridge.

Stopping in the middle of the cobbled way, the small girl shoved her hands through the arm holes of her warm cloak. Distant voices echoed from the far gatehouse. Someone was coming! Her little legs carried her as fast as they could go and suddenly she was there.

Droplets of frozen ice coated the dangling willow branches, reflecting the winter sun. Brooke had never been under the tree before, but it was magical! No wonder people kissed here! It took walking around the silver-barked trunk three times till she found it. Her way up. She’d never climbed on her own, but all the boys did it, so how hard could it be, really? Mittens clenched tightly in her teeth, Brooke jumped up to catch hold of the first branch and her legs scrambled till they caught a foothold, and she pulled herself up. The bark was slick with frost and ice, but she grasped the branches around her and pulled herself up to stand on the thick limb, ready to continue her ascent.

“Take that, branch,” she huffed with a triumphant grin. All she had to do was climb a little further up, hook her mittens on a limb, then wait for someone to come and rescue them for her. It was a good plan. A solid plan.

Higher and higher she climbed till she had made it, looping her red, knit mittens to dangle from a freshly sprouted branch. It was perfect! Looking around, she took hold of another branch and turned to clamber back down . . . and then she froze.

The ground was so far away! It didn’t look that high from the ground, but the more she stared at the roots protruding from the frozen earth below, the further away it felt. Brooke quickly flung her arms around the silver branch, her little heart leaping into a panicked gallop.

“You’re ok, you’re ok,” she muttered fearfully to herself, eyes still staring wide at the way below her. Sucking in a breath of frigid air, she summoned her courage and stretched a thin leg down towards then next branch. It was so close! For a second her chest swelled with hope as her toe brushed against the next step down . . . but then her other foot slipped, and with a frightened yelp Brooke pulled herself back up, legs wrapping around the same thick branch that her arms strangled.

Hot tears welled in her eyes. There was no way down! She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t! She could try to jump, but that might kill her! People died when falling from high places. Oh no . . . she might die! Papa didn’t know where she’d ran off to, and there was no guarantee anyone would hear her. She was so high up, no one would see her! Her lower lip quivered as the cold of the bark seeped through her warm layers. She was going to die in The Kissing Tree! After they found her cold, lifeless body then no one would kiss in the tree again and the tree would die without all the kissing going on and then the kids would make up a mean song to sing during play time and no one would have a happy ending and it would be all her fault! It was the end. She knew it.

“You stuck up there?” rumbled a deep voice from behind her.

Turning her head, vision blurred, Brooke saw a man . . . a tall man standing not a foot from the tree and just out of arms reach. She was saved!

“N-no,” she lied in a wimper, her lower lip jutting out as she attempted to put on a brave face.

The man grunted, then a soft, low chuckle followed, filling the mystical air within the willow’s branches. “Course you’re not. But I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I didn’t offer you a hand. Would you . . . care for a hand down?”

Brooke’s heart melted as she peered down at her rescuer. “Mmh-hmm,” she managed to respond, sniffing her cold nose. Big, strong hands hooked under her arms and for a moment she still clung to the tree.

“It’s alright. I gotcha,” said the man kindly. Swallowing, Brooke nodded and as soon as her grip loosened he bore her up and away to set her firmly on her feet. The man held her there for a moment as her legs wobbled, not letting go till he was sure she wouldn’t topple over.

She wiped furiously at her eyes and tear-stained cheeks as the man turned away. Her vision cleared she looked up at him as he returned to The Kissing Willow to retrieve her little red mittens. He was so tall! Taller than Papa. A bow hung behind broad shoulders, and a quiver of arrows sat at his side. It was Mr. Tebbernekk. She guessed it by his summer-colored hair, and she knew it was when he turned around by the scar along one side of his face and the clear, grey eyes that looked down at her.

A smile quirked at the corners of the man’s stern mouth. “What were you doing up there?” Eirikr asked as he walked back to the road, Brooke following like a lost duckling, unwittingly gawking up at him with big doe eyes.

The little girls face flushed crimson and she looked down, embarrassed. “Ijuswangekissed,” she admitted under her breath.

Eirikr’s head tilted curiously, but he crouched down, balancing on his toes. “Hey. You going to be alright?” he asked, offering her her mittens.

Her lower lip quivering, Brooke cast her arms around the man’s neck. “Th-hank you!” she exclaimed with a sob, hugging him tightly.

“Uhh — erm, you’re welcome,” he responded, reaching a strong hand around to hesitantly pat her back.

Sniffing in attempt to stop crying, Brooke’s face suddenly split into a beaming smile. Realization that she would indeed live suddenly surging through her, and with the knowledge that the tall, rugged Dalish hunter had been the one to sweep in like a knight in shining armour, the little girl planted a big, teary kiss on his bearded cheek. Skipping back, giggling at his shocked expression, Brooke turned and fled for home and Papa, leaving her hero behind.

Innocent Heart: An Abundance of Letters

Dear Lalaith,

This is so exciting, writing letters! One of the girls is letting me use her stationary till I can get my own. The kissing swans impression isn’t my thing. Maybe dueling brooms would be more appropriate . . . .

Anyhow, things are good here. That boy hasn’t shown up, though it’s probly for the better. I can only imagine the fuss all the girls would throw at a boy showing up for me. Which is entirely ridiculous since most of them have boys, (except for Nellie who I’m pretty sure is juggling three).

Speaking of juggling, Auntie lit into me the other night again (which, now that I mention it, I can’t remember if I’ve told you anything about my aunt), about something that was really nothing. But as a result I have decided to lash out and learn more things. I know, I know, I’m a rebel . . . . The house library has a few books on Haradic, and I’ve decided to take it up. I’d considered Sindarin but that just seems impractical at the current time. I’ve also borrowed books from the city library on sewing and the third volume of the ‘Compendium of Gondor: The Second Age.’ (Volume two is SUPER dry.) I’m still working on fencing, but it’s hard with no one to practice with, and I can only kill so many imaginary Black Roses.

But enough about me! How are you? What have you been busy with? That weird, rich guy show up again? I hate not being able to see and chat with you whenever we want. Letters are exciting, but talking face to face is so much better. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you soon!

Always, Feira

~~~

Dear Lalaith,

He showed up yesterday! The boy from the street dance; he appeared in the middle of me hanging laundry and I almost hit him with a dish towel. Some times I just can’t believe myself. I’m so giddy and I can’t tell anyone! Well I guess I could tell Torrin — noooo . . .  I should probably wait to tell brother. He most likely doesn’t care. Have I told you I have a big brother? Well, you probably already know that. You know everything. He’s been helping me with my fencing lessons . . . Though, to be honest I suspect he’s only humoring me — and speak of the devil. I have to run! I’ll finish this later!

(Hastily added) And I meant ‘you know everything’ as in you’re really smart!

~~~

Dear Lalaith,

I know I just saw you at noon today, but I could not wait to write. Lhainan showed up at the library after I returned from our walk. I admit that a part of me wondered if he actually would. Last night seemed too good to be anything but a dream. But tonight was equally as wonderful . . . and without the horrible horseradish. I don’t want these last few days to end. I suddenly feel so rediculous. Is it alright? It’s so overwhelming I’ve been wondering how i am able to sleep at night with my mind going a million miles an hour.

Speaking of sleep! I completely forgot to tell you. After his visit while I was doing the washing I hardly slept a wink that night and I accidentally dozed off while cleaning the lord and lady’s hearth. Lady Mredothyn caught me and I thought it would be the end of me, but she was so kind! Not that I should have expected her to be anything but. The house seems so much brighter with her around. (Thank Emeleth she’s not like Lad like some of the other Ladies in Dol Amroth.) And she’s so fat! A good fat! A good fat! It’s not all the time you see pregnant Ladies glowing and walking about like she does. I remember you asking, and the wedding is supposed to be some time in the spring.

I’m sorry I hadn’t finished and sent your other letters sooner. It is selfish of me, I know, but having to wait a whole month to see you really — well — is no fun. Whatever you did to get errands to come into town, you should do more of it!

I will let you know how tomorrow goes. Lhain’s taking me out on a boat! A little one. I have no idea where we are going. The prospect of adventure is thrilling! Is it possible to lose your mind from being too excited? Not that I’ll loose my mind (promise), but . . . well I’ll stop before I really begin to ramble.

Take care of yourself. Let me know how the expansions to the dining hall go? I hope you are well and have everything you need. There is no need to worry, I know, but I’m gonna anyways, so too bad.

Till later!

Always, Feira

“Let’s Get to Work.”

She never realized how much stuff she had. After fifteen hundred years Eruviel figured she would have a small collection. But then she had to dig through most of the crates in her cellar to find Neilia’s Yule gift, and retrieved the last of her brother’s books from the old kin house. It was easy enough to ignore the mess, but after the misadventure in Buckland the cleaning and organizing had been a welcome distraction.

“Eruviel?”

Startled from her thoughts, the elf set down the crate filled with extra clothes. “Who is it?”

Eirikr blinked at the hole in the floor. “Uh, Eirikr.” He walked forward slowly. “What are you doing?”

A smile turned up her mouth and she stepped through the short tunnel to the bottom of the steep set of stairs. “Oh! Uh, hi,” she responded, pulling her dark hair back into a ponytail. “Just some cleaning.” She then glanced up and winced, remembering the books and odds and ends littering the map table. “Forgive me for the mess. What brings you over?”

“You did not come by the other day and I was wondering if everything was all right,” he said with a shrug before peering down. “What is down there?”

Her smile warmed. “I’m alright, I suppose.” She then motioned to him. “Lots of stuff,” she chuckled. “You are welcome to see if you’d like.”

The man looked down warily. “Sure…” he responded, slipping off his cloak.

Eruviel laughed softly at his expression and disappeared back into the cellar as he stepped down after her. “Nothing will bite you. Watch your head, though.”

The small passage of only three or four feet lead into a lamp-lit room. The ceiling just under seven feet, the cellar spanned about half the size of the common room above. Along one wall sat a long, wooden work bench, numerous weapons including several bows hanging on pegs above. Tools stuck out of small boxes along the back edge of the bench, organized by their size and purpose. Crates lined two other walls, and several barrels lingering in the more open space by the fourth wall. The few boxes that laid open revealed various keepsakes and tomes wrapped with care.

Eirikr blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. “I had no idea this was under here.”

Eruviel gave the mass of crates a thoughtful smile. “I think you’re actually one of the first people to know about this room,” she said as she adjusted stone lion bookends in a crate and slid the lid into place.

Eirikr looked around, trying to keep the awe from his expression. “So, what all do you keep under here?”

Eruviel lifted the crate onto a small stack and dusted off her hands as she looked over the room. “Everything. Weapons, obviously. Keepsakes, some books and scrolls; things I need to keep safe. The far corner of barrels is all food and seed grain. There were more before the plague hit.”

“It is a little secret hideaway,” he commented as he watched her move things around.

Eruviel fixed a lid over another crate and hefted it up, shooting him a smile. “It’s nice. Cool and quiet. I’ve actually debated bringing one of my couches down here and setting up a little corner.”

Eirikr stepped forward quickly. “Let me help you.”

Eruviel turned towards him, offering him the heavy crate in her arms. “Oh, thank you.”

“Where do you want it?” he asked as he took the crate and shifted it so he could look around the edge.

Moving forward, Eruviel picked up a significantly lighter box. “Just here, please,” she said, tapping her foot on the spot next to the other small stacks of two or three crates.

Eirikr raised a brow and set the crate down gently in the spot that she indicated. “What is in this one?”

Eruviel set her burden down and turned. Stepping next to him she pointed her toe to an ink mark on the side of the wooden box. “Number ‘3’, or least important. This one has a set of old ceramic dishes.”

Eirikr’s brows arched, indicating how glad he felt that he had been gentle with the crate. “You number them by importance?” A small smile snuck up on him.

Eruviel nodded, a glint of excitement in her eyes from getting to share her little secret. “Yes, one through three. Three’s are on the very top and front rows, two’s in the middle, and one’s, or most important, are in the very back and bottom of the collection.”

Eirikr chuckled as he pat the crate. After a moment, his smile faded and he looked around. “Is that thing down here?”

Eruviel’s smile wavered and she nodded, looking to the far corner. “It is. I wasn’t sure how I should properly handle it. This sounds silly, but I’d considered keeping it out and speaking kindly to it . . . I actually did for a day, but then I realized how both obsurd and dangerous it was, doing so and keeping it out in the open.”

Eirikr blinked at her. “Why… why would to speak to it? It’s metal.”

“Yes,” she shrugged. “Metal with souls bound to it. I don’t know if they can hear me or not. But yes, it was a rather ridiculous notion. Hence it being kept there.”

“It probably shouldn’t be kept anywhere at all,” said Eirikr quietly, staring in its direction. “We should destroy it, Eruviel.”

Eruviel noded slowly, following his gaze. “I agree with you. But where could we destroy it at?”

Eirikr rubbed his beard. “I do not know. Surely there is some magic that is protecting it from being melted or something like that, isn’t there? Can you tell?”

Eruviel started to shake her head but stopped as a thought dawned on her. “I don’t know . . . but I have some of my brother’s books. He studied sorcery and magical items. Maybe . . . well, it’s worth a shot, even if the answer ends up being ‘no’.”

“I can help you go through them,” said Eirikr, nodding to her. “Though, I do not wish to tell Anya what we are doing. I do not want her to even think of this again if it can be helped.”

Eruviel nodded firmly in agreement. “I agree entirely. Help would be wonderful. What would your guise for being gone be? Out hunting and frolicking in the woods?”

Eirikr laughed at her description. “Would not be hard to use that as my excuse, no.”

Eruviel could not help but beam a smile at his laugh as she looked back to the mass of crates. “Oh, and just in case, if you have an extra blue-print of the house for expansion in the spring bring it. We can be . . . working out extra details,” she offers, eyes narrowing as she thinks up her obviously fool-proof back-up plan.

Eirikr arched a brow at her as he tried to figure out what her look was for. “All right. Though the carpenter seemed pretty confident that it would do.”

Eruviel nodded. “I do not doubt it, but does Anya know that? What do you suppose we do if she comes traipsing through the door and finds us sitting in a mound of old eleven books in my secret cellar?”

Eirikr worked his jaw a moment. “Ah. You have a point there.” He smiled down at her sheepishly.

It was Eruviel’s turn to arch a brow at him as he smiled. “What?”

Eirikr shrugged and rubbed his beard. “You think of everything, that’s all.”

Eruviel smirked and glanced away, the tips of her ears turning pink. “I just like to have my bases covered. When would you like to get started?”

Eirikr held his hands out to his sides. “Whenever you want me,” he grinned at her.

“You have an hour or so?” she laughed. “We could get organized. Otherwise we could start tomorrow and I’ll have everything we need out.”

Eirikr looked around and nodded. “I have some time. Let’s get to work.”

(Taken straight from in-game rp, and edited for tense and grammar.

Eirikr was rp’d by the lovely Cwen.)

Namárië

The winter sun shone just as brightly upon Folchet as it did in all the other neighborhoods, but to Eruviel it felt like rain. Not that rain was bad; rainy days were some of her favorites, but as she stood at the gates to the old manor the Eldar felt burdened and dreary.

“Eruviel!”

Sucking in a sharp breath as the call jolted her out of her thoughts, the elf turned. “Good afternoon, Ris!”

“I got your post,” said the young woman as she approached, running fingers through her short, strawberry blonde hair. “Were you able to find everything?”

Eruviel lifted the bundle of books in her arms. “Ranth wasn’t home, but I let myself in, took a few keepsakes I’d forgotten and traded copies in for my first editions.”

Risalra tugged at the collar of her coveralls.” You didn’t have ta do that. But Ranth will appreciate not having half the library go missing.”

“I only took a handful of volumes,” chuckled Eruviel quietly. “Oh, and here,” she added quickly, fishing an envelope from her tunic pocket. “The deed.”

The young woman opened the tab and thumbed through the few pages within. “You sure ’bout this?”

Eruviel nodded. “I am. It’s time I moved on.”

“How long’s it been?”

“Just over five years,” replied Eruviel, shifting her load.

Ris scoffed. “Yer an Elf. Five years ain’t that long.”

“It’s long enough,” said Eruviel, glancing to the young woman out of the corner of her eye. “I see no benefit to holding onto the place. They would have wanted me to find a good owner who would put it to good use.”

The elf and human stood there as several minutes passed, both looking thoughtfully to the three story home. “I’ll take good care of it,” said Ris, finally breaking the silence. “Now that you’re putting the Dreadward behind you, what’ll you do now?”

Eruviel remained silent for a moment longer before a smile curved up her mouth. “Nothing is changing, Ris. My life will continue forward . . . though I am meeting with a guild leader later today,” she offered with a shrug.

“Oh? That’s good ta hear!” Ris responded, smiling at the elf. “Let me know if it works out.”

“I will,” nodded Eruviel, stepping out into the road. “We still on for lessons tomorrow?”

“Sure thing! Made a new sword I wanna test out.”

“A new sword isn’t going to make you a better swordsman, Ris,” Eruviel smirked.

Risalra rolled her eyes. “I’ll take all the help I can get. You watch out. I’ll beat you one of these days.”

Walking away, Eruviel raised a hand in a parting wave. “Over my dead body!”

“If that’s what it takes!” Ris shouted back, saluting with the envelope to her forehead. “Later, then!”

Stopping, Eruviel turned and observed the old kin house one last time as the young woman disappeared into the building. She had dealt with the deaths, but not the letting go, and the ache twisted around the relief of no longer having the empty halls looming about her. “Who knows,” she whispered with a wistful smile. “Namárië, old friend.”

Innocent Heart: Stepping Out

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Ten minutes before eighteen bells, as the weak winter sun dipped toward the west, Lhainan loitered outside the servants’ quarters of House Colagar, doing his absolute best nonchalant act as he leaned against a fence post, hiding a nosegay of flowers behind his back. He wore his uniform, and reached up to tip his cap to a jauntier angle as he waited, frequently glancing at the door.

A faint ruckus echoed out and Feira burst out the door only to be caught and drug back inside, with a shout of protest.

“For the last time, I am not wearing that!”

“Oh please! We know your meeting a boy. Thal told us everything,” giggled a younger girls voice.

“Oh? And what is that? Lies you bullied out of her?” A soft thwap sounded and Feira emerged to stand in the doorway, a hand on her hip as she faced the two other servant girls.

“Aww, c’mon, Feira. Wearing this always works for me.”

“That’s cause you need it, Nellie. And how many boys are you juggling?” Feira retorted. The second serving girl grumbled, and Feira pulled her plain grey cloak over her shoulders. “Now, everything better be done when I get back. And remember to tuck the corners in tight Lil. You tend to forget that.”

“I will — remember,” the younger Lil piped, giving Feira’s hand a squeeze and shooing her away. “Now go! Have fun, and tell us everything!”

“I’ll be sure not to,” Feira chuckled, waving back to them before meandering down the path. As soon as the door closed she picked up her plain, dark blue skirts and, slipping into the shadows, began to wipe the blush and lip color from her face with a small handkerchief.

Lhainan quickly straightened, listening with a growing grin. Seeing Feira disappear into the shadows, he walked up behind her.

“What’s wrong? Wouldn’t they let ya scrub your face in peace?” he asked.

Having wiped the last of what she could from her lips, Feira spun around at the sound of his voice, hiding the handkerchief into a hidden pocket. “Hi! And no, they don’t let anything lie,” she chuckled, smoothing out her skirts as she looked up at him.

Lhainan straightened to attention, taking in the sight of her with an eager smile. He whistled, impressed. “Look at you,” he said softly, forgetting himself for a moment.

“Uh. Oh!” He pulled the nosegay from behind him and offered it to her. “Saw these hollerin’ at me and I thought they’d look an awful lot better with you.”

Feira scrunched up her nose at him but faltered as he offered her the flowers. “They are lovely,” she said with a soft smile. Clearing her throat she hid most of the bouquet beneath a freshly watered bush and handed him back the remaining half-dozen flowers. “So where we goin?” she asked as she whipped her hair into a quick braid and took a step towards the gate.

Lhainan blinked as she returned him half the flowers. He was still puzzling it over when she left him in the dust for the gate. Belatedly, he followed, his brow knitting as she pulled back her hair. “You like dancin’, right?” he asked from a pace behind, still carrying the flowers.

Feira slowed to walk beside him, taking one flower then another to weave into her hair. “I do. Quite a lot,” she said, arching a brow curiously at him.

“Good!” he said, smiling again. It was difficult to keep the smile from his face most times, it seemed. He hung onto the last flower. “There’s an empty warehouse down by the docks that’s a dance hall now. Always got a good band. And some nights the food carts hang around. Best oysters in the city, just feet from the ocean. You game?” He flicked the flower away from her reaching hand.

A bright grin beat a frown to her face as she turned to watch the flower. “Oh? ‘Course I’m game!” she exclaimed excitedly. She looked up at him, but clamped her mouth shut and skipped a step, clasping her hands behind her back.

“Hey, hang on. There’s somethin’…” He gestured vaguely to his own face, then beckoned her.

Feira stopped and turned, tugging at her flowered braid. “What is it? Something wrong?”

“Somethin’ missing,” Lhainan corrected with a grin. He stepped in front of her and tucked the last flower behind her ear, his calloused fingers brushing lightly over the shell of her ear. “There. Perfect.” He stepped back and offered her his arm. “S’a bit of a walk. That alright?”

Feira swallowed, color rising to her cheeks as he drew close, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t nervous at all. Glancing to where he had secured the flower she beamed a smile and nodded. “Yes, much better.” With a swish of her skirts she took his arm, her hand resting lightly above his wrist. “Of course it’s alright. I rather fancy walks.”

“Good,” he said again, his smile warming at her expression. He led her at a brisk but not unpleasant pace toward the city. “So, Miss Feira. You asked about my family, but I didn’t get to ask about yours. Any of those girls sister to ya?”

“Oh no, I just have an Aunt, my Father, and older brother. They all work work at the estate too,” she replied, easily matching his pace. “No siblings of your own?”

“No,” he answered blithely. “Just me an’ Granny. …an older brother, huh? He the over-protective sort? Should I be lookin’ out for an ambush, here?” Lhainan made a show of peering around, into the trees which lined the gravel drive beside which they walked.

“I’m not sure if he is or not,” she answered honestly, snickering as he looked about. “Why, should he have reason to be concerned?” Feira then asked with a wry smile.

“With a sister as beautiful as you? Bells, yes he’s got reason t’ be concerned!” Lhainan said with mock-frankness. “Don’t you know there’s scoundrels around every corner, little lady, just ready t’ assault your virtue! But you’re in luck tonight.” He puffed up his chest. “I happen t’ be a world class scoundrel spotter,” he asserted with a wink. “I’ll make sure none of ’em get within spittin’ distance of ya.”

“Those ruffians,” Feia gasped, clinging more tightly to his arm as she looked about fearfully. “How lucky am I to have a professional Spotter?!” Her act slipping Feira could not help as a light chuckle escaped her. “Well, as long as you protect me from the scoundrels I’ll protect you from my brother.”

Lhainan laughed, a jocular, boyish, and infectious sort of sound, pleased as punch with her reaction. “I’d call that a fair deal, Blondie,” he said and beamed down at her. His arm flexed under her hand. He was quite fit under that uniform.

It took all her willpower not to loosen her hold on his arm; not that she wanted to, but she was sure the boy merely fished for a reaction. Everything about tonight was new, but she did her best to contain the dozens of emotions that twisted in her chest and unwittingly escaped out of the gleam in her eyes. “What of your Grandmother? What is she like?”

Grinning in a knowing sort of way, Lhainan released her from his keen gaze and looked on down the road as the southeastern gate of the city came into view. “Oh, Gran’s a granite bluff,” he said easily. “Raised me, after all. I reckon she’ll be here, weatherin’ the hurricanes long after the rest of us are long gone.” His tone was light, but although what he said almost sounded flippant, it seemed meant as complimentary. Perhaps as close to respectful as he ever got.

“The strongest women last forever,” she said with a sure nod. “Age just refines them.” Smirking up at him she then tisked and sighed, skipping over a break in the path.

Lhainan chuffed a somewhat more tempered laugh. “Well then, I’d hate to have seen her when she was unrefined!” he exclaimed. “She’s… somethin’ else, to be sure. Now listen, how’d we get back on me? I’m supposed t’ be findin’ out about you. What’s your favorite color?”

Feira scrunched up her nose at him. “I like lots of colors . . . but blue. Blue is my favorite color. Light blue, dusty blue, cobalt or marine blue. I think marine blue is my favorite,” she said with a sure nod. “What about you? What is your favorite color?”

“Well,” he said slowly, his eyes roving over her blue dress, “I am suddenly come to appreciate blue an awful lot.” He grinned at her.

“But… the color I like best?” He blew out a breath, considering. “I think… that pearly grey lit with orange and pink you see out beyond sight of land just at the moment of dawn. …best view is from the crow’s nest of course.”

“Oh, that is a good color,” Feira hummed appreciatively. “Is that your favorite spot on the ship? The crow’s nest?”

“Aye, I’d have to say it is. What’s your favorite spot?” he asked, glancing at her as they passed into the gate under the watchful eyes of the Swan Knights on guard.

Twisting her mouth to one side she hummed, giving her braid a tug with her free hand. “The back corner of the library,” she giggled softly. “That and a ledge on the sea cliffs that juts out just beyond the mouth of the harbor. A little pine tree grows on it and it’s the prefect spot . . . well for anything, I suppose,” she added with a shrug. “I don’t get out there much with work and all, but before the attack on the city I would take a book out there some summer afternoons.”

“Perfect spot for anything,” he echoed with interest. “You’ll have t’ show me some time.”

As they made their way down to the warehouse district, a few other young men could be seen in the same uniform; other young sailors were making the most of their leave too. Some had girls on their arms, others were alone as they congregated in roughly the same direction.

A sharp whistle sounded from ahead of them. “Ahoy, Gig!” called another young man.

Lhainan grinned and jerked up his chin in greeting. “Ditty! Leave aweigh, mate, I got a first.”

“I see you do!” ‘Ditty’ crowed with a laugh. “‘f you’re goin’ to the hall, you’ll get left off alright! But she won’t!” Two other sailors walking with Ditty guffawed.

“Aw, shove off!” Lhainan called back in good humor.

Feira remained silent, but an amused smile curved up her mouth as she watched the exchange and quickly took in her surroundings. “I’ve never been to this part of town,” she muttered to Lhainan quietly, her voice filled with carefully measured interest.

His attention returning to the girl on his arm, Lhainan smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t come wanderin’ around here in the late watches if I were you. Not by yourself. Ever been inside a building nearly as big as the outdoors?” he asked.

“I never have before,” she chuckled, “so I won’t start now.” Glancing up to him she shook her head. “I have been in the great hall of the palace. That’s about the biggest room I’ve been in, but it was full of furniture and pillars and people.”

Lhainan blinked down at her. “You have, have ya? Boy, the help in House Colagar sure gets around. You’ll have to tell me if it’s bigger than the inside of a warehouse.”

Around them, most of the warehouses were dark; business went on during the day for these great stores of imports and exports.

But ahead, the entrance to one warehouse was brightly lit with torches. Light from withing spilled out at regular intervals as people went in. Bright fiddle music could be heard wafting through the nippy air. Above the door, ‘The Swan Belly‘ was painted in festive script.

“Swan Belly,” she muttered with a chuckle under her breath. “Tactfully put.” Her arms tensed with excitement as they drew nearer, but her expression remained the same. “Have you been here many times?”

“A few,” Lhainan said with an evasive grin. He reached out to hold the door for her.

Feira nodded to him with a smile and stepped inside. Moving out of the path of the door she stopped and drank it all in, suddenly feeling quite out of place than.

Warm air, scented with dancing bodies, cedar, pine, and ale, wafted out the door. On the floor beneath their feet were wood chips and sawdust. That must be where the smell of wood was coming from. The warehouse was massive, taller even than the foyer of House Colagar, and lit with simple but huge iron chandeliers, which hung from the ceiling on heavy chains.

In the center of the warehouse was a raised platform, a good six feet in the air, on which stood or sat the band members as they thumped out a lively dance tune. All around them, dancers swirled in formations, clapping, shouting in time, or laughing. Life pulsed through the place, hot and heady. No ‘noble restraint’ to be found.

Taking in a deep breath she squared her shoulders and turned back to him with a smile illuminating her face. “I never new Dol Amroth had a place like this!”

On the east and west walls of the place were broad interior balconies, where people could climb up to watch the dancing from above… or do other things. The north wall, opposite them, appeared to hold a bar (nothing more than boards held up by sawhorses) with shipping barrels to sit on. Behind the bar were kegs of ale.

“Ya don’t see many folk from the ‘nicer estates’ down here very often,” Lhainan said, having to raise his voice over the ruckus of music and thumping feet. “Take your cloak?” he asked, offering an empty hand and flicking a thumb at the rows and rows of pegs on which all manner of coat and cloak were hung.

Quickly removing her cloak she handed it to him, watching him for a moment before turning a bit to continue surveying the room. “And I am one of those ‘folk’s’?” she responded, raising her voice.

Lhainan hooked Feira’s cloak and popped off his hat to settle over it on the same peg. He tugged his fingers through his hair, which was mussed in a debonair fashion, and turned back to her with a grin. “Well, I guess,” he said. “Didn’t say there was anything wrong with those folk. They just miss out on a good time, is all!” He came toward her, offering his hand again and a wide smile. “Wanna dance?”

“Only some times,” she laughed, putting her hand in his. “And I always want to dance,” she said looking up to the platform as the music changed. Giving his hand a tug she stepped towards the dance floor.

Lhainan beamed as she pulled him onto the dance floor. Quickly, he swept her into a reel, pulling her close so as to accomplish neater spins. Yeah, that was the only reason.

Feira grinned as he led her about the floor in the midst of other dancing couples, not caring that her smile gave away just how thoroughly she was enjoying herself.

Lhainan was an able and athletic dancer, leading her through spins and twists with strong arms. He laughed gaily and often ‘sang’ rhythmically along with the music as they crossed the floor.

After three dances in a row, he finally pulled her aside so they might catch their breath. They’d managed to get all the way across the great dance floor and were near the bar, where sailors and dock workers and day laborers of all kinds mingled.

“Hoo! Well done, Blondie!” Lhainan exclaimed. “You thirsty?”

“Well done yourself!” she chimed as caught her breath. “A drink sounds lovely! I’m parched.” Looking towards the bar she considered the crowd of men for only a second before looking back to him. “I’m sure you know all the best ones.”

Lhainan smirked. “I’ve tried a few. You, uh, want something strong or you wanna keep it light?” he asked.

Feira bit her lower lip as she pretended to struggle with the decision. “I can hold my own all right, but it’s probably best to keep it light. Wait! What are you having?”

Lhainan shrugged. “Ahh, prob’ly a cider.” He grinned at her. “Just a little kick t’ make things fun. But I get the feelin’ I better keep my wits about me, around you.”

Feira gave him her best innocent smile. “What would ever make you think that?” Looking back to the crowd by the bar she drew closer to him, doing her best to not suddenly appear timid. “After you.”

Grinning warmly, Lhainan put an arm around her, guiding her with a hand on the small of her back as he edged through the crowd. “Beg pardon! ‘scuse me, comin’ through.”

As they finally made the bar, Lhainan rapped on it with his knuckles. “Cider fer me, and for the little lady…?” He looked to her.

Leaning against the edge, Feira glanced up at him then back over the counter. “I’ll have a cider as well, please.”

Lhainan held up two fingers to the barkeep. “Two ciders!” He gestured back to himself, making clear (at least to the barkeep) that the tab would be his.

He reclined on the bar, propping his elbows upon it and leaning toward Feira. He grinned. “‘avin’ a good time?” he asked under the thrum of activity.

Feira stood close to him, definitely because she didn’t want to shout, smirking back at his grin. “I am having an amazing time! Where did you learn to dance so well?”

Lhainan laughed. “Well some nights out at sea get kinda boring, ya know? Some of the boys play… the rest of us dance.” He winked. “I know the girl’s parts too.”

Feira chuckled, looking back to the dance floor for a moment. “I can lead the next dance if you’d like,” she says, arching an amused brow at him.

Lhainan’s brows rose. Still grinning, he straightened, took her hand, and turned himself under it. “I still got some work to do on my turn-outs, but I’ll do my best!”

Feira’s head tilted back as she burst a merry laugh. “Well it’s my job to make you look good. As long as you jump at the right times we won’t have a problem,” she snickered.

Lhainan released her hand, thumping his hand to his chest and belly laughing, a spritely sparkle in his eye. “Witty girl! I like that!”

Two ciders slid their way down the bar. Lhainan turned quickly to collect them before someone else helped themselves. He handed Feira one and toasted her with his. “Cheers, little lady,” he said with a grin.

Beaming a smile she toasted him in return. “Cheers, Sailor.” Taking a hearty drink she sighed with contentment, licked her lips, and took another sip. “Cider never tasted so good,” she commented with an approving nod.

Lhainan looked pleased. “Good! Hey, there’s a seat.” He pointed at a vacant barrel. “You wanna sit?”

“Oh, yes, let’s!” she chimed, careful not to spill as she jumped and looked to where he pointed. Weaving past a few patrons she took the seat before it could be stolen with a triumphant grin. Folding her skirts beneath her she scooted to make ample room for him.

Lhainan’s expression shifted for the briefest of moments. He looked… touched as she made room for him, not having expected her to share. But quick as a flash, his self-sure smile returned and he cocked his hip to half-sit, half-lean on the barrel. Darned if it wasn’t that big a seat and he was pressed up against her side when he sat with her.

“I can scoot over a bit more if you’d like,” she said between sips.

Lhainan looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “I’m alright. I like you right where you’re at. Where’d you learn to dance so good?”

Her mouth quivering with a pleased smile she cupped her mug in both hands. “My mother started teaching, but my brother took over after her. And at all the parties the girls dance in the side halls.”

Lhainan squinted at her. “You really like workin’ for those stuffy lords and ladies?” he asked.

“Master Colagar isn’t like the others. And the Lady Mredothyn’s not stuffy or petty. She’s actually really sweet. And the last guests were actually travelers from Eriador.” Taking another drink she gave him a small smile. “I’m really good at my job. There are only two things right now that I’d leave for . . . barring any surprises, of course.”

Lhainan took a swig himself. “Uh-huh? What’s that?” he asked, urging her to go on.

Feira slowly kicked out her dangling foot. “Working at the palace or for Lalaith . . . If she ever left the Temple, that is, and if for some reason I was hired on at the palace. But the surprises, well, I suppose that could be anything,” she hummed, nursing a sip of cider.

“Who’s Lalaith?” he asked, his gaze turning to watch her feet play.

“The Priestess I was with the other day. She used to be a Lady. Well, I still think she is, but I won’t tell her that.”

“She was a lady?” Lhainan asked, incredulous. “Why’d she become a Priestess?” He turned slightly to see Feira’s face better.

Feira frowned for the fits time that night. “She was hurt real bad. L — Lost someone dear to her. She’s not taken her oaths yet, I don’t think.”

Lhainan puzzled that out. “With all due respect t’ the lady, it sounds like she ran away from her troubles,” he observed frankly, but not without a measure of sympathy. He watched Feira’s lips turn down. “You’re awful close with her?” he asked, gently and curious.

Kicking out her feet again she looked to him with a thoughtful expression. “I’d like to think so. She was your usual Lady, but she’s actually really nice beneath her shell. She pushed me to be better, though I don’t think she meant to. Lalaith’s my first real friend. ”

Lhainan smiled. “You known her a long time, then? She didn’t look much older’n you. Must’a grown up together, huh?”

Her mouth turning up in a smile Feira shook her head. “I didn’t meet her till this past summer. The first time we met she caught me reading one of Lord Colagar’s books when I was supposed to be cleaning.”

Lhainan grinned. “Now hang on… how’s that happen? Pretty, sweet thing like you goes /all/ this time without a single friend?” His tone was lightly skeptical.

“Well, the maids like me and some if them could be friends, but I don’t trust them with my secret stuff like real friends should,” she says with a shrug. “My brothers bout the closest friend I had, but he’s my brother, he’s supposed to tell me I’m pretty; to help me and tease me and all that stuff. I never really got noticed before the Wayfarers showed up. I am — or was pretty good at going unnoticed.” She then giggled and took another drink. “Meant more books to read.”

Lhainan leaned toward her, his eyes narrowing in a sly grin. “I don’t believe it,” he said quietly, close to her ear.

Feira chuckled, rubbing her arms as his whisper brought goosebumps up her skin. “Well it’s the truth,” she muttered with a sure nod, narrowing her eyes back at him as she struggled against a smile.

“Nooo, no, no,” Lhainan murmured, the tip of his nose nearly touching hers as his grin broadened. He stared into her amber eyes, his own sea green ones holding a confusing mix of mirth and sincerity. “Nobody with eyes could fail t’ notice you, Blondie. I think… you just didn’t notice their noticin’.”

“T-That is the most likely conclusion,” she managed as she gazed back at him, tucking her pink lips in, her free hand clinging to her flowered braid. She leaned an inch back from him; well, at least she thought she had, and took in his features before his eyes reeled her back in. “And what makes you think you’re the first I’ve noticed?”

Lhainan’s gaze flicked down to those pink lips, then traveled slowly back up to her eyes, his smile never faltering. “Never thought I was the first,” he said, still in that soft mysterious tone. “I’m just makin’ sure you’re noticin’ me noticin’. …are ya?” He never budged, though he allowed her the room to draw back if she chose.

One corner of her mouth curved up and as she nodded the tip of her nose lightly brushed against his. “I’m noticing,” she whispered, finally moving back, though not too far, given the space allowed on their shared barrel. A warm smile that unwillingly hinted to innocent confusion sparked in her eyes and she tore them away from him and over to watch the dancers, hiding behind her mug as she took a drink.

Lhainan’s smile turned satisfied. “Good,” he said, and straightened, giving her more space. He nursed his cider a bit longer, surreptitiously watching her watch the dancers. He seemed comfortable in this silence that followed.

Feira shifted in her seat and, releasing her braid, set her hand back behind her on the edge of the barrel. Her slippered toe faintly played against the hem of her skirt as she watched the couples swirl as a unified body of laughter and clapping. Content with merely sitting beside him her expression remained ever present as she drank in their merry surroundings, sparing a glance his way when she thought he might not be looking.

Lhainan seemed not to notice at first, but the glimmer of his eye in her direction and the somewhat outlandish pose he struck, crossing his ankle on his knee and propping his elbow on his leg with his chin on his fist and the faintest of smirks on his lips in a ‘thinking man’s’ pose might be clues that her glances didn’t go unnoticed.

As the music changed Feira frowned down at her empty mug in disapproval, and as she turned to set the empty vessel down a grin curved up her face. Leaning almost too far back in her seat she observed him for a moment before dipping her head and laughing. “Well don’t you look incredibly pensive for a sailor! What’s that look on your face about?”

Lhainan made a show of smoothing his face into a neutrally inquisitive expression. “Oh! I thought you were lookin’ for something interesting to look at!” he said with mock-sincerity. “I just thought I’d give ya somethin’ to… take in.” He grinned cheekily

Feira sputtered a chuckle. Sitting up she let her head fall to the side as she feigned her most grateful smile. “You are far too thoughtful. Not that there is –” Suddenly realizing what she was about to say might not be taken as she intended she pursed her lips and quickly away, blushing.

His ear, then his eye turned as the music slowed and deepened. “Feel like more dancin’?” he asked.

“Oh I do! I love this one,” she said with a delighted smile, brushing her palms over her knees.

With a roguish laugh, Lhainan hopped off the barrel and offered his hand to her with a trust-me smile.

Grabbing the excess of her skirts with one hand she took his with her other and hopped down beside him with a sure smile.

Lhainan led Feira to the floor, where other couples slowly circled. He put one hand to her waist and cupped her opposite hand in his other. His hands were so hard, rough and chafed and calloused from sailing. But they were gentle. His smile softened as he guided her into a slow waltz.

Feira followed and stepped in close as they reached the floor. One hand alighted on his arm as her other fit into his, both worn from housework, but delicate and soft where the broom and duster couldn’t reach. She never hesitated as he led her, giving weight on the turns when needed, and never bothered to look at the couples around them.

All of Lhainan’s attention was upon her as he curled his hand around hers and slowly tucked it against his chest. Their waltz steps simplified into a slow swaying, like a few others around them. He studied every detail of her face, seeming to search for something.

Feira’s chin turned up as she looked back at him, a soft expression warming her already glowing features. Continuing to slowly move in time with him, curiosity faintly twitched at the corners of her mouth as she observed him studying her, her free hand moving a little further up his arm.

He grinned and shook his head. “Can’t fathom it,” he said.

“Can’t fathom what?” she asked with an inquisitive arch of her brow and tilt of her head.

“What it is about you that’s got me caught like a fish on a line,” he said, smiling. “Every girl’s got hair. But not like yours.” His hand at her back rose to tug lightly on the end of her braid. “Every girl’s got eyes, a nose, lips, chin…” He laughed quietly. “Arms, legs, hands and feet! …but not like yours. Somethin’ special about you, Blondie. I just can’t figure what exactly it is.”

There was no hiding that Feira was at a complete loss for words. Tucking her chin down she cast her eyes away for a minute as color filled her cheeks. Her torso shaking with a silent huff of a laugh she looked back up at him with a soft yet somewhat bewildered smile. “Well, Sailor, you’ve proven to be good at finding things out,” she responded with a shy chuckle. “Once you figure what it is, let me know?”

Lhainan smiled, pleased about something. “There ya go. Good girl. I was afraid you wouldn’t take a compliment very well. But you surprised me.”

Feira’s smile grew. “Good. I have a reputation to uphold,” she chuckled, “and it’s not every day a dashing sailor swoops in and showers me with compliments.”

He grinned, lifting her hand from his chest, still twined with his, to run his finger under her chin. “I can make it every day. …for four more days,” he offered.

Quickly licking her lips she nodded softly, swallowing as his fingers brushed against her skin. “I work . . . but I’m sure I can pencil you in.”

Lhainan’s eyes glittered as he watched her physical response. But he murmured with a calm smile, “Eeeeeasy there, Blondie.” He settled her hand over his heart again. It beat strong and quick under her fingers. “We got time.”

The slow ballad was drawing to a close, though all around them couples clung to each other still.

“Four days is plenty of time,” she said quietly, smiling softly up at him, “and I’m not going anywhere.” She smoothed her thumb out over where her hand rested, to brush out a fold in his shirt, of course. Unsure of what to say or do Feira’s thin shoulders relaxed. Lingering in the moment, her amber eyes fixed on where his heart beat against her hand.

Smiling, Lhainan tucked his chin, his nose brushing against her hair as she looked down at his chest. He was quiet as the last chords of the song echoed tremulously in the air, his arm shifting just a tad more securely around her narrow waist.

But all too soon the moment passed and the band struck up another hornpipe and those standing aside crowded the dance floor again with raucous shouts and laughter.

“Gig! Oi, Gig!” called a voice.

Reluctantly, Lhainan looked up.

Feira blinked rapidly as she looked up, almost as if she’d been roused from a dream. Not pulling away, she looked to where the voice sounded from.

“Why are you called ‘Gig’?” she asked with an amused smile.

As he caught sight of the speaker, Lhainan’s smile thinned. It wasn’t a happy one, but his lips stayed upturned. Under her hand, his muscles tensed and he turned, shifting between her and the hard-faced man approaching, who bore an unattractive expression of self-interest as he leered at the women on the dance floor.

“It’s a nickname,” he said quietly to Feira. “A gig’s the captain’s personal boat.” Raising his voice, he addressed the man, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. “‘hoy, Derrin,” he said calmly, though his tone carried a faint irritation. “How’s Cignet City treatin’ ya?”

Derrin smiled, and it was nothing like Lhainan’s. It was cold. “Fair ‘nough.” His eyes raked over Feira. “Looks like you’re havin’ a fine time tonight!” he said to Lhainan.

Her hand that still rested on his arm tightened and Feira stood a little straighter, but her expression remained sweet and pleasant as she nodded politely to the man called ‘Derrin.’ As the man’s cold eyes took her in a keen alertness filled her own and they darted quickly up to Lhainan and back.

“How long you in town?” Derrin asked, squinting at Lhainan.

“Not much longer,” Lhainan said smoothly. “Shove off tomorrow. Just makin’ the most of my last night in civs.”

Derrin nodded slowly. “Huh. That’s too bad. Tsk. Too bad. I thought maybe we could… hearken the old days, ye know?” He jerked his head to the side, indicating a group of sailors at the bar. One of them looked like the kid Ditty who’d greeted Lhainan on their way in. “Your shipmates said four days to heave anchor.”

“Well sure, fer them,” Lhainan replied, never missing a beat. “Cap’s got extra duty for me.”

“Ohh,” Derrin drawled slowly, tucking his thumbs into his trouser waist. “Welp. Damn the luck, sucker-fishin’ off that old shark, eh?”

Lhainan’s profile hardened, his own smile flickering cold for the briefest of moments. “Aye. Damn the luck.”

Derrin glanced over at Feira. “Well, you have a fine night, missy! Enjoy a rub o’ the Swan’s Belly!” He offered her a half-bow and chuckled.

Feira watched the man as he spoke, and her eyes lingered on the group of sailors when they were pointed out. When it was mentioned that it was Lhainan’s last night she made a point to appear disappointed and looked away till the end of the conversation.

“You as well, sir,” she responded to the man as Derrin directed his attention to her, inclining her head in response to the bow.

Lhainan watched until Derrin was out of sight, and Feira shuddered as her gaze followed his.

He turned to Feira, looking apologetic. “…I’m real sorry about that,” he said. “Some people just really know how t’ ruin a good time.” He smiled again, hopeful.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she said, turning her attention back to Lhainan, and offering an encouraging smile. “And I thought I had a lot of questions to ask you before! But if you’d like, let’s forget him for now. Wanna go for another spin or do something else?”

His smile brightened. “You hungry?” he asked. “Baldy’s cart’s just outside! …or it was when we got here.”

“Very! I haven’t eaten since early afternoon,” she admitted with a guilty chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze. “Why don’t we go find out?”

Lhainan’s brows rose. “Well c’mon then! We gotta get you chummed!” He offered his arm and led her back toward the door through the crush of people. Taking his arm she followed, squeezing through the thick crowd.

By this time, the pegs of coats and cloaks were so full they had to search for a moment for his hat and Feira’s cloak. Reaching up, Feira hung the few cloaks that had fallen back and dodged a jolt in the crowd around them as she moved close to him.

“Thank you!” she chimed as she reached for her cloak in his hands.

Lhainan smiled and dodged her hand. He settled the cloak on her shoulders and cinched it at her throat, his hat tucked under his arm. “There ya go,” he said, and chucked her gently on the chin.

Feira laughed and stood patiently as he fixed her cloak around her. Smirking, she snagged his hat out from under his arm and set it atop his head before he could protest, giving the rim a satisfied tap she she got it at just the right angle. “Much better,” she murmured, giving the hat a nod of approval. “Ready?”

Lhainan’s smile grew and he tucked her arm in his. He led her through the door, where the night had descended fully and the air had chilled. A few yards from the Swan’s Belly door stood a stooped old man in several layers behind a wheeled cart. He had set up a small wood fire stove and was frying freshly shucked oysters in a deep iron pot. The smell was heavenly. There were pots of coffee and hot mulled wine as well, and a display of different sauces for dipping the oysters.

“Baldy!” Lhainan called, and the old man turned.

“Wall halloo sailor!” said the old man with a broad smile that was missing several teeth. He did appear to have a clean, shiny pate under his saggy cap, but his red face was kind. “Worked yerself up an appetite, have ye? Halloo, miss! Ooh, pretty wee thing. Need some meat on yer bones, though, don’t ye!”

Lhainan dug in a pocket and dropped a few coins in a rattly tin. “Couple’a orders, ‘f ya don’t mind?”

“Surely, surely, son! Have ye somethin’ hot t’ drink while I batter ’em up, eh?”

Lhainan looked to Feira with a questioning grin.

“Coffee for me, please,” she answered with a sweet smile, glancing to the oysters. Putting a hand over stomach in attempt to muffle a dull grumble she chuckled. “Too many people seem to think I need to put meat on my bones.”

Lhainan poured cups of steaming coffee for Feira and himself, standing close to her to block the wind coming off the water.

“Ever been out on the open water?” he asked with a grin.

“No, I haven’t,” she said with a shake of her head, standing close so her shoulder lightly pressed against his chest. “What’s it like?” she asked looking up curiously as she sipped the hot brew.

Lhainan exhaled. “Ohh. Hard t’ describe,” he said. “It’s… freedom. Ya hear that from a lot of sailors. At first, it weighs on ya. Like… you’re free-fallin’. Nothin’ to hang on to. Then after a while, some ports feel like prisons. Like ya won’t breathe deep ’til you’re out away from land again.”

Feira heaved a silent sigh, gazing down the street. “That sounds . . . really nice, aside from feeling imprisoned. I bet the Crows Nest feels like flying,” she commented, grinning. “Do any ports feel like prisons to you?”

Lhainan took a sip of coffee, warming one hand around the mug as he nonchalantly encircled Feira with his other arm. Just to keep her warm, of course. He seemed comfortable in just his uniform.

He hummed and shook his head. Finally swallowing his coffee, he said, “Nah, not yet. Too much t’ explore still. I just see it on some old sailors’ faces. Like they’re pent up on land.”

Feira tilted her face down as his arm wrapped around her, embarrassed that she had been blushing so much and thinking that it might be improper to stand so close to him, but he was just being a gentleman , and it was rather cold out . . . .

“Good,” she responded with a pleased smile. “Being on a ship sounds exciting,” she said wistfully. “I hope you never grow discontent with the sea or land. There is too much to see of both. Where do you wanna explore?”

Lhainan beamed down at her. “I’ll take ya out some time! …if you really want to.”

Feira’s face lit with a smile as she started to respond when Baldy called unobtrusively, “Order up!” He scooped the steaming oysters into a paper funnel.

Lhainan turned to collect the oysters form Baldy, handing the old man his coffee cup back. The wind blustered up to stir Feira’s cloak.

Lhainan beckoned her to the sauce barrel. “These’ll be the best oysters you ever eat, I guarantee ya.”

Pulling her cloak tightly around her as the wind sent a shiver up her spine she followed him over. “By Emeleth that smells so good! What dip is best?”

Lhainan’s smile turned sly. “Well first ya gotta have a naked one. I like the tabasco myself. Horseradish is good too.” He pointed them out, then plucked a fat little oyster from the top of the heap. “Here.”

Pursing her lips in a thin, excited line she took the oyster from him and, staring at it for a second as if wondering how to eat it, bit it in half. Covering her mouth with a hand Feira’s eyes widened, staring at him. She started to speak, but finding no words simply ate the rest of the oyster.

Lhainan’s smile broadened. “Good?” he asked, and popped one into his mouth.

Feira nodded and took another, trying it with the hot sauce. “I’ve never had anything like it!”

Lhainan blinked. “…you never had fried oysters before?!” he exclaimed. “Baldy, are you hearin’ this?”

Baldy tsked and shook his head woefully.

Remembering to swallow, Feira then laughed as she selected another. “No! Well I had a bite of raw oyster a few years back but it was terrible. These — these are one of the best things I’ve ever eaten.”

Baldy chuckled happily and turned back to his work, rinsing out the coffee cup in a tub of water.

Lhainan beamed. ” I won’t say I toldja so,” he laughed.

“Only cause it’s written all over your face,” she chuckled, making a face at him.

“Here…” He plopped a small blob of white stuff on an oyster and held it up to Feira’s mouth.

Leaning her head back then scrutinized the white stuff. “What is it?”

Lhainan paused, as if unwilling to say, but finally admitted with a grin, “…horseradish. It’s good!”

“Horseradish?” she asked, still eyeing the piece. Huffing a chuckle she lifted her hand to his and ate the oyster he offered. A bit of the horseradish got on her upper lip and she shrank back with a smile as she covered her mouth again as she licked her lips clean.

Lhainan watched keenly, evidently expecting something to happen.

Feira chewed several times before she paused, and the smallest squeak emanated from her throat. Pivoting she took a step away, one hand set on her hip and the other at her throat. Finally managing to swallow she whirled back and began to chug her hot coffee.

Both Lhainan and Baldy began to laugh, not unkindly, at Feira’s reaction. Lhainan bent over, clutching his belly as he guffawed.

The coffee gone, Feira caught her breath and, with a grin, shoved a hand against Lhainan’s shoulder before eating a fried oyster plain and getting a second helping of coffee. “By the Valar my . . . everything!” she exclaimed as she wiped at her watering eyes.

Lhainan giggled, falling back under her ‘shove.’ “Dontcha like it?” he asked, teasing. “Really opens ya up!”

Baldy chuckled and shook his head in exasperation at the boy.

“Not in the slightest!” she laughed, holding her cup to the side as she prodded his side with a finger. “I never thought I’d be attacked by food before! I’d take hot sauce every time over that!”

Lhainan half-heartedly dodged Feira’s hand, still laughing. “Alright, alright! Ya tried it at least, aye? Experience earned!” He swiped at her finger, trying to catch it.

Still laughing, she batted her hand out to parry his then attempted to dodge back. “I’m adding it to the list! I’ll have to be more careful when I choose to trust you from now on,” she teased back.

“Agh!” Lhainan clutched at his heart. “Lance to the heart!” he exclaimed, his brow puckering in fake pain. He staggered back, then seemed to register what she’d said. He straightened, all thoughts of play-acting set aside. “List, what list?”

Feira shook with laughter at his antics, one hand pressed against her abdomen. But, as soon as he stopped and asked about the ‘list’ she took a deep breath, working to contain herself. “List? Oh nothing, really. It’s just –” She cut herself off and narrowed her eyes mischievously. “You know what? Just for that I’m not telling,” she said primly as she took a sip of her coffee and turned back to the barrel.

“Aww,” Lhainan pouted, much as he had days before when she wouldn’t tell him where she worked. He stepped up behind her and proffered the parchment cone of oysters around her. “Here, you can have all the rest! …then will ya tell me?”

Pretending to struggle with his offer her hand hesitated a hairs-breadth from his before plucking an oyster out of the cone and looking over her shoulder to give him a playful smirk. “Nope! Your powers of humor and fried food cannot sway me,” she declared before popping the oyster into her mouth.

Lhainan sighed, distraught, and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Well in that case…” He reached around her and popped another oyster in his mouth.

“Alright, alright. What’ll I have t’ do to earn this one?” he asked. “I ain’t afraid of a little hard work.”

Feira glanced over to his face resting so near to hers, still smirking. “Oh goodness, I’m not sure,” she mused, licking her lips and choosing out another oyster. “I think it’s more of earned as well as a proper timing thing. Maybe I’ll tell you tonight . . . or right before you ship out . . . or when you get back again and decide you don’t like me cause I’m suddenly a foot taller and have a pointed nose,” she said, throwing out the first obscure thing that came to mind.

Lhainan narrowed his eyes and grinned. “Now yer makin’ stuff up,” he said, settling his hand on her hip as his other hand held the cone for her.

I know what’ll happen while I’m shipped out,” he said, his tone a bit more serious than it had been, although he was far from solemn. He sighed. “Now that you’ve noticed all the noticin’ that goes on around you, some rascal will come along an’ you’ll forget all about me, pinin’ away on a ship full of men.”

Looking into the cone Feira silently counted the rest of the oysters, took one more, then clasped her hands comfortably in front if her.

“Sailor, you wound me,” she chided with a smile. “Noticing all the noticing will surely only make it so that i have wild tales of me breaking all the unworthy lad’s hearts to tell upon your return. Besides,” she said, feigning a despondent sigh, “you may find some olive skinned, dark-haired gem at some far, exotic port that makes you forget me.”

Lhainan smirked, his chin moving on her shoulder as he swiveled to eye her profile. “Lucky fer you, I prefer fair skin. But I like a witty girl even better.” His thumb brushed her rib.

Her side trembled ever so faintly beneath his hand as if she’d never been touched but she shot him her best down-to-business look. “Well, then by Emeleth we’ll have to find you one of those. I’m sure there is a bunker of ’em around here somewhere,” she muttered, popping her carefully chosen oyster into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

Lhainan laughed softly, his warm breath puffing against her cheek. “Think I already found one,” he said. His fingers dragged against her waist as he withdrew his hand and straightened.

A tower bell slowly rang twenty-two bells, and after he’d counted, Lhainan asked reluctantly, “You got a curfew? Don’t wanna get you in trouble.”

Taking one more drink of coffee Feira turned to look in the direction of the bell, brushing an invisible crumb from the corner of her mouth. “No curfew for me, but I work in the morning. I thought it might be a good idea to only work the early shifts through this week,” she said with a shrug and a small smile.

Lhainan’s lips tugged upward, pleased by the unsaid implication.

“So,” he said, twisting the paper cone closed and pocketing it. “What d’ya wanna do now? …my ship’s not far. She’s a beaut. …or I could walk ya home.”

Doing her best to not appear too eager, Feira pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders and began to pick the droopy nosegay from her loose braid. “Hmmm, how about you take me the long way and show me your ship?”

He tried not to let the proud grin leap onto his face as he offered her his arm yet again. “Sure.” He led her deeper into the harbor, where lit torches were fewer and farther between. The breeze was low but cutting on this late winter’s night.

“You know much about ships?” Lhainan asked easily.

“They float,” she responded with a smirk. Feira walked close, her arm pressed against his as her hand rested on his forearm. For warmth, of course.

“I know cogs are single masted ships. The hull is the shell, the bow is the front and the stern is the back. The helm is attached to a rudder that steers the vessel, annnnnd . . . the left and right sides are starboard and . . . Well blast, I can’t remember the other,” she muttered with a frown, her brows knitting as she scoured her memory. ” There are masts and sails and tack and bigger ships have more than one anchor.” She hesitated a moment before skipping and adding, “Oh! And of course the crows nest.”

Lhainan nodded. “Not bad, Blondie!” he said, holding her arm close. For warmth, of course.

“Port. Left is port. Turanwar’s a corvette, fast an’ dodgy. She scouts… escorts freighters through disputed waters… sails support for two- an’ three-deckers… um, bigger warships, I mean. She’s sly and clever,” he said, narrowing his eyes and grinning at Feira. “And the sleekest, trimmest ship in the fleet.” Oh but he was proud of his ship.

“Port,” she repeated in a whisper. Her head suddenly tilted as she gave a rich, amused laugh. “So you like your ships fair and witty,” she commented with a grin. Holding his arm a little tighter she nodded up to him, genuinely interested. “Tell me more about her! Who has Turanwar out ran? Does she have a reputation among the fleet?”

He straightened further, standing tall as he could without taking off from the ground. “Oh, /’course/ she does!” he exclaimed. “She’s faster than anythin’ on the water. And her crew’s the bravest lads in all o’ Gondor.” Of this he was certain.

“She’s beat all the record times for the Cignets Regatta, but o’ course a navy ship can’t compete against the civs.” He shrugs. “Gotta let the nobles feel good about themselves, y’know.”

“It’s a shame,” she tsked. “The Regatta is so much fun and it would be nice to see the younger lords put in their place,” she chuckled. “Did you choose to serve on the Turanwar, or were you chosen?”

He settled a bit as he drew in a breath, ordering his thoughts. “I met the Captain when I was a kid. He set me a challenge; he needed oranges for his men. They’d been aweigh for an awful long stretch, were startin’ in on scurvy. But it was the dead o’ winter, see. Oranges hadn’t been in season for months. Well, I found ’em.” Lhainan grinned. “An’ Captain asked if I’d be cabin boy for him.”

Feira smiled softly as she gazed ahead. Shivering as the breeze tugged at her cloak she studied the ships as they strolled past. “The Captain sounds like a good man. You said his name was Belarad?”

“Aye, that’s him,” Lhainan said with a nod. “He wasn’t a captain yet when he took me on. But I’ve been with him every step of the way since. He’s a good man, that’s sure.”

He steered her down onto a pier, out away from the protection of the harbor walls. Torches burned at the end of the dock and revealed in flickering light the slender profile of a tall double-masted ship. Her sails were furled up tight and she bobbed high in the water, tugging at her docking lines like an eager filly.

“There she is.” Lhainan’s voice took on a reverent tone.

Her shoulders shaking from the chill of the wind, Feira took a step back as she considered the ship. Her eyes bright with the delight they traced over the deck, and up the rigging. She had seen many boats before, but his pride and seeing the vessel so close made the ship seem perfect.

“She’s beautiful,” she said with an admiring smile. “No wonder you like her. She is sleek and seems cunning. How many are in the crew?”

“Forty of the Prince’s best!” Lhainan said, shifting so he might better block the wind for her. He held her cloak in place at her waist so it wouldn’t billow and so she might collect some warmth under it.

Lhainan gestured to an opening of the hull on the top deck, where a gangplank would have been. “Plank’s been pulled for the night, else I’d give ya a tour.”

Her shivering lessened and she turned her head to brush her cold nose against her shoulder, a blush warming the rest of her face. “That’s alright,” she said with a smile, still looking to the ship. “There has been so much new for me tonight, best we save the tour of your ship for another afternoon or evening.”

“New, like what?” Lhainan asked, tone softer. He dipped his head closer.

“New, like everything,” Feira responded with a quiet sigh. Chuckling under her breath she then glanced at him with a slight smirk. “That’s my ‘list’. A whole night of being led into uncharted waters. The dancing, at least, I knew.”

Lhainan smirked with amusement. “Uncharted waters, eh? …well, didja like what you found?”

Her mouth curved in a small smile, Feira studied him for a moment before offering a slight yet confident nod and looking down to where his hand still held her cloak shut. “I did.”

“Well, there’s one last thing I could show ya,” said Lhainan in a hushed voice, his eyes flickering over her face. “If yer up for more explorin’.”

“I’m always up for exploring,” she whispered in response, excitement edging in her voice. “Where to, Sailor?”

Lhainan’s grin warmed with her enthusiasm. “C’mon.” He led her back up the pier and up, back toward the entry to the port and warehouse district.

Following, Feira’s gait had the smallest spring in her step and she looked around with a keen gaze, memorizing their path and the buildings they passed. Her eyes darting up at him she then focused ahead, curious as to their destination.

She began to notice that Lhainan was returning on the same route they had come from House Colagar well before they’d left the city gates.

The night was clear and chill, though it was warmer up in the hill country surrounding the city than it was down at the water’s edge. Stars seemed sharper, and surely there were more of them peppering the sky than there usually were.

Unlike the biting breeze from before, the chill here was one she’d become more accustomed to. Looking up, her amber eyes took in the sky scape and a warm expression filled her features.

“Caaaan I have a hint?” she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at him before offering her most charming smile.

Lhainan chuckled. “Suuure,” he drawled. But said nothing more. They were climbing slowly up the road to the Colagar gate by now.

Confused, Feira shot him a smirk, but continued on beside the young man, deciding to be content in the company as she puzzled over the proposal of more ‘explorin.’

Lhainan regards the stars with a conspiratorial smile. “Ahh, lessee. Your clue is… it’s always where yer at.” He grinned cheekily at her.

Feira twisted her mouth to the side. “Myeeee . . . good looks and wit?” she asked with a giggle.

Lhainan laughed. “Nope. Although those’re both very fine qualities of yours.” Up to the servants’ gate they came. He slowed, waiting to see how far she wished him to take her.

Her mind preoccupied, Feira slowed with him, though she continued on, reaching out to open the gate. “Umm . . . Oh blast, I haven’t the slightest.” A quiet laugh then escaped her. “No . . . no that couldn’t be it either.”

Lhainan followed her through the gate. “You’ll see soon enough,” he assured her with a chuckle. He fell behind her a step.

Feira led him across a dark lawn to one end of the servant’s quarters, a small sigh of relief escaping her as she saw all the lights were out. Turning around she walked backwards the last few paces so as to study him. “This isn’t like the horseradish, is it?” she asked with a bright, amused smirk.

Lhainan grinned, following her. “I sure hope not.” Despite his smile, the sentiment sounded genuine. “…ya ready?”

Feira stopped in the shadowed stoop, arching her brows quizzically. “Ready . . .?”

“Fer me to show ya.” He stood a pace away and offered her his open hand.

Looking from him to his hand and back Feira slowly reached out to put her hand lightly in Lhain’s. “Alright . . . ”

Lhainan smiled, that impish twinkle in his eye as he slowly drew her closer. He settled a hand on her waist as his other hand touched her chin, angling her face toward his. He stopped, his face a hair’s breadth from hers. “I had an awful nice time. I hope you did. Think I’ll get t’ see you tomorrow?”

Feira moved easily, her breath catching as he angled her chin upwards. “I did. I had . . . I had a wonderful night. Thank you,” she said softly, placing a hand lightly on one of his arms as her other hesitantly alighted on his chest. “As for tomorrow . . . Maybe, if you ask me real nicely,” she chuckled with a wry smile.

Lhainan beamed, his eyes laughing. Slowly, he kissed her, drawing his sea-roughened fingers along her jaw. His lips were gentle, but cool and a bit chapped. He smelled of salt air even now, and coffee and hot sauce and pine sawdust. He slipped his arm around her waist.

Feira’s eyes grew wide as his lips pressed against hers, but she inched a bit closer, kissing him back. Though hesitant and unsure, her lips were soft and warm. She smelled clean, like linens left to dry in a flower garden. Some of the hints of coffee and hot sauce were from her but the sweet scent of the nosegay lingered in her hair. As his arm drew around her the cool hand that rested on his chest slipped up to rest at the nape of his neck.

Though his face was cold, Lhainan’s neck under his collar was quite warm. He lingered close. “…how was that for somethin’ new?” he murmured, eyes bright as he stared into hers.

Licking her lips and pressing them into a thin line Feira gazed back, her eyes soft and filled with an indiscernible swirl of emotions. “T-That was . . . was new,” she whispered, at a loss for words.

He half-grinned, his expression enchanted as his pulse raced under her hand. His eyes flicked down to her lips, the only warning before he kissed her again, moving his lips over hers, his nose brushing her cheek.

Feira got in half a breath before he was there once more and, even more unsure than ever, she mirrored his movements, her lips slowly dancing over his. Her hand slid a bit further up his neck and the soft side of Feira’s thumb brushed up over his skin as her heart seemed about to leap from her chest.

Lhainan’s eyes were still closed for a moment after he withdrew, a sated smile upon his lips. He looked down at her. “…how about tomorrow then?” he murmured in a husky tone.

“T-Tomorrow,” she breathed, reluctant to take her mind off his closeness and warmth. Her hands retreating down the sleeves of his jacket she leaned back against the arm that held her. “I’m at the library as soon as I finish the noon chores.” Her weak knees suddenly steadied as a sobering thought dimmed the gleam in her eyes. “What are we going to do about you ‘shipping out’?”

Lhainan grinned, trying not to smirk at her stutter. “Guess I’ll be at the library too, then,” he said. He was warm, so very warm! “I c’n write to ya?” he asked, as answer to her question.

He was warm indeed! And that was all the excuse she needed to tuck her arms in and lean towards his chest. A confused expression flickered across her features but was shoved aside by an unabashedly touched smile. “You would wri — I mean, yes! You may write,” she responded sweetly.

Lhainan grinned and held her close. “…ya’d be warmer inside…” he suggested softly. “‘sides, I oughta let ya get some rest so you can finish up all yer work tomorrow.”

“I always get my work done,” she chuckled softly, her heart still racing as he held her. “But I should go. I’m rarely ever out this late.” Reluctantly she started to pull away and a warm smile curved up her lips as she looked back to him. “The library, then? I’ll be in one of the upper lofts.”

“I’ll find ya,” he whispered, and bent his head for a final good night kiss. This one was warmer, and he pulled her waist against him, his other hand pressing in at her back as he did his best to fill all her senses with him alone.

She didn’t tremble, no, it was . . . it was merely a shiver that ran up her spine as she leaned into his kiss. A delicate hand found it’s way up to trail along the ridge of his jaw, and after what felt like an eternity she pulled away giving him one last, tender peck of a kiss as an offering. “Good night, Sailor,” she whispered, her nose brushing against his.

Lhainan grinned in the darkness, a tad breathless. “…g’night, Blondie,” he murmured and slowly withdrew from her embrace, his fingers trailing down her arms. He backed away, watching her with stars in his eyes.

Her hands falling from his, Feira quietly opened the door and slipped inside. Lingering in the doorway she looked back at him with bright, shimmering eyes and a beguiled smile before disappearing, the door silently closing behind her.

(Everything has been taken from rp-mail and edited for tense and composition. Thank you Fey for rping as Lhain! ^_^)

(Disclaimer: All facts about the ship and her crew are subject to change in light of future rp’s.)