Wanderer

17 - Realm of Dreams

Elwing

One eye open, one in a dream: my dreams and the reality of the night are being mixed.

I am curled up in a tight ball with the covers pulled tightly around me. The fire crackles sleepily, and the wind moans outside. That is one world.

 In the other, I am pursued by the Dark One, killed by his men, and forced to watch as Ëarendil suffers my fate. How is that possible when I am dead? My dreams span hilarity, mortal terror, and oddity. That is the other.

To which does the creak of the door belong? The footsteps in the hall? The rustle of discarded silk? The thump of clothing hitting the floor?

Then my name is ripped from a throat half-constricted and husky with love, and I am sure.

I open the dream-eye, and see Ëarendil sitting on the side of my bed, shirtless. “Elwing,” he says again, and then, “Oh Valar, I missed you so much.”

I really wake up then, and gasp out something unintelligible and pull back the covers on the bed. Ëarendil slides in beside me, and I am aware of how cold his body is. I wrap my arms around him, and will the heat from me to him. Before I can say anything really relevant, though, he kisses me three times, ice-cold lips that slowly warm as they are in contact with me. The first is gentle, the next intimate, the next passionate. I kiss him back, and touch his raven black hair. Finally, it is too much, and I pull away, gasping.

 “What happened?” I ask as Ëarendil lays his head on the pillow beside me and looks at me with gleaming ice-blue eyes. “What was the outcome of the council?”

“Don’t ask me.” Ëarendil begs. “I don’t want to think about it. I’m just sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be.” I say. “I missed you so much, but it doesn’t matter. Tell me tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, and pulls me into him. I do not resist, and forget to tell Ëarendil of my pregnancy.