[Feanor of the Peredhil]

His lips burned her pale cheek. She pulled away, holding back exhausted tears. Her heart turned to ice and she felt sick. She swallowed and felt mild distress at her inability to find anything to say. Her voice cracked before words could escape her lips. She stepped away from Malris, colliding with the cold wall.

He reached for her, concerned, and took her by the hand. She pulled from his grip, afraid to let herself dream. It could never be... it would never be.

"No." Tears fell. "No."

"If you do not trust the words, trust me." He spoke simply as ever. "We must leave. I know the way. You must come."

Her voice strengthened, exhaustion lending a dangerously sharp edge to her thoughts. "I must do nothing. I am neither your child to be led by the hand nor your lover to be led by the heart. Perhaps you are tireless, but I can go no further without rest. Do you wish to carry me as one dead? I cannot continue upon my own legs.

"Perhaps you did not notice while you were busy concentrating on shadows of the past and whispers on the wind..." Her voice shook with bitterness. "It is not a traditional enemy that knows the depths of your heart and uses that knowledge to besiege you as she makes every attempt to take your hroa perforce. I will not go on tonight."

She stood defiantly before Malris, tears carefully tracing the silver scars upon her jawline. She trembled with emotion, her body weak. Her fingertips traced her sword hilt as she awaited his response.