[littlemanpoet]

I see no goblin in you, Falowik Laurëatan. Orcs. She should know. The story of his own life's poverty paled by comparison to the taleUien had told. This moment, the two of them leaning on the pasture fence beneath the stars, he knew in his heart that he would rather have taken her place and let her be spared. He wanted to hold her close, to comfort her, but he did not have the right. Maybe one day, but such one-ness came with betrothal; they'd known each other a day! She had rendered his unworthiness of no consequence already this day, so he thought no more of it. This woman of the Elder race had chosen to humble herself and lay her heart open to him, a wanderer of a Man. His breath caught with the wonder of it.

Orcs had held her captive. Suddenly his heart went cold. What if the vermin - he could not bring himself to think it. Were it so, he would swear to the stars to learn sword skill and give his life to ridding Middle Earth of every last one of them. Then none could accuse him of such a stained birth! But no, it was not to be for him, but for her. There was no good way to ask, and maybe it was a question that best waited for betrothal - someday, as if it ever could be - but he had to know.

Not yet. First he must reach out to her, somehow, to let her know his heart toward her. He moved closer, and laid his right hand gently on her shoulder.

"Last night, Fair Uien, though it seems ages ago, you laid your hand on me, like so, and did for me a thing I cannot find words to tell. Let my hand do likewise for you, though I know not how it may be so."

Her right hand came up slowly and rested upon his, warm. To his surprise, she leaned against him, resting. Maybe, he thought, such rules of the body were different among the Elves. His heart soared. He could smell the sweetness of her hair. The solidity of her back against his chest fed a hunger deep inside that he had not known existed. He felt that he could stay there, with her, for the rest of his life. His heart was so full with her giving herself to him that his breathing came hard and his eyes blurred.

But there was the question that he must ask, that might ruin this moment, and might determine the course of his life.

"Uien, dear one-" the words flowed out of him, and he was surprised, but glad, for he did not want them back "-I must know one thing. No matter whether your answer is yea or nay, my regard for you, Uien, will not change." His voice had thickened. He wanted to bring his arms around her and hold her close, but he must not, for it would suppose to much. The words were not easy on the tongue. "The orcs-" It was the hardest question he had ever had to ask anyone. "My loved one, Uien-" His muscles tensed as he braced himself for the question, and the answer - or the violent revulsion from him who would ask such a thing. She raised her head to look at his face. "Surely they did not, no, they would not dare, to try to spawn their vermin-?"

Falowik winced the moment the words were released to the air, horrified at having given breath to such a thought; and so he left it incomplete. He was sure she would pull away from him, be eager to be rid of him. He had had no more right to ask such a question than to hold her close. And now he had lost the chance for either. He waited with pent up nerves, his hand tense under hers.