Chapter 15 - I'm a lame shoot

The sounds of elves cheering and whistling filled the air on the training grounds. In the middle of the ground, an elf and a man attacked each other with a clang of their swords.

Everything moved fast. The man was skillful with his blade, his movements powerful and calculated. The elf was nimble and graceful; he anticipated every blow aimed towards him, able to dodge every single strike. The elf continued this, making his opponent grew tired, and when he was off his guard, then the elf began his offense–the tip of his elven sword ended up being under the man's chin.

Elladan just won a friendly match against one of the rangers of the North who seeked shelter in Rivendell about two weeks ago. Mila watched as the two male clapped each other's back as they finished their duel; their banter was friendly. Elrohir, Mila noted, was collecting his wager from his comrades who had bet against his older twin brother.

Mila stood with Erussiel near the table where they had prepared mini refreshments such as cakes and tea for the fighters and the audiences.

"Cake?" Mila offered Erussiel, who gave a light scoff.

"Do I look like I eat cake?" snickered Erussiel like a diva trying to keep her figure in check for a beauty pageant.

Mila took a bite of her dessert and took another from the table. "Come on, just try this one. Just a bite. I made it, it's a favorite in the house of Elrond."

"You made these?" Erussiel said with a bit of awe as she stared at the condiments on the table.

"No, just the honey cake."

Glorfindel kept me busy and left me no time to make all of these, Mila thought to herself.

Erussiel, still behaving like a diva, reluctantly took the honey cake and cut it to an even smaller size than the original mini bites. It reminded Mila from a scene in The Confessions of a Shopaholic. "Will this make me fat?"

"That microscopic slice will leave a ant unsatisfied," Mila retorted back.

Erussiel shrugged and took a bite. As soon as the cake melted on her tongue, both butter and honey, her eyes widened in delight, and a moan escaped her.

"Oh Mila this is so so good!" she mumbled between her chew. Mila grinned proudly at herself. Erussiel's bright eyes fleeted across to the honey cake on the table longingly.

"Take some more," Mila cut her another slice, a normal sized slice this time.

"I can't."

The human mortal woman rolled her eyes. "Elves don't possess a fat gene," Mila pointed out, pushing the cake to Erussiel's hand. A small smile pulled at the elf's face.

"I guess another slice won't kill me," shrugged Erussiel.

Mila beamed as she watched her former frenemy took delight in her honey cake. Erussiel might be tough on the outside, like the mean, popular girl in school, but deep down, Erussiel was actually quite nice. The elleth just reluctant to show the real her to others, which was sad.

"Do you like it? From one to ten, how would you rate my famous honey cake?"

Erussiel hummed, "Seven and a half," she said nonchalantly.

"Just seven and a half?" Mila pouted.

Erussiel glanced at Mila, "I'd give it an eight, but while this taste delicious, this also feels fattening."

"Would you stop saying fat?" giggled Mila in amusement. Erussiel cackled.

"If you can make something as good as this and not fattening, I will give you a ten."

"I don't think that is possible without magic," blurted Mila, before both female laughed to each other.

If Erussiel loved her cake, maybe Mila can sell some to her later when she opens her bakery. Her creation will end up on the table in her house, where all the nobles frequently held meetings with her parents, and they will ask for more, and that will be one hell of a new prospect of clients she looked at. Mila smiled deviously to herself.

"You know, in the future, when my bakery is open, I want to invite some friends for some food tasting," Mila began, "You're invited too if you want."

Erussiel chuckled, "Now that will definitely make me fat. No."

"Just a little bit of everything won't make you fat. You can just come with an empty stomach. Besides," Mila took a sip of her tea, "I need someone with a really good taste like you to give their opinion."

Erussiel hummed. "I see what you're doing," she grinned, "Alright. Count me in. Let me know when your bakery is open."

"Oh it's still a long way I guess. My husband is still building it–well not him, but the carpenters and the craftsmen," Mila said, still getting butterflies in her stomach whenever she referred to Glorfindel as her husband despite it had been three months already since their union.

"How's the building progress so far?" chirped Erussiel as she still daintily ate her honey cake, savoring the sweet dessert.

"I don't know," Mila said lamely, "Glorfindel forbids me from going near the borders by myself long even before the orcs breach two weeks ago."

"Why?" Erussiel asked, curiosity glinted in her eyes. "Did he know that the breach was going to happen?"

Mila had probably said too much.

"Protective husband," Mila said with an ehehehe to her speech, dodging the elf's inquiry.

"Ah, yes. You don't need to worry for your well being. You're in the safest hands in Rivendell. Glorfindel remains an undefeated fighter ever since I knew him," she gestured to the on going match before their eyes, "You see those ellon making wagers to the match?"

Mila looked towards the elves soldiers, laughing and talking amongst themselves excitedly as they cheered for the match.

"No one bothered to make a wager when Glorfindel is up there. No one had beaten him since forever. Even the twins, who usually bested all other fighters in these silly matches," muttered Erussiel.

A voice that belonged to Elrohir sounded next to Mila. "We just let him win. That's the truth."

Erussiel looked at Elrohir with almost a roll on her eyes, "Lord Elrohir," Erussiel greeted with an obvious fake sweetness.

Elrohir scoffed softly at the elleth's attitude. "Drop the pleasantries, Lady Erussiel. I know you don't believe me, but Glorfindel is old–"

"–Excuse you," Mila defended, and Erussiel snickered.

Elrohir lifted his hands in surrender, "I mean, he's our teacher. He's our beloved uncle. Me and Elladan just had to make sure that he keeps his dignity in front of our subjects so we let him win everytime."

"I doubt it," Mila snickered as she kept her eyes on the match.

"Oh please," Erussiel added with a roll of her eyes, "You can never admit that someone else is better than you."

"I am better than most people," replied Elrohir.

"So you're saying that you're better than me. Why are you even talking to me then?" Erussiel taunted.

"I'm talking to Mila," defended Elrohir. Mila began to sense the tension between the two who had began to stand neck to neck against each other. "Why are you even here? Are you here to seduce unsuspecting ellon into your arms again?"

"Elrohir!" Mila chastised him, her dark eyes wide with disbelief at how mean Elrohir got.

"–Why yes," Erussiel said with cruel smile, pushing Mila away from between them, her chin lifted in challenge at Elrohir. "You'd do well to stay out of my way, half-breed."

"Hey! Stop it–" before Mila could interfere, Elrohir was already pissed enough that he ignored Mila completely.

"Trust me. I am going to stay far, far away from you, fox," mocked Elrohir, making Mila gasp in horror.

If Erussiel was hurt by Elrohir's words, it was well hidden behind the seething look she was giving him. "Good. Don't talk to me ever again."

"Never–" gritted Elrohir.

Erussiel intentionally bumped his shoulder before leaving angrily with a stomp to her steps. Mila pinched Elrohir on his stomach, making sure to actually let the elf feel pain.

"Mila!" he reprimanded her with annoyance in his voice, stroking his stomach.

"What was that? You're out of line calling her names like that!" Mila said with disbelief in her tone.

Elrohir growled to himself. "She started it. I just can't stand her!"

"Look Elrohir. I don't know what happened between you two, but what I do know is that you are hurting her feelings. You have to apologize," Mila said, crossing her arms.

"No," insisted Elrohir with a hardened look, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Mila never saw Elrohir being seriously upset before. In fact, Mila never knew that Elrohir could be so... ungentlemanly. The mortal woman placed her hands on Elrohir's arms.

"This is not you, Elrohir," Mila began, "This is not the elf who found me, who nursed me to health and treated me with kindness," she said with question in her eyes, and Elrohir softened his gaze when he looked at his beloved friend. "Where is that elf?"

Elrohir sighed, "I'm always here, little human," he patted her head like she was a pet, effectively annoying Mila. She slapped his hand, making Elrohir chuckle.

"Just apologize to her," pushed Mila.

"No."

"Apologize."

"No."

"Apologize."

"No."

"Elrohir!" gritted Mila.

"Mila!"

"Ugh!"

"Ugh!"

"Stop copying me!"

"Stop copying me!"

Mila growled, bringing her fists in front of her in frustration. Even then Elrohir copied her movement and even growled like a girl, obviously teasing the human. Since Mila looked absolutely adorable to Elrohir, he patted her head again, grinning, making the woman rather angry. She hit him exactly like a girl, and Elrohir laughed in amusement at her feeble attacks.

"Quit teasing my wife, Elrohir."

Glorfindel approached with an amused smile on his fair face as he rested his arm on her shoulders. Despite still being annoyed at Elrohir, Mila couldn't help but glanced at and send her husband a brief smile.

"She started it."

"No you."

"You."

"You."

"Y–" before Elrohir could reply, a dull sword was in front of his face, and a smug smile graced Rubin's face.

"I challenge you, Lord Elrohir."

Elrohir forgot instantly about Mila. He took the sword, and a chesire cat grin played on his face. "Are you ready to lose?" he taunted Rubin.

Rubin swung his swords as he walked backwards towards the middle of the training ground. "Speak for yourself."

Elrohir and Rubin's swords clanged against one another, prompting a cheer from the crowd around them. The match began again, this time between two highly seasoned fighters, effectively catching the audiences' attentions.

As the match raged on, the two lovers slowly inched closer until their sides were pressed to each other. At first, Mila did try to enjoy the exciting match before them, but it proved to be impossible with the way she Glorfindel's heady presence being so close to her. Even his innocent touches were taunting her.

His arms moved down her back. His hand slid sensually down to her hip, slightly gripping, making her body zing with anticipation. With his thumb, he caressed her hip, as if reminding her of all the unspeakable things he could do to her.

They stole glances at each other, smiling meaningfully before each averted their eyes back to the match, both with bashful, meaningful smile on their faces. The air around them had seemed to thicken with their unspoken feelings for each other. Mila felt his eyes on her, and when she looked up to him through her lashes, she found him staring at her as if she was the only one left in the world; the match forgotten. She looked back at the game with her own smile on her face.

I want to fight you.

Glorfindel heard her through the bond they shared and smiled in amusement at the suggestive emotion he felt from her.

You will lose to me tonight. Over and over again.

That promise made Mila's felt hot. Her body suddenly ached in all inappropriate places. Glorfindel loved the way she blushed; had they were alone he would have kissed her sweet lips and touched her everywhere she ache.

"Bless me," the golden warrior said instead, his eyes playful as he regarded his wife.

Mila hid her smile. "Where?"

Glorfindel raised his brows.

Everywhere.

Mila wanted to combust at feeling the heat he sent down their bond. It took her great effort not to pounce at her deliciously alluring husband. Glorfindel bowed his head down and received a little kiss from her at his forehead.

Later, Mila promised.

That promise sustained Glorfindel throughout the day. Eventually, he had to release the soft warmth that was Mila to attend to his affairs. He placed a kiss on her hand before leaving the match early as Erestor fetched for him.

"She is good for you, mellon nin," commented Erestor, having never seen Glorfindel so relaxed and generally happy, "I've never quite seen you brooding at the corner anymore," teased the advisor.

Glorfindel smiled at that. "She chased all my sorrow away, Erestor," he sighed.

"I am happy for you," Erestor said earnestly, "Though I must tell you in advance, this meeting might last all night. The emissary from Lothlorien and Greenwood is here. I'm afraid it's not good tidings they bring."

"We should get Arnor in the meeting as well. The rangers are the protector of the lands too."

"Ahead of you. The leader of the rangers of the North is waiting at the court with the others. All we are waiting for now is Lord Elrond. He'll be here shortly."

Though troubled, Glorfindel didn't show it. He nodded as the two elves made their way silently to the court.

***

After the game, Mila went to look for Erussiel who turned out had already waiting for her to go to the village today. Mila tried to ask her about what happened with Elrohir earlier but the elleth refused to talk about him, going as far as giving her a dirty look when she tried to give her a pep talk about it. Not wanting to ruin their day, Mila let go of the matter as the two went their merry way to the village.

The village was predominantly inhabitated by elves, though amongst them, free folks of other races did walk among them peacefully–men, dwarves, even hobbits.

The livelihood of the village was warm and effervescent in the air. People haggling prices with sellers; kids running around the market with their adorable laughter; ladies trying out beautiful shawls or gossiping at the background. The mirth in the air was just what Erussiel needed to forget about the fight with her nemesis earlier. The elf stopped Mila when she saw a jewellery shop. The elleth ogled the showcase filled with various expensive gems, silver and gold.

Mila chuckled at seeing the rather hungry look on her friend's beautiful face as she tapped at the glass, asking the shopkeeper to pull out a rather lavish necklace.

"Ah wow," sighed Erussiel with adoration as she gazed at the mirror, "What do you think?"

Mila watched with amazement when she saw Erussiel put on the necklace adorned with glittering white and red gems on her chest.

"Are those diamonds a–and ruby??" Mila said with a slacked jaw.

"The finest," Erussiel said with a sultry voice, as if romancing the precious gems she wore on her chest.

"That is magnificent," Mila said in awe as she touched the necklace, her eye widened, "That is one heavy necklace."

Erussiel hummed, a devious smile played on her lips. "Perfect," she said before turning to the shopkeeper, "I'll take this one. Send the bill to my father, will you?"

"Of course, lady Erussiel. I thank you for your purchase," the elf shopkeeper happily replied, taking the necklace back from her and put it in a jewellery box.

Mila gawked. Looking at the mortal woman's facial expression, Erussiel rolled her eyes. "Stop gawking. Close your mouth," she chided, before another devious smile appeared on her face, "You know, you can just take one of these, or two, or three, or more, and bill it to Glorfindel. He's your husband after all, and he's loaded," Erussiel made money gestures with her fingers.

Mila looked at the shining jeweleries at the showcase, humming to herself. "You're right. I should start, right? I mean he's my husband now. And he caused to me to lose my job."

Erussiel scoffed. "You call that a job? A wife of such important elf can't be a servant, you know."

"You're a servant?" the elf shopkeeper asked with surprise, chirping in the conversation.

Erussiel put her hand up and lifted her chin rather dramatically, "No, Monel, she is an esteemed guest of Lord Elrond and she grew so bored that she appointed herself a servant for my nemesis. Anyway, it's none of your business, but she quits. She's going to open a bakery empire in this land."

Monel played his brows up and down as he looked at Mila. "As long as you don't become my business rival, you have my support Lady...?"

"Mila," Mila introduced herself with an amused smile.

"Monel," the elf introduced himself before continuing, "Now, the wife of such a mighty warrior as Lord Glorfindel would definitely benefit from one of my collection..."

Monel lifted his hands and squinted his eyes as he studied Mila from the frame of his hands, "You look like... you're going to fit in with my newest, limited collection in the back... Finest sapphire and diamonds of the famous–!"

"Show it to us!" Erussiel exclaimed with excitement.

"Right away, my lady–!"

"–No!" shrieked Mila, holding her laughter at both Monel and Erussiel's antics. "I believe I ought to start billing him but not for jeweleries–I'm sorry Monel, I'm just not much into shining stuff."

"Whatt?" pouted Erussiel, while Monel's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

"Well, that is too bad. But if you do change your mind, you know where to find me, ladies," Monel said with a wink before retreating inside his small shop.

Erussiel looked at Mila with crossed arms. "This is the best way to bill your rich husband. I mean you're so plain."

Mila pouted.

"I mean you're pretty," Erussiel corrected herself, "But these would accentuate your beauty. That's all I'm saying."

Mila had a naughty smile on her face. "I'm actually thinking of something that would benefit both me and Glorfindel."

"Oh?"

"I'm thinking..." Mila leaned in to Erussiel' ear, whispering, "Sleeping gowns."

Erussiel's eyes widened. "Perfect! I like the way you think," winked the elf, "I know a great seamstress," the elleth practically dragged Mila into the crowd in the market.

They arrived at a small boutique selling numerous of fine dresses. "This better be a really good seamstress place because these look expensive," Mila commented.

"I guarantee," Erussiel called one of the lady, "Could you show us the sleeping gowns, please?"

Looking at the various elven sleeping night gowns was underwhelming to Mila.

"That's it?"

"What do you mean? Look at these, they're gorgeous!" Erussiel pointed out. "This one's really sexy," she hinted with her brows.

Mila touched one of the gowns. "I mean the fabric is so soft and smooth and premium but..."

All elven sleeping dresses looked similar. Spaghetti straps, plain, their length stopped just above the knees, or halfway to the thigh. They were all nice and sophisticated but they're just...too innocent looking.

"Do you have anything more..." Mila blushed, "...revealing?"

The seamstress looked at her confused. "This is not revealing enough for you?"

Mila shook her head. "No."

Erussiel looked at the mortal woman in a new light. The red head squinted her eyes. "Mila... Who knew?"

The seamstress grabbed a drawing book and a pencil. "We take customs as well. Why don't you tell me what you have in mind."

With every description that Mila said, the seamstress and Erussiel both gasped. Over and over again. Turned out Mila's knowledge from her previous world was something unknown and unthinkable to the elves. The seamstress finished her drawing with a blush, and when she showed it to her customers, Erussiel had an uncontrollable giggles and a blush on her face.

"That is absolutely filthy, Mila!"

Mila smiled deviously to herself, unfazed. "Filthy is what I'm looking for," she giggled, turning to the seamstress, "Bill it to Lord Glorfindel, will you? But make sure he doesn't know what's inside."

The seamstress eyes widened. "Lord Glorfindel!? Wow, you're the one they're talking about!" she said with big eyes, "You really are pretty. No wonder you caught his eyes. You have the most beautiful skin, and..."

The seamstress made a gesture with her hands to her chest, as if saying 'nice rack', to which Erussiel laughed some more. Mila blushed, unable to comprehend the sincere admiration on the seamstress' eyes.

The sound of their giggles initially took over the sounds from the lively market, but when their laughter died down a bit, the two elves next to her, hearing something Mila didn't, had already stood on their feet, their eyes looking outside the boutique.

The sound of faraway screaming finally entered Mila's ears.

"My son... My son!!!" The seamstress cried hysterically, suddenly running for the door, leaving the two friends inside in search of her son that was still playing outside.

Fear seeped into their bones as realization dawned on them.

Erussiel had reduced into a crumple on the floor, crippled with fright. Mila sift through her fear, thinking, before crouching down to look at the scared elleth in the eyes.

"They're getting closer. But we can still make it to the House of Rivendell. It's the safest place we can be right now," Mila said quickly through her own trembling form, "It's okay I got you. Come on."

Erussiel, only comforted a little by her reassuring words, managed to get on her feet, and through the haze of panic tried to get their shopping bags, but Mila stopped her. "Leave it. It will slow us down. Let's go," she dragged the elf by her wrist, exiting the door of the boutique.

The sounds of panic screams and weeping filled their ears. Along with it, battle cries. The inhabitants of the village that could fight raised their weapons in defense to their home. Mothers and children alike cried. Elves shouting, searching frantically for their loved ones. The warmth and livelihood that was in the air just minutes ago was now gone, replaced with fear and horror. Mila dragged Erussiel and ran with the crowds.

The sounds of sinister growling entered her ears–orcs. How weak was the border that that so many orcs could breach as far into the village? Mila shuddered.

"GRAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

A big, dirty skinned orcs with deformed face and fangs protruding through his torn lips blocked their way, stopping the two ladies in their tracks. The orc screamed with its ugly face to their faces, waving his orcish blade.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

That one other scream, was Mila. She didn't know what went through her mind, but she screamed back at the orc on the face with as much power she could conjure, momentarily stunning the orc.

Apparently this trick worked on idiots.

Mila, still screaming, grabbed a box of oranges on one of the stall and banged it across the orc's head, effectively taking him down momentarily. The mortal woman threw the box and grabbed Erussiel who had been frozen on her feet, trembling with fear.

They ran and ran and ran, their hearts pounded as if about to explode from their chests. Their breathing ragged with fear and lack of air, and despite the fatigue and the way their lungs scream for rest, the two friends kept running, hoping to find safety.

A sliver of hope budded inside Mila's heart, for she saw reinforcements came from the House of Rivendell, elf soldiers with their armors glinting in the sun, riding hard straight towards the chaos. Mila steered the helpless Erussiel from the incoming friendly's way, taking shelter amongst the ruined fresh produce stalls. Mila and Erussiel's eyes met the eyes of a scared ellon, who hid under a pile of melons. Mila thought he must have done that deliberately, and for a moment Mila did consider drowning themselves in fruits too to hide from the monstrosity.

"Do you have more melons?" Mila asked.

The scared elf shook his head. "I-I have papayas in the back," he muttered with fear in his shaky voice.

The sounds of blade clanging nearby jolted them. The orcs were many in numbers, but of no match for the seasoned elven fighters. The elves were winning.

Out of nowhere, suddenly an elf soldier dropped before their hiding place, making both ladies yelped in fright. Then another face of an ugly, smelly orc came to their view, grinning, and both girls let out a similar shriek of disgust and fear.

The orc was about to put his dirty, disgusting rotten hands on both of them, but Mila, thinking quickly, grabbed a fruit knife on the wooden table next to her head and went ahead stabbing the orc with it. The orc dropped down, and Mila gagged, spitting profusely as some of his black blood sprayed and went into her mouth.

Erussiel, despite teary eyed, even managed to send her a disgusted look at what happened.

"Yuck," Mila gagged, feeling green in the stomach as she spit on the ground, "That's terrible."

Still coughing, Mila caught a familiar sight from her peripheral vision.

He was tall and straight; his silver armor glinted in the sun. His hair were threads of shining gold, smooth as it swayed in the air in sync with his graceful movement. His captivating blue eyes were bright and keen. His gaze hardened, fearless, simmering with rage and determination while wisdom sat upon his brows. His fair face were stone, sculpted as if by the hand of god himself. The broad sword that he wielded with such might became the extension of his hands, vanquishing every incoming enemies that dared cross his path. The orcs were no match for the legendary golden warrior; they were but bugs compared to his deadly strikes.

Glorfindel was glorious, and the sight of him chased all Mila's fears away.

As if realizing the real enemy, the orcs began to swarm the elf that had taken down most of their kind. Even cornered, the balrog slayer wasn't helpless. His fighting skills went beyond his ability to wield a sword, that soon his enemies began to pile up at his feet.

An orc with a bow stood behind him, on his blind side, taking its black arrow, no question to aim it towards Glorfindel while he fought the orcs in front of him. Mila's heart lurched down to her stomach. She was about to shout to warn him, but she couldn't afford distracting Glorfindel from the dire situation at his front, lest he got distracted and got injured.

No. Not like this.

Deciding not to let him go, Mila, thinking quickly, searched the dead elf soldier lying in front of her and Erussiel, taking his elven bow and arrow.

"Mila!" Erussiel cried when her friend got up from their hiding place.

Mila took a stand in the middle of the way, positioning herself as she nocked the elven arrow to its string. She pulled it back towards her face, aiming at the orc behind him and held her stance.

Remembering her quick training a lifetime ago, Mila took a deep breath.

"Keep your arm and elbow straight. Like this," she remembered Legolas teaching him, "Breathe. Feel the air. Like a sword," she remembered Legolas placed his hand on her arm, correcting her stance, "...your arrow is the extension of your arms. May your aim be true. Release when ready."

Her arrow went past Glorfindel, and towards the orc's shoulder, making it howl in pain and disabling him.

The arrow that Mila released hit the tree where the hitting mark was at. Legolas shook his head and chuckled in amusement.

"I was aiming for the tree," lied Mila, blushing in embarrassment at the elf prince for missing the target at all.

"Well, at least this time you hit something," he said with a light laugh, "You're hopeless. But I hope someday, it might come as good use to you. I have a feeling you're going to need this lesson after all."

Mila could almost heard the elf prince's amused laughter, mocking her when she realized that while she aimed for the orc's head, her arrow hit his shoulder instead. She was lucky she didn't shoot Glorfindel instead.

"Dammit," she murmured under her breath. Legolas was right. She was hopeless with arrows. She was actually hopeless with any kinds of weapons. But at least, she got to save her beloved.

After taking care of the orcs before him, Glorfindel turned to the shooter orc and thrusted his sword to its chest, finishing her job. When he looked back at her, his eyes were wide with shock and not a small amount of awe. Mila put down her bow, smiling back at him, happy to know that he was safe.

Her elf friend's cries was registered to her too late. The last thing Mila saw was Erussiel, fruit knife in her hand as she charged towards her general direction. By the time Mila noticed Erussiel's warning, a sharp pain shot at her right back.

While Erussiel gained courage just enough to deliver a deadly strike at the incoming orc with her knife, it was still not enough to save the mortal woman.

Glorfindel let out an agonized, rageful wail as he watched his beloved fell on to the ground. He ran to her. As soon as the golden warrior reached her, he quickly pulled her frail form into his arms.

Glorfindel watched with fear and horror as he found the ground beneath her had already pooled with her blood; its warmth wet and slick in his hand that held her. From her mouth, his sweet little Mila let out a pitiful choking sounds. His pained blue eyes met her dark ones. Where her voice failed her, he heard her through the bonds they shared, and what she said shattered his heart to pieces.

I'm never letting you go.

***