Mortals: A Case Study (On Breakthroughs)
Torech Besruth, Falathlorn, Lindon
52 Quellë in the Reckoning of Imladris
As my blossoming relationship with Cutch progresses, I am confronted with obstacles that may or may not be overcome, either alone or with his aid; as well as conundrums which emerge which shall require the application of much thought and analysis. It is of these which I chronicle in this entry, not merely as a documentation of cause and effect, but also as a reminder. For upon reviewing my notes, I might remind myself that such things indeed can be overcome, not solely by reason or emotion alone, but by application of reason in service to the heart.
The first obstacle to discuss is one of the many physical differences between Mortals and Elves, that of the heat and warmth of flesh and sinew. From the beginning, I noticed the stark difference between Cutch and myself. His touch has always been chill, sometimes to the point of discomfort; Cutch has often remarked upon how warm my skin is, and remarks how delightful it is to feel it, whether curled up next to me in sleep or simply reclining by hearthside.
(NOTE: After careful meditation on the topic, I finally came to realize exactly what it was about Cutch’s cooler skin that unsettled me so: his cool flesh reminds me of a cadaver – the feel of something bereft of life.)
The second obstacle to consider, and this I have mentioned before, is the simple fact of odor. Cutch finds my personal scent appealing, whereas his to me is again, unsettling (and for the exact same reason as my tolerated aversion to his cooler skin…). My dear one has attempted several means of alleviating my discomfort, some comical, some marginally successful, if only a passing success. But on both, he has applied his masterful cooking gifts in an utterly surprising solution.
As Cutch and I sat by hearthside one evening speaking of many small things, he revealed to me the results of a secret project. He bade me remove my shoes and began applying a balm oil to my feet and calves. The effect was immediate and astonishing: the oil heated to the touch and penetrated deeply into the sinews and joints. I felt the most amazing sensation of relaxation spread wherever the balm coated my skin. And the aroma! The scent was of sweet flowers and blossoms and herbs, an almost Elvish mix of potpourri!
I instantly made the connection that Cutch obviously made: I bade him coat his hands and touch my skin at various places, and the result was an instant of triumph. Cutch’s touch, augmented by the scented oil of his creation, had been utterly purged of the cold touch and the scent of corruption. As he began smoothing my shoulders and neck with his hands, I felt the tensions and stresses induced by my poring over texts and tablets vanish like ice in a fire.
I melted beneath Cutch’s hands – never had I felt so utterly relaxed and at ease, the warmth and the scent both invigorating and soothing. My dear one had done it! He had combined the scent and heat of a potion with the intimacy of a caress. My head lolled back and forth beneath his gentle but firm touch, plucking at my tense muscles as I would my harp.
It was at that moment that what I had feared happened. Cutch leaned over me and planted a kiss on the tip of my ear, and I could feel just the slightest nip of his teeth. I felt a flash of sensation shoot through me like a bolt of lightning, completely overmastered by a sudden urge I had no memory of ever feeling. I shot up out of my seat and whirled about to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing myself into him, covering his mouth with mine. There was no thought, no reason in my movement, only the desperate need of my betrothed’s touch.
As the kiss finally broke, I breathed like a diving swimmer coming up for air. I was as dough beneath the hand of my bespoken master chef. We both realized the breakthrough that Cutch had achieved, warmth and scent had dispelled the chill and corruption at last. And we spoke, murmured to each other, Cutch almost purring in his chest.
“Let’s never move.”
“But dear one, if we do not move, how will you make more oil?”
“Then, let’s not move for a while.”
“Agreed."
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