Drat, drat and treble drat!
Could it be possible? Was the dwarf correct? No, no that cannot be. It is wrong. It is not at all right to be thinking this way. The implications alone... It cannot be. It must not be!
It started so innocently. Friends reuniting after time spent apart, a walk to a more peaceful place. I took him to Far Chetwood, I showed him the place I once called home. We spoke, we spoke of my past and his proposal and of the words of Renif. We spoke in that place of soft sunrise, simple memory and distant birdsong. We spoke, and then we returned to Bree.
When we spied Renif within the inn, it was my idea to play the joke. He played along and, standing with our arms about each other, we thanked the dwarf for bringing us together, for showing us that we were as in love as he had said. It was a joke, nothing more. A harmless piece of mischeif.
When he left, we followed. We continued the jest, speaking of him being the best man at our wedding and of naming our first child for him. There was no seriousness in it for us. None at all. Yet after he stormed out of the room, still we stood close and held one another. If it had not been for the hobbits throwing pie at him, I doubt that either of us would have let go.
Perhaps I should have known then. Perhaps I should have sensed something, some danger or warning, but we were having so much fun with our jest. Perhaps I should have pulled away when the dwarf departed, but I felt so comfortable that way.
Then came the hobbits with their strange accusations and flying pastry. Covered in pie, I led him to the river where I scrubbed my hair and his robes whilst he cleaned himself of the gooey contents. I tried not to look at his glistening skin. I tried to pay no mind to my thoughts and when he began to dress once more I turned my back, allowing him privacy.
He asked my aid in putting his belt on though and I could not refuse. It was as we stood there, my arms about his waist as I sought to cinch his clothing, that the change came. I finished my task, but I could not look away from his shining eyes, I could not bring myself to step away and when his lips touched mine...
It is the height of folly, we both know it! It was stupid to allow it to happen! Afterwards we were both embarrassed, but uncertain and, perhaps, confused. However, in the moments that it lasted... How can I even begin to describe such fleeting perfection?
It cannot be allowed to happen again. This I know. Whatever there is between us, it cannot be allowed to go any further for his sake. It is a dangerous path, a soul-destroying one. Not for me, but for him. He stands to lose much more than I from this.
Why, then, do I find myself wishing that it had not ended quite so soon? Why do I find myself hoping that it will happen again?
It was a kiss. Nothing more. It meant nothing. I must remember that. I must convince myself that it is so. I must...
