I'm Sorry"I'm sorry" he admits in a somberly reflective tone, glaring absent mindedly at a non-existant stop on the timber floor.
"Sorry? What ever for?" she questions, intrigued yet wary. They had only been 'together' for a month and a half and she was constantly on edge, fearing he may come to his senses and leave her for someone better. More beautiful. More smart. More sexy. More lively. More 'appropriate'. Better.
"I'm sorry we had to wait. I wish we could have started earlier. I'm sorry" he says sadly, turning his head slightly towards his much younger girlfriend but still not looking away from the ground.
"I'm not. If we had started earlier it wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't have had those harsh four years of loving you secretly behind me. Without that I may not have believed in us. Besides, four years gave me time to leave a hopefully rather good impression in your mind. Without that would we be together? So I'm not sorry. I'm not"
At this he raises his head and gaze and turns to stare
No Longer SoNo Longer So Steph Bauer
Another satisfied customer, she sighs as she fixes her hair and dress around her tight fitting corset and short, ripped petticoat. Deciding she looks acceptable, she makes her way through the dark, dingy laneway. Her broken heels collide with the uneven bricks which no longer make her stumble as they once did. The sound echoes, reminding her of the still silence and separation from society she faces everywhere she goes.
The sun peeks over the horizon as her nights work draws to an end.
She turns the corner, knowing that she shall not find any more customers until the sun goes down again. After all, the gentlemen need some time with their blissfully unaware wives.
She wraps her patched shawl over her shivering shoulders, knowing it will do little, if anything, to relieve her of her discomfort.
She turns another unlit corner and hears an odd sound, like a cars engine starting up, yet sweeter, mellower. She continues
The Forgotten Elf - 4Mounting my dark black stead, I go ahead of Aragorn, far ahead so as not to be noticed. It would not do for them to be seen with some mysterious woman leading them away from the rest of the men. Slipping into the dark long road to Dimholt, I wait for the others; I wait for Aragorn to lead us.
Slowly they catch up and Aragorn passes me with a nod and smile, Legolas and Gimli following tightly behind. I catch a look of distrust, evident on Gimlis scowling face quite the opposite of Legolas look of disbelief and wonder.
I follow behind Legolas white horse, keeping an eye on our surroundings and listening out for any offending sounds. There is nothing. The only sound is the gentle clip-clop clip-clop of the horses hooves colliding with the dust road, echoing along the high rock walls of the mountain with an almost ghost like emptiness.
What kind of army would linger in such a place? Gimli asks quietly, as if speaking at a normal volume might awaken some unspok