She woke, once again finding the door open, and the Uruk gone. She moved from her cot to the door, finding him sharpening his sword as he sat beside the door. "Do you ever just sleep in?" she asked. He gave an abrupt, "No." without looking to her. "Maybe you should, I bet you'd be less cranky." she said. "And dead." he replied. "Quite the morning person you are." she muttered as she turned to get some food from her shelf.

"How is your back?" she asked as she passed him some meat. "It is fine." he said. "Liar. I want a look at it later." she said. He growled in annoyance but said nothing. He could fuss and argue as much as he wanted, she wasn't going to leave it unattended as he would have it. Unable to sit still for more than five minutes, he moved about, doing every menial task he could think of. From mending his armor to repacking rations, as he had exhausted a portion of his on his trip and return.

She wasn't sure how long he would stay but based on his pedantic behavior, she didn't think very long. To be fair, he had only promised to remain the day. As far as she knew, he might leave by nightfall. The most she could do was enjoy the time she had. Enjoy the time? What was wrong with her that arguments with an Uruk could be considered 'enjoyable'?

She was getting to the point where she didn't care. For some strange reason, she felt something for him. She wasn't certain what he felt, if anything. She didn't know if Uruk-Hai knew anything about affection. But she knew he didn't hate her, or if he did, he had a strange way of showing it. Though if he didn't hate her before, he might when she forced him to sit down and let her tend his wound.

"When I require assistance, I shall request it!" he grumbled. "Honestly, the amount of fuss you make over a little injury." she said, "I should say the same for you! You behave as if I have been mortally wounded." he said, "And you act as if 'help' is a dirty word." she shot back. He muttered under his breath as he sat, forced to permit her prodding.

She began to grow curious as he remained completely still despite the discomfort he must have felt. "How many battles have you been in?" she asked. "Why?" he inquired. "I was just wondering." she replied. He gave a light sigh. "A few." he muttered. She could see across his back and shoulders were spread a number of scars. Some small and straight, some large and jagged, and some were the small, round scars of arrows. She wondered how many were the scars of elven arrows and swords.

"Do you remember the battles?" she asked. "Not in entirety." he replied. "Many fall into vague glimpses."/ "Just glimpses?" she asked. "And dreams..." he added. She looked over the scars, curiously tracing her hand across the healed tissue. Some seemed as though they would once have been quite painful and some she wasn't certain what caused them. "And to think, I have only one that I remember clearly." she said.

He reached back gently catching her hand as she moved her finger along a scar across his back. "I remember the wounds," he said as he looked to her. "just not the battles." he finished, letting her hand go and turning to face forward. She was frozen for a time. She could feel her heart beating heavily against her ribs, her stomach turning in a way she didn't understand. She turned her mind back to his wound.

She had undone the bandages and could see her stitches. "Do you remember the people you fought?" she asked. "Some." he answered. "Many elves?" she continued. "Not so as current company." he said with a faint smile. The wound was healing, but it still needed time. Time she didn't have even if he did. Her mind and her wants had been at odds, but in the end, there was a victor. She didn't know what he would do, but at that instant, she didn't care.

Moving in front of him, she flashed him a smirk, "I would wash that if I were you." He simply raised a brow until she reached down and took his hand in hers. He followed in confusion as she led him by the hand away from the hut. The sun had gone down, leaving the moon to shine on the quiet stream they approached. "Um, Elayin?" he said in bewilderment.

She let go of his hand as she continued to the stream. She stood silently on the bank, her back to him, thinking about what she would do. She was as confused as he was, but she simply ignored her mind. Throwing away her corset, reaching back, she undid her clasp, letting her gown fall to the grass in a pool of fabric. He stood motionless, eyes wide and mouth ajar in complete disbelief.

After a moment, she stepped into the stream, the water reaching her shoulders. She turned back to face him, finding his flabbergasted expression. She gave him a reassuring smile. "Well, come on." she said, in a tone that acted as if nothing strange was happening. She gestured for him to follow, finally knocking him out of his trance. He hesitantly followed, removing only his boots.

He stepped in the water as if he were stepping into a cage with a rabid warg. She casually dipped her head under the surface, then pushed her hair back as she rose again. He shifted uncomfortably as he stood. "Um... Elayin, I do not think-" she shushed him as she moved against him, her hand on his chest and her lips against his. All he could manage to do was watch her in astonishment, her hair wet and eyes closed.

Hundreds of things were going through his mind, most too fast for him to understand. He tried to understand why an elf would- no, why she would do these things. He was no fool, he knew exactly what elves thought of his race and why. So why was she... Oh to hell with it. Closing his eyes, he finally returned her kiss.

He was hesitant to do anything for fear of getting it wrong, but feeling the way she melted under the touch of his hand on her back, he began to understand. Holding her against himself, he lifted her, trailing kisses down her neck. She sighed, leaning her head back and sliding her hand along his neck and shoulder.

He felt something, something he wanted and had ignored, never having expected her to act this way. But watching her, her body shining in the moonlight and a faint smile on her face, he couldn't ignore it. He pressed her against the bank of the stream, his hands on either side of her, his body against hers, as they moved together. Every touch, every kiss, every breath grew heavier and more desperate.

He focused on every action, holding them back. He didn't want to hurt her. She wasn't of Uruk kind, and he didn't want to harm her in any way, so he gave every slight movement as delicately as he could. She, however, did not. She was pulling no punches. She had long since decided to forget limits and what was right and wrong. Everything she felt to do, she did. He would come to realize this as her teeth sank into his shoulder, the taste of his black and bitter blood on her tongue.

He gave a grunt as he felt the bite. It didn't really hurt, and yet it felt like it was on fire. This was too much. His concentration shattered completely. This was all too familiar to him; the heavy breath, the smell of sweat and blood, the cries. It was like a battle. Like a war. He felt the rush of combat, but he wasn't angry and he didn't want to hurt her. It was a fight, or maybe a dance, or maybe both. He completely forgot to be careful, intent on winning this war, and that was just what she wanted.