?No more dark caves for you.? Isembard promised his Sardonica and with a particularly broad smile he took her by her small waist and pulled her close. His arms were strong enough to snap her into but they held the fragile elf with a finicky tenderness that belied his sincere affection.
These words of profound meaning echoed in her mind. No more dark caves? The promise shone in her eyes in the form of a burst of tears. ?Galen, I love you more than I?ve loved anyone.? She cried in his arms as the sun melted away. And they loved each other, they really did. Yes. They were going to live happily ever after like in the fairy stories. Just like that!
It was the kind of love that didn?t burn out in poetic passion but rather it was the steady love of an old friendship blossoming into romantic intentions.
There weren?t as many surprises or twists of fate in a crazy romances of the past but steadily by her side she knew her Isembard would always be.
Moments like these are why I love the big lummox, Sard thought. Maybe he wasn?t fully aware of how sweet his words had been to her. Yes, she was sure of that when she saw him scratch himself and stare at a fly that buzzed around his head cluelessly. But the old elf just chuckled to herself and loved him all the more.
The dark caves were gone. She had always wanted and needed to hear from a man who cared for her. All of her life had been a dark cave. There had been so many pratfalls. The themes seemed Ridelle-ed with ridiculous and peculiarity. The cave was a trap and the gloom was impervious. Friends and soul mates alike had been lost along the wayside as Sard made her way through to become a mature age. (and we use the term `mature? lightly in her case)
Her once-raven-black hair now was a soft platinum bleeding into silvery waves that glistened like stray beams of moonlight. There is nothing that implores the heart so violently as the shining near-immortality of the elven kin. They have forever to think about whether or not they really love you. It can be an intimidating idea for human suitors.
Sardonica had long known that. Her eyes which were such a solid starless compass of dark by which many a soul had lost his way now held quiet mirth and bitterness in the appearance of both laugh and frown lines ? however faint upon her glowing elven features.
Her mind drifted to the reflective pools of her old homeland and suddenly the blind cave fish no longer related to her. She could see. She could really see. Seeing the light of day was nothing compared to seeing the light in her lover?s heart. The love that he held for her made her feel strong and sinewy. She felt like a deep black panther on the prowl and protecting her pride.
She recalled the first time they had met with some relish. The winds of change had been calling to her as she had one unfortunate engagement after another. Each of them ended disasterously.
When first her eyes spied Isembard she had been bopping around in the Guild when she spied a beer-swilling young human chap in the corner and thought it would be an amusement to kneel before him and offer her matrimony. Marrying random objects was somewhat of a hobby for her. And he was THERE so how tempting was that?
This was overwhelming to most men who would stutter and stammer before her sexual prowess and self-knowledge a delightful fear. Little did she know that this particular Bard had taken a shine to her with utmost sincerity- not realizing the spontaneity of her manic personality.
It was later, after years of lasting friendship that the two bumped into each other again and blushingly admitted to having always had crushes on one another. He showed her the simple beauty of a rock, or a stick, or a discarded S?lai Toe Nail. (Ew)
In the daytime in Haven, her Galen would strap on his Tog Ball cleats and stomp out in the mud and terrain to butcher mean critters for a boon that might one day be enough for them to really marry. Sardonica would croon at the edge of a street corner. Sometimes stressing the notes so she could be paid not to sing.
Then he?d come home tired and she?d fix him some grub. Really. She?d hand him a Grub from off of the shelf and he?d say "thank you" and chew the slimy part of it thinking about what a gourmet cook his wife-to-be was. Then they?d sit in the company of good friends and laughter and warmth would be a constant presence through the late evening. Finally Galen would drift off into a drunken stupor and Sardie would cover him up with her milady cloak. Which made him look pretty. It flattered his high cheekbones.
Kiss his puffy, flushed-with-alcohol cheeks goodnight and know something good would be finished. The best part is that it would begin all over again tomorrow and nothing could extinguish that joy.

**
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Loves from Gale & Sardie