Mount Apikuni i mean, when he made love to me, it was like he was fixing a carbouretter or sommink—

Embittered balefire; the vainglorious warlord, all  (ardent)  admonishment and looking at her ragdoll, dreamridden self; the quiver of the prisongirl's thigh beneath the shoving rawboned hips, of a lustless, loveless insistence. Tonttu and Ananke and Undómiel; and Andy  —  it was Andy the ashamed that looked away from the emerald glimmer of the druid's scrying without hope of escape. Rubied crown wobbled;

“How – ?”  the fairylight frets, hushed, heart-broke, mending, mustering; brow wreathing with red scripture and hopeless unanswer.  “I have always given my heart. I have always chosen to choose love again, and again, and again, and yet  –  I have only ever given my soul to all. How? How am I to ... to let such an offering of love be mine? How do I hold it? How do I have faith in ze male who,”  hiccoughing a bit,  “who ... who wishes that I take his name. Be his – his ... his wife? How ... how am I to trust in this, one last time?”

Surreal, still; so domestic and base a wish;
she looks at Bhediya with gauzy eyes, fathomless, featherlight that such a thing has finally come to her and yet she is
petrified
because she does not know how to cradle the way Melkor listens to her. A thousand times has she proffered the words  you are in my blood  and  my love for you lies within each breath  and though it is true, and they are whole, she is —