A/N: temps_mort literary challenge, using the below Tolkien quote. And, therefore, we decided to play with Sanoken slashy weirdness. Enjoy. ^_^

"You speak of what is deep beyond the reach of your muddy dreams." - Tolkien

"Muddy Dreams"

He dreamt. Of dirt, of sweat, of blood, of death, of life; of everything that he ran from.

Everything that he could not escape.

The tears ran down his cheeks, icy on his flushed skin, and he twisted in the blankets. They caught about his legs, and he dreamt of chains wrapped around him; they shifted over his hands, and he dreamt of running his fingers through dark, silky strands of hair. He cried out as they tangled around his neck, and he dreamt of rope and steel and feather-soft skin.

He moaned in his sleep and clawed at the pillow, trying to sink his nails into the soft fabric, and succeeding only in raking them over the surface. He dreamt of other pillows then, other nights, ones that had been and ones that would never be, and the tears slipped faster down his face.

And as he shook and cried, he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, gentle and soothing; he awoke with a start. He was cradled in strong arms, held close, head tucked under the other's chin. He clung to the body next to him, resting his hand on the smooth, flat chest, and breathed deeply.

He did not speak; could not speak. There were no words to express the images, no turn of phrase to tell the truth, and certainly no language with the subtlety of dream. Instead he leaned into the embrace, and the other understood everything he didn't say.

He inhaled the scent of fabric, of skin, of hair and sweat and yes - even of blood and dirt, death and life. The tears on his cheeks slowly dried, leaving a salty taste on his cheeks that the other kissed away with gentle lips. He touched those lips with his own, and somehow he felt everything he'd dreamt, and yet it was nothing like his dreams.

Because this was now, and that was then, and he suddenly realized that he no longer had to run. The past was gone, leaving nothing but its muddy trace in his mind.

He nestled closer, into forgotten dreams and cherished memories and tomorrow.