Disclaimer: hum dee dum…I'm not Sherwood Smith, just a fan with an obsession…teehee.

            It had been raining for the past week. She glanced out the window, ceruleans taking in the downpour with a melancholy type of stare. The rain comforted her, reminding her of days dancing in it out at Tlanth, of rides soaked in it through the hillside, of one special ride through it so many years ago.

            He had become her everything. Disgustingly romantic though it was, it was the truth. Twenty years after their marriage his touch had still inspired in her a desire so fierce and so strong that at first it had frightened her. Now she longed for that touch, her whole body aching for him, for his cynically amused smile, for his kiss.

            It hadn't always been that way. The thought of their rather rocky meeting and beginning still made her laugh; a loud, rasping laugh that made a servant sewing in the corner look up in alarm. She'd been positive she hated him and that he was not all he appeared to be. Well the latter part had been true, for he had turned out to be something far greater than she'd ever imagined. Her soul mate.

            With a sigh, she stood up. Automatically one of the servants stood up as well, looking confused when she waved him off. For the past year servants had been shadowing her, convinced she might collapse and die on her way to the bathroom. All of Court was worried about her, which irked her to no end. It was because of them that she was here; living out the end of her days in the place she'd never quite grown to love, though she had been quite fond of the palace, mostly because of all the memories it held. But she'd dreamed of returning to Tlanth one day; to die as her father had with the Hill Folk's reed pipes drifting down to reach her ears. That was not possible with all the nobles and servants fussing over her every second she was in their company.

            Her weary feet carried her down to the stables. She paused in the rain, a peaceful smile lighting up her strikingly beautiful features as she let the downpour consume her face, her hair, and her clothes. Soaking wet, she was no longer recognizable as the Queen and the stable hands gave her no more than a passing glance as she walked down the stall aisle. In a stall down at the end rested a large, dapple gray colt whose ears pricked in excitement when he saw her.

            Taking a few minutes to greet him and reassure him, for she had not gotten down here in a few days, she tacked him up quickly and led him outside. It was hard to ride in wet skirts, but she'd managed before and she managed now. She'd trained this colt herself, using methods unheard of by the palace horse breakers. The horse had been her special project, one she'd taken on a little while after the old king's death. It seemed fitting, for he'd always loved horses and this colt was a descendant of his favorite.

            There were some trails with fantastic jumps that had been so much fun to charge down in her youth (and even recently, though none of the courtiers would ever know of it), but today she steered her colt towards one of the trails nobles took if they wished to go picnicking. He knew the trails as well as she did and seeing that this was a quiet ride, settled down immediately.

            In a sudden leap of faith, she changed her mind. Tugging on her right rein and bending him around her right leg, she urged him forward and toward their favorite trail. In a thunder of hooves they flashed down the trail and she had a sudden thought that she was mad to be galloping in this mud and rain. She then decided she didn't care, for the first time putting her own needs before a horse's.

            The horse ran well in the mud, he'd won her many races down in the lower city where the bettors had not recognized her as the Queen and had misjudged her horse. She checked him sharply as the first jump came in sight, reminding him that they weren't just out for a run. He instantly collected his strides for her, though his ears pricked forward which meant he wasn't really listening to her at all. Sighing, she half-halted for a few strides, getting his attention back to her.

            It was a big jump; this was the trail for experienced riders. However, he'd jumped a lot higher than this down in the lower city and she'd never been afraid on horseback. She counted down the strides in her head and her body folded over at the precise, perfect moment, her hands sliding up his neck. There was a few seconds of glorious flight and then a rocky landing as his hooves slipped in the mud. She pulled his head up instantly, sitting back and praying he'd catch his balance.

            He did and was about to charge onwards when she pulled him down to a walk, both of them breathing hard. Rain came down all around them, making a reassuring sound on tree leaves.

            She'd been crazy. Crazy to risk a good horse in this weather. That's what happens when you get old, she decided, you turn crazy. But it didn't make her feel any better for it was just an excuse and an empty one at that.

            Somehow she got back to the stables, cooled him out, and cleaned off his muddy legs. She barely remembered doing it, but she must have, for soon she was walking along a palace hallway, getting some rather strange looks for her outfit.

            But she got a surprise when she returned to her rooms. A letter from Nimiar. She sat down to read it, probably ruining a chair with her soaked skirts.

Dear Mel,

            It is so lonely out here with Kitten still at Court and no Bran to keep me company. I had so hoped you would come for his funeral, but I understand that you could not. The commoners are all saying that the end is near for you, since you did not come. I do not know where they get their information, but I think they are silly to believe that our unpredictable Mel can have her life calculated so precisely.

            I miss you very much. I am hoping to bring Kitten home soon so that I can then make a trip to Athanarel. Tlanth is thriving, which I know will make you happy. But I still have not seen the Hill Folk… Ah, well, another day, another chance, shall we say?

Love,

Nee

            She sat back in shock. The end was near? Was it that obvious to everyone that it had reached Tlanth? She put down the letter, a frown crossing her features.

            "Oh, Nee." The whisper was a raspy one, her throat sore from being out in the cold and the wet, but thankfully no servants were present to hear it.

            Unexpected tears filled her eyes, spilling down over high-set cheekbones. Newfound knowledge had sparked this sorrow, though she was surprised to find herself crying for she had not even cried at his funeral. She buried her face in her hands, before penning a brief letter back to Nee.

            Dear Nee,

                        I miss you too. But…I am afraid that the end probably is near for me. But it does not really matter, for in all the ways that matter I died the day that he did. And so, my friend, I love you, but I'm almost positive this is, well, goodbye.

            Love,

            Mel

            She laid down on her bed for a long time, her breathing coming in slow gasps. Memories of her life flooded her mind, almost all of them with him. Her heart hurt, but she knew she'd be with him soon.

            I'll be with you soon, my love. I'm coming…

*cries* poor mel. I was thinking about doing one of these but alternating it so it's Danric thinking about Mel. What do you guys think?

Review review review! Please?

Linds