Honeymoon is Over

The call of gulls was the first sound to reach Isildur’s ears as he surfaced from his sleep. The ever familiar scent of the sea air mixed with the heady fragrance of the flowers that grew outside his window beckoned him to open his eyes and see the world around him. They were the same sounds and scents that greeted his senses every morning, yet something felt different. Isildur rolled over and grumbled when he realized he had been robbed of his warm covers. He propped himself up on his elbow to further investigate. Through the veil of dark hair that fell across his face in his sleep he could see his new bride lying next to him. Her raven hair spread out onto her pillows in an unintentional, yet becoming, manner. Isildur would have sighed in a content manner to see the serene expression upon her face if it weren’t for the fact that her body was lost in a pile of blankets from the chin down.

Isildur grabbed the edge of the blanket that was closest to him and pulled as he rolled over onto his opposite side. He was about to drift back to blissful sleep when the blankets were pulled away a second time. Isildur balled his fist around the edge before he yanked back twice as hard as before. His efforts were met with an annoyed huff from the other side of the bed. Isildur expected a rebuttal but was met with only silence. He was about to fall back to sleep when something cold brushed against his bare ankle. Isildur winced, as much as he loved Tindalómë, he could not stand her cold feet, or the way they seemed to find his side of the bed just when he was starting to get comfortable. For a brief moment Isildur contemplated the merits of gluing slippers to her feet while she slept, but decided it was easier to pull more of the blankets onto his side. A contented sigh escaped his lips once enough of the soft material fell between his ankles and the blocks of ice attached to Tindalómë’s legs.

Another irritated huff reached Isildur’s ears. For a split second, Isildur felt guilty, but the returned warmth around his body quickly erased those thoughts.  The surface of the mattress shifted sharply for a second. But even more curious was the sound of a drawer opening and slamming shut with a sharp thud.  The tension on the blankets increased as Tindalómë tugged back. Isildur was about to sit up and grumble at his wife for being ridiculous when the sound of shears opening and closing on fabric interrupted his thoughts. The tension upon the blankets released and served to confuse Isildur further. He opened his eyes and rolled over to find his wife putting away her good pair of silver handled scissors. His eyes went next to the long lengthwise cut that now separated the covers into two halves.  Tindalómë met his gaze and flashed him a smile before she curled up under her half of the blankets, leaving him to stare at her in a wide eyed, dumbfounded manner.