i take no responsibility for authoring this piece. *smooths skirts*
Lan climbed the ladder up into the hayloft, Moiraine following. He had already tossed their saddlebags up, where they landed a-mess with the hay. The horses stood sleepily on the dark floor of the barn below. Lan sat down, opening his bag, as Moiraine’s head popped up, followed by the rest of her. She gracefully moved from the ladder onto the hay-covered, wooden platform that would be there bed for the night.
“At least there are no leaks,” she said somewhat tiredly, glancing up at the rustic ceiling. Her hair and clothes were still soaking wet, as were Lan’s, from the sudden downpour outside. Her dark hair slicked to her face and her normally modest dress clung to her revealingly. Lan deliberately looked into his bag. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Moiraine was suddenly appearing drier by the second. Wordlessly she moved over to him and did the same, extracting the water from his clothes using a weave of air and water, then directing it to fall over the edge of the loft onto the barn floor. One of the horses whickered in surprise, but then all was quiet again accept for the rain.
Moiraine brought her hand up to Lan’s head. “How are you feeling, my Gaidin?” she asked.
Lan looked up at her from the contents of his bag. She looked very tired herself, yet she was still offering to give some of her own energy to sustain him. He removed her hand. “I’m fine,” he said.
Moiraine gave a small smile and retrieved her own bag, after which she sat back, opening it. She extracted an ivory comb and began running it through her air. Lan tried not to see as she did so—lush dark curls being pulled and then spiraling back. He hated, or rather loved, watching her do it. He couldn’t decide how he felt about it. He couldn’t decide how he felt about her. She was such a beautiful woman. Did he realize what he’d be getting himself into, bonding not only an Aes Sedai, but one who was stunningly gorgeous, promising to dog her heels for the rest of his life? But she wasn’t a Green. He really wished she was.
Finally the combing ceased and Moiraine withdrew a small flask from her bag. Lan clenched his teeth. Her rose perfume. Was she trying to torture him? Or was she that innocent that she didn’t even know she was torturing him? Really, he could believe she was. Then again, the woman always insisted on appearing her best, even when outrunning assassins or slaying Darkfriends. Some would could call it vanity, but Lan found it extremely attractive.
Lan forgot what he was even looking for and closed the bag, tossing it aside. He unfurled his blanket roll and laid it on top of the hay, not really caring whether it was neatly arranged. He looked up into the barn rafters as he laid back. That rose smell wafted to his nose, and unbidden thoughts started moving through his mind.
To make matters worse, Moiraine spoke. “Lan, don’t look. I need to undress.”
Lan turned onto his side, his back to Moiraine, as he heard the rustle of silk which was no doubt her dress leaving her body. She was standing there right now, in her shift, garters, and stockings, he knew.
Moiraine hissed under her breath, “Unsnap, you Light Forsaken thing!”
Lan closed his eyes. Now she was talking to her garter, probably because it was snagged on her stocking. He imagined her slightly bent over, her shift lifted as she fiddled with a lace garter on her thigh. He had to suppress what he was feeling. It was insane, this bond. It was bad enough to follow around a gorgeous woman without laying a hand on her, at least in a sexual way, but it was worse that she could feel everything from him, emotionally and physically. Light, but he hoped the woman would just get in her blankets and go to sleep.
Moiraine made a vexed sound and he heard a rip. “That,” she said, “was my last pair of stockings.” She sighed irritably. “I suppose I’ll have to mend it for now. Or go bare-legged.”
Bare-legged. Lan’s blue eyes burned like two fires. He almost felt angry at her. Yet how could he, when she really didn’t seem to know what she was doing? But how could she not? Didn’t she feel him through the bond? Perhaps she assumed that what he felt wasn’t really for her, but was rather a natural masculine state that occurred from time to time. One thing was certain-whenever he felt these things as strongly as he did now, Moiraine always started talking to herself, as if trying to distract from an awkward situation.
“Where’s my blanket roll?” Moiraine spoke to no one, looking around.
Lan saw it in front of him, where it must have landed when he threw everything up. “Here,” he said somewhat harsher than intended, handing the roll back to Moiraine without looking. He felt her stand just behind him and take it. There there was the crackle of hay as she made herself a cushioned place to lay down.
“You can look now,” she said.
Lan turned to look at her. He wondered why he did. He could’ve just laid with his back to her and fallen asleep that way. But he turned like a fool, and there she was tucked in her blanket. He could see the strap of her shift on one of her bare shoulders as she laid on her side, her hands underneath her cheek.
The two looked at one another, the only light being a dim one that came from a lantern that hung on a nail in the loft. Lan walked over to the lantern and put it out-leaving a lantern lit in a barn was dangerous. Now the place was shrouded in complete darkness. He couldn’t see Moiraine at all, which made him uneasy. He didn’t like her being unguarded in any way. The drumming sound of rain added to his uneasiness and made him feel like his senses were dulled. A worried line crossed his brow.
“Moiraine, I can’t see you at all,” he said.
“Is that a problem?” she asked in honest query.
“Yes. With this darkness and the sound of the rain, I can’t see or hear as well as I should. It could affect my ability to protect you.”
“Well,” Moiraine said matter-of-factly, “then just move to closer to me.”
Worry suddenly mixed with those lustful feelings that had been briefly dampened. But even if lust was there, he had to do what he needed to protect her. Lan picked up his blanket roll and slowly moved closer to Moiraine, walking carefully so as not to step on her by mistake.
It was so dark he couldn’t see her until finally she was just below him. She was laying on her back now, and Lan couldn’t help think how beautiful she was, with her curls spread out around her head and the tops of her bare shoulders just exposed. She gave a small smile. “Don’t step on me, Gaidin.”
Lan gave a small smile in return, which was unusual for him. He laid his blanket down beside her. He was very close to her, and he wondered if she shouldn’t back away a little. But if he did, then maybe she would know he was trying to resist her. Best just to just leave it where it laid now.
Lan laid down on his back looking up at the ceiling, just barely able to make out the long, black structures that were beams. Moiraine rolled back onto her side, facing him. He wished she would roll over the other way. It would make things so much easier.
Suddenly he felt her hand on his face and he startled inwardly. Her finger ran the line of his hadori. “Do you never take this off?” she asked. “Even when you sleep?” Her voice was so pretty and silvery. He never realized he liked Cairhienin accents so much until meeting her.
“Never,” he replied. “Even when I sleep.” Lan continued to look upwards as her hand fell away from his face.
Moiraine gave a small laugh. “I’d hate to see what happened if I slept with my kesiera on. I’d probably wake up unable to find it in this mess of hair I have.”
“Your hair is beautiful,” Lan said without thinking. A sudden bubble of nervousness rose in him at that slip.