Be my moon

[moonshadows]

“It was the custom of my people that a man should present his beloved with small tokens – objects of delicate beauty, intricate enchantments by which she could judge his worth. Such things have never been my strength,” he says dryly, “and I could never hope to match your skill in any case, but I would be remiss in my duty as your suitor if I did not present you with a token of my affection worthy of you. Grand displays of strength and sweeping skill are more my style, and to that end – brother?”

Malfurion steps forward with all the solemnity this honor requires, a living easel for the large, flat box that reaches from the ground to nearly to his shoulders. Illidan’s mind trembles only slightly with a thrill of nervousness as he carefully parts the leaflike halves of the lid and reveals the contents nestled on pearl-grey velvet. The elegant curves of softly-glowing lilac, chased and inlaid with familiar whorls of pale green, take my breath away. My hands are drawn to them, and the instant my fingers touch the satiny-smooth surface of the warm metal, I gasp again. The enchantments tingle, crawling up my arms, settling around my hands like a second skin, embracing and supporting, waiting for my command. A thought, and my palms are filled with leather-wrapped hilts that seem to mold themselves to my grip and I lift the blades wonderingly. Feather-light, they move like a dream and an unfortunate falling leaf parts without hesitation as it lands on one edge.

“Khorium,” he says in a near-whisper, “and fel iron.”

“Oh, Illidan, they’re perfect!” I banish the warglaives to their dimensional pocket, and he claims my hands.

“You say that I am the star around which you revolve, the life-giving light of your life, but we Kal’dorei have ever been children of the night, and it is to the moon that we turn our eyes, the moon which we worship. I, Illidan Stormrage, therefore ask you, Jentessa: will you be my moon, to brighten my nights and watch over my days, to provide comfort and receive my worship for the rest of my life?”

“Yes,” I breathe, stunned by the unconditional, total devotion that flows from him to me. “Oh yes, Illidan, my love!”

The smile he lavishes on me is heartbreaking in its pure joy. He glances towards Tyrande, who has been watching silently, and I follow just in time to see her brush a tear from her eye.