Dearest,

I still think back on those days often. We must have looked quite the sight, if anyone was watching - a pair of revolutionaries, a matched set of heroes, riding off across the land side by side with our cats running close behind. Surely anyone who saw us would have thought we were off to some new battle, some new cause that called for our aid. After all, a common cause was what had brought us together.

But that day, as we rode through forests and deserts, rivers and snow, mountains and hills, the only ones we were riding for were one another.

I remember you holding onto your hat with one hand, laughing as the wind caught us both and threatened to knock us off our course. I don't think I'd ever seen you giddy before that, and I delighted to realize there was still so much more of you to learn.

After all, everything I had found about you - your determination, your will, your kindness, your compassion - I loved all of. You who could be the blade of the people one moment, sword held in your hand like an extension of your own arm, wreathed in blood-red light but still smiling. You who would sit by my side by the firelight the next moment and talk with me of a better world, your cat happily purring on your lap, your eyes sparkling with hope.

You who I love, and who I love more each day.

We found the stones, one by one, brushing away moss or frost or dust. We sat together on cliff-sides and watched fireflies dance, we marveled at caves where worn grooves in the glittering rock pointed to a thousand others who had come before us. Your hand found mine, again and again, and the metal of your ring brushed my own. When I looked to you, I always saw you smiling.

Oh, there was much to come, still. The endless debates over the clothing I should wear, with our friends helping me (and gently teasing me) as I vacillated between one top or another. The distribution of the invitations, and the delight when I found I had closer friends than I had been aware of, all eager to join me in celebration. And, of course, the ceremony itself - the way the light caught on your hair, the blaze in your eyes, and always, always that smile...

But I think, looking back, what I will always remember will be that journey by your side across the land, and the warmth of our fresh-forged rings on our fingers.

I set this letter aside feeling that perhaps I am being a touch too sentimental and maudlin. I am a scholar, not a poet, and my words are given to dry academic texts, not to capturing the depth of my feelings.

But I love you, I love you, I love you, and perhaps, someday, if this letter crosses your path, you will see just a touch of how much.

I hope I will be by your side then, and our fingers will still be intertwined.

[Chosen prize: Gaelicap. Thank you so much!]