She always looked smaller when she is asleep, weaker, and more defenseless. Her head rested on my shoulder and one small white hand was lying, curled slightly, on my chest.

We had a busy day in the valley. Scrambling over the cliffs always made her tired. She wasn't as strong as I was, but she was too damned stubborn to allow me to slow the pace for her. To make it worse, she always knew when I was going easy on her. She knew everything, and didn't hesitate to use it against a chap either.

Her black hair was spread over the pillow. Thick and curling it shone in stark contrast to the white fabric. Dark lashes hid the usually blazing grey eyes. Her mouth was curled in a soft smile; I knew that she would not have nightmares tonight. The smooth white line of her neck was interrupted by frilly pink nightdress. I didn't understand why she wore the damn thing. She looked better out of them, not to mention they were cursed inconvenience.

My eyes continued to wander downward towards the blanket covered torso and legs. There are times when I do forget how small she really is; her personality make up for what she lacks in height.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever known. She wasn't only beautiful but intelligent, amusing, exasperating, and infuriating. In short, she was the most wonderful woman on the face of the earth.

Her lips moved, voicing a delicate sigh, and she wriggled closer to me. The steady rise and fall of her shoulders assured me that she hadn't woken. I slide my arm around her and pressed my lips to her forehead.

She was my Amelia.