Hello Inkheart fans! This is my first Inkheart story. Please note that I'm not through reading Inkspell yet, but once I read a scene with Darius and Elinor in the kitchen I just had to write something like this! Hope you enjoy it! Read/Review/Enjoy/Criticize!
On any other night, it would be the perfect, picturesque evening. The sunset's red-orange rays would dance across the lake that bordered her house, creating the most perfect haze of peace and warmth. The crickets would chirp their twilight symphonies, selflessly expecting no applause and then retire until tomorrow's performance. Owls would hum their mellow calls, a sound which signaled the coming of the night. "Go to bed," they said, "it's our turn to hunt now!"
And she'd sit on the deck, eating crumpets and drinking tea, curled up in a blanket reading an unread book. She'd greedily inhale its pages until the adventure was complete, and then she'd beg for more, like a spoiled child who had eaten too many sweets. She'd be hearing the hum of her great-niece talking with her mother, the delight shining in both their eyes as beautiful as the sunset. Resa would ferociously do hand signals while Meggie drew, talked, and laughed in response to things Resa discovered in the Inkworld. But the reader, she was quite content to remain with her book, whether it would be about Middle-Earth, Swiss Alps, an adulterer, or a lost owl in the woods, but she had sworn that she would never read the words of Inkhert. Too much despair had been caused because of those accursed pages.
Of course, by now, Mortimer and Darius would be returning from Mortimer's workshop. Mortimer would kiss Resa and Meggie hello and begin describing his latest work with that heavenly voice of his. Darius wouldn't talk with either of them, but would sit next to her, even though he knew she hated being disturbed, and peek at the book she was reading.
And now, regardless of any annoyances Darius caused or any grief Inkheart had burdened her with, Elinor prayed with all her hear that she could see those days again, but of course, as luck would have it, she most likely wouldn't.
Instead, she was forced to witness the sunset painting from her kitchen window, among the steam which glued her hair to her forehead and stuffed up the room into a foggy, hot mist. Any sounds that the animals would make were muffled out by the boiling water and sizzling meat. Darius was cooking dinner for Orpheus. The "master" had demanded no more rice, so the timid Darius was forced to be more creative. Cornbread with fried hamburger and tomatoes was what Orpheus would be eating tonight, and Elinor didn't care if he didn't find it satisfactory. Let him read her into an awful book filled with spiders and snakes and other vile things. Almost anything would've been better than being a prisoner in her own home, while her dear niece and Mortimer were with that awful Basta, Meggie with that fool Fenoglio and that wretched Farid who played with matches. As for the other match-eater, Dustfinger, she couldn't care less where he was. But everything forced upon her at once was simply unbearable.
"Preposterous!" she cursed as she scooped the hamburger over the cornbread. "Absolutely preposterous!"
Darius, as expected, was silent, seeing only that the tomatoes didn't burn, but if Elinor knew him well enough, he was listening attentively.
Tears burned the back of her eyes as she put the plate on the tray. Darius was fetching the glasses and silverware.
"I refuse," Elinor continued muttering, "I refuse to be a prisoner in my own house any longer! I refuse to be victim to books, words, authors, stories that I have loved ever since I first learned my alphabet! You do know that that's what happening, don't you Darius? It's as if the books I cherish are getting back at me for something unknown! I am now the victim of characters made up of nothing more than ink, paper, and an idiot's imagination! Yes I'm speaking of Fenoglio, if that's what you're asking me with those raised eyebrows." She filled the glass with wine, one of her most expensive bottles. "It's simply unbearable!"
Darius fished through his pocket and handed her a handkerchief. She was annoyed by this action as she wasn't crying. She never cried, not in front of Darius, not in front of anyone. But, if only for the sake of good manners, Elinor accepted the hankie and dabbed her dry eyes. "Thank you."
The door burst open without warning. Sugar folded his arms. "Where's dinner?"
Elinor stepped back from the tray with disgust. She would never serve that worm Orpheus, it was a miracle alone that she set the tray and helped prepare the meal. So Darius was again left to smile politely at Sugar and deliver the meal to Orpheus, who was probably reading out fauns and fairies and elves so quickly, so expertly, that the fool thought them to be his own creation, created by words, as if he were a god.
Elinor took advantage of the silence once Darius left, trying not to think about her desecrated library and that dog slobbering all over her precious work. Instead, she watched the sunset, the last moments of it as the sun abandoned her and fled behind the mountains. "No," she pleaded, "Come back. Come back tomorrow. Please."
If the sun heard her or not, Elinor wasn't sure, but she treasured the remnants of the sunset's color all the same. But that would soon disappear as well, as all other light did in her life.
During the sunset's show, Elinor fiddled with something in her hand. She had no idea what it was until she felt something prick her finger and she looked down.
A knife. She was playing with knives.
Elinor dropped it in shock. What were these circumstances creating out of her, a monster? She never even thought about touching knives before unless they prepared food! Knives reminded her too much of Basta and the horrible swishing sound the knife made when it came too close to her ear. But for a second, for a brief second, Elinor realized that she could do it.
She could kill him. She could drive the knife into Orpheus's chest. And the thought gave her pleasure.
But Elinor rechecked her thoughts just in time. She could never do such a horrid thing! This other person inside of her, this Gollum telling her to kill was not a creature she was familiar with. It scared her. This new creature, this new Elinor scared her.
Her knees buckled. She felt her breath draw short. Hot, stinging tears filled her eyes and eventually cascaded down. She wept, using Darius's handkerchief with all sincerity now. She shook her head, wanting this all to be over like a book she could close when it got too scary. But life wasn't books.
She continued to weep. She didn't care who saw her when the door opened. Thankfully, it was only Darius. He slammed the door and rushed to her. Hesitantly, he touched her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
"No," Elinor muttered. Then she snapped, "No Darius, I'm not alright! I'm terrified! My family is in a book with killers, put there by a disgusting man who loves his voice more than he loves life. My home has been invaded twice, my books, my children, violated twice! And now I'm forced to serve as a slave and keep my mouth shut as if these horrid events don't bother me, well I'm sorry Darius but they do!"
Darius was shocked at her sudden outpour of emotion, but listened anyway. She continued to cry, and Darius felt he had to say something, anything! In his timid, rarely used voice, he whispered, "This will all be alright. This is-is just a story…"
"Stories got us into this mess!" Elinor hissed, her sorrow replaced by rage. "Stories and our love of telling them, reading them, hearing them got us into this mess, or do you not remember Capricorn's village?"
"I remember!" Darius protested, and Elinor hated the look of hurt in his eyes. Yes, of course Darius would remember. How foolish she was to think he didn't.
She breathed, wiping away more tears. "I'm sorry Darius. I truly am, but I just can't take it anymore!"
She collapsed onto his shoulder, weeping.
Darius's shock to when she began crying was nothing compared to his shock now. He felt as if he were suddenly charged with babysitting children he barely knew. Uncertainly, he reached for one of the kitchen chairs and repositioned it so Elinor could sit in it. He helped her sit, like he would gently lay a baby in a crib. Once she was seated, he raced to the cupboard, unwilling to leave her alone for even a short period of time. He hastily snatched bread, chocolate, and tea he recently brewed. He set them before her like he was setting up a tea party for a little girl, and when his look of demanding had persuaded her to eat, only then did he sit across from her.
Elinor ate her treats in silence, sipped her tea in regret, and shook her head in disgust. "Darius, I wanted to kill him."
Darius shot up. "What?"
"Orpheus," Elinor slithered, pronouncing his name with as much hatred as she could muster. "For a split second I thought I could do it. I thought I could kill him." Her tears came back. "And it scared me."
Darius reached for her hand, which she grasped tightly in return. Darius didn't know what he could do. It wasn't often that Elinor opened up to him like this, or anyone for that matter. If Silvertongue or his wife or daughter were here, they would know what to do. But it was only him; him and a villain with his dog and henchman in Elinor's precious library.
Library! Darius was instantly struck with an inspiration. Elinor, since the moment she met him, had made it her purpose in life to try and make him read aloud again. But he wouldn't. Too many memories resurfaced and he saw Capricorn's face every time he thought about it, but if it would make Elinor feel better…
He didn't even know how she'd respond. She'd been so worked up the past few minutes, he was afraid that she'd lash out at him with that sharp, criticizing voice. But he shoved down his fears. He reasoned that even trying to make Elinor feel better was worth any insults that may bite him in the future.
He wondered briefly which one Elinor liked best. The Hobbit in the Hobbit-hole? She loved that one. Or the story of a little girl lost in a new land who met a tin man, scarecrow, and a lion. She adored the innocence of that story. Finally, he found a story filled with the right amount of joy and the right amount of mystery.
Timidly, afraid of the squeak he was sure his voice would make, he began. "Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in India. Her life wasn't very good in India. Her parents ignored her and it was hot. Very hot. Matters grew even worse when an illness spread throughout her household…"
As he told the story, Elinor looked up, disbelieving her ears. Darius was talking? Reciting a story? For her? In truth, she wanted to yell at him. Hadn't she just told him that stories were what caused all of this unbearable trouble in the first place, that she didn't want anything to do with anymore cherished stories? But one fact overruled her temper. Darius was telling a story, overcoming his fear, for her. And it was that fact, that selfless action of love Elinor wasn't used to receiving that made her smile.
Encouraged by her grin, Darius began telling the story with more fervor than before, expertly explaining every detail about the appearance of Mrs. Medlock and the gloomy setting of Misselthwaite Manor exactly as it was inscribed in the book.
Elinor listened to the story with the ready ears of a child getting a bedtime story. Rain had begun to patter against her window and Darius had briefly stopped telling the story to light a lamp, but the story continued, and Elinor loved it. She loved the story of a little girl, scared and hopeless, losing everything and having to deal with a new adventure. She had gained friends along the way and was forced to learn how to adapt, even if she didn't like it. And even after all that, she found joy in a garden, a peace that came from love and patience of enduring a seemingly unbearable tragedy.
Elinor hoped that little girl could be her at the end of this story. And for the first time since losing Meggie to the pages of Inkheart, Elinor felt that hope warm her heart again.