Sorry for the long wait. This semester was really tough so I didn't write much. But now it's over so I had a chance to update!
I sing now, more than ever before. Though I sing many tunes, the favorite song of the sea witch is ever on the tip of my tongue. Something about it holds more mystery to me than any other song I know. I sing it to the stone walls that surround me, but it bounces lifelessly back, and the room only feels more hollow. So I go to my window, and I sing the song to the myriad of trees. They sway in rhythm to the tune, rustling the rhythm in their leaves. But the rustling sounds too similar to the whir of the water and the swaying of the trees too close to the response of the waves, and I am brought back to the last night I sang it to my father. The night I lingered in his presence.
In an effort to dispel my swirling thoughts, I search for a new song. I long again to sing a song of the forest, of the trees, my only companions now, who ever dance below me. I listen to the sounds of the forest for the cadence. I have never listened this closely before. The leaves stir in the breeze. The trunks creak and groan, the sound of old joints still swaying to and fro. The squirrels chatter, and the birds chirp, young voices flitting and scurrying between the steps of the ancient dance. It stirs my heart, and I sing. But for the first time I do not feel as though I am making a song to echo what I hear or what I know. Instead my voice is joining a song that has gone on for ages before me and will go on for ages when I am gone.
And that is when I hear it. "Aonori, Aonori, let down your hair." I stutter and halt in confusion. It is broad daylight. I have never been called to in the light of day. In a slight daze of confusion I let down my long braid.
It is only after I see him that I remember the voice sounded differently than hers, deeper and stronger. As he leaps over my window sill, I can only stand and stare in astonishment. He drops to one knee in a flourish. "I apologize milady, for my unusual entrance. But your tower seems to lack a proper door," he says with smile.
I have never seen anything like him. Besides the fact that I have never seen a human man before, his brown eyes a startling contrast to the merfolks' dazzling blue, I have never known anyone to act so lighthearted in such unusual circumstances. I am certain father would disapprove of such behavior. I don't even like to think what the sea witch would do if she knew someone besides herself had joined me in my tower. Despite the echoes of their judgment in my mind, I find myself amused by this stranger. I offer him a bemused smile.
He stands and takes a turn about the room. Within three steps he reaches the opposite wall. "A rather small space you've got here."
"Yes, I suppose it is," I answer.
He turns back to me. "My home is small as well. As was the house I grew up in. Cozy, my mother called it." He grins at the memory.
"Do you live near here?" I ask. I find any traces of uneasiness I had are quickly slipping away in his friendly conversation.
He crosses to the window and points to a small hill, covered in dark green trees. "My house is beneath the pines," he tells me.
"Pines?" I ask. I have never heard the word before.
"The trees on the hill, they are pine trees," he says, a bit awkwardly. "Don't you know your trees, Aonori?"
I shake my head. I suddenly feel very ignorant in his presence. He is a man and knows the ways of men and all that mankind knows. As a woman, perhaps I ought to know these things as well. But the days I have spent as a woman have been few and confined to solitude in this stony room.
"Well," he clears his throat awkwardly. "You see the trees right below you have leaves." I nod, knowing this, for I used to ask the sea witch about the forest. The sea witch answered my questions about the trees below me and the squirrels and birds. But I limited my questions to what I could clearly see, and the witch never elaborated on her answers. "Well, pine trees have needles instead of leaves, you see," the man continues. "And they're darker green. They never lose their needles, even in winter when all the leaves fall."
"Winter? The leaves fall?" I ask.
He turns away from the window and looks at me for a moment. "Haven't you seen it?" he asks at last.
I shake my head.
He frowns a little in confusion but asks no questions. "In winter the air becomes much colder. The sun sets earlier and rises later. The leaves change color and fall to the forest floor, and then the snow comes. Rain," he explains, anticipating my question this time, "only in solid white crystals." He turns to me and smiles. "It's beautiful. You'll love it."
His description is wonderful. The sea witch would never answer a question of mine in such a way. The way he described it makes me remember why I traded with the sea witch in the first place. Suddenly I think I could be content to ask him questions all day.
"I should be getting back," he says. "I really only had a moment to spare from work, but your voice..." I blush as his voice drifts off, but his eyes continue to stare into mine. I am uncertain if it is admiration or confusion I see in his brown gaze. He shifts his eyes out the window, "The trees'll miss me if I'm gone too long." He winks, and I laugh. He climbs out the window, hanging on to my braid that was still wrapped around the brace. "I'll come back tomorrow," he calls as he makes his way down.
"I don't even know your name," I yell after him. He's already halfway down my braid, about to disappear beneath the trees.
"Alon," he calls and waves just before he drops below the tree line.
Well what did you think? Does the present tense still flow well? Did I maintain style even after such a long break? Opinions on Alon? Review please!
Thanks again to piratesswriter for pointing out grammar issues!
