Chapter 4: Battered Emotions

Time is the strange substance of dreams. Yet, it always seemed that time only touched my dreams when they were coloured with fear. Strange colours that rouse emotions we seem to discard freely as time passes us by. I never discard anything freely, the colours seemed to dim the faster I tried to wrap longing arms about them. The longing never leaves, it merely stands by at times watching and smiling at the ignorance of our self-assurances and at times it swallows our souls whole. Dreams flourish and wither as they haunt us at night and whisper during the tiresome days. Yet, the state I was in I could not name for it was neither slumber nor awareness. It was a moonlit haze that shadowed my days and lit my nights.

"My lord, I wish to retire early tonight."

Erestor looked up with heavy eyelids as he closed the open book he was engulfed in.

At times I felt true unbidden rage that I could not read what he read. Could not know what he knew.

"Have I burdened you?"

That question alerted my senses. I hated to be received with care; perhaps because of my inability to return it or perhaps because the taste of it was ever so rare. "I hope that you do not consider my belonging to man kind as a sign of weakness."

Aye, I managed to open up old troubled gates with that question. Gates that were better left locked and forgotten.

Erestor pushed back his chair and stood straight, his height towering over mine even with the existence of rows of books between his figure and mine.

"Have you ever thought what it would be like to live a thousand years upon a thousand others? Nay, men have power we do not. Few of us ever regarded them as week."

I attempted to interrupt but was silenced by his approach. "I employed you for many reasons, pity not being one of them for I feel no pity for your kind. Your thoughts lately are drifting to darkness, go now and think neither of blood nor of words that poison."

My mind reeled; one phrase repeating itself menacingly: he knew, he knew, he knew...

I looked up from the parchment that occupied me minutes ago and stared into his eyes trying to calm my freshly murdered nerves. They were wild with silent emotion. This is not the image of elvish beauty my mind had woven. In my painting I did not see eyes lit with still fire, lips beckoning to be worshiped nor wit to be feared.

"I do not think of blood my lord, I dream of blood colouring my fingers in an endless night."

At that particular moment, my head felt extremely heavy against my slumped shoulders. I looked away as his presence felt nearer, staring into the golden trims of his robes lazily stretched on the floor. Silence stretched between eternities with my eyes fixed, dazed, tears streaming down. The silence stretched for far too long; I rose up facing him. Questions reeking havoc in my tired mind. Unrestrained I took his hands in mine and turned them over and over again.

He was unmoved, standing so still that one would wonder if a breath graced his body.

"Yes, there is no magic there."

The urge to run, to disappear within shadows washed over me. I dropped his hands, shook my head and clumsily ran out of the library.

"I will take the throne, mother"

The rising intensity of the voices stopped me in my tracks as I rested my tired form against the corridor walls.

"But you mustn't!"

"I mustn't what mother? Mustn't take what is rightfully mine or mustn't defy that crazed husband of yours?"

"He is YOUR FATHER"

"He is no father of mine, go back to your dancing and singing mother. I know why you have come. Your tender thought is misplaced. I shall not bow before him. Nay mother, happy will be the day he bows before me."

It was one of the moments that clarified things to a blinding degree. The Queen knew that the power she has would create strife and a war would ensue. Strange how I was so ignorant to the on goings of the court when I was always the companion of her majesty, to serve and please, to learn and let learn, to betray and deceive.

My modest chamber looked solemn and unwelcoming, cold and distant. Falling onto my bed, I laid staring at the ceiling for hours as if in some uncontrollable moment of destiny the shadows would immerge and still my fears; but the shadows were always meant to be shadows. Alas, if only I was as sure of what a bothersome human is meant to be. Uncomfortable sweat trickled down my back and my usually cold solid bed felt scorching and suffocating. Hesitantly I rose up and reached out for my dying candle. This fever I was in had to end.

His door...I was standing in front of his door, the candle died in my hand, its tears marking their way unto my sleeves.

He knew of my thoughts, mightn't he know of what I should do? Life does not offer second chances and if this be mine then I had to clench to it with all my might.

After a few hesitant knocks, the door opened slowly. Erestor was dressed in a silk grey tunic and black breeches; to my eyes that felt as though I was seeing him undressed, an idea that elicited sudden inexplicable repulsion. Repulsion of the kind akin not to disgust but to fear, fear of what one does not know or more accurately of what one does not want to know.

I looked away as I heard his voice barely above a whisper: "Yes?"

I looked back; his brows were frowned elegantly yet explicitly showing his discomfort.

"I am terribly sorry, pardon me."

"Sorry?"

"Yes, deeply truly sorry"

He watched as I started to back away from the door speaking after a few long seconds in a manner that froze my steps.

"Sorry for what? Knocking at my door in the middle of the night in a manner that would suggest an engagement of sorts to any who should see it, or sorry for holding out for help when you need it?"

A reply could not be found within me for I was both angered and humbled, a combination potent enough to leash my tongue.

"Come, standing alone in an abandoned corridor is no comfort."

Strange how his chamber offered the comfort that fled from mine. His bed sheets were ever so slightly fumbled suggesting that I had roused him from sleep. The candles in the corners were lit and he steeled himself in the only chair in the entire room leaving me to strut and fret about as I tried to voice my incoherent thoughts.

"You know of what services I am engaged in."

"That is a colourful way of describing it, yes I know"

"How?"

By this time I was reduced to a dummy that was beaten, worn and incapable of doing or managing anything except perhaps squeezing my fingers in a feverish manner.

"I thought your wit would explain it. Yet, you thought it was elvish magic; twas no magic. You being a handmaid who is too learned to be a simple handmaid aroused my curiosity. Then came the matter of the parchments you kept receiving from Armenelos. Parchments sealed in a fashion that only royalty use. At that point I could only guess that you were either a concubine of some power or a spy."

"Then you saw the scarf...."

"Aye"

Finger fiddling wouldn't do anymore, I had to pace and pace vehemently till a gentle hand rested on my shoulder. "I know not why men would rather tire themselves in worrisome thoughts than to think about matters in a subjective manner."

"I am not a model of human intellect, my lord"

I caught a smile from the corner of my eyes. Perhaps I should add insensitive to my list of elvish adjectives, no insensitive is too soft a word; heartless, yes heartless that is my new found conviction.

Notes: Me...I hope this clarifies things up a bit...Saelind is very confused so I tended towards confusing readers as well...I truly appreciate your reviews...thank you!