CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Un dì, felice, eterea,
Mi balenaste innante,
E da quel dì tremante
Vissi d'ignoto amor!
Di quell'amor, quell'amor ch'e palpito
Dell'universo, Dell'universo intero,
Misterioso, Misterioso altero,
Croce e delizia al cor!
(translation)
One happy day, I remember,
You flashed lightly into my life.
And since that day
I've lived in tremulous posession of love!
Of that unspoken love,
The pulse of the universe.
Mysterious, unattainable,
The torment and delight of my heart!
— Un Di, Felice, Eterea
From the opera "La Traviata" by Giuseppe Verdi
"Your garden is truly spectacular, Doctor Deverhill."
"Thank you. And please, do call me 'Ignatius'."
"I am sure you've had plenty of praise lain at your feet tonight by others, but do be so kind as to indulge me…"
"Regarding what, dear lady?"
"I… will not feel at ease until I have bestowed on you my own gratitude. For you to have sacrificed your time and money in bringing our company out to such a charming theatre, such a charming regional location, is something I will always remember. I am a small town girl myself, and having spent so long existing in all the crowded metropoli of Europe, being reminded of the smell of grass and the sight of mountains is an immense pleasure for me. You must hold such tender love for this town and its people to have arranged such a lavish experience as a Verdi opera for their exclusive enjoyment."
"…"
"Doctor?"
"I am afraid I must correct you, madame. Philantropist and patron though I may seem, I am spectacularly selfish."
"How so?"
"My interest in seeing 'La Traviata' play the Lazytown theatre is… Wait, I must start at the very beginning."
"Please do."
"My dear, you know I am an engineer. My life until recently has been rectilinear. I have lived governed by grants and commissions… logic, material, Newtonian law. Things of iron and steel have been my focus, and cold, flat right angles my ideal. I have become glutted with achievement: achievments which have cost me my poor frail wife, my humour, my youth. Do you know why I had my house built in this quiet little backwater?"
"No."
"By chance, I picked up talk that this town was touched by something enchanted. So quiet, so green, so unconcerned by human competition, it had attracted magick to its threshhold. They said that all manner of magical creatures lurked around here, casting their whimsy upon the sleepy, superstitious citizens. I longed for this. I see from the light in your eyes at this moment that you understand me perfectly. When I first moved here two Summers ago, I dedicated every hour possible to roaming the pastures, hills and forests in this territory. Long were my searches for fae folk, sprites, will-o-the-wisps. Alas, save for that goofy, far-too-conspicuous jester of an elf who looks after the little ones, my hunt was fruitless. I dully acquiesced, agreeing to settle into the role of gentleman-about-town. One evening I was invited to a dinner party by one of the other local swells. That very night, my spirit was changed forever. I found my fairy."
"Doctor?..."
"Over the tinny waves of a television broadcast, there she was. Dressed in angelic robes of lilac and purple, she sang 'Liebestod'. But it was I who died at that moment, instead of this ravishing Isolde. 'Ertrinken! Versinken! Unbewußt, höchste Lust!'…"
"Doctor…"
"Please, fairy!... if you do nothing else, just favour me with the sound of your exquisite voice caressing the syllables of my given name!"
"…I-Ignatius…"
"Oh! That is ambrosia. I digress… I had to have her. I would know nothing of delight or contentment until I could clutch her hand. I was so lucky to be a man of wealth and influence. I threw money and favours at every one of her contacts that I could reach. What care I for the punters of this town? They in the audience were invisible to me tonight. All I could see was her, dressed in Violetta's corset, singing, so intoxicating, close enough that she may behold me if the house lights were up."
"…I-I did!… I felt the gaze of someone— you, I could not tell, but I beheld…"
"Lillà… If you move on and forget me after tonight, I will die. Plant but one single kiss on my profane lips, and I will die happy."
**
Again and again and again, Sportacus paced the length of his airship. All he could do was stare at the ungodly hour of the clock and wonder.
On and off throughout the evening, his crystal had blinked. It was maddening. The aid that the hero would have so gladly provided would only be rejected. His hope wavered off and on, his devotion burned brightly.
He stared out at the clear night sky. Robbie loved him. How long had he been concealing it? It pulled at him and buoyed him, like the deepest swell of the oceans. The abyss seperating 'hero' from 'villain' still loomed dauntingly as ever. He felt momentary bursts of near-insane courage, urges to reach out and capture him, resisting every protest.
The clock ticked over to a new hour. If he did one more lap of this floating cage, he would go crazy.
Not even bothering to call down the ladder, he leapt from the platform and landed upon the pavement, at once breaking into a fevered sprint. He just couldn't quiet the chorus of voices in his head.
After doing what must have been two dozen laps of the entire town, he ascended the hill to the ruined manor.
**
From here, one could see the whole town.
It was spread out before him in a pattern of shadows and streetlights. The night breeze was fuller up here, the air fresher. The trees rustled, and somewhere, a dog barked. It was not the spectacular vista of his airship in the heavens, but the experience was similar. Yet here, he was closer to the people, and could feel their collective life-force.
Sportacus ascended the vast, rickety pile of rubble, and stood at the top for a long time. He watched the town, he watched the treetops, he watched the stars. Everything was dead on this surrounding land, a lone patch of desolation in amongst life and spirit. The elf bowed his head, and mourned silently for the sad fate of this house and its short-lived dynasty. He had always looked upon other beings with a view to see their potential and merit. There was, he believed, always a way.
There was nothing left here.
He picked his way down the hill of broken materials, when he caught the slightest of movements in the corner of the empty garden.
When he recognised the bent-over form of Robbie curled up on the dirt, he hesitated. Perhaps, said one of the voices in Sportacus' head, it would be best to let him go.
Something more powerful than this unkind, foolish voice propelled him slowly up to the side of prostrate creature.
"Go home, elf."
Not this time. Sportacus would honour the new resolution that had awoken in his soul.
Both were silent and unmoving for some time, the standing figure searching for the right approach.
"Why didn't you tell me, Robbie?"
The moonlight crept higher in the sky, revealing him. He lifted his head from his hands, and after a long silence, responded.
"You needn't worry. The moment I get back home I'm going to take a sledgehammer and smash that thing to smithereens."
This horrified Sportacus to no end. "Please don't…" he begged.
"That has been my plan all along, elf," Robbie retorted sourly. "To channel all of these… stupid, suffocating feelings into something tangible and destroy them. So I can be free to rot to nothingness in peace."
The mean little crack that had formed in Sportacus earlier that evening started to grow, threatening to tear his beleaguered spirit apart.
"Why… for Odin's sake, why?"
"Because…"
Robbie shot up, and fretfully stalked away from the other man, up and down the side of one of the stone walls.
"Because," he spluttered, before turning again.
"A sweet angel of the Huldufólk coming to this town, only to be poisoned by the obsessive love of the… the local 'mad scientist'!?" He exclaimed suddenly. "Doesn't that sound familiar to you!?"
He stopped, kicking his foot in the soil. His attention was caught by a wayward moth, its white wings fluttering as it lighted daintily upon a splinter of broken timber.
To Sportacus' astonishment, Robbie ripped the lovely creature off of its perch and angrily crushed it to death. He cast the animal's pulped corpse down at his beloved's feet.
"Do you want me to do that to YOU!?"
A sob tugged at his snarling voice. "I… As much as I may hate it… the moment I first saw you, my genetic destiny was realised. I was terrified… I didn't want to become the heir to his destructive power. If I held my arms out to embrace you, I would crush your robust little frame. So I stung you. Pricked you. Held up every single colour that communicated my poison to you. Pronounced myself a thoroughly rotten fruit. Did all that I could to remove you from my reach forever."
Sportacus couldn't take any more of this. He reached out a hand towards Robbie, but his quarry flinched and backed away.
He continued. "I thought you were safe. It killed me, killed me to think that I disgusted you, but it had to be that way. And… and still, you had to tease me, hope for me, fly within arm's reach. I'm sure you don't know the damnation of loving so deeply and being teased so constantly. And… the indifference you receive in return is… is…"
Indifference!? Sportacus decided against reacting to this.
"You don't have to worry anymore. I am done. This gargoyle will crumble along with his darling marble idol. Go back to your brood of children and forget I ever lurked behind you, watching with desperate eyes."
His posture was hunched and defensive, his gaze downcast. One foot twitched, itching to flee. His long fingers were folded and held to his chest, as if Sportacus was about to rip out his heart.
How could he ever forget anything so wretched and so beautiful?
He thrust one firm, booted foot forward, steadfastly.
Robbie instantly reacted, quivering intensely and accelerating backwards. The small bronzed predator followed him slowly and evenly.
"You're not running from me again, darkling."
The chase was over as soon as it had begun. Robbie gasped for breath, and then screamed as Sportacus toppled his tall frame and pinned him to the earth. He could barely struggle.
He was rendered even paler than usual, jade eyes flashing with adrenalin, warm tear tracks cutting through the grime and salt that hung on his cheeks. A piteous whimper from the half-elf managed to completely unravel Sportacus.
He pulled him to his breast, tender but tenacious. Under the strong, stout hands, Robbie was still shaking violently. Both of them were breathing heavily.
Embracing him was all Sportacus could think to do. He was a man of actions and deeds. From the way he saw Robbie move, fluid, flighty and feline, he percieved that the claim that the half-elf was the same as his rigid father was utterly false. No matter how hot his temper flared, his actions would always be that of his mother. For this reason, Sportacus gripped him all the tighter.
"Don't cry, Glannitino…I won't hurt you."
How to explain it all? Sportacus riled frantically at his own powerlessness. He had never been half as eloquent as his clever Glannitino, the consumate man of words and layered language. Enchanting was the poetry with which he spoke and sang, the diverse shades of his honey-and-thunder baritone. It was a gift Sportacus lacked, something he needed now, hungered for more than anything, a deep, pearled scarlet to his stark, bright blue…
He captured those pretty cherry lips in a forceful kiss.
He drew back quickly, surprised at himself. Robbie had been paralysed, completely taken unawares by the action.
The stuporous spell was broken by a light emanating from beneath them.
Sportacus' crystal was pulsating. The quality of the light was entirely unique. It was a single tone, one that broke all concievable laws of the colour spectrum. It was at once white, black, blue and red. Not frost, nor rainbows, nor the Northern Lights themselves came close to mirroring its complexity.
"Wh… what's it doing?" Robbie spluttered softly.
"I…" Sportacus didn't quite know how to answer. "It behaves like that when, uh… you're the only one who's ever made it do that."
He didn't know where this realisation had sprung up from, but it seemed to have done something entirely unsettling to Robbie. The darkling stared at the elf hotly, his breath quickening further.
"Þú… Það…" His utterances dissolved into near hysteria.
At once, Robbie took his hands.
"Líttil álfur minn!" He wept.
As if possessed by Freyja herself, he kissed the elf's hands, caressed his pink cheek and cried out with all the tortured worship of a devoted saint. He babbled madly as his lips roved across Sportacus' fingers and the warm contours of his face:
"Bello ragazzo, te amo, te amo… Aufenthalt, mein süß liebling, please… please… Je t'adorerai pour toujours, piccolo iddio!... Gioiello blu! Beautiful flickering sprite! Nein! Don't leave! Per favore!!"
Amidst this torrent of passionate speech, Sportacus could only distinguish one phrase, and it brought him out in heavenly shivers:
"Ég elska þig!"
He kissed Robbie back, lingering, and loving him completely.
**
At daybreak, the wealthier townspeople gathered at the old gates of Deverhill Manor, astounded. In the corner of the property, upon the salty earth, grew a healthy patch of exquisite flowers. Their colour was indescribable.
**