The Ears of the Elves
By Asso
Chapter Fifty Five
Needs
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Trip smiled.
A big broad smile.
- The time had come to seize the moment. -
Maybe... maybe those words, which he had just read, they hadn't been written by him, after all.
Oh, it was words of him and he well remembered saying them.
He had said them to T'Pol, yes, just to her.
Trip' smile transmuted into a hard expression. Very hard.
He had said them by facing her last doubt.
Her last fear.
["The time has come to seize the moment, T'Pol."]
And, finally, she had capitulated. Completely.
She had understood it was her last opportunity.
Her last chance.
And that if she hadn't grabbed it, she would lose him forever.
And, thank goodness, she had grabbed it.
She had understood.
Trip smiled again.
A huge, happy smile.
And she had proved it to him.
With immediacy.
With facts.
Exactly...
Trip' smile turned sly.
Exactly like the Nameless One.
Yup.
That part of the story, those words, were T'Pol's.
Words of him, but repeated many times by her with that wonderful smile-no-smile of her that only he could perceive.
A lot of times.
Every time she, offering herself to him, had told him "The time has come to seize the moment, Trip."
As the Nameless One had done.
As he had done.
"Very well, my dear human beast! That's how one has to do! You don't disappoint me. And, after all, how could you? It would be as if I were disappointing myself!"
Trip smiled again.
"But that's enough now. Go on narrating. You know, I'm pretty curious how you-I managed to get out of the trouble."
His eyes flew back to the PADD.
And the smile faded.
Trip snorted.
He rolled his eyes.
Oh no! Taras again!
Then he shrugged.
"Alright, alright. That's okay. Taras and Atana also have their rights after all. Without forgetting that this jumping from one scene to another gives strength and intensity to the narrative."
Inevitable for him to let go into a wry chuckle.
"Eh, T'Pol and I are really a helluva team."
And with something sounding halfway between a resignation sigh and an amused and self pleased chortle he plunged back into reading.
"Taras, my Lord ..."
Atana extricated herself from Taras' embrace. Sweetly. Reluctantly.
She looked at him with restless eyes.
"What do you mean, Taras, my Lord?"
And there was no sweetness, this time, in that 'my Lord'.
It almost rang as it were some sort of order.
"Explain. Tell me what you mean. What is ..."
Atana' voice cracked.
"What is the Nameless One's design?"
Then her voice picked up strength. It even became whipping.
"Oh alright, alright! A new kingdom will arise, a kingdom of peace and harmony, a kingdom of Elves and Humans of which she will be the Queen! But ..."
The voice lowered again.
Fear and anxiety vibrated in it.
"But how will it really happen? What does our Lord have in mind? The Nameless One?".
A sigh, now Atana's voice.
"I... I understand why you tell me that I will have to be closer than ever to my Princess. I understand ..."
Even a note of crying, now in that voice.
"I understand the price that will have to be paid."
Atana cuddled again in Taras' arms. She hid her face in his chest.
"And... and I thank all the gods that it is not you or I who have to pay such a price!"
Then she lifted her face to him. There were tears in her eyes.
"But how will it happen? I... I must know! I must be prepared for the task that awaits me! Please tell me some thing, my Lord. You are Taras!"
An unfathomable note of pride now in Atana's tone.
"You know."
Taras looked intensely at Atana.
She was beautiful.
Wonderfully beautiful.
And she was his.
But not his slave-girl.
She was his woman.
And she loved him.
A myriad of thoughts flashed through his mind.
Yes, he was Taras.
A blackguard.
And a killer.
A warrior. Ruthless.
With blood-stained hands.
Yet he was now holding in his arms a woman who loved him.
And whom he loved.
A woman who didn't care what he was, what he had done.
And whose love had pushed him to thoughts... high. Thoughts he never thought he could have.
A woman whose love had even pushed him to oppose him.
His Lord.
The Nameless One.
To whom he owed his life and rank.
Yes, he was Taras.
But he was no longer that Taras, the Taras of before.
He was a new Taras.
As... as new was his Lord now.
He too had changed, mutated, by a woman.
By her undreamed-of love.
And the new Taras felt - knew - that the bond of fidelity that had bound him to his transformed Lord had changed, it too, but not for this it had lost in strength.
Indeed, that bond had grown larger.
It had become a bond of loyalty.
Of friendship.
And friendship is even stronger than fidelity.
Stronger than all the blood he had spilled.
Yes, he was Taras.
The Taras who was now his Lord's confidant and... and friend.
The Taras who could not betray the trust placed in him.
Who could not let anyone in on his Lord's plans.
Not even his Atana.
With the risk that something could leak out. Before... before the right time.
Plans in which he was called to play a leading role.
Sure.
A leading role.
Of which he would bring with him remorse and pain forever.
A remorse and a pain that would go to increase the remorse and the pain he now found himself feeling for all he had done.
Yet a remorse and a pain that, somehow - he realized - would mitigate that other remorse, that other pain.
Because they would be the bittersweet upshot of an act of redemption.
Prelude and hope for a better world. Different. Not the world that had forged him to be what he had been.
Would the undertaking be successful? And who could know! But he would fight with all his strength for such a grand feat to succeed. He would not let down the trust of his Lord and... friend!
Yes.
He was Taras.
But the Taras of now.
And so...
So...
"Yes, I know, Atana."
His voice was grave. Grave his gaze.
"But I can't reveal anything."
His hand rose to caress Atana' silky hair. It lingered lightly on the soft tip of her elven ear.
"I wouldn't have done it before, before I had you. I wouldn't have done it out of fidelity, out of fear, out of necessity."
He smiled. Ruefully.
"Even less I can do it now, Atana. Now that I have you. Now that I have become the man you were able to make me become."
Atana felt a warmth inside.
A warmth...
A warmth...
She hugged herself into the arms of her Taras.
Her head resting on her chest.
His voice reached her, low and sweet.
And sad.
Gloomy.
"Our Lord has changed, Atana. He too. And he too for love. But he knows he will always and forever be what he is. He knows ..." - A note of real pain got felt in Taras' voice – "... he knows the world will never forgive him for being the monster he is."
The voice regained vigour.
In it, a patent inkling of pride.
"And, so then, he decided. And he asked me - asked, and not ordered - to be at his side. And not to reveal anything to anyone until the appropriate time. And in the way he has established."
Taras lowered his face. He deposited a light kiss on Atana's hair.
"And I will do it, Atana. I will do it because the bond that bound me to him has also changed. It is now a bond not only of fidelity, fuelled by gratitude and also... also by fear. I certainly cannot deny it. The Nameless One is not a Lord it is possible not to be afraid of. But all this is gone now, Atana. Now the bond that binds me to him is a bond of loyalty and... and friendship."
There was silence.
A long silence.
Then Atana rose to sitting.
She looked at Taras with pensive eyes. Which turned rapidly into a gaze of admiration.
Of pride.
And Taras saw it.
And he felt his chest swell.
"Taras ..."
How sweet, her voice!
What a balm for his exacerbated soul!
"... Taras, my Lord and my love ..."
For his heart!
"... I understand you and I admire you. I am pride of you. And I won't insist anymore."
Then she smiled.
"Certainly, the bond between you and the Nameless One is strong. How... where..."
The smile faded. An expression almost of timorousness got painted on Atana's face.
Her voice was faint. Imbued with the same sentiment perceivable on her visage.
"Do you... do you want to tell me how it started? Can you tell me how you and he met? And what happened next? How did the constitution of... of your dark army come about? This... can you reveal this to me?"
And, at that point, Taras laughed.
"We met under a snow avalanche."
He laughed again. Heartily.
"Indeed, to tell it all, it was him, the avalanche."
She was resting.
Finally she had succumbed to sleep.
To fatigue.
The fatigue of her new life.
And also...
The Nameless One felt a smile - a real smile. A proud smile. Glad. - surface at his lips. Unconsciously he brought his fingers to caress those lion lips still warm from her kisses.
… and also to the labours of love.
He was sitting on the bed.
And was looking at her.
Nothing covered her.
Nothing hid her perfect body.
She lay like that.
Softly abandoned.
The very image of beauty.
His gaze travelled that wonderful body.
The feet.
Small.
Delicious.
The legs.
Softly tapered.
The thighs.
Firm and shapely.
The turned hips.
The flat stomach.
The solid breast.
The graceful arms.
And her face.
That beautiful face, even more beautiful in the peace of sleep.
And finally her ears.
Those incredible pointed, graceful ears that seemed to say 'bite me'.
Trip winced.
"T'Pol! This is T'Pol!"
He looked at the PADD with wide eyes.
He whispered.
"Really this is our story, mine and T'Pol's. And this... I wrote this!"
How many times had he remained dreamily watching T'Pol sleeping, quiet and gorgeous, all naked, after they had made love!
How many times!
How many times!
Enraptured and amazed.
Like the Nameless One.
Strange that he had written that scene? Strange that T'Pol had let him? That she had allowed him to describe - albeit referring to the Princess, who nevertheless was her, T'Pol, lets not forget - the marvellous scene of her dazzling, splendid nakedness? Something that, after all, belonged to him alone?
No. Not strange at all.
He knew T'Pol well, very well.
He knew very well the sexual volcano laying behind her faultlessness, her flaunted decorum.
He was fully aware of her dissimulated desire to be female.
Wholly.
For all intents and purposes.
That was why she had let him.
And he could almost see the face of mock disapproval she must have shown - the raised eyebrow - when he, grinning mischievously, of course, had described the scene.
And her pride, too.
Painted on her vainly austere expression.
Her pride in the pleasure she felt in seeing herself described this way.
Naked and gorgeous.
Abandoned in sleep to his admiring and adoring gaze.
And…
…and how may times…
…how many times, in those moments, had he stood staring at those... 'those incredible pointed, graceful ears that seemed to say bite me'!
Abruptly, Trip shook his head vigorously.
He forced himself to abandon those images, so vivid in his mind. Those thoughts.
He forced himself to continue reading.
Suddenly, the Nameless One realized it was night and cold.
The heat of the burning braziers in the tent was certainly not enough to protect the naked Princess from the rigors of the night.
He shook himself. He grabbed the blanket and with extreme delicacy - a delicacy he never suspected he had - covered the nude body of the girl.
Her whole body. From the feet to the neck. Up to below the chin. Arms included. Leaving only her lovely, delicious head out.
Being maximally careful to avoid any move, any noise, even the slightest, that could wake her up.
And he failed miserably.
He found himself looking at two wonderful wide eyes that looked at him in turn, a little sleepy yet, and nevertheless visibly laughing.
"Thank you."
Her voice was low. And sweet. And silvery.
And then...
Then mischievous.
"But I'm afraid the blanket isn't enough."
He understood. And played along.
"Ah. And what would you need to really warm up, my Princess?"
The Princess' voice grew even more mischievous.
"Oh I don't know. Maybe some human warmth, as Humans would say."
"Human warmth? You mean ..."
"Nothing metaphorical, my Lord."
And her voice seemed to laugh. More mischievous than ever.
"I mean exactly in a physical sense."
More roguish than ever.
"I believe the tight proximity of a human body could be of great help to this miserable blanket."
"Oh sure. You are right, Princess. Too bad, however, that there is no human body nearby that can satisfy your needs."
"No?"
"Eh no, I'm afraid not. Nonetheless, in case you can be satisfied with a body that is only partially human..."
"A true Princess, and moreover elven, knows how to adapt to any circumstance, my Lord."
"Ah well. In that case ..."
But the Nameless One couldn't finish the sentence.
A soft and well-shaped arm flickered out of the blanket and seized him impertinently by his lion mane.
"Enough now, my Lord. I am more than persuaded you are sufficiently human to be able to satisfy my current needs."
A sparkle, in the Princess' look. A sparkle of patent effrontery, amused and brash. And decidedly smug and self-satisfied.
"In truth, judging from what I have been able to appreciate of you live and firsthand and although I'm devoid of previous experiences, I can assert without fear I can be belied that you are human enough to satisfy whatever my need."
The impertinent look turned into an eager glare of impatience.
"Oh come on! Let's quit and come here, under the blanket, with me, and hold me tight."
And the arm pulled him down.
And he offered no resistance.
And as he surrendered to the Princess' arm, she spoke low one more time and it sounded as if some sort of amused, soft laugh was vibrating in her voice again.
"It will good thing for you too. I don't think that, completely naked as you are, you are exactly warm, my Lord."
Her voice became a real laugh.
Silvery.
And overtly sassy.
"Even with all that fur covering you."
It is easy to guess what would have happened to anyone who had dared to formulate such a peculiar appreciation of him, before.
But "before" was "before".
It wasn't now.
And the one who dared so shamelessly to make fun of him, of his feral appearance, was Alel, his Elven Princess.
And so the harshness of the Nameless One's voice couldn't at all disguise his genuine amusement, in some ways even his pleasure, in truth. Nor, for that matter, he did want it.
"You're getting a little too flippant, Princess."
"Oh, did I dare too much, my Lord? Do I deserve to be punished for my insane effrontery?"
"I really think you deserve it."
"Oh, may gods help me! And what punishment do you want to inflict on me?"
"Mh, I have to ponder over it."
"My Lord, if I can dare..."
"Mh, mh and mh. And okay. You can."
"How about making me feel the roughness of your fur on my naked body, by rubbing it against me? It is really coarse. It hurts terribly. As much as I am in love with you, I must confess I can't bear it."
"Well, effectively... I could hold you tightly under the blanket in order to warm up both you and me and at the same time punish you."
"Exactly, my Lord. Two birds with one stone, still to use a saying of your human confreres, don't you think? We warm each other up and meanwhile you punish me. Actually, to think about it, if you rub your fur against me without mercy, the more you hold me tightly the more you punish me. You know, it's one thing to hold me tight to warm me up, another thing to pitilessly rub your rough fur on my sensitive, bare skin."
The Princess gave a contrite smile. Although it is difficult to imagine how a contrite smile can simultaneously be sly.
"I told you, my Lord. Even with all the love I bring you, I really feel a lot of pain when your fur scratches my body. A pain... tremendous."
The smile grew even slyer.
"Tremendous! Tremendous, my Lord!"
"Well, okay, Princess. Okay. I must say it seems well thought to me."
"So don't put any more time in between, my Lord."
The Princess lifted the blanket and gestured eloquently to the Nameless One while dissimulating, but not too much, a cheerful and sly smile.
"Come under the blanket and inflict on your too impertinent Princess the chastisement she deserves. She trembles of fear, but understands it is right for her to undergo a harsh punishment, as much as it can be really hard."
The Princess humbly lowered her head as if to signify conscious acceptance, then lifted her visage again, a roguish look in her beautiful sparkling eyes.
"Punish me, my Lord and Master."
Her gaze glowed like the moon on a serene and quiet, windless night.
"Severely."
And the Nameless One slipped under the blanket and punished the Princess.
Severely.
"Under a snow avalanche? And... the snow avalanche was the Nameless One?"
Taras laughed heartily.
"Yes, you understood well, my little elven female. You understood perfectly well."
"But... but what do you mean? How... how...?"
"It's a long story, Atana. But, if you want to hear it..."
"Of course I want, my Lord! You... you know everything about me! I... I want to know everything about you!"
"Aren't you weary? Don't you want to rest? Tomorrow will be another long and tiring day."
"The night is still long, my Lord. We will have time to rest and... and also..."
Atana blushed.
Her delicate pointed ears seemed to turn white-hot.
"...also to make love again."
Taras smiled, a flicker of benevolent mockery in his eyes.
"I didn't think elven females were so breezy"
Atana's cheeks veered toward a decidedly bright red as her ears even seemed to emanate heat.
But, nevertheless, she smiled in turn. A small sly smile.
"Me neither, my Lord."
Taras laughed again, loudly.
"Okay, okay. I'll tell you everything. About me and the Nameless One."
He looked at her tenderly. He put his arm around her shoulders and set carefully the blanket around the two of them.
"Make yourself comfortable and listen."
Atana sighed with contentment, pressing herself to Taras.
And, in perfect silence, she got ready to listen.
"I think you have been punished enough, Princess."
"Oh no! I don't think so!"
The Princess turned vehemently in the arms of the Nameless One.
She was terribly small compared to him.
A delicious little doll clinging to his immense body.
"My sin was too great! My punishment must continue much longer! I deserve it!"
The Nameless One smiled. There was no doubt. Those bestial lips had learned to smile.
"I'll keep warming you, Princess, but you have to rest. You've been through all sorts of things and tomorrow won't be an easy day. Close your eyes and sleep, as you had started doing before I improvidently woke you up."
"I was sleeping all uncovered!" Now the Princess looked even a little miffed. "If it hadn't been you to wake me, it would have been the cold. And ..." Her prickling expression dissolved into a cheery smile. "... certainly it wouldn't have been the same thing."
"All right, all right. I didn't act badly and ..."
"And you 'punished' me perfectly!"
And this time the Nameless One couldn't help but really laugh.
"And I will continue to punish you, if you don't make your mind up to sleep!"
A more impertinent and craftier smile than the Princess' there could not have been.
"I am no longer sleepy, my Lord. You will have to continue to punish me." A giggle, impertinent. "I'm afraid you will have to work rather hard with me, my Lord and Master, because I really am an incorrigible girl. I will have to be 'severely' punished lot and lot of times."
This did still lack to the Nameless One. That he would find himself sighing with powerless exasperation and, as if this wasn't enough, without being able to conceal at the same time the satisfaction and the genuine amusement for the naughty wit of the Princess.
Even his voice, even if rugged as it couldn't but be, resounded exasperated althoughadmiring and tickled at once, without even him being able to understand how this was possible.
"Why don't you want to heed me, stubborn girl? Tomorrow will be…"
"A demanding day. I know, am aware of it. No need for you to tell me, my Lord. But the very moment I surrendered to my unaccountable feelings for you and the very moment you allowed me to be to your side, ultimately revealing… ultimately revealing that you also felt something for me, I knew my life would be so. Harsh and ponderous. Oh well, not much different, in truth, from my previous existence, and you know this very well. But infinitely more beauteous, my Lord. Infinitely. Because shared with yours. Because our lives are now one."
Something strange, damn weird, happened deep inside the Nameless One at hearing those words.
Feelings were not unknown to him.
Far from it.
But what feelings?
Resentment, rancour, hatred.
These were the feelings that had nourished him.
Which had forged him.
Which had made him to be inside the beast he was outside.
Or sure! He had very good reasons!
But thus it was!
Resentment, rancour, hatred.
Then...
Then he had discovered love.
Oh, he knew very well that love existed!
Deep inside him, he had longed for it. Deep down.
He had denied it, even in front of himself. But he had craved it.
And, incredibly, he had found it.
He loved!
And he was loved in return!
But...
But just for the love that was now was in him, he...
He could not deny to the woman who had been capable of loving him despite who he was what she was entitled to have and that she never would have if their life... if their life were truly one.
And that's why those words hurt him so much, as concurrently doing him so good.
He should split their lives, should make them no longer one, should disappoint her, so as not to condemn her to the fate that, he was fully aware, would sooner or later sweep him up.
This he should do.
And this he had decided to do.
He would pre-empt his fate, would be one step ahead of it.
He would give it a hand, ahead of time.
And, in doing so, he would gift the Princess her true destiny.
And, perhaps, if things had really gone right, the fulfilment of the Princess's destiny would have given the world a better destiny.
A destiny of... of love.
And to disappear for this...
To disappear for her...
Even if badly... very badly... morally and physically… as he could not help but do...
It wasn't such a cruel fate after all.
Possibly - arguably - she would never forgive him.
But she, hopefully... in time... she would forget him.
And he...
Well, where he would end up going, there would be no longer any room for any feeling.
Not even for the regret.
Nor for memory.
Trip felt a lump in his throat.
He pushed it back.
He compelled himself to continue reading.
It wasn't really the case to stop.
"I do not come from the cold north, Atana, I was not born in the lands of the long winter where the Nameless One took its first steps of terror. And... and I with him. Nor was I born in these lands of green woods and of hills, nor did the rugged mountains give me birth. No village witnessed my birth. I was born in a city, a great city, on the shores of the warm southern sea. I was born in Andor. "
Atana looked up. Amazement in her eyes.
"Andor? But Andor ..."
"It no longer exists, I know. It's a heap of ruins. And in the midst of those ruins I was born."
Taras took a long sigh. Then he continued.
"Everyone knows how Andor was destroyed, victim of the fratricidal wars that bloodied and bloodied this world for the human thirst for power. Too powerful was that city to allow it to exist. Not a few Kings of Men thought so, especially because the Majors of the city were not inclined to bring to final destruction the Elven Kingdom, your Kingdom, Atana. It was a city of merchant-warriors. To them, the Elven Kingdom was a Kingdom like any other. They did not care that the Elves were Elves. And so a great number of Kings of Men teamed up and waged war on the city. And annihilated it. Behind them, only a heap of ruins. Of the proud Andor only this remained."
Taras paused for a moment, as if to collect his thoughts.
Atana had curled up on her chest again, waiting for him to continue.
"Yes, everyone knows the fate of Andor, but no one knows that those ruins still harboured traces of life. No one except ..." And Taras' voice grew dark. "... the Elves who found out."
Atana did not dare to interject. That statement, from Talas, his last, made her shiver. But she didn't dare ask. She would know — and her fear deepened — what Taras meant.
"Not all the inhabitants of Andor were dead, Atana. Some were left. Few, miserable Humans who didn't dare venture out of what was left of their city. And who didn't want any news could be had of them. In their eyes, in theirs minds, in their souls, the horrors, the massacres, the torments, the terror through which they had passed were well present, vivid, horrendous. And crazy was the dread in them that they could be identified, once they had left the destroyed city, for what they were. The last survivors of a human stock that had to be wiped out."
Taras looked at Atana with dark eyes.
"So they stayed there, miserably living in hardships." A deep sigh. "But even midst the blackest misery life can be born, Atana. And so someone was born, generated by those derelicts. Someone. Few. And among those few... me."
Taras turned his gaze upwards. It looked like he was watching something that wasn't there.
Maybe... himself.
In that abandoned city in ruins, on the shores of a now deserted sea.
"I grew up there. From a child I became a teenager and from a teenager I became a man. Never going out. Never venturing out of the ruined stones of the destroyed city wall. I grew up in fear of what was outside. But what was outside, one day burst into. Not Humans, though, Atana. Not Humans."
Here! They were at the point! Atana curled into Taras even more.
"Elves. Warriors. Fully armed. With the insignia of the Great Elven Kingdom. Your kingdom, Atana. I knew those insignia, I had been taught. I, all of us, recognized them. Why had they entered the city in ruin? And who knows? Maybe just to camp, in a safe cover. Be as it be, the fact is that their keen eyes, their fine hearing made them discover that the ruins were not uninhabited. They saw us, Atana, they noticed us. And they wanted to take revenge for what Humans were doing to the Elves, to their many Kingdoms, all or nearly all, gathered under the banner of the Supreme Kingdom, your Kingdom Atana. I didn't know anything then, but afterward, later, I learned. I learned of the destruction that, scientifically, methodically - now surreptitiously, now openly; now with weapons, now with deception - Humans were bringing to the brotherhood of the Elven Kingdoms. I couldn't know then, of course, but that work of destructive encirclement Humans - strong by their numbers and their youthful strength and supremely yearning for taking the world domination that from the dawn of time and up to that moment, the moment of human race appearance, had belonged to the Elves - had undertaken against the Elven Kingdoms was in full swing. And it dripped blood. This disruptive work had not come yet to the annihilation of the Kingdom you come from, Atana. The Great Supreme Kingdom of the Elves. The kingdom of your Princess. This happened many, many years later and I learned of it when the grim fame of the Dark Army I belong to had spread everywhere, almost like a gloomy fable, like a dark legend. And what were we for those Elves, if not cursed Humans? Beings of that damned race that was bloodily destroying your greatness? The greatness of the Elves? Beings to be wiped out, only that. It doesn't matter if miserable, it doesn't matter if helpless and unarmed. Human fury had blown away also the inner splendour of the Elves."
Taras heaved a great sigh again, heavy and full of bitterness.
"Those Elves, Atana, hurled themselves against us. My city - its last miserable inhabitants - knew the destructive and bloody fury that you, your Princess, your people, your Kingdom have known at the hands of Humans. But there was a difference, Atana. There was a difference. For us - for me - Humans and Elves were from that moment the same thing. ignoble beings, united by the same murderous rage."
A bitter and cruel grimace on Taras' face
Which made run a shiver along Atana' spine.
"The elven warriors hunted us out one by one. They looked for us among the ruins, among the boulders, along the streets reduced to piles of dusty stones. They slaughtered us one by one. All. Except one. Me."
Nothing of his thoughts - nothing - showed either on the face or in the words of the Nameless One.
He had to continue to be - to appear - for what he was.
The Nameless One.
In love now.
It was useless to deny it, much less conceal it.
But he had to continue to be the Nameless One.
The one his Princess loved... for who he was.
Only in that way could he perpetrate his deception.
The biggest deception of his life.
The most despicable.
The most sublime.
"How did I manage to escape, Atana?"
Taras grinned.
A sarcastic and bitter grin.
"And who knows? I succeeded. That's enough."
His face darkened.
"I slipped among the stones, climbed, fell, got up, and fell again and again got up. Behind me the shouts, the sound of the hooves of the Elves' horses, the screams of my companions. In front of me, around me, the red fog of my fear. I saw nothing, I felt nothing but that obnubilating fog. And, panting, almost breathless, I found myself suddenly out of that fog. Out of the city. On the shores of the sea that its slender and majestic ships once cut through proudly."
Taras' hand was softly stroking Atana's hair.
His voice was low and slight.
"I caught my breath quickly, as fast as I could. I trudged into the foam of the sea that rumbled on the shore. I dived into the waves. Luckily in my rare sorties I had learned to swim, which, moreover, it was unthinkable that the inhabitants of Andor, although reduced to a flicker, did not know how to do and very well, too. And I swam. Desperately. Without straying from the shore. Away from the city. I swam as long as my strength allowed me. And finally, wearily, with no more air in my lungs, I reached the shore. Exhausted, I fell on my back on the sand. I stayed like that, for how long I don't know. I ended up falling asleep, too tired to oppose my sleep. I woke up when it was night. The sea sang near me. The sky above me. Star-studded. I turned my head. Far away, my ruined city, barely visible in the dark. My past. I understood it immediately. Now I was alone. Alone with a future I did not know."
"I seem to understand, my obedient Princess, that you have no longer intention to sleep."
Had he managed to be him?
It looked it was so. At least sufficiently.
"On the contrary, my sagacious Lord."
Sagacious? This had she said? And with that shrewd gaze? No doubt. His Princess was really becoming a little too much flippant. And more and more lovely for him.
"I have every intention of resting again, my Lord. But after."
"After?"
"Yes, after." The Princess's voice became serious. "After you will have continued your story. The story of your life."
"Oh. It had seemed to me to figure out you were no longer very much pleased to hear it."
"What?" - The Princess made a startled expression. - "But no, my Lord! What jumps in your mind? I want to know everything about you! I told you and I'll tell you again! Simply ..." The Princess chortled impertinently. "... simply other needs on my part led me to temporarily stop your recounting."
"Other needs, huh?"
The Princess gave a sassy little laugh again.
"Other needs, yes. And I must say ..." She stretched voluptuously in the arms of the Nameless One, smiling openly and blissfully. "... that you, my Lord, have been decidedly capable of satisfying them fully."
The Nameless had a hard time not smiling openly and blissfully in turn.
Things had taken such a turn that this too could happen to him.
He made it.
He replied in the way it was expected him to do.
Sardonically.
But - damned traitor of a tone! - not that much, actually!
"I'm happy with that, my Princess."
And she outclassed him.
Once again.
It was now becoming a classic.
"Me too, my Lord."
The Nameless One decided in a hurry it was really time to divert the conversation.
Waters were getting dangerous and the Princess had learned to swim all too well. There was the tangible risk it was him and not her who would be submerged.
"Okay, then, under your orders, Princess. I'll resume the narration."
"Very well, my Lord."
"But look, if it wasn't a pleasant story before, it will be even worse from now on."
The Princess gave him a broad smile, hugging him tightly. "
"I am sure, my Lord, that just as you have been able to protect me from the cold, so you will be able to protect me from whatever terrible there may be in your story."
The Nameless felt something inside. A warmth. Another new thing. So beautiful it almost hurt.
And that warmth made him say what he said. Almost involuntarily.
"The story is still long, however, my Princess, and I really wish you had time and way to rest."
"The night hasn't started for so long, my Lord. There will still be time to rest, you and me, and ... and also ..."
The Princess sighed deeply.
Her delicate pointed ears went coloured, as a delicious blush suffused her cheeks.
But her voice resounded confident. And dreamy.
"...also to give you way to meet my needs again."
The Nameless One couldn't help but grin, a flash of amused mockery in his eyes.
"That the Princesses, as such, had so many needs, I was aware, my Lady. We're speaking of Princesses, for gods' beards! Not of common females! But you, my dear Princess, are really full of needs. I didn't think you could be so… demanding."
The Princess's cheeks coloured even more while the tips of her ears almost seemed to reverberate with fire.
"Me neither, my Lord."
But, immediately, she recovered.
She grinned in turn. A flippant broad smile.
"Well, my Lord, let's consider that I am an Elven Princess. Indeed ..." The smile became even broader. Radiant, even. And overtly sassy. "... I am the Elven Princess."
This time the Nameless One laughed openly. Loudly.
"Okay, then. I give up. I know when it's time to raise the white flag."
He watched the Princess with a look that on another face, different from his beastly visage, would be perfectly recognizable for what it was. A look of veritable tenderness. But the Princess by now knew how to recognize every nuance, even the slightest, passing into that one eye of him. That eye so beautifully blue.
And she was absolutely able to see the tenderness that shone in it.
"Make yourself comfortable, Princess, and listen."
The Princess carried out promptly, by pressing herself to the Nameless One while sighing with contentment.
His hoarse and subtly sarcastic voice caressed her sensitive ears.
She had learned to love that voice, by now.
It was his voice.
"So let's see. Where did we stay? Ah yes. On that rocky wall, with my back laying against it; you know, that rocky wall suspended over the nothing of a world of frost down there. Sure. We were at that point. Decidedly a very deplorable situation, my dear Princess, considering, in addition, that I was exhausted and possibly even hungry, even though incapable at that moment of feeling everything except hunger, and, what's more, wrapped in soaked clothes in a world made of frost and whose frost was increasingly penetrating my flesh. And, to end in a great way, without weapons, by now completely defenceless and powerless.
"The Nameless One's voice had now fully regained its usual sardonic tone.
"Substantially, to put it simply, in a situation not too much favourable to ensure that I could disappoint my beloved ex-masters."
The harsh, sardonic voice suddenly went hard.
"Namely, being able to stay alive."
End of Chapter Fifty Five
TBC
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Oh yeah.
Needs.
How many!
Even that of staying alive, though, right?