A/N; My first Ella ficcie! I'm putting some roots into this fandom, besides the random obsessiveness or Harry Potter. And Angst, as usual.
Disbelief and Perpetual Gloom
As soon as I took the letter, I knew something was wrong.
Not wrong in a sense that the paper was different, or that the thing would suddenly grow ogres, but that something-
wasn't quite the same.
At first, I believed it was an illusion, a trick of the eye. I must have reread it 5 times before the full meaning of the words finally managed to crawl into my head.
But I still couldn't believe it. It was so unlike Ella to write such a note, so unlike her to do such a thing. But women are that way, I suppose. They play games with you, and then drop you cold.
At first, I couldn't hate Ella. I couldn't think of Ella. I couldn't write of Ella. Instead, I channeled all my hate into Hattie.
It must have been Hattie's fault. The ugly, bucktoothed nutcracker. She must have convinced her to do such a thing. It seemed appropiate to place the blame on her.
Slowly, I found myself in front of the fireplace, shredding Ella's note. No! my mind screamed. No! You fool! That's all you have left of her!
But I watched in satisfaction as the flames consumed the cursed paper. The last word to burn away to black was "laughing".
I almost smiled. Almost. Couldn't it have been a trick? Couldn't Hattie have forged the note in hopes of winning me? Couldn't it? But the hurt was already so deep that there was no doubt in my mind that Ella was no more than a minx.
So foolish of me. So foolish of me to have fallen for such a girl. But she seemed so good, so honest, so very real. She cried at her mother's funeral, she was wonderfully clumsy and she could make me laugh like no one else.
So much for her.
I wondered what she is doing. Is she at some rich man's mansion, eating a lavish dinner? Or is she still Ella of Frell, crying repeatedly over her loss?
I wonder. Why am I so blind and so gullible? Father would be ashamed of me, to have fallen for such tricks. I must be able to choose the right lady to marry, as we are having three balls when I return.
Sometimes I wonder if Ella will be there.
I can't get her out of my mind, no more letters from her, I suppose. Unless she will write another note basking in my unhappiness, I shall probaly see or hear no more of her.
I resist the urge to peer into any lavish carriages, in hopes of catching one more glimpse. So far, I have not seen Ella laughing at the world and smiling at her jewels. I hope I never will. It would probaly ruin all plans my father has for me. I would no longer be fit to catch ogres or save elves. I would be at home, strapped down to a chair and weepping until no tears were left.
Last night I had a dream. I dreamt that I had looked into a carriage and Ella had been in it, smiling at me and motioning for me to come in. But as soon as I opened the door, a strange girl in a mask had taken me away.
What does this mean?
I hope Ella will come to the ball.
No, I don't.
Yes, I do.
No, I don't.
I shall pay no mind to her from now on. I shall not speak her name.
I swept the ashes from the fireplace and put them in a glass box.
--fini--
Yes, I know... Not my best angst. For the life of me, I still can't see why G i n n y was so well received. Be a darling and tell me my weak points. I need it.
Disbelief and Perpetual Gloom
As soon as I took the letter, I knew something was wrong.
Not wrong in a sense that the paper was different, or that the thing would suddenly grow ogres, but that something-
wasn't quite the same.
At first, I believed it was an illusion, a trick of the eye. I must have reread it 5 times before the full meaning of the words finally managed to crawl into my head.
But I still couldn't believe it. It was so unlike Ella to write such a note, so unlike her to do such a thing. But women are that way, I suppose. They play games with you, and then drop you cold.
At first, I couldn't hate Ella. I couldn't think of Ella. I couldn't write of Ella. Instead, I channeled all my hate into Hattie.
It must have been Hattie's fault. The ugly, bucktoothed nutcracker. She must have convinced her to do such a thing. It seemed appropiate to place the blame on her.
Slowly, I found myself in front of the fireplace, shredding Ella's note. No! my mind screamed. No! You fool! That's all you have left of her!
But I watched in satisfaction as the flames consumed the cursed paper. The last word to burn away to black was "laughing".
I almost smiled. Almost. Couldn't it have been a trick? Couldn't Hattie have forged the note in hopes of winning me? Couldn't it? But the hurt was already so deep that there was no doubt in my mind that Ella was no more than a minx.
So foolish of me. So foolish of me to have fallen for such a girl. But she seemed so good, so honest, so very real. She cried at her mother's funeral, she was wonderfully clumsy and she could make me laugh like no one else.
So much for her.
I wondered what she is doing. Is she at some rich man's mansion, eating a lavish dinner? Or is she still Ella of Frell, crying repeatedly over her loss?
I wonder. Why am I so blind and so gullible? Father would be ashamed of me, to have fallen for such tricks. I must be able to choose the right lady to marry, as we are having three balls when I return.
Sometimes I wonder if Ella will be there.
I can't get her out of my mind, no more letters from her, I suppose. Unless she will write another note basking in my unhappiness, I shall probaly see or hear no more of her.
I resist the urge to peer into any lavish carriages, in hopes of catching one more glimpse. So far, I have not seen Ella laughing at the world and smiling at her jewels. I hope I never will. It would probaly ruin all plans my father has for me. I would no longer be fit to catch ogres or save elves. I would be at home, strapped down to a chair and weepping until no tears were left.
Last night I had a dream. I dreamt that I had looked into a carriage and Ella had been in it, smiling at me and motioning for me to come in. But as soon as I opened the door, a strange girl in a mask had taken me away.
What does this mean?
I hope Ella will come to the ball.
No, I don't.
Yes, I do.
No, I don't.
I shall pay no mind to her from now on. I shall not speak her name.
I swept the ashes from the fireplace and put them in a glass box.
--fini--
Yes, I know... Not my best angst. For the life of me, I still can't see why G i n n y was so well received. Be a darling and tell me my weak points. I need it.