Chapter 5- My Condolences To You, Sir.
After gathering the few posessions he still had with him, Allen made his way to the thick-set wooden door of his tiny room. He had glanced back to check it was empty, when something caught his eye.
He walked half-way across the room and kneeled upon the floor.
-What's this..?-
In his hand Allen held a black leather cord draped across his fingers. Laying snug in the middle of his palm, the black cord slung through it, a creamy silver ring winked up at him, the sun still shining strong through the tall window. The glint of silver was what had caught his eye.
-It must be Sky's..-
Shrugging, Allen pocketed the cord and ring. Then, after checking the room once again, he took his leave of the little inn and headed back towards his manor, a resolute look in his deep blue eyes.
* * * *
Allen slung open the door of his home.
-There's probably no-one here anyway.-
As he stood in the hall of the house he had spent his childhood in, Allen felt floods of memories drowning him all at once. There were some happy ones- they're always are...but thinking of the happy always leaves you to dwell on what your left with now. Nothing. Which leaves you to think of Why. Thus, Allen stood alone in the remnants of the once impressive hallway, thinking of his father.
-Oh yes...Father had been first to leave- He thought bitterly -...Then Celena...and then...- His throat tightened and he bowed his head, letting the silky threads of golden hair hide his face.
-...Mother...and now Celena again.-
"Why did you all leave me?" he voiced the thoughts that had tormented him for so long.
"I don't understand!" Allen's empty voice echoed round the hall. Empty. Like his home. Like his life. Empty.
Finally. He let go. Allen was tired. So tired...to have to hold everything in for so long...the barrier his mind had built, to hold back those impowering emotions. Collapsed.
"HOW COULD YOU ALL LEAVE ME LIKE THAT??" Allen fell to his knees, "Like this..." he whimpered, but he no longer cared.
-Let them laugh. I don't care.- Let who laugh?...Who..? Who is left?!
For how long Allen lay sprawled in the hall shouting out his anguish, screaming, it was hard to tell. Overwhelmed with his losses, he continued to question why..Why??! until his voice had become hoarse, when he sat up. Silent now. Allen had realised. Realised that no-one was going to answer the questions burning inside him, but to open up after so long had felt good nonetheless.
Allen stood up straight, but to an onlooker, it would seem that he was carrying a heavy burden, one that no-one could help him with. Swaying ever so slightly, and with his head bowed, Allen approached the lengthy flight of stairs at the other end of the hall. The young swordsman seemed to have aged greatly in the last few days and appeared to walk as though in a dream.
Inside though, Allen's head was reeling with thoughts, one thing he knew for sure. He was leaving, not just Astoria, his home, but himself too. All the manners, politics, and memories he would leave behind him this very day.
He had tried to deal with his past, but had failed. So now he will run. As the only other option was to end his miserable existence, Allen spat at this thought.
-He's not worth it. That piece of shit can go @&*%$ for all I care because he's not getting this swordsman. Not until i'm old and frail and unable to fight.-
Allen continued walking upwards until he came to a dead end, when he looked above him at the ancient wooden trapdoor shut tightly. It was too high up to reach so Allen came back with a chair and stood bent above it, tugging at the rusted metal ring. The trap-door showed no signs of moving.
Realising it wasn't going to budge, Allen sat upon the chair thinking of a way to force it open. He stood up again and inspected the wood around the edges more closely. Having been kept in the same position for so long, the wood had begun to rot and felt softer around its sides. Jumping lightly off the chair, Allen headed out of the corridor and a few minutes later, returned with a long, slightly dented metal pole, probably from the ruined kitchen below.
As Allen had explored the house, while looking for something to open the trapdoor with, he had discovered that some petty thieves had crept in after finding the door unlocked and stolen food. He knew they were only inexperienced pickpockets, as they had only stolen the food stores, then left the rest of the more valuable items in the manor intact.
Standing once again upon the chair, Allen wedged one end of the pole into the side of the little door, then pushed it the other way like a lever. After listening for an encouraging soggy, splintering sound, he began to push harder. After a final crack, Allen jumped blithely to one side as the door collapsed, crashing down onto the chair, splitting it in two.
-Damn it...now I have to get another one...Sorry Mother.- Allen grimaced as he cleared the remains of one of his mothers beloved chairs from beneath the opening in the ceiling to clear a space for another.
After retrieving another chair identical to the previous one. Allen climbed up and peered blindly into the dusty attic. More memories. Allen grunted, he hadn't thought it possible for there to be more that he had forgotten. Still standing on the chair, Allen stretched out both his arms and searched vainly for the candles and matches that he knew should be there. Groping across the dusty floor his hands reached out and found what he was looking for, then dragged them into the light below.
After a few attempts Allen lit the candle and held it above is head, while he looked again into the musty, neglected attic.
What Allen saw looked no different to how he had left it, the layers of dust from six years lay undisturbed, covering the worthless junk left to him by his ancestors, and an ornate wooden chest. Ignoring the piles of unrecognisable objects laying around him, Allen walked hesitantly through the dust. The musty room made the silence almost unbearable, broken only by the gentle thud of his footsteps.
"We meet again." Allen stood in front of the chest. He felt no regrets, nothing was left to him now.
Kneeling down, he gently lifted the lid and stared down at its contents. Then, reaching in, Allen pulled out what seemed to be a rough navy blue piece of cloth but as it unravelled, it showed its true form to be that of a cloak. He slung the garment over his arm then reached in to retrieve the next object, a golden band. It gleamed dimly in the candlelight. His long fingers traced the circlet of gold and felt a piece of himself restored, the part that cared nothing of courtesy and politics, but the part that longed to be free without the restrictions and rules that are a part of society. Allen reached into the chest a last time and withdrew a dark hilted sword. It gleamed a dark blue in the dim light but without it, it was a deep pitch-black. Reaching down to his belt, he unbuckled the ivory- cream hilted sword, that had served him so long, then replaced it with the black one. Gently, he lay the ivory sword in the chest and closed it once again. Allen stood, then without a backward glance returned to the opening in the floor.
"Free..."
* * * *
Authors Note- Finally some angst. Soz if i'm not too good...and soz I disappeared 4 a bit. I had writers block -_- Bleh. This is the longest chapter I fink I've eva written... *Update..* Second draft..there shouldn't be so many typos now ^^;;
~ AvaRicE
After gathering the few posessions he still had with him, Allen made his way to the thick-set wooden door of his tiny room. He had glanced back to check it was empty, when something caught his eye.
He walked half-way across the room and kneeled upon the floor.
-What's this..?-
In his hand Allen held a black leather cord draped across his fingers. Laying snug in the middle of his palm, the black cord slung through it, a creamy silver ring winked up at him, the sun still shining strong through the tall window. The glint of silver was what had caught his eye.
-It must be Sky's..-
Shrugging, Allen pocketed the cord and ring. Then, after checking the room once again, he took his leave of the little inn and headed back towards his manor, a resolute look in his deep blue eyes.
* * * *
Allen slung open the door of his home.
-There's probably no-one here anyway.-
As he stood in the hall of the house he had spent his childhood in, Allen felt floods of memories drowning him all at once. There were some happy ones- they're always are...but thinking of the happy always leaves you to dwell on what your left with now. Nothing. Which leaves you to think of Why. Thus, Allen stood alone in the remnants of the once impressive hallway, thinking of his father.
-Oh yes...Father had been first to leave- He thought bitterly -...Then Celena...and then...- His throat tightened and he bowed his head, letting the silky threads of golden hair hide his face.
-...Mother...and now Celena again.-
"Why did you all leave me?" he voiced the thoughts that had tormented him for so long.
"I don't understand!" Allen's empty voice echoed round the hall. Empty. Like his home. Like his life. Empty.
Finally. He let go. Allen was tired. So tired...to have to hold everything in for so long...the barrier his mind had built, to hold back those impowering emotions. Collapsed.
"HOW COULD YOU ALL LEAVE ME LIKE THAT??" Allen fell to his knees, "Like this..." he whimpered, but he no longer cared.
-Let them laugh. I don't care.- Let who laugh?...Who..? Who is left?!
For how long Allen lay sprawled in the hall shouting out his anguish, screaming, it was hard to tell. Overwhelmed with his losses, he continued to question why..Why??! until his voice had become hoarse, when he sat up. Silent now. Allen had realised. Realised that no-one was going to answer the questions burning inside him, but to open up after so long had felt good nonetheless.
Allen stood up straight, but to an onlooker, it would seem that he was carrying a heavy burden, one that no-one could help him with. Swaying ever so slightly, and with his head bowed, Allen approached the lengthy flight of stairs at the other end of the hall. The young swordsman seemed to have aged greatly in the last few days and appeared to walk as though in a dream.
Inside though, Allen's head was reeling with thoughts, one thing he knew for sure. He was leaving, not just Astoria, his home, but himself too. All the manners, politics, and memories he would leave behind him this very day.
He had tried to deal with his past, but had failed. So now he will run. As the only other option was to end his miserable existence, Allen spat at this thought.
-He's not worth it. That piece of shit can go @&*%$ for all I care because he's not getting this swordsman. Not until i'm old and frail and unable to fight.-
Allen continued walking upwards until he came to a dead end, when he looked above him at the ancient wooden trapdoor shut tightly. It was too high up to reach so Allen came back with a chair and stood bent above it, tugging at the rusted metal ring. The trap-door showed no signs of moving.
Realising it wasn't going to budge, Allen sat upon the chair thinking of a way to force it open. He stood up again and inspected the wood around the edges more closely. Having been kept in the same position for so long, the wood had begun to rot and felt softer around its sides. Jumping lightly off the chair, Allen headed out of the corridor and a few minutes later, returned with a long, slightly dented metal pole, probably from the ruined kitchen below.
As Allen had explored the house, while looking for something to open the trapdoor with, he had discovered that some petty thieves had crept in after finding the door unlocked and stolen food. He knew they were only inexperienced pickpockets, as they had only stolen the food stores, then left the rest of the more valuable items in the manor intact.
Standing once again upon the chair, Allen wedged one end of the pole into the side of the little door, then pushed it the other way like a lever. After listening for an encouraging soggy, splintering sound, he began to push harder. After a final crack, Allen jumped blithely to one side as the door collapsed, crashing down onto the chair, splitting it in two.
-Damn it...now I have to get another one...Sorry Mother.- Allen grimaced as he cleared the remains of one of his mothers beloved chairs from beneath the opening in the ceiling to clear a space for another.
After retrieving another chair identical to the previous one. Allen climbed up and peered blindly into the dusty attic. More memories. Allen grunted, he hadn't thought it possible for there to be more that he had forgotten. Still standing on the chair, Allen stretched out both his arms and searched vainly for the candles and matches that he knew should be there. Groping across the dusty floor his hands reached out and found what he was looking for, then dragged them into the light below.
After a few attempts Allen lit the candle and held it above is head, while he looked again into the musty, neglected attic.
What Allen saw looked no different to how he had left it, the layers of dust from six years lay undisturbed, covering the worthless junk left to him by his ancestors, and an ornate wooden chest. Ignoring the piles of unrecognisable objects laying around him, Allen walked hesitantly through the dust. The musty room made the silence almost unbearable, broken only by the gentle thud of his footsteps.
"We meet again." Allen stood in front of the chest. He felt no regrets, nothing was left to him now.
Kneeling down, he gently lifted the lid and stared down at its contents. Then, reaching in, Allen pulled out what seemed to be a rough navy blue piece of cloth but as it unravelled, it showed its true form to be that of a cloak. He slung the garment over his arm then reached in to retrieve the next object, a golden band. It gleamed dimly in the candlelight. His long fingers traced the circlet of gold and felt a piece of himself restored, the part that cared nothing of courtesy and politics, but the part that longed to be free without the restrictions and rules that are a part of society. Allen reached into the chest a last time and withdrew a dark hilted sword. It gleamed a dark blue in the dim light but without it, it was a deep pitch-black. Reaching down to his belt, he unbuckled the ivory- cream hilted sword, that had served him so long, then replaced it with the black one. Gently, he lay the ivory sword in the chest and closed it once again. Allen stood, then without a backward glance returned to the opening in the floor.
"Free..."
* * * *
Authors Note- Finally some angst. Soz if i'm not too good...and soz I disappeared 4 a bit. I had writers block -_- Bleh. This is the longest chapter I fink I've eva written... *Update..* Second draft..there shouldn't be so many typos now ^^;;
~ AvaRicE