A/N: YAY!!! I'm back, and Today's my birthday!!! Happy New Year, everybody!!!!! Anywho, I've FINALLY updated...thanx for all the reviews, specially Caracandal, Lindsey, hemlock, sopraniluna (i know who you are, and i thought that you had already read this...hmm..y'know, i COULD email it to ya, or print it out and give it to ya, or...nah...i'll just let ya suffer...mwahahahahahaha...cya soon!), starcompass, and Rampant^_^...many thanx, and on with the show...this is my attempt at suspense...yeah...~Jenny the chica~
Chapter Ten: In Which the Mystery is Solved...
Even in her terror and nervousness, Celia could not wait to finally see her husband's face. On the return trip home, the bear asked her if she had talked to her mother. Celia looked away, hoping that he would assume that she was distracted.
He merely said, "I hope you have not, for if you have, all will be lost if you listened to her."
Celia said nothing to this, but the trip back to the castle seemed much longer than when they had gone to her home a week earlier.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
They arrived at the castle near dinnertime, but Celia and the bear did not talk as much as they had before. There was a mysterious air that flooded the entire house, and both occupants were all too keenly aware of it. The progress the two had made in their friendship seemed to now be ebbing as quickly as it had begun, but the uncomfortableness that plagued the meal and conversations was almost foreboding. Celia felt bad for the bear, but she was still too anxious to see her husband.
Celia went up to her room after making a last effort at conversation. When both had said their "goodnights," Celia picked up her skirts and ran up to her bedroom. There, she took the matches and knife from where she had hidden it in her dress and put them in her drawer. She felt her whole body shivering with anticipation, nervousness, and fear, but poor Celia was frighteningly determined.
After sundown, he came again, like every night, to her room. Although Celia had always hated it before when he finally fell asleep, she longed for it eagerly this time. Thankfully, her husband did not seem to experience the same quietness as the bear, and the two talked for a long while before finally sleeping. He told Celia how much he had missed her, and asked all about her trip. She sheepishly answered his many questions, but noticed how much she had missed talking with him over just the past week. Too many times she felt her heart constrict in painful agony when he spoke of how much he had missed her. It made her feel like a traitor to him, and once she almost altogether lost the courage and suspicion to light the candle.
But terrified fear had driven Celia this far, and the force of it only buckled for a moment, not even weakening.
Celia waited a long time, even after she heard his last word and movement. She laid perfectly still on the bed, as if the slightest shuffle would wake him, which had never been the case before, but one seems to do strange things when one is absolutely terrified. Finally, she heard his familiar deep breathing, which she had once regarded as soothing, now she understood as relief.
Celia slowly inched towards her nightstand, freezing in a standstill every time her husband's breathing even slightly changed. She finally got to the point where her hand was on the drawer handle, and she slowly pulled it towards her, cursing the squeak of it silently.
She fumbled around until she grasped the small box, and it was easy to find the large knife, wrapped in leather. Pulling it out from the sheath, Celia shuddered at the weapon. She hated the thought of killing someone she had come to love so much, but her mother had convinced her that the unseen thing sleeping beside her was something terrible that was just waiting to destroy her. It was all very rational; betray before you are betrayed. Yet Celia did not think of it as betrayal, since the creature had lied to her from the start.
Groping around on the top of her nightstand for her faithful candle, she unwittingly hit the book she had been reading before she had left for her home.
It fell to the floor with a huge "CRASH!"
Time stood still in the following moments for Celia. Rigid in the fear of being discovered, she heard a movement and a groan from behind her. Utterly immobile, she waited an eternity before she realized that he had merely turned over in his sleep.
Silently laughing and smiling at herself for her fear, Celia continued to search for her candle with her hands, although she did it much more gingerly this time.
At long last, it was in her possession, and she slowly eased her self up with her elbows until she was finally in a sitting position. There, she struck the match, turning her back on her husband to shield the light as much as possible. The light flickered, and the match went out just as it touched the wick. The wick remained dead for a few horrid moments, but a faint light of orange could be seen in the black wick, and the flame burst to life. Celia cupped her hand around it, watching it to make sure the wax didn't drip, and brought it closer to her husband.
To her chagrin, he had rolled over so that his back was to her, and all that she could see was curly blond hair, and she could have sworn hearing somewhere that there had been trolls with blond hair.
Overflowing with long-concealed curiosity, Celia bent over him, then reeled back, her candle dangerously teetering back and forth in its ill-fitting holder.
There was no possible way now that her husband could be a troll. She had never seen any man as handsome as he was, but he seemed to perfectly match his voice and personality. Studying him, she noted once again his blond hair, which softly tumbled down to frame his face, and his hair shone in her candlelight, which lit up the long-darkened room very well.
He had fallen asleep with a gentle smile on his face, as if he had just remembered a very funny joke the instant before sleep had claimed him for the night.
Delightfully surprised and deeply regretting her doubts, she bent once more to explore his tanned face.
As she did so, Celia momentarily forgot her wobbly candle. As she guided the candle over his shoulder at a dangerous angle, her hand was shaking so that three fatal drops dripped and fell on his shoulder.
Celia did not notice until she heard a sharp cry of pain. She looked at his face to be greeted by a face twisted in sudden and unexpected pain. Fearful that he would wake, Celia began to bring her candle up near her lips to blow it out. But in her surprise, her instincts were moving in slow motion. She had scarcely begun her candle's ascent when her husband jerked up from beneath her, almost sending her candle flying.
He turned to her, still in pain, turning towards her since she had shirked away from over him when he had woken.
The look on his face, overflowing with hurt, pain, lost, and abused, trust, broke Celia's heart.
Chapter Ten: In Which the Mystery is Solved...
Even in her terror and nervousness, Celia could not wait to finally see her husband's face. On the return trip home, the bear asked her if she had talked to her mother. Celia looked away, hoping that he would assume that she was distracted.
He merely said, "I hope you have not, for if you have, all will be lost if you listened to her."
Celia said nothing to this, but the trip back to the castle seemed much longer than when they had gone to her home a week earlier.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
They arrived at the castle near dinnertime, but Celia and the bear did not talk as much as they had before. There was a mysterious air that flooded the entire house, and both occupants were all too keenly aware of it. The progress the two had made in their friendship seemed to now be ebbing as quickly as it had begun, but the uncomfortableness that plagued the meal and conversations was almost foreboding. Celia felt bad for the bear, but she was still too anxious to see her husband.
Celia went up to her room after making a last effort at conversation. When both had said their "goodnights," Celia picked up her skirts and ran up to her bedroom. There, she took the matches and knife from where she had hidden it in her dress and put them in her drawer. She felt her whole body shivering with anticipation, nervousness, and fear, but poor Celia was frighteningly determined.
After sundown, he came again, like every night, to her room. Although Celia had always hated it before when he finally fell asleep, she longed for it eagerly this time. Thankfully, her husband did not seem to experience the same quietness as the bear, and the two talked for a long while before finally sleeping. He told Celia how much he had missed her, and asked all about her trip. She sheepishly answered his many questions, but noticed how much she had missed talking with him over just the past week. Too many times she felt her heart constrict in painful agony when he spoke of how much he had missed her. It made her feel like a traitor to him, and once she almost altogether lost the courage and suspicion to light the candle.
But terrified fear had driven Celia this far, and the force of it only buckled for a moment, not even weakening.
Celia waited a long time, even after she heard his last word and movement. She laid perfectly still on the bed, as if the slightest shuffle would wake him, which had never been the case before, but one seems to do strange things when one is absolutely terrified. Finally, she heard his familiar deep breathing, which she had once regarded as soothing, now she understood as relief.
Celia slowly inched towards her nightstand, freezing in a standstill every time her husband's breathing even slightly changed. She finally got to the point where her hand was on the drawer handle, and she slowly pulled it towards her, cursing the squeak of it silently.
She fumbled around until she grasped the small box, and it was easy to find the large knife, wrapped in leather. Pulling it out from the sheath, Celia shuddered at the weapon. She hated the thought of killing someone she had come to love so much, but her mother had convinced her that the unseen thing sleeping beside her was something terrible that was just waiting to destroy her. It was all very rational; betray before you are betrayed. Yet Celia did not think of it as betrayal, since the creature had lied to her from the start.
Groping around on the top of her nightstand for her faithful candle, she unwittingly hit the book she had been reading before she had left for her home.
It fell to the floor with a huge "CRASH!"
Time stood still in the following moments for Celia. Rigid in the fear of being discovered, she heard a movement and a groan from behind her. Utterly immobile, she waited an eternity before she realized that he had merely turned over in his sleep.
Silently laughing and smiling at herself for her fear, Celia continued to search for her candle with her hands, although she did it much more gingerly this time.
At long last, it was in her possession, and she slowly eased her self up with her elbows until she was finally in a sitting position. There, she struck the match, turning her back on her husband to shield the light as much as possible. The light flickered, and the match went out just as it touched the wick. The wick remained dead for a few horrid moments, but a faint light of orange could be seen in the black wick, and the flame burst to life. Celia cupped her hand around it, watching it to make sure the wax didn't drip, and brought it closer to her husband.
To her chagrin, he had rolled over so that his back was to her, and all that she could see was curly blond hair, and she could have sworn hearing somewhere that there had been trolls with blond hair.
Overflowing with long-concealed curiosity, Celia bent over him, then reeled back, her candle dangerously teetering back and forth in its ill-fitting holder.
There was no possible way now that her husband could be a troll. She had never seen any man as handsome as he was, but he seemed to perfectly match his voice and personality. Studying him, she noted once again his blond hair, which softly tumbled down to frame his face, and his hair shone in her candlelight, which lit up the long-darkened room very well.
He had fallen asleep with a gentle smile on his face, as if he had just remembered a very funny joke the instant before sleep had claimed him for the night.
Delightfully surprised and deeply regretting her doubts, she bent once more to explore his tanned face.
As she did so, Celia momentarily forgot her wobbly candle. As she guided the candle over his shoulder at a dangerous angle, her hand was shaking so that three fatal drops dripped and fell on his shoulder.
Celia did not notice until she heard a sharp cry of pain. She looked at his face to be greeted by a face twisted in sudden and unexpected pain. Fearful that he would wake, Celia began to bring her candle up near her lips to blow it out. But in her surprise, her instincts were moving in slow motion. She had scarcely begun her candle's ascent when her husband jerked up from beneath her, almost sending her candle flying.
He turned to her, still in pain, turning towards her since she had shirked away from over him when he had woken.
The look on his face, overflowing with hurt, pain, lost, and abused, trust, broke Celia's heart.