Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda, I don't own him, I just made him likeable. huggles her Grima plushie
author's note: I promise to make more LONGER chapters very soon, I just felt this story needed a dear diary moment. TY for the reviews guys, and I'll avoid modern words henceforth. (see "henceforth" is archaic LOL)
Chapter Three: from Afar
excerpt from the journal of Grima ,son of Galmod:
It's been a fortnight since our first and only encounter, although I can still feel the warmth of your nearness every time I close my eyes. Why I feel this way, I know not, for I barely know you, and yet you seem so familiar.
You are so close even as I write this. As you kneel at the mantle, your nimble hands delicately polishing the ebony woodwork, I sit above you in the stair landing, hidden from view, afraid to reach out or even speak . Thoughts of you invigorate me and yet terrify me, for I'm not sure if your words of kindness were simply that, just words, or if they denote more than that.
And frankly, I'm not sure which possibility frightens me more.
And so I watch you instead, as you work, oblivious to me and everything I feel. It's better this way, why would you care for me to speak after my cowardice on the rooftop patio? My father always says a fool and his mouth are well met with a slap, and thoroughly slapped myself that fateful evening. I shall return to Rohan within the season, and my life will continue on, despite my lack of wanting it to. It's not in my being to be the type of man who would catch your eye, even if, for a moment it seemed as though I had.
I've been back to the place we met so many times I cannot count, and yet the patio has lost so much for me now. The constellations in their complex beauty torment me as they used to comfort me, for now the Dragon, the Bear, the sisters, are all gone, replaced with images of you. Your dark hair is the night, flowing for a seeming eternity around every inch of the sky, held in place with glittering pins of white fire; your face delicately outlined in brilliant diamonds too exquisite to purchase, as if any man would deserve them if he could.
But I wax poetic about a dream that cannot be. I came to this place alone, and alone shall I stay. Am I a coward for not attempting to approach you again? Perhaps. But if I did, what would I say to you?
And could I live with your answer?