Surrogate Jewels - Chapter Six
Interlude
Sweet songs were sung well into the night,
and all in range halted briefly with delight,
indulging the melody, closing their eyes from sight.
One single voice, both skilled and fair,
rose clear and strong into the air.
Out of harm's reach, above hate or retreat,
the voice rang gladly, of true love and great feats.
When the poems and tales had all been told,
lest his sound grow old,
the singer could sing no more,
so the children he bid goodnight- repeatedly as an encore.
At last they answered, thinking it more than deserved;
their voices like whispers, rather ignored than heard.
Relieved to tears, the singer smiled in thanks,
stood from his chair, and left without haste.
The muffled sound of falling footsteps fading to silence in the distance, but the telltale creak of an old wood door told of Maglor's entrance to his own room. One child rose from the bed immediately, and crossed the room to draw the curtains open.
Still tucked into the adjacent bed, his brother asked, "Do you like it here?"
Gazing at the stars above, the other replied, "I hate it here."
To better see his twin, the child sat up in bed and bit his lower lip. "Mother said not to use that word."
"Mother's not here," his brother answered, bitterly.
The sitting child frowned, and wiped at his face as unkind memories fought for his attention. Seeking a timely distraction, he asked, "Do you feel like singing? I remember some of Maglor's songs..."
"About what, happiness and love and peace? No, I don't care to recall."
The other sobbed once before catching himself, holding his breath to keep silent. But it was enough. Enough for his brother to feel ashamed and sorry for his words, and return to comfort his twin.
"I'm sorry, Elenion."
"Are you mad at me?" Elenion blurted, lifting his tear-streaked face, his pained eyes full of confusion.
"No," replied his brother, crawling back into bed. "Of course not."
So terrible was their mutual grief over recent occurrences that grudges were never held between them; to do so would be unbearable. They felt each other's pain as surely as their own, and both understood how frustration could sometimes warp one's heart and actions. They lay back against their pillows together, close in one another's embrace, and Eldahir dried his brother's tears with the sleeve of his shirt. For a while they remained thusly, without comfort or assurance needed in words.
"Eldahir, I miss mother," one said suddenly. "It isn't getting easier, like Maglor said it would."
"I know," answered the other, adding tensely, "He knows it too."
"I think..." Elenion searched carefully for the best words. "I think I want to leave. I don't care what happens; I just want to go."
Eldahir pushed his brother away gently, and only by a few inches, looking long at the face that was his own mirror image. "Do you mean that? You said you were so afraid, when I got angry with Maglor that time and yelled at him... You said you think they'll hurt us if we do things like that, if we make them mad at us."
His brother frowned. "They cannot hurt us if we're gone, whether they're mad or not." Looking down, he said quieter, "And I hurt already, Eldahir, right now, I hurt inside. Please... can we go?"
Eldahir lifted his brother's chin, and asked softly, "Do you remember which way we came?"
"A little," was the hesitant reply.
"The sun rose on our right and set on our left, did it not?"
A smile came to Elenion, for he sensed his twin's thoughts. "Yes, but it will rise on our left and set on our right, when we go back."
Eldahir smiled as well, though his was a bit less innocent. "Until tomorrow then, Elenion."
"Until tomorrow."
***continued***