Title: First Sight
Chapter: 7: Knowing with Certainty
Author: Alkalphiel and The Scribe
Summary: Alkalphiel works things out for herself.
Feedback: Yes, please! Post reviews or email alkalphiel@yahoo.com
A/N: The Scribe: Thanks to LadyTremere and ola for their reviews. You make my day! LadyTremere, I've addressed a few of your comments in my revisions, and I think you'll find that Chapter 3 reads a bit better now . . . Usual disclaimers apply.
Alkalphiel: This chapter, I'm afraid, contains a great deal of my internal musings. Although I prefer not to share so much of myself, I shall make the sacrifice for the sakes of my audience members.
~*~
I did not sleep that night. Instead I kept vigil by the window, watching the stars and wishing for my heart to be whole. How many nights had I spent gazing at this very sky after I met Quellepaural? It was as pointless to try to count the moments I had wasted on the guardsman as it would be to try to count the stars in the sky. Finally, as dawn began to tinge the horizon pink, I found the strength to set those moments apart from me and let them go.
Having cast off the ghosts of heartbreak, I imagined that my path would immediately be clear. Strangely enough, this was not so. I still could not determine how I felt about Legolas. My only idea was to start with the very basic parts of myself and work through everything until I understood the strange and twisting ways my emotions led.
I knew, KNEW that the false life bond wasn't my fault. Unless at least five other Elves were running around with the same defect as I . . . and that was a reality that I wasn't prepared to accept. Since that couldn't be the reason for my hesitance, I had to discover what held me back from embracing the Elf I hoped was my true soul mate.
He's a prince, a small voice inside me whispered. He's a prince and you're not royalty. You're lowly, and you're . . . plain. And clumsy. And not very serene, either.
So there I had it. Mentally reminding myself never again to investigate my reasons for anything, I faced those unpleasant truths head on. I was plain. Sure, I outshone any Man, Dwarf, Hobbit or other denizen of Middle Earth - but beside my kin I was nothing special and even a little unsightly.
And I was clumsy. Look how I'd managed to run into that punch bowl! What kind of introduction was that for the supposed soul mate of a prince? "That's not the only time I've done something like that, either," I whispered into the morning breeze. Ever since I was small, I'd been the most awkward Elf anyone knew. Mellaithwen was fond of telling gleeful stories about the many times I'd fallen out of trees. I'd become steadily better at climbing as I grew older, but my balance was never as sure as my sisters' and friends' and I'd long ago despaired of taking to the trees truly effortlessly. How many times had my mother looked at me and muttered, "My eldest is more Man than Elf," leaving me with an empty sense of failure? It was more of a family joke than a true criticism now, but occasionally the words stung with their old weight.
Which brought me to my third fault: my tumultuous emotions. I allowed thoughtless remarks to linger in my mind, upsetting me visibly. I didn't carry myself with the grace and bearing that should have come naturally to me. I fretted over my shortcomings! No Elf should be as easily unnerved as I was.
The reason finally came to me. I couldn't accept that I might be Prince Legolas' soul mate because I wasn't anything that Elves were supposed to be. How could one who barely lived up to the lowest standards of her kind ever DREAM that she might one day rule them? How could I ever dream that there existed the other half of my being, the one who would love me always and unfailingly, despite my faults?
Quellepaural had reinforced an old fear of mine, the fear that not only did I fail to live up to the superficial perfection of other Elves but that I was internally flawed as well. It did not seem too far-fetched to believe that my relationships would fall short of expectations. A part of the Elven perfection that mystifies Men is our relationships with one another, our ability to find love that lasts the length of our immortal lives - an eternity. The very reason that we are able to do this is the life bond. One other soul, bound to ours from before we are born. We seek unceasingly for our soul mates, some finding each other young and others searching for many thousands of years. I'd not felt the drive as strongly as others, prompting my mother's frustration at my apparent apathy.
For my own part, I had taken it as a sign that perhaps I was not meant to have a partner yet. My best friends had been just as slow as I; only Telepechorien had found and married her one true love. However, as my mother was so quick to point out, Mellaithwen and Tanhuineion were at least meeting others. And so I returned to the doubt - was there a soul mate for me?
Here at last was a true opportunity for me to answer my own question. I'd never inquired into others' bonds, so I had no criteria against which to measure what I felt for Prince Legolas. I had no choice but to trust my instincts in this matter, since the prince evidently had no compunctions about trusting his.
I would try this, I decided. What harm could there be in remaining here in the palace, getting to know Prince Legolas? What harm could there be in finally trusting my heart? Maybe now was my time at last to know with certainty that I wasn't sentenced to an eternal life alone.
I turned away from the window and started for the door with an unaccustomed lightness in my step. Much to my surprise, the door then began to open of its own accord. Quellepaural stepped through the doorway and moved toward me with malice. I knew I wouldn't be much of a match for him, but there remained the slim possibility that I could simply run away. I turned back to the window, gauging the distance of the balcony to the nearest tree. It was impossible, especially for me. This would be a fight, then.
I slid nearer to the lightest piece of furniture in the room, a small end table. Quellepaural saw my move and rushed toward me, a crumpled piece of cloth in his hand.
Hitting him with the table had little effect, as I soon discovered. Quellepaural got close to me despite my best efforts and moved the handful of cloth near my face. The piece of cloth smelled sickly-sweet and made me gag. Although I held my breath as long as I could, I eventually had to inhale. I realized my mistake as creeping blackness took me and I knew no more . . . .
Chapter: 7: Knowing with Certainty
Author: Alkalphiel and The Scribe
Summary: Alkalphiel works things out for herself.
Feedback: Yes, please! Post reviews or email alkalphiel@yahoo.com
A/N: The Scribe: Thanks to LadyTremere and ola for their reviews. You make my day! LadyTremere, I've addressed a few of your comments in my revisions, and I think you'll find that Chapter 3 reads a bit better now . . . Usual disclaimers apply.
Alkalphiel: This chapter, I'm afraid, contains a great deal of my internal musings. Although I prefer not to share so much of myself, I shall make the sacrifice for the sakes of my audience members.
~*~
I did not sleep that night. Instead I kept vigil by the window, watching the stars and wishing for my heart to be whole. How many nights had I spent gazing at this very sky after I met Quellepaural? It was as pointless to try to count the moments I had wasted on the guardsman as it would be to try to count the stars in the sky. Finally, as dawn began to tinge the horizon pink, I found the strength to set those moments apart from me and let them go.
Having cast off the ghosts of heartbreak, I imagined that my path would immediately be clear. Strangely enough, this was not so. I still could not determine how I felt about Legolas. My only idea was to start with the very basic parts of myself and work through everything until I understood the strange and twisting ways my emotions led.
I knew, KNEW that the false life bond wasn't my fault. Unless at least five other Elves were running around with the same defect as I . . . and that was a reality that I wasn't prepared to accept. Since that couldn't be the reason for my hesitance, I had to discover what held me back from embracing the Elf I hoped was my true soul mate.
He's a prince, a small voice inside me whispered. He's a prince and you're not royalty. You're lowly, and you're . . . plain. And clumsy. And not very serene, either.
So there I had it. Mentally reminding myself never again to investigate my reasons for anything, I faced those unpleasant truths head on. I was plain. Sure, I outshone any Man, Dwarf, Hobbit or other denizen of Middle Earth - but beside my kin I was nothing special and even a little unsightly.
And I was clumsy. Look how I'd managed to run into that punch bowl! What kind of introduction was that for the supposed soul mate of a prince? "That's not the only time I've done something like that, either," I whispered into the morning breeze. Ever since I was small, I'd been the most awkward Elf anyone knew. Mellaithwen was fond of telling gleeful stories about the many times I'd fallen out of trees. I'd become steadily better at climbing as I grew older, but my balance was never as sure as my sisters' and friends' and I'd long ago despaired of taking to the trees truly effortlessly. How many times had my mother looked at me and muttered, "My eldest is more Man than Elf," leaving me with an empty sense of failure? It was more of a family joke than a true criticism now, but occasionally the words stung with their old weight.
Which brought me to my third fault: my tumultuous emotions. I allowed thoughtless remarks to linger in my mind, upsetting me visibly. I didn't carry myself with the grace and bearing that should have come naturally to me. I fretted over my shortcomings! No Elf should be as easily unnerved as I was.
The reason finally came to me. I couldn't accept that I might be Prince Legolas' soul mate because I wasn't anything that Elves were supposed to be. How could one who barely lived up to the lowest standards of her kind ever DREAM that she might one day rule them? How could I ever dream that there existed the other half of my being, the one who would love me always and unfailingly, despite my faults?
Quellepaural had reinforced an old fear of mine, the fear that not only did I fail to live up to the superficial perfection of other Elves but that I was internally flawed as well. It did not seem too far-fetched to believe that my relationships would fall short of expectations. A part of the Elven perfection that mystifies Men is our relationships with one another, our ability to find love that lasts the length of our immortal lives - an eternity. The very reason that we are able to do this is the life bond. One other soul, bound to ours from before we are born. We seek unceasingly for our soul mates, some finding each other young and others searching for many thousands of years. I'd not felt the drive as strongly as others, prompting my mother's frustration at my apparent apathy.
For my own part, I had taken it as a sign that perhaps I was not meant to have a partner yet. My best friends had been just as slow as I; only Telepechorien had found and married her one true love. However, as my mother was so quick to point out, Mellaithwen and Tanhuineion were at least meeting others. And so I returned to the doubt - was there a soul mate for me?
Here at last was a true opportunity for me to answer my own question. I'd never inquired into others' bonds, so I had no criteria against which to measure what I felt for Prince Legolas. I had no choice but to trust my instincts in this matter, since the prince evidently had no compunctions about trusting his.
I would try this, I decided. What harm could there be in remaining here in the palace, getting to know Prince Legolas? What harm could there be in finally trusting my heart? Maybe now was my time at last to know with certainty that I wasn't sentenced to an eternal life alone.
I turned away from the window and started for the door with an unaccustomed lightness in my step. Much to my surprise, the door then began to open of its own accord. Quellepaural stepped through the doorway and moved toward me with malice. I knew I wouldn't be much of a match for him, but there remained the slim possibility that I could simply run away. I turned back to the window, gauging the distance of the balcony to the nearest tree. It was impossible, especially for me. This would be a fight, then.
I slid nearer to the lightest piece of furniture in the room, a small end table. Quellepaural saw my move and rushed toward me, a crumpled piece of cloth in his hand.
Hitting him with the table had little effect, as I soon discovered. Quellepaural got close to me despite my best efforts and moved the handful of cloth near my face. The piece of cloth smelled sickly-sweet and made me gag. Although I held my breath as long as I could, I eventually had to inhale. I realized my mistake as creeping blackness took me and I knew no more . . . .