Disclaimer: This is getting so tedious, I think I should write a song. Yes,
I'll name it "The Disclaimer Song." La la la, no they're not mine. La la
la, except for Danali. La la la, though Elves are divine, La la la, too
bad, they belong to Tolkien...buddy. There. I think I've got a future in
the music industry, don't you?
Lessons
"Steady, now. One, two, three, very good, raise your arm a little more. Again."
Danali bit her lower lip and squinted her eyes in concentration as she quickly parried the thrusts of the Elven sword with her own. She and Rumil had been going on like this for over an hour, but her skill level had increased from nothing to dangerous. She planted her feet firmly on the forest floor and prepared for another wave of attacks, her small chest rising and falling with exertion as she challenged the Elf with a fiery gaze.
Rumil danced lightly back on the balls of his feet and grasped the long handle of his blade tightly as he regarded the girl with the strange fire in her eyes. A thin silver trail of sweat glistened on one side of his head, and the sword handle had grown slick from his wet palms. Only in sparring with Haldir had he encountered such a level of speed and ability...
He sighed and raised his hand to signal her to rest. He exhaled and lowered himself to an old log, setting his sword by his feet and stretching his legs out in the sun-dappled leaves. He closed his eyes, but noticed the young woman coming to sit beside him in her usual hesitant manner. The jeweled eyes languidly opened again as she plopped down on the makeshift bench, and he calmly regarded her from where he reclined, not allowing his face to display the inner turmoil he was experiencing at the present.
He briefly flashed back to the archery "lesson" earlier in the day, if it could be called that. He had handed her the bow, given her an arrow and a target and she had hit the center dead on the first time. When she proceeded to do so five more times in rather rapid succession, he decided that perhaps they should move on to the blade. His calm tone hadn't matched the flush in his cheeks, and Danali had noticed his acute embarrassment, but every time he looked at her, the same pair of grave eyes had met his, encouraging him to go on, she was listening.
'I wonder what Haldir will say....'
Rumil's thoughts drifted along with the warm breeze, and soon he was dozing, lulled by the songwhispers that danced around his head, teasing his cloak and hair.
Danali eventually sat up and glanced over at the Elf reclining against the tree. He seemed to be asleep. She sighed and slumped back restlessly, her eyes traveling along the broken crown of the forest outlined by the shimmering sunstrands resting on it. Her thoughts wandered toward the Elves and their world, which was so different from the one she had known until a short while ago.
Her hands slid unconsciously along the smooth bark of the log as she mused on her companion. He had been so shocked when she had hit that target, as if he hadn't expected her to be able to wield a bow- Her train of thought derailed slightly as a thoroughly foreign concept suddenly sprang into her mind unbidden. He had expected her to possess the ability to defend herself, right? Couldn't everyone? Surely he hadn't intended to teach her how to shoot an arrow...
Perhaps that was why he had looked so uncomfortable.
After all, she hadn't observed many Elven women taking up arms and practicing or setting out for the borders.
Was this what the outside world was really like? They had told the children back at Nencoras that in other places, girls didn't have to fight. Instead, they did something called sewing (whatever that was) and cooking and cleaning. Of course, she and her comrades hadn't believed a word, and had passed that off as another story to frighten them into staying at the accursed place. Women could fight just as well as men, and the girls hadn't seen any reason to believe otherwise; they were told so everyday.
Now she wasn't so sure.
Danali squeezed her eyes shut and tried to clear her mind of everything, tried to allow the clear blue to completely fill her head and drown out the noise and confusion swirling in her brain.
Unfortunately, her thoughts turned to Life.
Danali hated thinking about Life. She hadn't had much of one up to now and from what she had seen, it wasn't worth the hype it was given. Besides, people who thought too much about Life didn't last very long.
It wasn't the world. It wasn't the others. It wasn't anything.
Eventually, they just couldn't stand themselves any longer.
Like Tay. Raven-haired, elven-eyed, sweet-cream laugh Tay. The only person Danali had ever loved in her life.
Tay, the sister-son of the Master, who would form his clasped hands into a butterfly and dance it in the flickering candlelight, casting a somewhat lifelike animation on the wall and make Danali laugh. Then he would laugh too and collapse next to her, letting his beautiful ebony hair stream over her shoulder before it slipped to the bed. He shared his life with Danali as she shared hers with him. He offered it to her with outstretched palms, carefully, so as not to shatter it. Like his dreams.
She could still picture him, in the bathtub, with his hair floating out behind his head like a dark halo, a sharp contrast to the rich red that surrounded it. His pale skin. His delicate wrists, so neatly slit. Methodically. Precisely. Tay would never have it any other way.
Danali held out her arms in front of her and pretended they were floating in a bathtub. Just straight. Just so.
One night, he had laid down on the grass beside her and stared at the stars with her for a while. Then he rolled to his side and pierced Danali with his strange gaze.
"I think our hunting tunics should be red. Red's a good color. Why don't they ever let us wear it?"
Danali sighed and absentmindedly shredded a blade of grass.
"Red is easily seen, silly. We wouldn't get past the gates of Nencoras before being spotted by every creature for miles around."
An unsatisfied Tay flopped back onto his back with a scowl.
"Well, I like it. I think it's the most beautiful color in the world. I should like to be dressed in it from head to toe someday. And if everyone could see me, then good."
He had such a serene expression on his face, his bright eyes closed forever, the light flown to the stars. His black halo swimming in scarlet. His arms floating in front of him. Just straight. Just so.
Danali stood in the room and saw him for the last time. And the only thought that crossed her mind was how beautiful he looked.
She suddenly, violently shook her head and chased away the past, at least to a safe distance where it could only jeer at her. Crisp yellow pine needles stuck to her cloak, and she brushed them off smartly. She glanced over at the unconscious Elf by the tree and sighed, then stood.
She hadn't cried. She never would. He was in some other place now and that was that. If he was anywhere at all.
Although she knew she would land in a rather large amount of trouble if she left, Danali found her feet moving of their own accord away from Rumil and the neighboring flets, off down a picturesque woodland path into other parts of the city. Surely she wouldn't come to harm if she stayed within the city limits this time. She strolled off, humming a sweet tune with a melancholy twist to it.
You were right, Tay, red is a beautiful color.
Swirls of a brisk breeze tousled her hair and caught her cloak, billowing it slightly. She caught glimpses of Elves going about their Lives (but not thinking about them too much), and looked around in simple interest at the bustling place. Eventually, she wandered over to an elaborately carved bench and sat. And watched.
Strange people, Elves.
Tay had always joked about them, though he had never seen one. Nobody had. They existed in a corner of the world reserved for the Special. They never gave a passing thought to the corner reserved for the Wretched. They were higher than that. They never looked inside the World House, only outside. Tay hated them.
He had tried to make Danali hate them, but she could only muster a weak dislike. After all, they had done nothing to her.
Nor, Tay pointed out, had they done anything for her.
And then he was framed in crystal and crimson, her black-halo fallen angel, who scrunched up his eyes every time he laughed and died dressed in gently swirling red from head to toe, where everyone could see him. But she knew he didn't mind.
She wondered what he would say if he saw her in this place.
Of their own mind once more, her legs began to carry her up a huge flight of stairs to a majestic white flet high above. She did not resist. She did not know why. She merely went.
For a meeting.
Yes, that was it. An old friend waited to greet her at the top, in the mysterious white flet looming above her. An old friend whom she had never met before.
Waited to greet her.
****
I was in a really odd mood when I wrote the majority of this chapter, just in case you're wondering. Sorry if it touched any nerves or hit too close to home for anyone. Senseless death always makes me cry, but it happens.
Lessons
"Steady, now. One, two, three, very good, raise your arm a little more. Again."
Danali bit her lower lip and squinted her eyes in concentration as she quickly parried the thrusts of the Elven sword with her own. She and Rumil had been going on like this for over an hour, but her skill level had increased from nothing to dangerous. She planted her feet firmly on the forest floor and prepared for another wave of attacks, her small chest rising and falling with exertion as she challenged the Elf with a fiery gaze.
Rumil danced lightly back on the balls of his feet and grasped the long handle of his blade tightly as he regarded the girl with the strange fire in her eyes. A thin silver trail of sweat glistened on one side of his head, and the sword handle had grown slick from his wet palms. Only in sparring with Haldir had he encountered such a level of speed and ability...
He sighed and raised his hand to signal her to rest. He exhaled and lowered himself to an old log, setting his sword by his feet and stretching his legs out in the sun-dappled leaves. He closed his eyes, but noticed the young woman coming to sit beside him in her usual hesitant manner. The jeweled eyes languidly opened again as she plopped down on the makeshift bench, and he calmly regarded her from where he reclined, not allowing his face to display the inner turmoil he was experiencing at the present.
He briefly flashed back to the archery "lesson" earlier in the day, if it could be called that. He had handed her the bow, given her an arrow and a target and she had hit the center dead on the first time. When she proceeded to do so five more times in rather rapid succession, he decided that perhaps they should move on to the blade. His calm tone hadn't matched the flush in his cheeks, and Danali had noticed his acute embarrassment, but every time he looked at her, the same pair of grave eyes had met his, encouraging him to go on, she was listening.
'I wonder what Haldir will say....'
Rumil's thoughts drifted along with the warm breeze, and soon he was dozing, lulled by the songwhispers that danced around his head, teasing his cloak and hair.
Danali eventually sat up and glanced over at the Elf reclining against the tree. He seemed to be asleep. She sighed and slumped back restlessly, her eyes traveling along the broken crown of the forest outlined by the shimmering sunstrands resting on it. Her thoughts wandered toward the Elves and their world, which was so different from the one she had known until a short while ago.
Her hands slid unconsciously along the smooth bark of the log as she mused on her companion. He had been so shocked when she had hit that target, as if he hadn't expected her to be able to wield a bow- Her train of thought derailed slightly as a thoroughly foreign concept suddenly sprang into her mind unbidden. He had expected her to possess the ability to defend herself, right? Couldn't everyone? Surely he hadn't intended to teach her how to shoot an arrow...
Perhaps that was why he had looked so uncomfortable.
After all, she hadn't observed many Elven women taking up arms and practicing or setting out for the borders.
Was this what the outside world was really like? They had told the children back at Nencoras that in other places, girls didn't have to fight. Instead, they did something called sewing (whatever that was) and cooking and cleaning. Of course, she and her comrades hadn't believed a word, and had passed that off as another story to frighten them into staying at the accursed place. Women could fight just as well as men, and the girls hadn't seen any reason to believe otherwise; they were told so everyday.
Now she wasn't so sure.
Danali squeezed her eyes shut and tried to clear her mind of everything, tried to allow the clear blue to completely fill her head and drown out the noise and confusion swirling in her brain.
Unfortunately, her thoughts turned to Life.
Danali hated thinking about Life. She hadn't had much of one up to now and from what she had seen, it wasn't worth the hype it was given. Besides, people who thought too much about Life didn't last very long.
It wasn't the world. It wasn't the others. It wasn't anything.
Eventually, they just couldn't stand themselves any longer.
Like Tay. Raven-haired, elven-eyed, sweet-cream laugh Tay. The only person Danali had ever loved in her life.
Tay, the sister-son of the Master, who would form his clasped hands into a butterfly and dance it in the flickering candlelight, casting a somewhat lifelike animation on the wall and make Danali laugh. Then he would laugh too and collapse next to her, letting his beautiful ebony hair stream over her shoulder before it slipped to the bed. He shared his life with Danali as she shared hers with him. He offered it to her with outstretched palms, carefully, so as not to shatter it. Like his dreams.
She could still picture him, in the bathtub, with his hair floating out behind his head like a dark halo, a sharp contrast to the rich red that surrounded it. His pale skin. His delicate wrists, so neatly slit. Methodically. Precisely. Tay would never have it any other way.
Danali held out her arms in front of her and pretended they were floating in a bathtub. Just straight. Just so.
One night, he had laid down on the grass beside her and stared at the stars with her for a while. Then he rolled to his side and pierced Danali with his strange gaze.
"I think our hunting tunics should be red. Red's a good color. Why don't they ever let us wear it?"
Danali sighed and absentmindedly shredded a blade of grass.
"Red is easily seen, silly. We wouldn't get past the gates of Nencoras before being spotted by every creature for miles around."
An unsatisfied Tay flopped back onto his back with a scowl.
"Well, I like it. I think it's the most beautiful color in the world. I should like to be dressed in it from head to toe someday. And if everyone could see me, then good."
He had such a serene expression on his face, his bright eyes closed forever, the light flown to the stars. His black halo swimming in scarlet. His arms floating in front of him. Just straight. Just so.
Danali stood in the room and saw him for the last time. And the only thought that crossed her mind was how beautiful he looked.
She suddenly, violently shook her head and chased away the past, at least to a safe distance where it could only jeer at her. Crisp yellow pine needles stuck to her cloak, and she brushed them off smartly. She glanced over at the unconscious Elf by the tree and sighed, then stood.
She hadn't cried. She never would. He was in some other place now and that was that. If he was anywhere at all.
Although she knew she would land in a rather large amount of trouble if she left, Danali found her feet moving of their own accord away from Rumil and the neighboring flets, off down a picturesque woodland path into other parts of the city. Surely she wouldn't come to harm if she stayed within the city limits this time. She strolled off, humming a sweet tune with a melancholy twist to it.
You were right, Tay, red is a beautiful color.
Swirls of a brisk breeze tousled her hair and caught her cloak, billowing it slightly. She caught glimpses of Elves going about their Lives (but not thinking about them too much), and looked around in simple interest at the bustling place. Eventually, she wandered over to an elaborately carved bench and sat. And watched.
Strange people, Elves.
Tay had always joked about them, though he had never seen one. Nobody had. They existed in a corner of the world reserved for the Special. They never gave a passing thought to the corner reserved for the Wretched. They were higher than that. They never looked inside the World House, only outside. Tay hated them.
He had tried to make Danali hate them, but she could only muster a weak dislike. After all, they had done nothing to her.
Nor, Tay pointed out, had they done anything for her.
And then he was framed in crystal and crimson, her black-halo fallen angel, who scrunched up his eyes every time he laughed and died dressed in gently swirling red from head to toe, where everyone could see him. But she knew he didn't mind.
She wondered what he would say if he saw her in this place.
Of their own mind once more, her legs began to carry her up a huge flight of stairs to a majestic white flet high above. She did not resist. She did not know why. She merely went.
For a meeting.
Yes, that was it. An old friend waited to greet her at the top, in the mysterious white flet looming above her. An old friend whom she had never met before.
Waited to greet her.
****
I was in a really odd mood when I wrote the majority of this chapter, just in case you're wondering. Sorry if it touched any nerves or hit too close to home for anyone. Senseless death always makes me cry, but it happens.
