Chapter 4
Nolo looked in the direction she had left for a long while, 'Why did I not go after her?' he thought, recalling how hurt she had seemed. Inwardly, he was disgusted with his cowardice. The Elves of the Golden Wood were not supposed to be cowards.
Slowly, with a hesitance that gave only a glimpse as to his true age, Nolo stood using a nearby tree to support himself. 'How she weakens me,' he sighed, clasping his hand softly over his heart, 'And she has no idea.' Part of him found the idea darkly humorous, how her presence made everything swirl in his mind, how the way she spoke entranced him beyond words. And she was oblivious - the ultimate cosmic joke. Faint, rustling sounds began to creep through Lorien, its inhabitants awakening to a new day; even the rivers and streams seemed as if they had only now begun to flow. To Nolo, it seemed as if the bubbling water was laughing at him. 'Poor Nolo,' it called, 'what a pity.' The rooms of the great hall began to glow with the lights of the torches, almost a sunrise in itself.
Briefly, Nolo wondered what Nienna was doing; his mind drew a pretty image of her lighting a morning candle, her soft, silken night gown clinging lightly to her form, mist drifting lazily through her open balcony. Nolo shook his head suddenly, appalled at his own audacity. "She's probably hovering at the March Warden's bedside once more." he muttered, angered by the mere thought of it. It was the first time he had ever felt the spark of jealousy; every time he thought of her fawning over 'that Haldir' he cringed.
But then, what had he done to stop it? Nothing. There was nothing to stop. And yet, the fear remained in his heart. He began walking down the path to his room, taking no notice of who he passed except to avoid them. 'Why couldn't she see?' He asked, wondering how many times his heart's voice balanced on the tip of his tongue, how many times had she looked into his eyes and seen nothing of the love they held for her to see?' She was blind, lost in the darkened haze of some ambiguous thing called 'friendship'. Nienna looked not for anything more than his kindness and wisdom.
"Both denied," He spoke aloud to no one in particular, the emerald ferns his only audience, "in spite of the love my heart sings, my words serve only myself." The ferns remained silent, offering no insight. He stopped short of his door, hardly aware that he had reached his destination. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he entered, his eyes drifting across the well-furnished room. The pale crème walls and darkened wood floors made the room seem larger than it was, pulling the eyes upward to the intricately carved ceiling, a tangle of 'roots' that slid up the columns and intertwined into the wooden canopy. Nolo sat in his chair and pulled a very familiar drawing from underneath it. It was a simple sketch, no more than a rough draft. He smiled, picking up a well-worked stick of charcoal and began working at the elven portrait once again, keeping Nienna's soft features in the foremost of his thoughts.
Nolo looked in the direction she had left for a long while, 'Why did I not go after her?' he thought, recalling how hurt she had seemed. Inwardly, he was disgusted with his cowardice. The Elves of the Golden Wood were not supposed to be cowards.
Slowly, with a hesitance that gave only a glimpse as to his true age, Nolo stood using a nearby tree to support himself. 'How she weakens me,' he sighed, clasping his hand softly over his heart, 'And she has no idea.' Part of him found the idea darkly humorous, how her presence made everything swirl in his mind, how the way she spoke entranced him beyond words. And she was oblivious - the ultimate cosmic joke. Faint, rustling sounds began to creep through Lorien, its inhabitants awakening to a new day; even the rivers and streams seemed as if they had only now begun to flow. To Nolo, it seemed as if the bubbling water was laughing at him. 'Poor Nolo,' it called, 'what a pity.' The rooms of the great hall began to glow with the lights of the torches, almost a sunrise in itself.
Briefly, Nolo wondered what Nienna was doing; his mind drew a pretty image of her lighting a morning candle, her soft, silken night gown clinging lightly to her form, mist drifting lazily through her open balcony. Nolo shook his head suddenly, appalled at his own audacity. "She's probably hovering at the March Warden's bedside once more." he muttered, angered by the mere thought of it. It was the first time he had ever felt the spark of jealousy; every time he thought of her fawning over 'that Haldir' he cringed.
But then, what had he done to stop it? Nothing. There was nothing to stop. And yet, the fear remained in his heart. He began walking down the path to his room, taking no notice of who he passed except to avoid them. 'Why couldn't she see?' He asked, wondering how many times his heart's voice balanced on the tip of his tongue, how many times had she looked into his eyes and seen nothing of the love they held for her to see?' She was blind, lost in the darkened haze of some ambiguous thing called 'friendship'. Nienna looked not for anything more than his kindness and wisdom.
"Both denied," He spoke aloud to no one in particular, the emerald ferns his only audience, "in spite of the love my heart sings, my words serve only myself." The ferns remained silent, offering no insight. He stopped short of his door, hardly aware that he had reached his destination. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he entered, his eyes drifting across the well-furnished room. The pale crème walls and darkened wood floors made the room seem larger than it was, pulling the eyes upward to the intricately carved ceiling, a tangle of 'roots' that slid up the columns and intertwined into the wooden canopy. Nolo sat in his chair and pulled a very familiar drawing from underneath it. It was a simple sketch, no more than a rough draft. He smiled, picking up a well-worked stick of charcoal and began working at the elven portrait once again, keeping Nienna's soft features in the foremost of his thoughts.