Review responses:
CANTORA: No, that would be waaaaaaaay too easy! You gotta build some
suspense! A little drama! *sigh* Eh, I suppose I could start doing that time
thingy. *nod nod*
ROCHWEN: Don't worry, your Glorfy will be perfectly safe! *pat pat*
(AN- Feh...sorry for the crappiness. Next one will be better, I promise!)
Chapter Eleven
While the world continued to turn without him, Gilraeth lied in darkness alone, where evil memories and dreams returned to him. He thought he'd forgotten these, but they proved him wrong time and time again as each came over him like a wave. They'd wash over the boy and then recede, leaving little strands of themselves for him to mull over before giving Gilraeth to the darkness once more. And so the process went as he became more and more ill.
One dream in particular enjoyed tormenting his little mind; it was of a time when he was ten, and Gynil's abuse was nothing new to him. It was the worst experience with his mother in his short life. Usually he could expect some kind of punishment even when he'd done nothing wrong. But when it even remotely seemed like something was his fault, hell had no fury like Gynil when she found out.
Gilraeth had been trudging back home through the town, minding his own business. It had been a mild day, and there had been hardly a breeze to be felt. Gilraeth had been keeping his eyes down, staring at the dirt road ahead of him. He had just gotten to the outskirts of town when someone had yelled, "Oy! Gil-smelleth!"
Startled, Gilraeth had looked up and seen a group of boys headed his way. Gilraeth's heart had sunk - he knew them. They were always poking fun at him. Gilraeth had moved on.
"Do not walk away from me!" the leader had shouted, making a run for him. Too late, Gilraeth had glanced over his shoulder and was immediately knocked to the ground. Panicked, he'd begun to fight against the fists that came for his stomach and head, where they would not leave evidence. Gilraeth, however, had been furious was not paying attention to where his fists flew. All he knew then was that someone had pulled them apart and held them back.
"What is the meaning of this?" a man's gruff voice had accused. "Speak!"
But before Gilraeth could've defended himself, the rest of the boys were defending their leader, making Gilraeth the guilty culprit.
"Is this true?" the man had asked of Gilraeth.
It had been then when Gynil came around and found him. Gilraeth's brain had screeched to a halt as she roughly took him back home. Then all he remembered was the sound of his mother's blows falling on him, the searing pain, and finally darkness as his mind remembered no more.
The memory drew back as Gilraeth came to the present. He reminded himself of who and where he was to keep his sanity after the dreams had come and gone.
"I am Gilraeth, son of Gomeir, and I am in Imaldris in the care of the Elf, Glorfindel," he thought to himself for the umpteenth time since he'd fallen ill.
Gilraeth knew he had not been getting any better. But today seemed different. The pain and fatigue were not quite as strong as they once were. He felt less weak. Maybe today he would wake. Or maybe he would not wake at all.
The thought chilled him to the bone. What would the Elves do if they lost him? What would Glorfindel do? He'd be heartbroken. Gilraeth could not let his family down. Yes, his family. No longer would he live among men until he was of an age to care for himself, Elladan had promised him, long, long ago. Gilraeth realized he'd told him that the same he had died.
Gilraeth sorely missed his first Elven caregiver. Though his grieving was well over, it still did not fill the hole in his heart. Glorfindel and the rest were very supportive, but even Elrohir, who was a mirror of Elladan, could not come close to who Elladan had been. Of course, Gilraeth realized, no one ever would, nor could.
But he could not dwell on Elladan. He had to focus and bend all his thought onto getting well again. Glorfindel needed him, even if the Elf- lord wouldn't admit it. But Gilraeth did not know what he would come to need Glorfindel more than ever before very soon.
CANTORA: No, that would be waaaaaaaay too easy! You gotta build some
suspense! A little drama! *sigh* Eh, I suppose I could start doing that time
thingy. *nod nod*
ROCHWEN: Don't worry, your Glorfy will be perfectly safe! *pat pat*
(AN- Feh...sorry for the crappiness. Next one will be better, I promise!)
Chapter Eleven
While the world continued to turn without him, Gilraeth lied in darkness alone, where evil memories and dreams returned to him. He thought he'd forgotten these, but they proved him wrong time and time again as each came over him like a wave. They'd wash over the boy and then recede, leaving little strands of themselves for him to mull over before giving Gilraeth to the darkness once more. And so the process went as he became more and more ill.
One dream in particular enjoyed tormenting his little mind; it was of a time when he was ten, and Gynil's abuse was nothing new to him. It was the worst experience with his mother in his short life. Usually he could expect some kind of punishment even when he'd done nothing wrong. But when it even remotely seemed like something was his fault, hell had no fury like Gynil when she found out.
Gilraeth had been trudging back home through the town, minding his own business. It had been a mild day, and there had been hardly a breeze to be felt. Gilraeth had been keeping his eyes down, staring at the dirt road ahead of him. He had just gotten to the outskirts of town when someone had yelled, "Oy! Gil-smelleth!"
Startled, Gilraeth had looked up and seen a group of boys headed his way. Gilraeth's heart had sunk - he knew them. They were always poking fun at him. Gilraeth had moved on.
"Do not walk away from me!" the leader had shouted, making a run for him. Too late, Gilraeth had glanced over his shoulder and was immediately knocked to the ground. Panicked, he'd begun to fight against the fists that came for his stomach and head, where they would not leave evidence. Gilraeth, however, had been furious was not paying attention to where his fists flew. All he knew then was that someone had pulled them apart and held them back.
"What is the meaning of this?" a man's gruff voice had accused. "Speak!"
But before Gilraeth could've defended himself, the rest of the boys were defending their leader, making Gilraeth the guilty culprit.
"Is this true?" the man had asked of Gilraeth.
It had been then when Gynil came around and found him. Gilraeth's brain had screeched to a halt as she roughly took him back home. Then all he remembered was the sound of his mother's blows falling on him, the searing pain, and finally darkness as his mind remembered no more.
The memory drew back as Gilraeth came to the present. He reminded himself of who and where he was to keep his sanity after the dreams had come and gone.
"I am Gilraeth, son of Gomeir, and I am in Imaldris in the care of the Elf, Glorfindel," he thought to himself for the umpteenth time since he'd fallen ill.
Gilraeth knew he had not been getting any better. But today seemed different. The pain and fatigue were not quite as strong as they once were. He felt less weak. Maybe today he would wake. Or maybe he would not wake at all.
The thought chilled him to the bone. What would the Elves do if they lost him? What would Glorfindel do? He'd be heartbroken. Gilraeth could not let his family down. Yes, his family. No longer would he live among men until he was of an age to care for himself, Elladan had promised him, long, long ago. Gilraeth realized he'd told him that the same he had died.
Gilraeth sorely missed his first Elven caregiver. Though his grieving was well over, it still did not fill the hole in his heart. Glorfindel and the rest were very supportive, but even Elrohir, who was a mirror of Elladan, could not come close to who Elladan had been. Of course, Gilraeth realized, no one ever would, nor could.
But he could not dwell on Elladan. He had to focus and bend all his thought onto getting well again. Glorfindel needed him, even if the Elf- lord wouldn't admit it. But Gilraeth did not know what he would come to need Glorfindel more than ever before very soon.