They were safe as long as everyone watching could misinterpret their actions.
Misinterpret the way he nearly had to be cornered in order to be coaxed into a dance with an elleth that was not her, or an otherwise equally close friend. Misinterpret the fact that he still didn't seem to dance with anybody but her, no matter how many friends were around, simply because nobody else had asked.
Misinterpret the flush of his face at being able to hold her so close as nothing more than a side effect of strong wine, misinterpret the way they grew closer and closer at the sunlight waned on the same thing.
Misinterpret the way they stood so close together whenever they talked as trying to be heard over the music, and the raditing smiles on their faces to only be from the jokes of their friends.
The darkness could not focus on her if everyone continued to misinterpret their bond.
Misinterpret the fact that they were hardly ever apart from one another if allowed, and that neither had ever shown any interest in any of the plethora of suitable suitors that had so keenly presented themselves to both.
Misinterpret that celebration or no, it was a common sight for all to see the two of them dancing beneath the trees and the stars. Dancing to no music other than the sound that kept them alive, kept her alive. The sweet and haunting but regretfully necessary bells of misinterpretations.
They would be alright as long as that bells kept ringing through the forest. Loud enough it could drown out the sounds of those times where they did slip. When there could be no other explanation for the words that stumped out in the grips of heartbreak and loneliness. No excuse for the way they held each other and asked Mandos for just a few more days as more blood soaked the roots of their home.
They could be together if they wrapped misinterpretation around them like a cloak. Shielding them from any eyes that could have witnessed her sneaking in and out of his room every night that he was home. Shield the way his light hardly seemed to turn out on nights she wasn't there, rest an enemy he is unable to face without her.
They would be safe as long as nobody looked too closely at them at how their brightest smiles were always for each other. Or at the series of handmade promise rings that discreetly ruled her left hand. Or at the desperate devastation that is always much too evedant on their face when one comes to harm.
Misinterpretation was key. Misinterpretation was important.
It gave the allusion that she hadn't had his heart tucked gently in her hands. It made it easier to pretend if she were to fall that his heart could still beat from whatever dark place it would be thrown. It made it easier to ignore the constant thumping of her heart in his hand. Made it easier to ignore how delicate it was.
Misinterpretation made it easier to believe that any of this hiding had been necessary in the first place. Because it's only the deceptively smooth whispers of misinterpretation that had convinced him that his mother's death wouldn't have come if she had not been loved by his father. If the realm and the tree's did not know that his father had lived and breathed for her.
Misinterpretation allowed him to force all of his greatest fears into a box, ignore them, and call it his only option. It allowed the fears to still steal the only bits of sun that Eru let him have, it convinced him it was dangerous. That she was dangerous.
Misinterpretation told him that the pain he still felt in his heart and the constant fear that burned in his veins wasn't loss, but love. And it laughed when he beleived it.
0.0.0.
thank you for reading, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts!
