The sudden blinding force sent him flying backwards, slamming against the nearest wall. She heard the distant metallic echo of her brother's sword hitting the ground, sliding through the cracked marble floor, away from his grasp. The wind screamed through the air, the forest outside suddenly alive in a single second, roaring so loudly that it made her own ears ring painfully. It had given no warning, there had been no building power, no slow connection.
She could feel her head hammering against the noise, against the violently shrieking wind, against the overwhelming strength of the power that suddenly ranged through the entire realm, the feeling so deeply embedded into the memory that for a moment she felt she was there too, living it all. Every single elf that she could still see in the hallway seemed unable to move, pressed against walls, shielding their eyes, covering their ears, and yet Arahaelon moved.
She could see him fighting against the wind that kept pushing him back, slamming his silvery hair against his face, hitting his eyes, making it almost impossible for him to keep the open. HE somehow managed to get to his knees, rolling to his side, arm stretched out as far as it would go, reaching for the lost sword. But the forest cried out again, another rippling wave of shock shaking the entire hallway. It was almost impossible to see, her own ears ringing so painfully that she wanted to pull away, to get back to the safety of Arahaelon's room, to have him simply retell the story instead of showing it to her.
Broken branches flew inside the hallway, shattering the few crystal windows that still remained intact, shards of glass raining from every direction with a speed that could compare them to arrows. The Crown Prince was pushed once more, slender fingers shieling his face from the raining crystal, a few of the pieces incrusting into his arm, others cutting through the sleeves of his silver tunic.
He got to his feet, somehow, fighting against the sudden cry of the forest, eyes frantically searching around him, seeming to momentarily forget about the sword he had been trying to retrieve. And for the first time she had a clear sight of his face. That serene, always calmed and composed expression that seemed to permanently reside on his face was gone, and instead his emerald eyes, always so unreadable, so impenetrable, so silent, were wide. It was not normal. The sheer strength, the sudden instant way in which the connection had formed….
Her eldest brother stood there, momentarily frozen, the raging wind clawing at his tunic fiercely, almost ripping it from his body, slapping his hair. His hands were shaking, she could see it, almost imperceptibly but there was no mistaking it. She noticed him curling his slender pale fingers into fists, as though that alone would stop the tremors that rang through them. AND there was something else too, his ever calmed breathing seemed to come out faster now, almost in gasps.
The forest shrieked again, the wind jerking suddenly, more branches sticking through the shattered windows, leaves flying through the air as though they had wings. Arahaelon's hands suddenly flew to his head gripping at his temples, suddenly shutting his eyes. His jaw was tense, grinding his teeth so forcefully she though he would break them. She could see the struggle on his pale perfectly angled face, could see him fighting to ignore the intense power raging about him and focus on the hallway in front of him. And yet, the wind cried out once more, and she felt her stomach drop deeply inside of her. Arahaelon's right hand suddenly dropped from his head, flying to grip at his left arm tightly, eyes falling shut tightly in a sudden expression of pain.
But of course. She should had known it, should have guessed it. It was so evident now that for a moment she wanted to keck herself for not noticing it before. Of course the Crown Prince was not merely witnessing the sudden force that wracked the forest and woke the air. He could feel it, just as she could, just as she knew no other elf could. It was calling to him, the sudden power, the force, automatically stirring his wounded spirit, just as it always did her every time she witnesses such connections. He could feel it all, could most probably feel that familiar tingling in his fingers, that sudden pull, that tugging, that call. And she could not help from feeling guilty once more, his heart suddenly feeling heaving.
That call, that sudden tugging of the forest, of the sudden woken forces must be beyond painful for him. She could not imagine what it must felt like, to feel his spirit stirring at the sudden power, a spirit that was already broken, torn inside, the push and pull perhaps only making it feel as though it was breaking more. She had never stopped to think about it, had never even considered it…..all those times she herself had joined such connections, those times that she had seen the King do it too, it had to have been this painful for the Crown Prince. Btu he never showed it, he never complained, never talked about it.
And yet, he forced his eyes open, determined on ignoring the blinding power, the screaming trees. He reached for his sword once more, shaking fingers curling around the silver hilt just before a body suddenly slammed against him. For a second everything was disorienting, Arahaelon rolling over the cracked marble floor, a weight suddenly perched to him, grey and short. He swung his sword, fighting to get the stray orc off of him, but the wind and twigs and branches that flew in the air was making it impossible to see.
She could see the creature fighting desperately, swinging its claws left and right aimlessly, not seeming to be able to tell where its enemy was, merely aiming to hit something, anything, by luck. Arms abruptly pushed at the Crown Prince, the latter rolling to the side before managing to somehow jump to his feet. Another elf had taken over, his right hand incrusting a short silver dagger into the creature's chest, coming to his Prince's aid.
But her eldest brother had no time to ponder, his green eyes, as green as the raging forest outside caught sight of something else, his body suddenly lurching forward, pushing against the wind that threated to hurl him around in circles at any second.
"TADION!" He yelled, voice raw from strain in order to be heard over the cries of the trees, the echo of the wind.
At first she could see nothing, only the leaves that floated in a maelstrom around her eldest brother, tangling in his silvery locks. But Arahaelon kept moving forward, every step more urgent, his leather boots stepping over shattered glass that crunched to dust under his feet.
"TADION!"
The younger Prince was there, still some distance away in the long corridor. He stumbled on his feet, the wind punishing him left and right. The right side of his face was covered in blood, the crimson threads slowly trickling down from a large gash high on his forehead, sticking to his golden hair in clumps. Blue eyes lifted with difficulty, trying to remain open against the clouds of dust and leaves and dried twigs that the wind kept slapping against his face, for the first time noticing Arahaelon.
The Crown Prince was already by his side, eyes quickly scanning over his younger brother, giving out a worried sigh at the cu on his forehead. Another branch flew past a crystal-less window, Tadion reacting faster, pushing both of them forcefully to the stained marble floor.
"We need to head downstairs!" Arahaelon's voice drummed over a sudden flash of thunder, a shock of blinding light suddenly slashing through the black sky. His hand reached for Tadion's arm, pulling the stumbling figure to his feet.
"NO!" Tadion shook his arm free from his eldest brother's grasp with a strong jerk, wide blue eyes gazing quickly around him, determined to keep going wherever he had been headed some minutes ago.
"Tadion!" The Crown Prince yelled once more, this time harder, pulling at the younger elf once more. Tadion's stained and battered tunic slipping from his fingers, the fabric torn in many places. "It is too dangerous!"
"NO!" the younger elf protested once more, determined, once again struggling to walk through the raging wind. The cries and shrieks had gotten louder, the power, the force that ran through the forest, making it alive, suddenly intensifying. Her ears rang painfully once more. "We need to get to Ada! We need to help!"
"Tadion, no!" The older elf tried to reach for his younger brother once more but another sudden gust of wind sent both elves tumbling backwards against the cold stone wall.
Then, something changed. The forest outside gave an unexpected louder shriek, the air around them exploding. Her ears ran so painfully that she could barely stand it, the power that wracked through the trees, through the wind, through the entire realm suddenly intensifying. It was like nothing she had seen before, overwhelming, consuming. The branches continued to move, to stretch, to twist and intertwine, but there seem to be no control to them, the movements random, uncoordinated. The wind too seemed to have lost any sense of direction, of control, pushing everything and everyone in every direction, left and then suddenly right, and then in circles.
Tadion's eyes were wide in fear, his hand gripping tightly to the Crown Prince's arm, unmoving, both figures suddenly small, fragile in the chaos that wracked the world. But it was Arahaelon's face what shocked her the most, the expression one that she would never be able to forget, because she had never seen it before. His forest green eyes, those eyes that were always so guarded, so impenetrable, those eyes that even when open and welcoming remained ever an enigma, never fully transparent, were suddenly wide open, the sudden fear and dread that consumed them floating right there, at the surface, with nothing to conceal it from view.
"Ar?" She hard Tadion's shaking voice through the raging storm that surrounded them, his face turning up to look desperately at his eldest brother, and in that moment he suddenly looked so young, barely more than an elfling, a terrified elfling. "Ar? What is it? What is happening?"
But the Crown Prince did not reply, not immediately. For a long minute it was as if he had not even heard his younger brother, even though she could see his arms pulling at the younger elf closer to him, as if ready to protect him. But protect him from what? Arahaelon could not protect, even she could tell that, the strength of the force, of the power, it was too much, too great…and too out of control.
"Ar?!" Tadion urged again, pressing his back farther against the stone wall as a sudden branch abruptly stretch, swinging forcefully merely inches above their heads before suddenly contracting once more, only barely missing chopping both of their heads.
"Almarëa" Arahaleon spoke, not looking at Tadion, not looking at anything in particular, eyes still wide, still lost, and in that single word she could hear the fear, a fear that ran deeper than what showed on his face, than what she could see, or begin to imagine.
"What?" Taidon shook his head, golden hair flying around in the aimless wind, slapping at his pale chiseled cheeks.
"It is Almarëa." The Crown Prince repeated, his voice drowned in the thunder.
Another branch stretched, the forest giving out another loud cry. The wind changed directions once more, aimless, out of control. And she could feel it all, could feel it as clearly, as sharp as Arahaelon had felt it that night, every detail, every cry, every gust of wind, so perfectly and precisely embedded in the memory. She could feel the first source of power, the King, fighting to remain in control, to reach for the overwhelming yet disordered power that she herself had cast, being nothing more than a baby. Her baby self had joined the connection, perhaps had not even known what it was, and yet she had joined. It was terrifying, consuming, dreadful, the intense power seeming to be playing with the forest, not really doing anything for any purpose…the action of baby.
In a split second, Tadion seemed to understand. She could see it on his face, which suddenly blanched in shock, his fingers gripping tighter at Arahaelon's arm.
"Get her out!" The younger elf suddenly urged, his face frozen in terror, eyes pleading, begging. And in that moment she knew that he understood, he understood the danger, the risk that there was for both herself and the King now joined in such force with held no control. "Get her out, Ar! You can reach her! Get her out!"
"No." The Crown Prince shook his head, the word barely coming out of his mouth, dying before it was even pronounced. She could see his hands shake, his breathing coming out in shallow pants, eyes wide.
"Ar! Get her out!" Tadion demanded again, more urgent, desperate now, attempting to shake his eldest brother out of his sudden paralyzing fear, blue eyes burning through him. But the younger Prince was asking for too much, even she could tell.
"I cannot!" Arahaelon shook his head once more, his eyes suddenly shutting closed as the wind gave yet another unexpected jerk, his hands flying to his ears, desperate to cover them, to ignore everything around him, to pretend it was not real.
"AR!" Tadion's hands gripped at the older elf's shoulders, shaking him forcefully, forcing his green eyes open only to be burned by intense blue. "You have to pull her out!"
Then, Arahelon's eyes fell closed, the ringing in her ears intensifying, becoming too much, and suddenly she felt as though she was spinning, her mind, her body, her entire self being dragging and pushed and twisting in chaotic maelstrom. Everything else suddenly disappeared. There were not the sounds of the crying forest, of the screaming wind, the cracking tear of the stretching branches. She could no longer see Tadion as well, she could see nothing, only black. And then he found her. She knew it immediately, felt the change, the sudden jerk and burning in her head as his sipirit somehow seemed to reach for the younger version of hers in the memory. There was a flash of pain, a sudden shake, her head spinning faster, ears ringing louder and louder.
And in a fragment of a second, the endless blackness was gone, the second his spirit reached hers it was as if a sudden electric shock wracked through her body, so deeply engraved in the memory, and she could feel Arahaelon losing all control, his spirit being pulled to fast, the connection too easy, instant, and there were images, snippets, flashing before her eyes too fast, once after the other, the memory so clear that it was as though she was witnessing the visions as if they were new…
She could see an elfling, barely more than a toddler, climbing high on thick branches, large innocent eyes as green as the leaves of the trees while a familiar deep voice called out from somewhere underneath "Arahaelon, do not climb too high!"
And then there was that same elfling, running through an open garden, his little feet dashing through fresh powdered snow, hand pulling along a very young Lossenel, hair and skin as pale as the winter around them.
Then there was a baby, a girl, with wide green eyes and golden curls that peeked just behind her pointed ears, sticking a soft silk blanket into her mouth. Then it shifted again, and there was Arahaelon once more, younger yet no longer an elfling, stretching the thin string of a long bow, taking in a deep breath before letting it loose, the arrow cutting through the air. And there was once again the baby bouncing on her little chubby legs as tiny fingers gripped tightly at the railings of an ornate crib, delighted giggles floating out of her mouth. A figure was in front of her, soft gentle voice carried in the wind with the tunes of a song, his equally green eyes gazing in amusement at his younger sister, clapping his hands along with the cheerful lullaby, letting out a soft quiet laughter as the baby tried to imitate him, her smalls arms too uncoordinated to succeed, palms missing each other.
And then there was Arahaelon, looking older now, yet still young, sitting quietly next to the King around a long table, watching his father move pieces on a stretched map in front of many finely-dressed elves. And then it was herself again, but this time she was no longer a baby, but an elfling, almost resembling a five-year old child. She was splashing in a river, stepping over rocks on bare feet, a plain used with dress flowing in the wind that toyed with her loose golden waves.
And it shifted once more, and she saw herself again, sitting on the grass, still a child, hair braided in a single long plait, her hands weaving wild flowers into a crown. There was duck flapping its wings impatiently next to her, making her laugh. And there was Arahaelon once more, looking older now, exactly as he did in the present, carrying a sleeping elfling Legolas in his arms, the child's head resting on his shoulder as the older of the two made his slow march through a moonlit corridor. And then it was her, older too, spinning in a long pale pink dress, the vaporous fabric floating around her as her figured twirled among many dancing elves, the splendor of the King's Halls swaying with soft music and merry laughter, golden flowers hanging form the ceiling.
And then there was a forest, tongues of fire sputtering through the branches, the air covered by a thick cloud of smoke, the trees crying, the unnatural storm raging under the power that wielded it, thunder crashing, the rain cutting the bloodied mud. "No!" Arahaelon's voice was yelling over the rain. She could see herself through the smoke, standing waist deep in what seemed to be a stream. "Do not, Almarëa!" But the storm seemed to drown his voice "ALMAREA, NO! IT WILL KILL YOU! IT IS TOO STRONG!"
And it shifted once more, the forest turning into a crowded throne room, filled with finely dressed elves with jewels in their robes and hairs, cheering loudly and bowing as a familiar crown of silver leaves was lowered into the golden head of the elf kneeling by the throne, on Tadion's head.
And then it was gone, Arahaelon suddenly pulling out of the connection, her ears ringing loudly once more in protest. And she could see Tadion once more, could see the broken corridor where the storm continued the rage, the powers the forces, still uncontrollable, the connection still established. And there was cry that tore through the air, a pain filled cry, one that did not come from the forest, did not come from the wind, but from the Crown Prince, his figure suddenly slumped against Tadion, whose wide terror-filled eyed gazed desperately at his eldest brother, arms holding his seemingly limp body. Arahaelon's eyes were tightly shut, his face contorted in pain, desperately pressing his left arm to his chest, gripping it with his right hand just where she knew the mark, the pale nearly invisible handprint, was.
"Ar!" Tadion called out franticly, concern filling his face as he looked at his eldest brother, desperate to find any way to be of help. He touched at the Crown Prince's left arm, but the gentle contact only produced another pain filled cry from the older elf, who did not seem able to hold it back, his face twisting and contorting, displaying the agony that was evidently wracking through said limb. Arahaelon's right hand reached for his chest, fingers gripping at the neckline of his tunic, pulling at it, twisting, nails scratching into his own skin just underneath his neck in despair, in pain.
The images morphed, the loud noises of the forest slowly disappearing, fading away as the colors and shapes dissolved into clouds, floating eerily through the air before rearranging into a different scene, a different memory. The room was dark, only the dull orange flickers from a dying fire illuminated the piece. Thick droplets of rain wept down the crystals of the windows, their soft drumming a lulling melody.
She could see Arahaelon, sitting at the edge of the overly large bed, his tall lithe figure half covered in darkness and half illuminated by the yellow firelight, casting strange long shadows on his face. He wore formal robes of the deepest blue, embroidered in pale silver threat, an equally silver circlet resting on his head. The King was there too, propped up on the bed against a mountain of feathered pillows. Her father looked pale, drawn, but his ice blue eyes were nothing but awake, focused on his eldest son in complete silence.
"You wanted to see me?" Arahaelon was the one to speak, his voice always so soft, and yet the sound was off, a little too stiff. A long second of silence followed, the king's eyes gently studying his son.
"How are you?" Her father's gaze did no waver, his eyes easily seeing through the Crown Prince's mask, perhaps being the elf who ever could.
"I am fine." Her brother's face was blank, perfectly composed, but she could see in her father's expression that the older elf did not believe it.
"Arahaelon." The King pressed, his eyes shifting down her brother's face, down to his neck. And she could see it there too, with the aid of the flickering light, just when his robes shifted a little as he moved. Underneath her brother's pale neck, right where it met the high collar of his robes, were deep red scratches, marring his otherwise flawless skin.
But the King was answered with silence, Arahaelon's green eyes only looking at him blankly, unreadable. Her father sighed, shaking his head lightly.
"You have done great, my son." The King changed the subject, looking resigned. "Doronor updated me on the past days only hours ago. You managed everything smoothly and wisely."
Once again Arahaelon did not speak, only nodding his head, his gaze shifting to the fire, where the dying flames licked slowly at the ashes.
"She joined the connection." The Crown Prince's words were barely audible, a whisper as weak as the lulling tones of fire. Quiet blue eyes fixed on his figure from the bed, watchful, concerned, sad.
"She was there." Arahaelon's eyes turned to meet his father's as he spoke. "She was in the forest, she was controlling the forest. "
And she could see in on her father's face, that dread, his expression suddenly sober, and she knew in that instant that those same thoughts had been plaguing the King's mind. And in a second she understood the danger, the silent fear that crossed through both father and son's quiet faces. She did not need it being said. She had seen it herself, only minutes ago, in the past memory. She had only been a baby, and yet she had reacted to the forest's call, and not only had she joined, but she had meddled with her father's powers, controlling the forest at her own freewill.
"She proved their fears correct." Arahaelon continued, the air in the room suddenly seeming heavy, the fire losing all of its warmth. "She can do things. Powerful things. It will not stop here, will it? The restlessness, the uprising…..it will not stop."
"No." The king answered heavily, looking defeated. "It will not stop. They will come for her again."
Arahaelon nodded his head once, his gaze falling on his lap, were his hands rested perfectly folded. The fired cracked again, a few sparkles flying around from a burning log.
"I saw…things." Arahaelon's voice trailed off in the darkness, face lifting to look at his father's expectant face. "When I reached for her….I saw….things…."
Only a nod came in reply, silent. They King's ice blue eyes studied his first born son carefully, but he did not say anything, he did not push, he did not probe, and for a second she wondered if there was a part of her father that did not wish to know what Arahaelon would say next, already fearing what it could be.
"There were things…."Her eldest brother continued, eyes trailing vacantly towards the fire, distant, the curtains swaying languidly by the windows. "Things that have already passed….like memories…and there were other things…..that have not yet happened….."
She saw her father's eyes falling closed, his marbled face looking troubled for just a moment, pained, before he opened them again, his attention fixed on his son.
"I saw her." Arahaelon turned to face him once more, his silvery hair brushing the high collar of his robes with a soothing sound. "She was there…..She looked older, an elfling….she was alive. I do not know where she was…..it was not in the realm, none of the trees I could recognize….but she was alive….she was laughing…."
Only a sigh left the King's mouth, the expression on his face almost impossible to read. It was a strange combination, half hopeful, half pained. This time it was her father the one to look away, gazing at the fire for a long second, the same his eldest son had done only minutes before.
"I have thought about…..more than once." He admitted, and in a single moment his perfectly composed façade seemed to crumble, and it was pain that she saw, deeply lined in his ageless face. "We have discussed it…your mother and I. I have even written to Elrond already….asking him to foster her….if only for a few years…..but still I hoped that such a thing would be needed…and yet….."
The Elvenking did not finish, he did not seem to able to. And still whatever words he would say next were not needed. Her fathers' eyes turned back to his son, studying him, seeming to know exactly how to read him, a thing that she herself would never be able to do.
"That is not everything you saw….is it?" The words were phrased as a question, but it was evident the King already knew the answer. A long second of silence stretched, both elves merely looking at each other, not one daring to look away.
The King knew. She did not know how she knew, but she knew. The King knew there was more…and he seemed to know what it was.
"That was everything." Arahaelon spoke, the words dry, low. A lie. But her father only nodded his head, accepting the answer he got as if it were the truth.
And then the images shifted, the figures once again vanishing into swirling clouds, that almost resembled liquid, morphing and readjusting into something else. And she was in a study, a familiar study with many high bookshelves lining the walls. Except it was not the same.
"My Lord!" She could hear an elf hearing in the background, a guard judging by his golden armor. "Get a healer!" Another shouted.
But she could barely see the figures that rushed inside the room, dashing in their King's aid. All she could see was Arahaelon, slipping out of the room like a shadow, almost unnoticed by everyone else. His beautiful emerald eyes were wide, troubled, uncharacteristically unfocused. He did not seem to be seeing where he was going, did not even seem to notice whoever crossed his path, his feet running, rushing through the quiet corridors in a haze, his deep green robes trialing behind him, tangling with his legs.
"You Highness?" A tall dark haired elf called from a staircase, pale blue eyes looking at the Crown Prince in concern, but her brother did not even seem to see him. He ran down the staircase, oblivious to the many eyes that followed his figure.
He stepped out into the main courtyard, ignoring the guards who immediately approached him but were unable to catch up with his long strides. He kept going, reaching the stables, not even listening as the young elf there rushed to his feet from his resting place, clearly surprised to find the Crown Prince there himself without previous notification or without requesting his horse to be readied. But once again Arahaelon did not seem to notice, his quickly hands reaching for the reins of his stallion, climbing on his back in one swift motion.
"My Lord?" The stable elf rushed to help, his face puzzled, lost. And she knew that the sight must have been concerning. Arahaelon was still wearing his long formal robes, not even seeming aware of that fact, the thin silver circlet still on his head. Those were no riding clothes, and he wore no riding boots either. But he kicked his legs, setting the horse forward.
"My Lord!" The young elf cried out in surprise, suddenly alarmed. His thing small hands reached for the humble bow that hung on his back, stepping next to the stalling before it could take off in a sprint. "Do not leave unarmed!"
For the first time Arahaelon saw him, seeming to be the first time he even noticed him in the first place. The Crown Prince did not say anything, barely nodding his head, reaching his hands out of accept the offered weapon. It was not much, but it was definitely better than nothing. And then he took off, not even turning back to see the guards who still ran after him, the shouts of bewildered, scared elves that tried to catch up with him but would no longer be able to, exiting the gates of the Palace, going into the forest, urging the horse to go faster, and faster, and faster.
She did not know for how long he rode, the memory cutting off in parts and reforming again, but it seemed to have been days. It was dark now, only a half moon glowing dimly in the blacked sky. The fast gallop had slowed down to a gentle walk, Arahaelon's deep green robes looking stained at the hem from accumulated dirt and dust. His long silvery hair had started to fall out of the neat intricate braids that it had previously had.
He stopped, his face black, eyes vacant, lost. In a single fluid move he jumped from the horse, hot even bothering to tie it. The sight before her eyes was one that she would never forget, one that already haunted her in her dreams and she was sure would haunt her until the end.
The muddied grass was covered in bodies. So many…too many, lying limply on the cold ground, unmoving, vacant eyes staring emptily at the moon but no longer seeing it. There were orcs, and elves, all mixed together, the blood still fresh on the ground. Not much time must have passed since the fight.
She saw her brother, walking among the dead, the only living being. His handsome face was lined in pain, a pain so deep that it hurt to see it. And still his eyes searched, they scanned the ground, corpse after corpse, almost hopelessly, yet seeming to cling to a small thread of hope that he would find someone alive.
He took in a breath, suddenly rushing in the direction of a body lying by a large tree trunk, her golden hair spilled messily over her face, covering her features. His slender fingers rolled her over, looking at her face, only to sigh in both disappointment and relief. Gently, her brother let the lady down on the grass one more, eyes shutting in sorrow for a second. But something else caught his eye.
She saw it too, right there, on the bloodied grass, not far from the lady's body. It was a blanket, the white soft silk now stained and ripped in parts, but the handwork, the embroidery, was unmistakable. She saw him pick it up, not caring how it stained his hands, not even seeming to notice. And he was rushing, his breath caught on his throat, searching through every body, turning them over, looking through the heaps of cloaks that lingered on the grass, on the fallen objects and opened chests and even jewelry that had been scattered around.
But the less he found the more desperate he seemed to get. She had never seen him like that, she had never seen Arahaelon ruled by hopelessness. And when there were no more bodies to search, no more things to look under, he moved farther, going deeper into the forest, searching nearby areas, around every tree, every corner.
"NANA!" He suddenly yelled out, his voice raw, eyes looking around at the branches, at the tree trunks, at the grass, almost expecting someone to answer him, anyone….But nobody did.
"Almarëa!" He continued to cry out, only the moon watching him from the sky, only the cool night breeze answering his words. "Almarëa! ALMAREA!"
And it all shifted again, the images reforming, only the moon remained, still high on the sky, except that it was now almost gone, barely a slit visibly on the sky.
The door was thrown open, the Crown Prince walking into the familiar room in long strides. He still wore the green robes, the garment wrinkled and dirty now. A figure trailed behind him, even though he paid her no attention, not turning to look as she closed the door behind her.
Her sister looked like a ghost in the dark bedchamber. Her platinum hair shone in the same color as the moon outside, but it was left loose, unbraided, without a single trail of the many tiny jewels that usually adorned it. But it was not that which looked most out of place. It was her stance, defeated, shoulders slumped. It was her face, suddenly looking numb, docile, not a even a memory of the stubborn fire and strong will that always lighted her eyes remained. She looked as though she had not slept in days…and as though she no longer cared for sleep. And still she followed Arahaelon, fallowed him as he reached the desk, the closest surface he could him, his hands suddenly slamming at the many tiny ink flasks resting on it, sending them flying over the room, breaking into a milling pieces. Black ink splattered on the wall, dripping to the polished marble floor.
Lossenel did not react, did not even flinch at the sound. She simply stared at him, face sad, aching.
"You are back." The Princess broke the silence, vacant eyes looking at the ink dripping down the wall. But Arahaleon did not seem to hear her, his feet already rushing towards the bathing chambers, his breath hitching on his throat, Lossenel following closely behind him, concerned.
He reached the washing basing, dipping his hands in it, not caring how the water splashed around that drip onto the floor. He rubbed his hands together, desperately trying to rid the dirt and dried blood from his fingers, his breaths coming faster and faster, scrubbing his hands, his wrist, and then his right hand travelled up his left forearm, scrubbing harder, scratching at the scarred handprint, seeming desperate to rip it form his skin.
"Arahaelon!" Lossenel step in, seeming to wake up her eldest brother from whatever images and thoughts haunted his mind. She grabbed his hands, stopping his maddened scrubbing, blood trailing thinly from the scratches on his forearm. He was panting his eyes lost, hollow.
She watched him close his eyes, shaking his head as if to push back whatever was haunting him, taking in a calming deep breath. Lossenel did not say anything, simply guiding him out into the bedchamber, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. And he did so without complain.
The Princess disappeared into the bathing chambers again, only to reappear seconds later, with a clean wet cloth on her hand. She dabbed it gently at the Crown Prince's bleeding arm, cleaning out the newly made cuts, the latter not even seeming to notice, staring vacantly at his sister, not once flinching.
"Get those off." She instructed, pointing with a delicate hand to his stained and muddied outer robes.
And Arahaelon did as he was told, easily discarding the garment that she was sure would be thrown away and never reused, his hollow green eyes following Lossenel as she rummaged through a large wardrobe, picking out a clean long tunic for him.
"I will draw a bath." She made to move for the bathing chambers once more but he stopped her.
"Leave it." Was all he said, the Princess stopping midway, returning slowly to where he still sat on the bed. "I will ask a servant later."
"I am leaving. For Lorien." Lossenel's voice threaded fragilely over the room, Arahaelon turning back to face her for the first time, eyes as empty as hers. "I will stay with uncle Aerdan for some time…."
"I know." Was all he said, but what else was there to say. "Tadion?"
"He left only hours after you did." Her sister explained, her hands smoothing down the skirts of her long pale lilac dress. "Nobody knows where he went. He did not say…. I do not think he will be coming back soon."
Arahaelon nodded his head, hollow emerald eyes taking a long look at his sister. "Ada?"
A long moment of silence followed before the Princess spoke, her voice drawn, flat.
"Ada pretends nothing has changed."
A nod. There were no more words that need to be added to that. And in a single second she felt her own heart crush into a million fragments.
"Will you stay?" Lossenel rounded the bed, lowering herself next to her brother, pale aquamarine eyes studying his face in sorrow.
"I must." Was the only answer that followed. But of course he must. Lossenel seemed to understand too, for she did not ad anything else to that. Arahaelon's title did not allow him to leave the realm as easily and for as long periods of time as his siblings could. He had to stay. He had to be present, to be seen, to carry out with his daily duties.
The Princess' face lowered, eyes casted down at Arahaelon's scratched forearm, where new blood was slowly blooming once more from the opened skin.
"What is it?" She finally asked, and there so many questions condensed into those short words, so many questions that she knew Arahaelon could see on her face. For a moment she believed the Crown Prince would not answer, that he would remain silent, but he proved her wrong, his face turning away, gazing vacantly out at the opened balcony, face lined with pain.
"I suggested it…."The words were barely a whisper, drifting out of his mouth and into the dark cool air. "To Ada…..I suggested that she was sent away….I never thought…..I thought I knew…It was meant to keep her alive…I saw her alive…I never thought that she, and Nana….I should not have said anything"
Here is chapter 66! It's a little long but I hope you enjoy reading it!
Thank you so much to everyone for your comments on the previous chapter, truly it means a lot to me to know that so many of you still follow this story and the characters even though it has been a very long journey with little updates ( I know, I'm sorry about that)
Love,
Elena