Songs of the Spirit

Chapter Ten


Lindir took a deep, bracing breath before knocking upon Erestor’s door. There was no answer, so he tried again. Following the encounter in the healing quarters he had returned to the gardens, but his mind refused to turn back towards his music. The songs he had heard so clearly within his mind before now seemed out of tune, flat, and disharmonious in relation to what he had discovered. The day now seemed too bright, and the birds too cheerful; he wished the clouds would come back and bring with them the rain, which seemed more suited to his emotions than the brilliant sunlight which persisted in shining down upon him. While wandering the gardens he had found himself straying in the direction of Erestor’s rooms, and had inadvertently caught sight of the elf moving about through the balcony windows. Finally he had just let himself travel to Erestor’s door, still uneasy but unable to wait any longer.

At last he heard a sound which could have been interpreted as a request to enter and he cautiously opened the door. He felt as though he were entering a bear’s den so uncertain was he of the temperament of the creature lurking within.

Erestor was sitting in one of the chairs near the balcony, a glass of miruvor in hand, staring off into the distance. As Lindir watched the wine was downed in several quick swallows. He doubted Erestor could even taste the heady stuff so fast did he drink it. Then the elf moved to pour himself more from the bottle on the small table next to him.

“Erestor?” Lindir asked, unable to keep the hesitancy from his voice as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Are you alright?”

The elf in question shrugged, not even bothering to look in his direction. “I do not know. I cannot seem to think.”

“I doubt the wine will help much with that,” Lindir responded, moving closer but making no move to take the alcohol away.

“Nay, but it will settle my nerves some.” He took another smaller swallow. “What do you need?”

Lindir was momentarily hurt but the dismissive tone of his lover’s voice, but didn’t let it show. It was as though the darker elf was attempting to distance himself from his emotions, something Lindir could fully understand, and as a result was closing off from everyone.

“I only wished to see if you needed anything, or if you wanted to talk?”

There was a long silence, which finally Lindir took as a dismissive gesture. He bowed his head and turned to leave.

“Sing for me.” The pleading voice was so soft Lindir almost missed it. “Please?”

Lindir turned back around. “What would you have me sing?”

“I don’t know.” The dark-clad shoulders shrugged again. “Something light. Something to help me clear my mind and forget for a brief time.”

Lindir nodded and approached once more, this time moving to stand near the balcony doors. He contemplated the request for a moment more before choosing a sweet springtime sheep-shearing tune he had learned during his travels south. It was a joyful tune, extolling the virtues of the wooly beasts as well as those of the young couples frolicking in the fields, and yet Lindir could see that while Erestor tried, he could not seem to loose himself within the music’s embrace. So he changed tunes to that of a silly love song between two birds. However even that was not enough to loosen the frown from the darker elf’s face. In fact, as Lindir watched, Erestor’s hand came up to rub at his brow, effectively concealing the dark eyes from view.

The song trailed off, but the bard made no motion to move, continuing to watch silently as Erestor drew in a deep, shaky breath. A few moments longer and the hand dropped. As Erestor rose from his chair Lindir could see a silver glint to the dark eyes, indicating tears that refused to fall. He walked over to the sideboard, set down the empty goblet, and then crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the tapestry hanging upon the wall.

“You told me before that you saw strength within me. What say you now, when I am confronted with my fears yet unable to face them?”

“My opinion has not changed,” Lindir replied, stepping away from the balcony. “No one expects you to be strong- ”

“*I* expect me to be strong!” Erestor nearly shouted, spinning away from the table. “To be able to think clearly under difficult circumstances! Now, with *him* here, I cannot even do that! I refuse to live in fear of him, and yet his simple gaze turns me into an elfling once more!”

“You give him too much power over you,” Lindir replied, his voice sounding much calmer to his ears than he felt. Inside he was as nervous as though he had woken the bear he had earlier related the situation to. “He is an elf, nothing more.”

“Just as your father was only an elf?” In his anger he missed the suddenly hurt look that flashed in Lindir’s eyes. “If your father was here, now, after he abandoned you, would you be able to do such a thing? Would you confront him?”

Lindir said nothing, for in truth he did not know. In all honesty, he knew he would have most likely run, far and fast. At least, that was before he had come here. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“I thought not.” Erestor replied, turning back to the wall and its bright tapestry. He could feel the sharp pangs of rage he had kept buried down deep inside rising to the surface. Since he had assumed the elf was dead it was something he could easily relegate to the past, for it had no effect on him and his present life. Now this hate seemed to bubble up like a well-spring. All those years of fear, helplessness and anger were slowly balling up into a large fist of rage that insisted upon exploding in one fashion or another.

“I will not live in fear of him,” he repeated, voice low with emotion.

“Then what do you call this anger? It is just another sort of fear,” Lindir murmured, cautiously moving towards the door. He watched as Erestor’s fists clenched tightly. A look crossed his face that made the bard hurry his steps, fear suddenly dropping nauseously into his stomach. “You are not thinking straight.”

“And how am I supposed to think!” Erestor spun about as a wave of helplessness swept over him, and before he knew what he was about, he slammed his fist into the wall beside the tapestry with such force that it caused a series of tiny cracks to form in the plaster. Lindir couldn’t suppress a yelp of fear, and in a response that was completely instinctive he fell back against the opposite wall. One hand groped for the door handle, faltering several times before he was able to grasp the latch and pull it open.

Erestor turned when he heard the cry, watching as the bard sought to escape the room. Immediately shame flowed over the anger, not washing it away but covering it with a deeply-felt disgust towards himself. “Lindir! Wait…”

The bard merely shook his head, eyes downcast as he fled. Erestor stood immobile for several moments before he finally sank to the floor, head bowed and throbbing hand cradled in his lap. The several of the small bones may have even been broken, but he paid it no mind next to the pain in his heart.

Review Responses:

Jya: Thanks for both the review and the hot chocolate! *grin* After this last week… I’ve been so exhausted I haven’t had much time to do much of anything. But a fresh week is ahead, complete with some time off work. I’ve just finished day 8 of a 9 day, full-time, work week plus school. :-( But the weekend is finally here! Yeah!!!

Laur Melyanna: Well, it wasn’t QUITE what you predicted, but close enough? I don’t think I could have let his actually hit Lindir; that would have been ultimately unforgivable, and the trust completely shattered.
And I was wondering how many would pick up on who the elfling in the beginning actually was. I love building up assumptions, and then blowing them away! *laugh*