Faded Light: Book II

(For additional notes and disclaimers please see top of Chapter 1.)

- - Here's the next one...enjoy... - -


Chapter 2

Dilthenmel


The slave had been watching the fight below his window for several minutes, debating with himself whether he should interfere. But he was unable to keep from feeling a certain amount of pride at the scruffy little, dark-haired Elfling, in last year's faded tunic and leggings, who defended herself like a true warrior from the two bullying stable boys.

She appeared younger than they, being a half-Elf, but her courage never faltered even when she was knocked to the ground. She swiftly picked herself up and struck back, and it was then that the courtesan intervened.

"That's enough, all of you," he called stepping onto the back stairs to his rooms. "This is not a public square.

"I'm sure you all have somewhere else to be," he said, looking pointedly at the boys, who gazed up disdainfully at the king's private slave, as they had no doubt heard their elders refer to him.

But he ignored the looks, as he always did.

"Sararmel, I would speak with you," he added in Elvish, as the other children turned to leave and didn't miss her irritation, as she climbed the steps to his sitting room.

"I would have bested them," she murmured, sitting down cross-legged in one of his cushioned chairs.

"I could see that, Mel," he said, kneeling down to wipe her dirty face with a damp cloth, and smiled, almost; she had hardly a scratch under all the grime. "But I've told you, you shouldn't fight. It isn't nice."

"They provoked me. Azad and Faraz, they're mean. What am I supposed to do? Let other people do whatever they want?"

He paused in his ministrations, feeling a sudden sting of pain at the words and stood, running a hand absently over a set of intricate bangles on his left arm; a recent gift of the King's. This one helped cover most of the faint scar where he had once long ago tried to put and end to his torment…

Such expensive shackles, he thought bitterly.

Though the pain in his heart was never far away, he knew he had surrendered any thought of dignity for a bit of comfort and relief from the brutality he had known in Arya's brothel...and to have his child near...

Though seldom a day passed when he was able to loathe himself a little less, he understood too well that there were worse things. And despite keeping the Elf as his courtesan, Javad had never forced or brutalized him as so many others had.

Given enough time, the youth had even begun to slowly recover his health to some extent and the ability to speak...but above all else, for his child’s life, Dafi could be grateful, and accepting of whatever was required of him.

Sararmel saw the look, which crossed his face, but she did not understand.

There were many truths about life the Elfling had not yet learned, and he was glad for that. Though brought up in the stifling atmosphere of the Palace kitchens, her spirit was yet whole. And he saw in the child the same light and strength he, himself, had lost so long ago.

But she had also inherited her Royal line’s...temper and stubbornness. And such willfulness, here, was unseemly and made him afraid.

He took a weary breath and reached for another chair. "Come here, Meld Pen.

"I would never want you to let others push you around," he said, when she stood in front of him. "But strength is not always shown by fighting. Sometimes the stronger person is the one who walks away."

"That's cowardly!"

"No, it is not, Mel." He looked into her blue eyes, truly serious now.

"Lasto! There are truths you must accept. As servants in this court, we cannot do as we wish, or as we sometimes think we should.

"If you do not start behaving differently, one day you're going to be in trouble. And, even with the King's favor, I won't be able to do anything, if it is the kind of fault that gets you sold far away."

He felt a wave of guilt mixed with relief at the worried look that came into the little girl's eyes.

"Believe me," he said, sadly, pulling her up onto his lap, "you don't want to be sent to the slavers. You've seen them in the markets, right?"

She nodded fearfully.

Then, "They were saying things about Elves...and about you. They said you weren't a good person."

"People are always going to talk, Mel. Fighting them won't prevent it." That look crossed his face again; the one she could never figure out, and he turned aside once more, unable to meet the inquisitive, young eyes, so like his own, that were still fixed on him.

"There are things you will not understand until you're older," he said, "and then you may not be so quick to defend your unworthy adar."

Mel shook her head and wrapped her arms around her father's neck, leaning on his shoulder. "I don't care, even if it was true. I know you're better than anyone else's ada."

"I wish it could be different for us, Meld Pen," he said, stroking the long, unkempt tresses she never seemed to bother with.

She was such a wild child, in so many ways, usually having to look after herself when not doing kitchen chores or running errands. Sararmel's foster mother, Amanyar, did not mean to be neglectful; she simply had too many duties to devote much attention to a young Elfling.

"I promise, Little One, someday things will change. Somehow, you'll have a better life than this," he whispered, pulling her a little closer and laying his cheek against her dark hair. "But for now, it is in our hearts we must keep our strength.

"I know I cannot protect you as I should, and I need you to always be mindful."

She lifted her head and looked up at him again. "I'm sorry. Saes, don't be angry, Ada."

"I'm not angry, Nin Alasse. I just want so much to keep you safe."

He smiled slightly. "You and I both know you're brave, and you could probably best most of the stable-boys...and the kitchen boys. But no one else need know it, all right."

Mel matched his smile, proud of his confidence in her.

"Now," he said, "go get a brush and let me comb out those tangles."

While she went into his adjoining bedroom, he pulled out a thin chain he always kept around his neck, except when working.

It was only a trinket, a replica of one he had worn when he was Crown-Prince of Mirkwood; a tiny carved leaf only direct members of the Royal House were permitted to bear as their emblem.

His had been lost somewhere along the desert, along with the rest of his life, but he'd had this one made not long after Mel's birth by one of the Palace jewelers, hoping that one day, perhaps she could have the life she deserved.

"What is that?" she asked, as she came back.

"My Ada gave me one like this a long time ago," he said, putting it around her neck. "I want you to have it now. But don't ever let anyone see it; unless it is an Elf-Lord. Only they would understand."

"An Elf-Lord," she giggled, sitting down again. "Where am I going to meet an Elf-Lord?"

"I cannot tell what is in the future, Nin Hen. I can only hope. Do not forget."

"I won't." She looked at the small leaf for another moment and slipped it under her tunic, as her father took the brush.

"Are you dancing tonight?" she asked.

"Not tonight. The King has excused me because I have been unwell; though I must attend the feast."

"Nana Amanyar says it's because you lost the baby again," she said in a low voice, innocently repeating the usual gossip that went on in the kitchens.

He stopped for a moment as he ran the comb through her black hair. "Yes, I lost the baby. I'm afraid, I always will," he said sadly. "I do not think I shall ever be strong enough to bear a child.

“Except for my single gift from the Valar," he smiled again.

"Would you like a brother or sister, Mel?" he asked curiously.

She seemed to think for a minute before she shook her head and made a face...

He smiled, making a face of his own that made them both laugh until his eyes fell on the two small red spots above her right eye and he stopped...

Elves seldom had birthmarks, but Mel was half-Elven, and the otherwise unremarkable blemish gave him a fair idea of her sire; one he recalled vividly though he tried to think of him as little as possible.

"What's wrong, Ada?"

"Nothing," he said finishing her hair. "It's getting late, and I'm sure your nana will have chores for you, for the feast. There's no time now, but be sure you braid your hair when you get downstairs.

"And don't forget all I have told you," he said, taking her hands, as she stood. "No more fighting with those boys."

"I'll try my best. Promise."

"I'll see you when there's time, then."

She nodded, and with a quick hug and a kiss on his cheek, she flew out the door, leaving him in the darkening room to his own worries and memories.


TBC...


Elvish translations:

Dilthenmel from: Dilthen Emel / Little Heart
Adar, Ada / father, dad, daddy
Lasto! / Listen!
meld pen / dear one
nin hen / my child
nin alasse / my joy
Saes / please

Sararmel from:
Sara / bitter
sar[-rdi] / stone, pebble
ar- / royal
meld / dear

So the meaning of the name, I think, would be something like bittersweet.