Durelin walked along in the darkness, so separated from the outside world that he hardly heard Erdaminéon as he told him he was sorry for his harsh words. But the ominous elf heard enough to know that Erdaminéon and the others were still furious with him. He let Erdaminéon walk ahead of him again, he had no desire to speak with anyone only to increase their anger with his words. He knew he would never know if something he was about to say would effect anyone in a bad way. And he had never cared. He had certainly not changed.
Let them be angry, enraged even. How should I have known that anyone who barely knew them and expected less of them would receive such. I am sorry I injured their precious pride! Ha! I acknowledged my mistake, but that is not enough for them. So much revolves around others pride. Many a time the lives of others. How I despise pride, though I indulge in it myself. How I wish I could be rid of it along with so many others. One should be proud of their humanity, but not to the extents to which we, over time, have brought it!
Durelin clenched his fists in his rage. He felt like beating at the nearest thing that was solid until no skin was left covering his knuckles. He was glad the nearest thing was an elf, or he would have done so. He had calmed himself into reason when he shuddered as he felt a cold, clammy feeling run down his spine. Something was wrong, but what? The elf stopped and looked all around him. Were they being followed? If they were, well, he couldn't see anything. And for some reason, he knew that he would have a heavier feeling of danger upon him if they were in any immediate danger. There was no way of knowing if something was far behind them. The elf simply began walking again, as he had said before, he didn't care.
He was now a fair ways behind the group and he walked a little faster to catch up a bit. As he looked at those ahead of him, he wondered if anyone had noticed him stopping. Probably not. His thoughts traveled back to pride. Mainly his pride. In his despair he thought of all the times his pride had shown. Whether it stopped him from doing something, or made him do something, he constantly cursed himself for allowing it to. But as he thought of pride lessening in the world, somehow he knew that it would lessen far too much. Will there ever be a time when anything is balanced? Or will the world forever be filled with extremes? It seems that the latter is more likely. Things will always be either full to the brim or empty.
What had Erdaminéon said? Durelin's mind jumped back to his words as the gloomy elf finally took in his words. He had hinted, yes. Hinted on knowing of sorrows in Durelin's life. Sorrows? Yes. But they have little to do with this. Little. This is grave business, this is what you might call a grudge, but by far a reasonable one to hold. Those fowl creatures will pay. Not one will bring word of the slaughter to their master. They will all die, perhaps me with them. But it will be worth it. Oh yes, every drop of blood taken from me will be worth the gallons of theirs that I will spill. May their bowels litter the cavern floor to rot in malodorous memory of my sweet revenge. Durelin smiled softly in the darkness, a slight twitch of his lips. That moment of triumph would come soon. Oh so soon.
They set up camp to rest sooner than Durelin would have liked. But Bordarigorn had to rest. Everything was so silent and calm that their worries seemed so unnecessary. Nothing showed the plight ahead. The night was always beautiful to Durelin. The stars and moon, and just the way the land looked in the pitch blackness. But the dark was hard for him to enjoy right now, for it brought back his dark thoughts.
Darkness. Beautiful in its way, yet full of intimidation, and the breeding ground of evil. Life seems so helpless in the dark. What of my life? The elf remebered asking his father this. He was a wise man for all that Durelin cursed him in times of despair. His father had answered with a sort of poem. It was stuck in his memory, he would never forget it because he felt such a connection to it. Unconsciously, he began to recite it under his breath.
The end has come and left you in the dust,
But from the dust you shall rise in glory.
Darkness has fallen, you are under its body,
You have struck it down for life-everlasting.
But it is a price you pay to bear its body,
Along with the memory of an everlasting death.
Have you chosen a long path to darkness,
Or a path from darkness to light?
As he finished the poem he sighed in a desperate sort of way. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight, he didn't have to. He would sit in the dark, lost in his thoughts all through long night.
[ February 17, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]
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