The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - The Green Dragon Inn

littlemanpoet · 08-19-2003, 08:29 PM

Falowik felt a touch on his shoulder, gentle, warm. He had never felt such warmth, and it shocked him, for her hand was shapen fire touching ice; and the ice melted to the touch, puddling quickly. He could not let this happen! But he could not afford to make it stop.

"What is it?" How could someone made of fire speak with a voice so fleshly warm? So it was with the Elves. His hand came up and clasped hers. Folly, old man, 'twill only lead to more pain. Her hand was warm but he could not face her.

"Please, tell me?" No, he could not speak it. It was foolishness. He had already allowed too much. Tell her to go away, old man. He formed the first word in his mouth but could not release it. He did not want her to stay. He did not want her to leave. He did not let go of her hand. Kindness. Could she be trusted were he to speak it? The warmth traveled into his chest. Slowly he turned toward her.

To tell her what? Speak what? He did not know what lay in him so deep, having frozen him into ice for all these years.

"I can help." Help with what? He did not know. Maybe he did not need to know. Her eyes and her face shown with the fire inside her, with a sureness, a deftness that could not fail. He opened his mouth to speak, not knowing what his words would be. Of a sudden his mind turned to the impending arrival of horses and stablemaster. Derufin could return at any time. Falowik became aware of his hand on hers, of how close her face was to his, how they two would appear to one coming near. He pulled his hand away, glancing off west, back to her.

"You - you have helped enough already, Fair One. My thanks." He looked meaningfully to the west once more, and turned from her. "Please leave me now." He felt her pull back as though stung. She stood and backed away. The light in her faded, though a lodestone she remained. It was no good. He had done as he always did, spurning all people, all trouble save that which lay within his own heart; but that trouble he knew well enough. Maybe he could take the sting out of this one, though, for she did not deserve such pain. He turned to face her one last time. She had begun to turn away.

"Vanwë-" She stopped and looked back, the moon catching the strands of her golden hair. "I will use the soap." He turned from her. Why had he said just that? It was all he could manage. It would have to do. And he would keep his word. He heard her quiet steps for a few paces, and then no more.

You're a fool, old man, the stray horse could take the stablemaster all night to find. It had been too much, more than he could allow himself to feel alone, much less before this Elf woman who read him all too well, it seemed. You need to be more careful, old man. With those comforting words in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

08-19-2003, 08:29 PM	#7
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Falowik felt a touch on his shoulder, gentle, warm. He had never felt such warmth, and it shocked him, for her hand was shapen fire touching ice; and the ice melted to the touch, puddling quickly. He could not let this happen! But he could not afford to make it stop. "What is it?" How could someone made of fire speak with a voice so fleshly warm? So it was with the Elves. His hand came up and clasped hers. Folly, old man, 'twill only lead to more pain. Her hand was warm but he could not face her. "Please, tell me?" No, he could not speak it. It was foolishness. He had already allowed too much. Tell her to go away, old man. He formed the first word in his mouth but could not release it. He did not want her to stay. He did not want her to leave. He did not let go of her hand. Kindness. Could she be trusted were he to speak it? The warmth traveled into his chest. Slowly he turned toward her. To tell her what? Speak what? He did not know what lay in him so deep, having frozen him into ice for all these years. "I can help." Help with what? He did not know. Maybe he did not need to know. Her eyes and her face shown with the fire inside her, with a sureness, a deftness that could not fail. He opened his mouth to speak, not knowing what his words would be. Of a sudden his mind turned to the impending arrival of horses and stablemaster. Derufin could return at any time. Falowik became aware of his hand on hers, of how close her face was to his, how they two would appear to one coming near. He pulled his hand away, glancing off west, back to her. "You - you have helped enough already, Fair One. My thanks." He looked meaningfully to the west once more, and turned from her. "Please leave me now." He felt her pull back as though stung. She stood and backed away. The light in her faded, though a lodestone she remained. It was no good. He had done as he always did, spurning all people, all trouble save that which lay within his own heart; but that trouble he knew well enough. Maybe he could take the sting out of this one, though, for she did not deserve such pain. He turned to face her one last time. She had begun to turn away. "Vanwë-" She stopped and looked back, the moon catching the strands of her golden hair. "I will use the soap." He turned from her. Why had he said just that? It was all he could manage. It would have to do. And he would keep his word. He heard her quiet steps for a few paces, and then no more. You're a fool, old man, the stray horse could take the stablemaster all night to find. It had been too much, more than he could allow himself to feel alone, much less before this Elf woman who read him all too well, it seemed. You need to be more careful, old man. With those comforting words in his mind, he drifted off to sleep. [ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]