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littlemanpoet · 11-03-2004, 06:48 PM

"We will stop here," Tharonwe said.

Five thousand, six hundred and seventy three. Raefindan stopped and looked around him. He had been paying no attention to his surroundings for a long time, for thousands of paces. His vision had been focused on the footsteps of his captor; he placed his feet in precisely the same place, step after step. At first it had been a matter of survival, but had turned into a kind of game. He would start his count over every time he failed to place his foot precisely in the footprint of his captor. At first he had had trouble getting past twenty. Then fifty paces trumped him over and over. Just once, he missed one hundred paces. After that, the count had continued uninterrupted. He had cast himself into a kind of enchantment that gave the merest nod to the weariness in that dragged at every cell in his body. The spell was broken. He was a human being again.

They were in a stand of trees, near a stream. Surrounding them were plains as far as the eye could see, shadowed under the night sky.

"Here." Tharonwe handed him a swamp leaf, folded into a packet. Raefindan took the packet and opened it. Waybread. He ate it quickly. It warmed his middle, and its virtue spread throughout his body, taking the weariness away. Maybe Tharonwe was not a good Elf, but an Elf he was.

"Thank you."

"I need you alive. That is all. Sleep. I will watch."

Tharonwe would not need sleep; at least not the kind Raefindan needed. He lay down, curled tightly into himself, and fell asleep.

Angela sat at the top of the dune, looking out to sea. He climbed the dune eagerly, the sand giving way beneath his feet. He slipped down the slope, farther from her instead of closer. He redoubled his efforts. The dune grew. She sat farther from him than ever. The sand slipped from under his feet. He slogged against the sand, but felt himself going backwards instead of forward. Finally he stopped. He called her name. She turned. It was not her. Her hair was dark as night. There was another with her, one with blonde hair. Angela? Her hair was too long, falling to the ground where she leaned heavily, swaying as with grief. The dune changed to a grassy sward surrounded by tall shapely evergreens. He stood at the edge. The dark haired woman saw him. "Imrazor?" "No. My name is Raefin-" No. "My name is Roy." "No, you are Imrazor. You have found me at last! Come to me!" He walked toward her, but the ground spread between them like a carpet, separating them more and more. The dark haired woman reached toward him. "Imrazor! Why do you flee?" "I'm not fleeing. I can't reach you." He looked down and saw that he was walking backwards. He stopped. No, he hadn't stopped. "I can't stop!" "Imrazor! Do not leave me!" "I'm not Imrazor, I'm Roy Edwards." "Why do you grieve me with the alien name, Imrazor?" "I have a message for you, Mithrellas." So it was Mithrellas. He wondered how he knew that. "Is it for Nimrodel?" "Yes." "It is from one who is with me. He seeks Nimrodel." "What is his name, Imrazor?"

Raefindan woke up, turned over, found that his legs were uncovered up to the knee, and covered himself. He looked for the Elf. Tharonwe stood at the edge of the stand of trees, looking northwards. Raefindan dozed.

11-03-2004, 06:48 PM	#556
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Raefindan "We will stop here," Tharonwe said. Five thousand, six hundred and seventy three. Raefindan stopped and looked around him. He had been paying no attention to his surroundings for a long time, for thousands of paces. His vision had been focused on the footsteps of his captor; he placed his feet in precisely the same place, step after step. At first it had been a matter of survival, but had turned into a kind of game. He would start his count over every time he failed to place his foot precisely in the footprint of his captor. At first he had had trouble getting past twenty. Then fifty paces trumped him over and over. Just once, he missed one hundred paces. After that, the count had continued uninterrupted. He had cast himself into a kind of enchantment that gave the merest nod to the weariness in that dragged at every cell in his body. The spell was broken. He was a human being again. They were in a stand of trees, near a stream. Surrounding them were plains as far as the eye could see, shadowed under the night sky. "Here." Tharonwe handed him a swamp leaf, folded into a packet. Raefindan took the packet and opened it. Waybread. He ate it quickly. It warmed his middle, and its virtue spread throughout his body, taking the weariness away. Maybe Tharonwe was not a good Elf, but an Elf he was. "Thank you." "I need you alive. That is all. Sleep. I will watch." Tharonwe would not need sleep; at least not the kind Raefindan needed. He lay down, curled tightly into himself, and fell asleep. Angela sat at the top of the dune, looking out to sea. He climbed the dune eagerly, the sand giving way beneath his feet. He slipped down the slope, farther from her instead of closer. He redoubled his efforts. The dune grew. She sat farther from him than ever. The sand slipped from under his feet. He slogged against the sand, but felt himself going backwards instead of forward. Finally he stopped. He called her name. She turned. It was not her. Her hair was dark as night. There was another with her, one with blonde hair. Angela? Her hair was too long, falling to the ground where she leaned heavily, swaying as with grief. The dune changed to a grassy sward surrounded by tall shapely evergreens. He stood at the edge. The dark haired woman saw him. "Imrazor?" "No. My name is Raefin-" No. "My name is Roy." "No, you are Imrazor. You have found me at last! Come to me!" He walked toward her, but the ground spread between them like a carpet, separating them more and more. The dark haired woman reached toward him. "Imrazor! Why do you flee?" "I'm not fleeing. I can't reach you." He looked down and saw that he was walking backwards. He stopped. No, he hadn't stopped. "I can't stop!" "Imrazor! Do not leave me!" "I'm not Imrazor, I'm Roy Edwards." "Why do you grieve me with the alien name, Imrazor?" "I have a message for you, Mithrellas." So it was Mithrellas. He wondered how he knew that. "Is it for Nimrodel?" "Yes." "It is from one who is with me. He seeks Nimrodel." "What is his name, Imrazor?" Raefindan woke up, turned over, found that his legs were uncovered up to the knee, and covered himself. He looked for the Elf. Tharonwe stood at the edge of the stand of trees, looking northwards. Raefindan dozed.