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Old 08-16-2006, 06:19 AM   #87
JennyHallu
The Pearl, The Lily Maid
 
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Linduial spent her day in wrapped in silence, making no complaint at Scyld's stony expression. Sorn's performance earlier had deeply shaken her, and her already tenuous faith in her eventual rescue had shattered. There would be no rescue. Not before that madman had her killed.

She found with some surprise that she could face the near-certain threat of death with almost preternatural calm. Her mind searched, with a detached and pitiless logic, for a reason why she should protest or regret this fate. Sorn was mad, and it wasn't fair; but her discussions with Scyld over the past few days had opened her eyes to a wide and cruel world, outside her sheltered experience, and life just wasn't fair. Not a good enough reason. She was young, with a long life before her, but many died far younger than she, and she found herself setting that mental cry aside impatiently.

Why should she be spared? What regrets could a sheltered girl of her tender years have? There was Degas. Her thoughts turned to the young man, and she felt a brief twinge of the confusion she always felt in his presence. She had made no confessions of love or interest, had indeed said nothing likely to further his suit. Were she to die, that would be no error. Degas was only a little older than she, and she did not wish some memory of her self to eat away at him. And yet--she wistfully wondered what would have happened had she been more honest with him. If she had told him of her attraction, of the confusion she felt around him, what might have occured?

But that was hardly a regret, just a what-if. It spoke to no error in judgement or flaw in character. On that front, she mused, she felt she had little to fear. She'd been an obedient child, had learned her lessons without complaint and with alacrity, and--

And when she had heard a mere rumor that her father might have plans for her, duties to fulfil, she'd fled. Suddenly she saw her journey to Rohan in a new and terrible light. She'd fled. Run away. Deserted her post and her duties with a cowardice she hadn't even been honest enough to admit. And it wasn't as though she couldn't have quietly protested any plan her father made for her: he'd never made any choice which affected her without speaking with her of his reasons and hearing her own desires, at least listening to her before making his decision. But she hadn't waited. She'd panicked and deserted. Guilt and regret flooded her senses, and for a moment she could barely see, so caught up was she in the rush of emotion.

Her brothers whipped deserters. She'd heard them mention the necessity once, in a matter-of-fact, disappointed tone. She faced death. The disparity between the punishments did not occur to her, and she bowed her head in shame and remorse.

A certain indefinable tension settled across her shoulderblades, down her spine. The manor above her seemed unnaturally silent, and her entire world seemed to be poised on the brink of a cliff, unable to back away. Silently it waited for the breath of wind that would send it tumbling to oblivion.

Last edited by JennyHallu; 08-16-2006 at 06:38 AM.
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