Lurielle sat back, dropping her pen into the inkwell. She sanded the sheet she had just penned and looked it over critically, eyes scanning the words.
Jiraen,
Vedui', mellonamin. Amin uuma entula a'Winyandor vee'rato vee'duile. Amin utua mootamin na ner san' amin nowe. Amin naa dele ten' i'Ar'Tel'Quessir, ar' merna lle tessamin sienta en'ron tyarnie imyan'e nyentamin e'Rhydin.
Lle aa'atulta ai'beth a'amin ie'Tel'Red Dragon Inn, Rhydin. Amin tengwuva a'lle au' iire amin caela ner nyar. Amin eleuva lle rato, ar' elen sila lumenn omentilmo.
Lurielle Elentia
Her mouth tightened at the thought of deceiving Jiraen, even in such a small way, but telling him the truth in this instance was something the she was unwilling to do. After all, to admit to another elf that she was remaining longer in Rhydin than expected simply because a human had caught her eye would be asking for censure.
If it had not been for the real purpose of her visit, Jiraen would likely have insisted on accompanying her for protection, not that Lurielle thought she needed it. But no matter how good a friend he was to her, he would not intrude on her privacy, and Luri's reasons for returning to Rhydin were personal. She had come to say a final good-bye to the past, and Edan'En'Dur Rochtura along with it.
Leaning her head back on the chair, she closed her eyes and pictured her house in the glade as she had seen it earlier that day.
***
Dust lay thick on everything, coating the covers on the furniture, muffling her steps and betraying her passage with footprints left upon the floor. The smell of age and neglect tickled her nostrils, and silence reigned. It saddened her that something that once had been so dear to her, so much a part of her, was now little more than a tomb for memories that refused to sleep as the dead should.
She would leave the house as it was, for now. Lorindol could use it if he wished, though she doubted the accommodations were quite what he was used to. But really she meant it for her children one day. Until then, the dust and the memories would be the only occupants. She would not return.
Her steps led her to the spiral staircase and she ascended slowly, watching her gauntleted hand push dust up the railing it slid along. Suppressing a sigh, Luri walked down the hall toward her bedroom " hers and Aidan's. This was the one room she had not visited in her last trip to Rhydin and Quicksilver Glade. And even now she hesitated on the threshold, peering into the shadows. Her heart wanted to succumb to the torrent of memory that sought a way past her defenses, but her mind refused. Steeling herself, her face as grim as if she waded into battle, she walked into the room and began going through the items it contained.
When she emerged, she carried a small chest filled with odds and ends that she would go through later. Now that her purpose here was nearly complete, her footsteps quickened and grew more determined. It was time to leave this place and let the ghosts of the past haunt it unmolested. She descended the stairs and paused at her old desk, adding a bundle of scrolls and old correspondence to the chest. Then, lifting a leather satchel filled with books and papers, she slung it over her shoulder and turned for a last look at the room.
It was funny, she mused, how elves lived in the past even when the present swirled around them like the tide and the future, a wave of uncertainty, rushed to meet them. Once, she had believed herself different " she had believed that she had made peace with her past and moved on. But standing there looking over the place that had been her home for decades, Lurielle admitted the bitter truth. Despite everything, despite all the years that stood between them, she had always known in her heart that she and Aidan would be together once more. She had cherished the past with him and secretly hoped that it would turn full circle and become her future as well.
She had been wrong.
Her eyes, the blue of a winter sky, filled with tears as she turned her back on the room and left, closing the door behind her. It was if closing that door opened a hole of loss within, and she leaned her forehead against the gnarled wood, waiting for the pain to ebb. In time, she would fill that hole. She would move forward and be stronger for it.
Lurielle straightened and squared her shoulders. "Namaarie, Aidan, melamin," she whispered to the air of the glade. Then she mounted her horse, left tethered in the glade, and headed back to Rhydin.
She did not look back.
Jiraen,
Vedui', mellonamin. Amin uuma entula a'Winyandor vee'rato vee'duile. Amin utua mootamin na ner san' amin nowe. Amin naa dele ten' i'Ar'Tel'Quessir, ar' merna lle tessamin sienta en'ron tyarnie imyan'e nyentamin e'Rhydin.
Lle aa'atulta ai'beth a'amin ie'Tel'Red Dragon Inn, Rhydin. Amin tengwuva a'lle au' iire amin caela ner nyar. Amin eleuva lle rato, ar' elen sila lumenn omentilmo.
Lurielle Elentia
Her mouth tightened at the thought of deceiving Jiraen, even in such a small way, but telling him the truth in this instance was something the she was unwilling to do. After all, to admit to another elf that she was remaining longer in Rhydin than expected simply because a human had caught her eye would be asking for censure.
If it had not been for the real purpose of her visit, Jiraen would likely have insisted on accompanying her for protection, not that Lurielle thought she needed it. But no matter how good a friend he was to her, he would not intrude on her privacy, and Luri's reasons for returning to Rhydin were personal. She had come to say a final good-bye to the past, and Edan'En'Dur Rochtura along with it.
Leaning her head back on the chair, she closed her eyes and pictured her house in the glade as she had seen it earlier that day.
***
Dust lay thick on everything, coating the covers on the furniture, muffling her steps and betraying her passage with footprints left upon the floor. The smell of age and neglect tickled her nostrils, and silence reigned. It saddened her that something that once had been so dear to her, so much a part of her, was now little more than a tomb for memories that refused to sleep as the dead should.
She would leave the house as it was, for now. Lorindol could use it if he wished, though she doubted the accommodations were quite what he was used to. But really she meant it for her children one day. Until then, the dust and the memories would be the only occupants. She would not return.
Her steps led her to the spiral staircase and she ascended slowly, watching her gauntleted hand push dust up the railing it slid along. Suppressing a sigh, Luri walked down the hall toward her bedroom " hers and Aidan's. This was the one room she had not visited in her last trip to Rhydin and Quicksilver Glade. And even now she hesitated on the threshold, peering into the shadows. Her heart wanted to succumb to the torrent of memory that sought a way past her defenses, but her mind refused. Steeling herself, her face as grim as if she waded into battle, she walked into the room and began going through the items it contained.
When she emerged, she carried a small chest filled with odds and ends that she would go through later. Now that her purpose here was nearly complete, her footsteps quickened and grew more determined. It was time to leave this place and let the ghosts of the past haunt it unmolested. She descended the stairs and paused at her old desk, adding a bundle of scrolls and old correspondence to the chest. Then, lifting a leather satchel filled with books and papers, she slung it over her shoulder and turned for a last look at the room.
It was funny, she mused, how elves lived in the past even when the present swirled around them like the tide and the future, a wave of uncertainty, rushed to meet them. Once, she had believed herself different " she had believed that she had made peace with her past and moved on. But standing there looking over the place that had been her home for decades, Lurielle admitted the bitter truth. Despite everything, despite all the years that stood between them, she had always known in her heart that she and Aidan would be together once more. She had cherished the past with him and secretly hoped that it would turn full circle and become her future as well.
She had been wrong.
Her eyes, the blue of a winter sky, filled with tears as she turned her back on the room and left, closing the door behind her. It was if closing that door opened a hole of loss within, and she leaned her forehead against the gnarled wood, waiting for the pain to ebb. In time, she would fill that hole. She would move forward and be stronger for it.
Lurielle straightened and squared her shoulders. "Namaarie, Aidan, melamin," she whispered to the air of the glade. Then she mounted her horse, left tethered in the glade, and headed back to Rhydin.
She did not look back.