The Daemon Lover {Elorwin & Justric}

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Elorwin, Apr 29, 2015.

  1. Continued from: story thus far

    Seraphina trotted easily on Finwë as they passed under shadowy boughs and along leaf lined roads as they crossed through the silent town and towards the woodlands. Her smile bright upon her lips they swayed together in easy company as they continued to speak of old tales. In almost no time they came to the edge of the Moorland Woods. Pulling slightly more sharply than she intended on Finwë’s reins he whinnied in protest and side stepped as they paused at the border. The forest loomed before them more impressive and daunting than any grand castle, the air itself seemed to still around them, like the world was holding its breath before the plunge. Calming Finwë with a touch Seraphina tried to steady herself as readily, turning to her companion as he whispered his warning.

    The gentle laugh that forced through her lips was warm, bright and seemed to shatter the oppressive feeling that had stolen into her heart at the sight of the forest. The minstrels determined words and offer of protection meant all the more as she saw how uncomfortable he was too; she noted his hands shaking slightly upon the reins.

    “Ah my gallant Rook, I hope we do not have to make good on your offer though I appreciate it none the less. Fear not I am not the helpless maid many take me for” With a casual shake of her head she adjusted her crown and repositioned her seat, for no more than a heartbeat her milk white thigh was visible in the moonlight and strapped to it, glinting like blue frost was a short but wicked dagger. But before the eye could be sure of what was seen her midnight regalia was back in place and she was urging her horse forward at a leisurely pace. He fell into step only a moment after but Seraphina kept her eyes firmly upon the road and for a time they were quite with only the nocturnal sounds of the forest for company.

    “So what do you know of the ‘one’ waiting for me or are we playing at make believe again or even more daring are you going to revel you are truly an old god come to walk amongst men and laugh at their folly? She laughed at this but it had been a strange evening where nothing had gone as planned and ever since this minstrel had appeared nothing was quite as it seemed, next thing she knew the moon would rise during the day and rabbits and mice would join her for afternoon tea. To her utter surprise Seraphina found she cared very little for the strangeness of her situation, if anything it was a welcome reprieve for the continuous monotony of her daily life and despite being unsure of the destination it was nice just to be able to walk the path herself of her own volition.
  2. He merely shrugged, the concern on his face not so much vanishing as merely being set aside with amusement. “Me?! An old, true god? Hardly.” Tambernanny guided his steed to follow her into the woods, maintaining a close distance without quite managing to break any protocol. He did look about the shadows of the forest with unease, a haunted look on his face as though he expected long forgotten ghosts to jump out at them and drag them beneath the shrubs and briars.

    “No, I’m no old god,” he protested quietly and sorrowfully. “No more than you, at any rate, Your Majesty.” Some measure of his former humor returned then, along with it a smile as bright the sun and as sharp as the moon on a cloudless night. The bard’s words were wistful and full of fancy. “Or perhaps we’re all old gods. Reliving our stories over and over again in a fight to remain young and be remembered. Maybe we are but their servants, acting in their places and carrying out their earthly duties. But right now, we are exactly who we seem to be. Me, a mad wanderer. You, a young lady playing at being the most regal of queens. And these are not bad people to be.”

    The merriment left his voice once more, becoming grim as he nodded towards the path that wound its way between tree and bush and rock before them. “What we become the further we press on into the night and the forest? That’s yet to be discovered. Or remembered.”

    Silence descended as the conversation between noblewoman and commoner, leaving only the chirping of crickets and the peeping of frogs to fill the air, punctuated only time to time by the shrill cry or low hoot of some night bird flittering in the distance tree branches. The clip-clops of their horses’ hooves were muted. And it was in this stunted silence that Tambernanny raised his voice in song. The tune was mournful and full of nostalgia, the longing in it almost piercing the heart with it a dagger of loneliness.

    “Do you remember what we promised when we met, my love?
    There would never be a reason for regret, my love;
    The news has come to town, the news flies up and down,
    That another you have found to lie with you, my love.
    If the wind doth whisper by that it's not true, my love,
    And the seas could rise and cry that it's not you, my love;
    If the hills could only say that you were on your way,
    Then happy I would stay and be with you, my love.

    “Ev'ry night I light a light for your return, my love,
    But the morning light's a lesson to be learned, my love;
    That I, who learned to trust, have been betrayed at last,
    Forever I'll be cursed for wanting you, my love.
    Remember what we promised when we met, my love,
    There would never be a reason for regret, my love;
    But I, who learned to trust, have been betrayed at last,
    Forever I'll be cursed for wanting you, my love.”**

    Tambernanny sighed and glanced over at Seraphina. “He’s The Cuckoo,” came the gentle confirmation. “The Devil Himself. I can hear him whispering in my ears. But what you and I think that means and the truth of it all… That I don’t know. Nor why he’s calling to you in the middle of the night beneath the moon.”

    He pursed his lips. “But you’re looking for more than just that, aren’t you, my lady? You’re seeking something that court can’t give you, something that you have to find for yourself. Something or someplace that never existed, and yet you are drawn to follow after. So now you wander. Like me. In that, we are not so different, you and I.”

    More might have been said, but a woman’s cry rent the night. It was a forlorn sound, tearing at the heartstrings and pleading for mercy without a single word being spoken. Tambernanny looked up in alarm, his head whipping towards the shadow filled depths of the woods to their right. “It’s dangerous to leave the path,” he whispered as a reminder, “but what you and I seek might not be found along where others have traveled.”