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I came down like water
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| When I met her she was already married, but she was happier then, and I could not hate him who made her smile. Perhaps it was her love for him that I fell in love with; her gentle, persistent caring, her sacrifices, her secret joys and doubts.
I remember her beautiful hands. Strong, slender, golden fingers that would wander the soil as though they belonged there. Wherever she touched, flowers would bloom.
Then she bore his son and I saw her seldom; she retired to a single, small garden of her own. Her smiles would wilt, her hands were thin, tears would linger in her eyes, a flush of anger or shame in her cheeks.
Then, another child; perhaps they thought to heal the breach. But she was left to walk alone at night, while Nessero fought in drunken brawls. For one night she was mine to hold and watch and care for.
She sent for him in the morning.
Now he has killed her. I cannot forgive him. | comments: Leave a comment   |
| | Security: | | | Time: | 09:29 pm | | Current Mood: |  nervous |
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| Who would have expected such excitement to come of Meleth? I have never known anyone to seek out the Houseless Ones; too many frightening tales are told. But Meleth let this spirit possess her body - all so that she could say a last goodbye to Narminco.
It is a delicious story, but I cannot say I am looking forward to the light fading tonight.
I suppose it should not surprise me that Master Daeron has the power to summon the Dead; he called a whole world to life when he sang for me. Such power is frightening - and a little thrilling ... | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Time: | 02:14 pm | | Current Mood: |  naughty |
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| | Captain Halatir is terribly polite. And such a gentleman as well. I wonder who helps him into his armour? It's almost enough to make me join the King's Guard. | | comments: 6 comments or Leave a comment |
| Perhaps I should not have admitted that to the man who is largely in charge of Anghabar's roster; surely I am far past my turn to serve there. Still, it has never been an issue in the past; my trade is too highly valued by the city, and those who practice it too few in number (or poor in skill).
If they took me in the summer, I would miss the grapes; autumn, there is the grain and malt; winter, I press the grapeseeds for oil; spring, I must take inventory and determine what is ready to be tasted. Really, I've no time for mining.
The Moles' juiciest gossip seems to be some dispute between Calandil and Aranwe. I shall have to ask Falathar for the other side of it. The child was never friendly to me, so this is hardly surprising. Although apparently he isn't a child anymore; funny how things like that slip by me. All I recall is that gurgling baby that demanded Nelloth's attention so.
But he kept her happy, then; I imagine that has changed.
Lord Salgant is steadfastly avoiding Lady Maiwen's company - even going so far as to seek out conversation with her husband! I did not know the Harp-lord was so clever; no wonder he has kept their secret so well-guarded. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Lord Salgant is turning out to be full of delicious secrets. I've not yet found evidence of his affair with the prince, but certainly he is in possession of some strange and incriminating objects.
I'm certain that spicy smell could be nothing other than Master Galion's Jasmine Musk Oil. (I purchased some for Falathar on his last begetting-day.) But why does he keep it hidden in a trunk, and not with his other toiletries? Obviously because it holds an entirely separate purpose!
And then that strange, stiff piece of fabric - I nearly wore it out of the trunk - I could almost swear it is a lady's corset!
Is it possible I am on the wrong track? Is Lord Salgant keeping a mistress? | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Time: | 04:35 pm | | Current Mood: |  distressed |
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| I can think of few places I'd less rather be than here. I do not know what I shall do if she begins to weep. Worse, what if she begins to fade, right before my very eyes? I'm sure it could happen. I wonder if I could stop her somehow? Lord Ecthelion would never forgive me if I let her disappear.
... She should be grateful that he does not suffer. But I suppose I cannot say that to her.
All I want is to be some place warm and soft and close my eyes. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Time: | 07:11 pm | | Current Mood: |  uncomfortable |
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| Well really, this is quite unfair! None of Falathar's friends were arrested at their little ceremony by the King's Fountain. Why couldn't those silly guards believe that I wasn't really breaking the curfew at all, I was simply on my way to join them. At least, I'm sure I would have, after I had visited Nelloth.
I thought it would be exciting to be in a prison cell, but it isn't at all. It's very lonely and boring. What terrible laws we are going to have under Queen Idril, if this is any example. But I suppose it isn't really her fault; it's that dreadful Lord Maeglin. One only has to look at him to see that he is no fun at all. I must ask Lord Ecthelion to speak with him about this.
How long are they going to keep me here, I wonder? All this for a little walk after dark! I should ask for Captain Halatir. He would not allow this treatment. Or at least he might bring me an extra blanket and perhaps a puzzle or something sweet. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Time: | 07:56 pm | | Current Mood: |  shocked |
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| Idril is Queen of Gondolin! At least, everyone is saying so. What could have happened to the King? Perhaps he has been trampled by a team of horses, or fallen from that ridiculous tower, or carried from these lands altogether by a Great Eagle. Or perhaps his broken heart finally fell apart.
Or perhaps - no! It couldn't be so. Not our splendid King! No murderer could get to him. Captain Halatir would not stand for it.
Lucky Serwen, in the middle of everything as usual, no doubt. I must find out what has happened! However ill this event, surely it has brought about some good as well. With a ruling queen at last, perhaps something sensible will be done about this Doom about to fall on us. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Time: | 04:49 pm | | Current Mood: | nervous |
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| I do not know what one ever expects to find huddled on one's doorstep on a stormy night - a dog, perhaps, caught without shelter, or some other such creature. But a cloaked man - really! How improper! I hardly knew whether to leave through the back door and join the festivity in the streets, or invite him in at once.
But then the princess' little handmaid showed up, and Serwen (darling!) behind her, and I saw who it was: the minstrel, that barbaric songbird. I couldn't understand why he didn't simply knock on the door; but then as I listened to the conversation outside (mostly Serwen, no-nonsense as always) I remembered the rumours that I had heard of him. Apparently he was indeed imprisoned on charges of murder!
What is a poor girl to do when such matters are heaped on her doorstep? I suppose I ought to have spoken with him - or else run straight to the guard. But I just couldn't bring myself to do either. And the poor dear did look so bedraggled in his wet cloak. So I opened the front door, and left through the back.
I meant to stay and watch what happened, because I'm certain Serwen would have summoned the guard to my house. (How marvellous! The Royal Guard, at my house.) But the rain! The singing! The dancing! How can one sit under a bush and watch when there is such activity about?
Perhaps later I shall slip into Serwen's quarters and find out what happened. Assuming that they have not decided I am his accomplice and put out a warrant for my arrest as well. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Time: | 06:28 pm | | Current Mood: |  lonely |
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| How I do come to loathe summer, particularly such a grim and dry one as we have had. It seems so long ago that the city was full of wickedness and excitement; that dreadful fire in the marketplace provided some relief, but oh, my poor dear market! It looks so woebegone in ash and ruins (though they are daily working to repair it). I do not like to go there at all anymore.
Everyone other than me seems to keep far too busy for my liking. Even that strange wild minstrel - twice now I have gone to his garden, and left without a glimpse of him. I have heard stories, of course, of what has become of him - but I cannot believe it. Such a voice might slay another, to be sure, but his hands were made for gentler things ...
Still, they are frightful rumours. I wish I could know whether they are true or not, but the gossip seems to have withered along with the best of Gondolin's crops. Where is Falathar when I need him? I've not seen the sweet fool for years, I'm quite sure. And Serwen, what has become of her? (No doubt she is deliciously occupied slaying beasts and rescuing princesses.)
And my dearest Nelloth, shut up in the house by her brute of a husband. I wonder if she thinks of me?
Elemmakil is in the city. Perhaps I should visit him. Or I could go and watch the well-diggers. I really must find someone to talk to, I have such things to tell: there is a clothing-thief amok in Gondolin - and Lord Ecthelion has no trousers. | | comments: Leave a comment |
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I came down like water
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