Gold Comes the Autumn {September 3011} [Adanedhel]
Nov 20, 2018 17:20:51 GMT -5
Post by ELIRA on Nov 20, 2018 17:20:51 GMT -5
“Let go, let me go,” Kelet hissed, several times as Adanedhel forced her back down the hall toward his chambers. His hand was a fetter upon her wrist, and she panicked at the words he had spoken. That he would not allow her to walk away. He led her through the hall as if she were a slave to him; a slave as she once had been in Nalaikh. Kelet knew she could not fight him; he was stronger than her, and she had not even a chain with which to defend herself. “Allow me leave. I wish to go,” she demanded again, outside his chambers; her voice rigid. He told her not to fear, but why should she not? He treated her as a prisoner with no free will. Hauled back to the stone chamber with the door shut behind him,
“I understand now. I made you feel trapped and made you feel as if you were a captive.”
Kelet’s heart was fluttering like the wings of the golden hummingbirds that would flit in the far off forests of Agasha Dag; grey eyed staring at Adanedhel as crossed to the washroom to shut the door. Her hair was plastered slick against her head yet from the rain and the bath, her dress damp and clinging, and she had begun to back up toward the door to the front hall again before he turned. The moment Adanedhel turned, she paused in step; biding her moves.
“Can we please start over?”
When she had first looked upon the room earlier in amusement, and now in some disdain, Kelet took another step backward. “Start what… over… am I captive of Adanedhel now, must I stay in chamber?” she spoke, trying to hold steady a resonant voice. Feeling for the handle of the door behind her, she clasped hold of it.
Beginning to pull the handle, it pushed suddenly inward, biting into Kelet’s back as she gasped and half jumped from her skin. She had not expected the door to open inward, and she stumbled to the side. A hand caught her; the dark haired mother of Adanedhel grasping to stay her from falling.
“Oh, Kelet, I did not mean to cause you fear,” Amarië spoke; having heard them first in the hallway and then after. Sounds traveled to one of sensitive ears, and it were not as if the doorway between Adanedhel’s quarters and the main chamber of their living area were proofed to hold back all. The woman had not meant to eavesdrop; she knew very well her son’s growing affection for the elleth. The better for things as they were for her son… she had thought. She had thought until today. When she had heard the voices in the hall she had tuned into the sound, and Amarië was not pleased at what had come to her. She had followed the sounds out into the hall but the door had latched before her, and thus she entered without admission.
“Forgive me,” Amarië said, her voice wry as she wrapped her fingers around the shoulders of the white haired young Avari, looking beyond at her son. A strange sensation in the mother’s throat, as if suddenly she were seeing him in a different light; no longer an elfling, but a grown elf of the Noldor.
“I heard protest in the hall, and I thought for a moment I would be opening the door to my own dear husband. A presumptuous elf who would force one to enter against their will,” Amarië spoke of course in sarcasm. She knew well the difference in voice between Saeros and Adanedhel, but the comparison would not fall short on her son. “I thought… perhaps he was changing, What a surprise to see my son acting in his likeness.” Her blue eyes turned soft upon Kelet, then looking at her son, her gaze piercing upon his own eyes.
Amarië’s had resumed practice in the art of sifting through the mind in her time away from Mirkwood; her skill in the osanwe had grown, to what it once had been in ancient days, and more. The gift had been a comfort to her in the caves of Ravondis; when she could reach out and speak to Saeros without the fell bat gaining knowledge of it. Like a battering ram in the midst of grim warfare, she thrust herself into the weaker and less shrouded mind of her son without permission. Her thoughts invading him, where words could be heard by Adanedhel alone and not Kelet.
What presumption does my son have, to deny the requests of this elleth to depart? Amarië’s thoughts filled the space of Adanedhel’s mind. Has he not seen the damage his own Adar laid upon me with such actions? You behave as your Adar. I would have never wished it upon you. What gain do you expect for this? Give this elleth something to cloak herself with, and let her go. You will not win her by force.
“I understand now. I made you feel trapped and made you feel as if you were a captive.”
Kelet’s heart was fluttering like the wings of the golden hummingbirds that would flit in the far off forests of Agasha Dag; grey eyed staring at Adanedhel as crossed to the washroom to shut the door. Her hair was plastered slick against her head yet from the rain and the bath, her dress damp and clinging, and she had begun to back up toward the door to the front hall again before he turned. The moment Adanedhel turned, she paused in step; biding her moves.
“Can we please start over?”
When she had first looked upon the room earlier in amusement, and now in some disdain, Kelet took another step backward. “Start what… over… am I captive of Adanedhel now, must I stay in chamber?” she spoke, trying to hold steady a resonant voice. Feeling for the handle of the door behind her, she clasped hold of it.
Beginning to pull the handle, it pushed suddenly inward, biting into Kelet’s back as she gasped and half jumped from her skin. She had not expected the door to open inward, and she stumbled to the side. A hand caught her; the dark haired mother of Adanedhel grasping to stay her from falling.
“Oh, Kelet, I did not mean to cause you fear,” Amarië spoke; having heard them first in the hallway and then after. Sounds traveled to one of sensitive ears, and it were not as if the doorway between Adanedhel’s quarters and the main chamber of their living area were proofed to hold back all. The woman had not meant to eavesdrop; she knew very well her son’s growing affection for the elleth. The better for things as they were for her son… she had thought. She had thought until today. When she had heard the voices in the hall she had tuned into the sound, and Amarië was not pleased at what had come to her. She had followed the sounds out into the hall but the door had latched before her, and thus she entered without admission.
“Forgive me,” Amarië said, her voice wry as she wrapped her fingers around the shoulders of the white haired young Avari, looking beyond at her son. A strange sensation in the mother’s throat, as if suddenly she were seeing him in a different light; no longer an elfling, but a grown elf of the Noldor.
“I heard protest in the hall, and I thought for a moment I would be opening the door to my own dear husband. A presumptuous elf who would force one to enter against their will,” Amarië spoke of course in sarcasm. She knew well the difference in voice between Saeros and Adanedhel, but the comparison would not fall short on her son. “I thought… perhaps he was changing, What a surprise to see my son acting in his likeness.” Her blue eyes turned soft upon Kelet, then looking at her son, her gaze piercing upon his own eyes.
Amarië’s had resumed practice in the art of sifting through the mind in her time away from Mirkwood; her skill in the osanwe had grown, to what it once had been in ancient days, and more. The gift had been a comfort to her in the caves of Ravondis; when she could reach out and speak to Saeros without the fell bat gaining knowledge of it. Like a battering ram in the midst of grim warfare, she thrust herself into the weaker and less shrouded mind of her son without permission. Her thoughts invading him, where words could be heard by Adanedhel alone and not Kelet.
What presumption does my son have, to deny the requests of this elleth to depart? Amarië’s thoughts filled the space of Adanedhel’s mind. Has he not seen the damage his own Adar laid upon me with such actions? You behave as your Adar. I would have never wished it upon you. What gain do you expect for this? Give this elleth something to cloak herself with, and let her go. You will not win her by force.