"What do you mean, Athlorial? You do not remember?"
"Remember what, Nada?" she asked.
"Your performance was three nights ago. Now, let me get you some soup. You must eat so your body can heal. If you would like, I will send Eriboth to see you now?"
"What? What do you mean?" Athlorial continued in her questioning because of a growing anxiety.
"You have already done your performance, My Dear Eklirin. But do not worry about it, worry about regaining your strength." Seeing a horrified expression appear upon her young and bruised face, Nadalize walked over and embraced her once again, "Please put your mind at ease. You did well enough to acquire the very author of your song as your personal attendant for the last three days and nights." After a final warm embrace, Nadalize turned and swiftly exited the young woman's bed chamber, but not before she turned around and said, "I will send Eriboth up to you. He has been very anxious to speak with you."
Eriboth, the poet of legend, the warrior of legend, had watched her sing one of his most famous poems. But more, he had come to her rescue as she was attacked. All knowledge she possessed regarding the incident were the brief images from what she had believed to be an awful nightmare. And none of those images contained anything of Eriboth as her savior. She remembered very little of it, if anything concrete at all. Yes, she had heard stories of his prowess in battle and heard bards sing their own renditions of his poetry over the years, but she had never thought she would meet him, let alone sing for him. However, there he was, seated next to her bed, and she had asked him to leave and fetch Nadalize as if he were a common servant and she a member of a royal family.
As her vexation at her own ignorance grew, so too did her anxiety resulting in an abrupt elevation of her nausea. So much was it growing, she was certain she was going to deposit the contents of her stomach upon the floor. Yet her focus was not so dominated by her uneasy stomach that she abandoned all semblance of herself. She was still aware she did not want to cause Nadalize any more work than she had done so already, so she attempted to rise and walk toward her commode. However, her legs were still extremely week and were unable to support her body. As she fell forward, certain she was going to reach the floor, she reached out her hands to protect her face, bracing for the impact.
But that impact never came as she was caught by strong arms and held close to a strong and warm body. "Thank you," she said as she regained her footing. Finally looking up to see who was responsible for preventing her tumble, she became instantly embarrassed as she stared up at Eriboth. The dam of her consciousness previously holding her mortification in check had been utterly shattered allowing it to run rampant in her spinning mind. Her sweating increased. Her embarrassment grew. And her stomach responded. With its prevention no longer a viable option, she doubled over and wretched upon his shoes.
When she had completed her vomiting, fully emptying the contents of her queasy gut, she stood upright and meekly took the offered washrag from the man who had now saved her twice. Yet, as capable as he was, he was not able to save her this third time. "It appears we are destined to keep meeting in less than ideal circumstances to promote our conversation, My Dear," Eriboth spoke as she continued to wipe her mouth. "How are you feeling?"
Humiliated and defeated, but temporarily unfocused on the hole in her memory, she was not quite sure how she felt in this moment. A segment of her was feeling hopeful that her performance had been approved by all those in attendance, including the tall legend standing in front of her. However, the greater part of her felt small, of no consequence and grossly inadequate to be in such company. She stepped away from him and weekly made her way to the side of her bed upon which she sat and steadied herself with her hands. Of course she felt physically weak, but she felt very emotionally weary as well.
And yet, behind all of her embarrassment, weariness, and self-condemnation for having just vomited all over her rescuer's boots, as she sat on the edge of her bed, she was also grateful for yet another influence in her life responsible for her safekeeping. But she was unsure of whom she should be grateful too. Nadalize had saved her from the fire years and years ago, and had also provided her with a means to continue her life with a small sense of purpose. Even though her benefactor was under no compulsion to do so, she opened her home, life, and business to a young woman whom she knew nothing about. And then there was Eriboth; the legendary enigma who's skills with a sword were as touted as his skills with his pen. He had also provided a continuance to her life from an equaled back drop of ignorance and absent from any obligation.
The contrasting nature of the actions of those who knew her set against the nature of those who did not breathed a lesson directly into the lungs of her mind regarding her constructed reality. So what was the power behind both starkly contrasting people crossing her path? Was it chance that both Nadalize and Eriboth had been there to save her from certain death at the most opportune moment? Or had something been directing, orchestrating, and conducting all aspects of things converging them at just the right moment for her benefit? To her, while the immediate gratitude was plain in its presentation, there was a greater aspect at work functioning on her behalf that warranted her thanksgiving beyond the simplicity of chance.
"My Lady, if the emotional and physical requirements necessary to continue our conversation are beyond your current status, I would like to visit you tomorrow to continue, or rather, begin our conversation," hesitating briefly he added, "Provided I have your permission."
Startled out of her deep thoughts by his voice, she forced herself to look at his eyes as she answered him. They were a very deep shade of green, but their color was not what caused this moment to be imprinted upon her memory as soundly as a well forged blade. She saw pain; a deep seated pain buried underneath layers and layers of self-constructed identity similar to the pain she held within. But perhaps it was not his eyes alone that formed a mirror of her, but the words he had written and that she had sang. Yes, she was tired; tired of so many things, but seeing him here, standing before her presenting her with the opportunity to speak to him regarding the nature of his words and how he had existed beyond the pain, was an opportunity whose passage she could not allow.
And then she remembered. He was the man sitting in the tavern writing in his leather bound book while she sang. And she remembered her performance, the eyes, the breaths, and the tears of the gathered crowd had all been the echo of her own. She remembered how she was able to connect with the hope offered in his words as they left her lungs. How she longed for the completion of that hope. Even now, years later, she was still held captive by her past and its resulting brokenness.
Weekly she spoke, "No. Please stay. I am able to speak, at least a little."
He smiled warmly as he motioned toward the chair next to her bed as he politely asked her permission to sit. "I must compliment you on your interpretation of my poem. I admit, it was exceptionally rare. In fact, I do not think I have heard any performance with as much potency as yours, including my own."
She smiled and blushed causing her to lower her eyes out of modesty. As she raised her eyes again to meet his, he was smiling broadly. "Thank you, Lord Eriboth, but you are much too kind and generous with your praise."
He chuckled mildly out of amusement preceding his reply, "Why is it that performers will not accept the praise of the author?" Seeing the perplexed look upon her face he waved his hand dismissing his question, "Never mind that, My Lady. How are you feeling?"
"Well, my head is throbbing quite a bit and my body feels as though it was trampled by a heard of wild boar, but I am still grateful I am not worse off. Thank you, Lord Eriboth, for your kindness. I am not quite certain I will ever be able to repay it."
"You need not worry about that, My Lady, as it is I who was indebted to you," he softly returned.
"I do not understand. I did not know you before today. What favor could I have done for you?"
"My dear Lady Athlorial, your performance
just three evenings ago has more than paid for any service I could have offered you."
"What do you mean?"
Looking at her inquisitively, he paused their conversation for a brief moment to observe her. Grinning he spoke, "I would quite enjoy another opportunity to meet and speak with you. Perhaps if you are feeling well enough, you would not mind accompanying me to dinner tomorrow evening? Provided, of course, Nadalize could spare your services for yet another evening?"
Smiling broadly, she bent her head down in embarrassment again and spoke, "I do not know what to say."
"Well, saying yes would be the preferable answer."
She smiled again, "Then yes, as long as Nada does not need me to work tomorrow evening."
Eriboth genuinely smiled. "Very well, Lady Athlorial," he addressed her as he rose and walked over to her extending his hand to take hers, "I will wait, with fond anticipation, until such time as we will meet and speak again." He finished and gently kissed her hand. He exited her room without turning back leaving her in a state of excited shock, a state that caused a whole other form of nausea.
The next evening, while she was feeling much better and did not have any of the nausea and only a minimal head ache remaining, she was yet still weak. However, she was determined to be well enough to accompany Lord Eriboth to dinner. He had arrived earlier than she anticipated, but she was grateful because she was not feeling well enough to desire a late evening and hoped he would understand her necessity to retire early. He was dressed moderately, but carried himself with the elegance as though they were going to attend a formal event.
She, however, did not possess any suitable dinner attire and was forced to borrow a gown from one of Nadalize’s merchant contacts. The gown was not extravagant in its nature, but did fit her appropriately, which was probably the reason it was chosen. It contained two primary layers of material in the skirting which was reflected in the simple corset and sleeves. Her hair had been tightly braided by Nadalize into a single, long braid hanging between her shoulder blades. She wore a modest circlet of golden leaves and was adorned with a modest golden necklace. The combination of greens on her clothing accented by both the golden accessories on her head and neck, combined with her bright blonde hair would no doubt detract attention from the partially hidden colors on her face. Nadalize had assisted Athlorial in her attempt to hid her bruising, but as deeply colored as they had become, no amount of make-up would cover them completely.
Eriboth had waited in the main tavern dining room while Nadalize was assisting her. As she crossed the threshold from the back stairway to the entrance to the room he currently occupied, she stopped time. The few patrons in attendance during this early dining hour, as well as Eriboth, were held in the suspension of their attention from all distractions seeking to pull it from her. As she approached him, she saw his eyes never leave hers. He extended his hand, and she responded by allowing his to lightly grasp hers.
"My Lady, Athlorial, you are extraordinary," he addressed her as he took the liberty to gently kissed the hand he had gently grasp. "Shall we continue with our evening?"
Smiling broadly, partly from the disbelief of her current companion, and party from the equaled belief in him, she replied, "Yes, let us continue." As he transitioned her hand from his to the inside of his arm, they both turned and began walking toward the exit of the tavern. Nadalize watched as he held the exit door open for her, and said a silent prayer that theirs would be a time of pleasant existence, for they both deserved it.
From the moment they sat in the carriage he had hired to shuttle them to dinner, the short tavern owner's prayers were answered. They talked pleasantly of the weather at first, as well as other trivial aspects of life during their voyage to dinner. But once at dinner, their conversation progressed to the deeper topics they often did not discuss freely or openly. They spoke of her life at the tavern, the circumstances surrounding his inclusion into the elves, her life before the tavern, and his after his brother had become King. She spoke of her father, mother and sister; and he spoke of a life traveling and killing. They had both drawn the beginning of tears from the other.
As suspended as their dual attention was at the sight of the other upon her initial presentation to him this evening, it fell wondrously short of the completely singular attention they now focused upon each other. In the matter of a few short hours, they had experienced an existence greatly removed from any and all conditions of their mortally derived constraints and became nothing more than what the other saw. And what each of them saw was utterly enough. Had it not been for the apprehensive interruption from the young and embarrassed severing girl quietly requesting they allow her to complete her nightly cleaning duties, they would have talked until the rising of the sun the next day.
"My Lady, I apologize. I did not notice the late hour. Please allow me to escort you back to your home," he said as he rose.
"Lord Eriboth, do not apologize. I did not notice either," she replied and took his arm as escort. When they reached the tavern, Athlorial could see that Nadalize and the rest of the serving girls were completing their nightly cleaning duties. The lights were still on and she could see some shadows cast through the windows.
"Thank you for dinner, Lord Eriboth. I very much enjoyed myself," she said as the carriage came to a slow halt.
"It is my pleasure, My Lady. I would very much like the opportunity to call upon you again on the morrow. That is, if it meets with your continued approval."
"Yes, yes it does. And thank you once again."
Exiting from his side of the carriage, he walked around and opened her door. Extending his hand he asked if she would allow him to escort her to the tavern door. She silently took his hand and slowly descended the two steps to the ground. Without words, they walked to the entrance where he kissed her gently on her hand, "My Lady, Athlorial, it is now, and always will be, my pleasure to occupy your time. Rest well and dream deeply. I will come for you again in the evening, though if our time apart should pass in the blink of an eye, it will still be much too long a time to wait."
The next five days progressed much as they had the first time she had decided to accompany him to dinner in that their attention upon each other grew in its attraction and familiarity into a fluid give and take between them. As one waxed the other waned. As one ebbed, the other flowed. So natural was their time together, neither of them could see a time when it would not be so. Their week long encounter culminated as Eriboth had asked her to accompany him to the wedding celebration of Lord Brendin's eldest son, Alrinic. Nadalize could do nothing but agree to the time she spent with him, including this event because as apprehensive as she was regarding a future with Eriboth, she had never seen the young woman as happy as she had become when spending time with him. This young woman had been born into so much pain she did not deserve, who was she to stand in the way of her happiness? In all honestly, it warmed her heart to see Athlorial genuinely smile.
From beginning to end, the night was magical. Eriboth had purchased the dress she was to wear during their shopping trip the day before. He had spent countless hours with her as she tried on several gowns from several shops, all the while never taking his attention from her, nor displaying the slightest agitation. When she had finally settled on her favorite, hours into the day, he displayed an excitement equal to hers. When he arrived to escort her, he had brought her a flower of the brightest yellow to match her hair and accent her gown. She felt as though the gods, or fate, or anything else with a divine connection had gripped her small and painful life and had taken pity on her to remove all such sadness.
The magic continued into their arrival as they were greeted with such visual splendor she could barely take her eyes from the enormous amount of colors displayed at the Lord's Castle. Decorating the impressive grounds were great tapestries, large hanging murals, numerous statues, and a splendid array of multi-colored, candle lit lanterns encased in thin layers of paper. All of the visual enhancements created a
vividly static kaleidoscope displaying every color she was capable of imagining, and some she was not. As they were escorted through the visual enthrallment by two attendants, her focus turned to a particularly vivid and picturesque statue depicting a lone warrior facing two great beasts. The warrior held a single sword in two hands above his head, poised to make a lethal strike. The beasts were coiled and posed to strike back at the lone warrior and had strikingly evil snarls set upon their tooth riddled jaws. The posture of the warrior's facial features reflected a contradiction to the vicious action of the statue as a whole. Calm, soothed, and almost detached, the warrior's face emanated a certainty and confidence amidst the uncertainty of outcome the rest of the work portrayed. She would have liked to spend more time studying the image, in part because the peace within the warrior while immersed within a desperate situation was something she wished to have. In a smaller part, she felt a certain familiarity with the warrior, although she was too far away to examine it in greater detail.
The attendant personally walked them from their carriage through the castle grounds where they were met by a second set of attendants charged with escorting them from the castle entrance to the Grand Ballroom. At this transition, they were instructed to pause for a moment. Then a very proper and loud voice signaled their arrival by stating, "Lords and Ladies, it is the expressed pleasure of your host, the Lord Brendin, on behalf of his son Lord Alrinic and his bride Lady Presana, to welcome his most esteemed guests, Lord Eriboth Dordrosis, and the Lady Athlorial Lumendel."
As they entered, many sets of eyes were focused upon them. She was not sure if she should wave or acknowledge their applause. Resulting from her uncertainty, she decided to simply smile and proceeded to the table at which their names had been placed. As they walked, several other guests approached them and extended an acknowledgement as they passed by either saying, "My Lord," or, "My Lady". All of the guests except one couple conducted their various greetings in passing. Looking to his companion, a tall man dressed in black robes lined with golden colored thread asked, "My Lady Cuetori, do you see whom I see?"
Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1) Page 36
