Wanderer

10 - Pain

Jade

The elf I have called my father for fifteen years sits in the only chair in the lavish room arrow-straight, his palms on his lap.

I’ve only seen him this distressed once; after my mother left us to sail to the Valinor across the sea. She left without telling us, in the middle of the night. When I woke up in the morning,  my father was crying then, a sight I’d never seen or before or have seen since.

That’s what crosses my mind, that a huge calamity has befallen us on top of the original one. Upon inquiry, however, nothing else has happened. Then I realize that this is just Alaytar’s version of venting. Within a few hours, he will be himself again.

“Jade”, he finally calls me. “Do you understand the full meaning of what has happened today?”

I look at Alaytar, and today, I am not sympathetic to his weakness. I hate him for being strong to everyone but his own daughter. Rage boils white hot. I assume my coldest voice.

 “I understand.” I say, and my voice is cold as ice. Alaytar flinches. “I understand that since the Dark One demanded the Silmaril, you and the rest of your sorry race are going to give up. How’s it going to be now? A knife to your throat? Heart? Sailing to the end of the world? It doesn’t really matter now, does it, just so long as you’re away and you don’t come back.”

 “Jade!” His voice breaks through my own pain. “Andúnië…oh Valar, I’m sorry.”

 I yank the hem of my dress over my swimming eyes, and when I can see again, Alaytar is crying, too, without a sound; just tears run down his angular face.

 A cry I can only just understand is ripped from him as a sob racks his frame. “Kassandra!” He must miss her, my mother, so much. I don’t remember her. But I haven’t seen Elrond in three days, and I miss him so much it twists my stomach. He is always on my mind. I dream of him every night, and I haven’t really had an intense relationship with him. We’ve only kissed once. The longing to see him again is enormous, but I have hope. Hopeless longing wears you out. Alaytar looks just that: worn clean to the bone.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I put my arms around him. We hold each other tightly. “I don’t blame you in the slightest.”

 Slowly my father’s sobs subside. “I need wisdom.” he says.

“Read a book.”

 “Living wisdom. And a glass of red.”

“Ëarendil’s at the bar downtown,” I say as Alaytar rises and rubs his face.

“Will you mind the rooms?” “

Of course.” Alaytar scrubs his face and pulls on his trademark blue silk cloak. “Lock it,” he advises, and I smile. Between me and Alaytar, someone will be asking for a night with one of us.

“Don’t stay up too late,” I caution. Alaytar touches his angular face one last time, and pulls me into a hug. He smells faintly of cologne, the high end stuff he always wears.

“Forgive my weakness,” he says to me. “You are stronger than I.”

“It’s not true,” I say, and Alaytar doesn’t bother contradicting me. He pulls away and walks down the hall.

Sleep comes to me eventually, but not before the first knock.