Heart of Flame: A Tale Of Sauron

All Ye Faithful

His countenance looms in her vision, the colors changing. Ebony to flaming red to faded grey while the golden eyes grow brighter till they burn from his face with a vengeance. Centuries have passed, but his beauty is as unearthly as it was the day she first met him when she was a child.

The images shift like a screen projector.

The infant with the solemn stare and swath of jet back hair like his father's.

The girl child dreaming in a summer field, eyes dark brown as her father's, tumbling curls like leaves in autumn.

The maiden on horseback with the fierce blue gaze and her father's sword at her side. 

Then the shadowy figure she can never get a good look at that passes before her sleeping gaze. She knows him on seaside cliffs, beside lakes, and behind waterfalls. But she doesn't know him. Not really. Not ever. Despite the intimacy of the years spent together, she never truly knows him. 

And it makes her love him all the more.

***

"And 5, 6, 7, 8..." The choreographer chimed out, tapping his foot as he drew a puff off his cigar. He snarled and waved a hand for the band to stop, marching across the stage towards Ivy. "Look kid, pieces like you are a dime a dozen in this city. If you don't stop dreaming, I'll kick your bony behind right out of here."

The other chorus girls tittered among themselves as Ivy's face warmed under his threat. "I'm sorry, I didn't sleep well last night."

"Quit going out on the town every evening of the week and that will solve your problem. Other than that, leave your belly aching for someone else, I don't have the time or patience," he ranted, spittle dusting her cheeks.

Ivy wiped her face with a grimace and stretched out her ankles as she waited for the next cue, staring down at her feet. Myrtle elbowed her.

"What's wrong with you, honey? You've had your head in the clouds all day." She tightened the kerchief tied around her curls.

"Just what I said. I didn't sleep well." Ivy had no interest in discussing her nightmares openly. Avoidance seemed the best option at the moment, though it was beginning to interfere with her work.

Maryanne let out a low whistle and nodded towards one of the gilded balcony boxes over head. "Most eligible bachelor sighting at two o'clock."

Ivy glanced up. Sitting in one of the faded red velvet chairs high above them was the new owner of the Gilded Cage. Mal Smith was watching the rehearsal with a bemused expression. And seemed to be looking at everyone but her. For some odd reason, this irked Ivy.

"Probably trying to decide which one of us to give the boot first," Myrtle muttered under her breath.

"But Ivy said he mentioned that he wasn't letting any of us go," Maryanne protested.

"Aw, you're sweet kid." Myrtle pinched her cheek and Maryanne swatted her hand away.

"I wouldn't trust him just because he says it. Even the Bible says trust no man, the nuns told me so." Ivy smirked.

"I'll say amen to that," Myrtle chuckled.

Maryanne sighed. "Oh ye of little faith. C'mon, there's nothing wrong with believing the best in people."

Ivy hooked her arm around Maryanne's waist and gave her a hug. "I'll only trust you, how about that, kid?"

Myrtle held up her hands in mock offense. "Don't count me in or anything, I wouldn't trust me either."