Behind the Shadow of the Soul - Prologue: Some Days in your Life
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden"
Some days in your life, you may wish to have never known love, because love is not the wonderful feeling described in songs or poems and awaited by generations of blushing maidens. Love is the only thing that can destroy your pitiful and breakable heart. Today is one of those days. My heart is aching because of what is supposed to be the most wonderful feeling in one's life.
Some days in your life, you may wish to be forgotten by the rest of the world. To be left alone. With no one to witness your break down, with no one to see the tears gathering in your eyes, with no one to see them dripping down. Today is one of those days. I only crave for the touch of loneliness, praying for the silence to overwhelm me.
But I am not alone, and will never be so. I can feel his presence somewhere in one of the highest trees. I can feel itches in my neck whenever he looks at me. He is a shadow of my pain. I know he is distressed because of my behaviour. As always, if I would wish to, I could feel his feelings. Once, I used this knowledge to soothe him. But not today. Today is not a day I can comfort others. Today is not a day I can help anyone, including myself.
He is my twin. I should be able to let him help me, to let him get close. But I can't. Simply, I can't. This pain is mine to bear; this burden is not to be shared. It was meant for my shoulders, not his.
I look up at the sky. The blue color turns to a light shade of purple. Long red belts of clouds cross the horizon. Soon, it will be night. Suddenly realization strikes me. Sweet Elbereth, one more time I have spent all day here. I usually come here to see the dawn. I sit every day on the same root, where he used to sit when we watched the sunrise together. I sit down at the same place he sat, my hands roaming over the grass he used to caress. And there, while the sun chases the darkness away, I close my eyes and let the memories come back to me. It's the only place where I can do that, the only place I feel myself sheltered from the world.
I have to get up quickly, but I don't want to. I have missed dinnertime once more. And one more time, when I get in the house, I will be welcomed by their quiet and affectionate gazes. They never say anything. They know me too well to try to comfort me with words. But I can't stand their eyes, full of pity and understanding, which remind me that I'm not supposed to be well. They see through me, through the shell I have erected between others and me. Even if I can fool most people, I will never be able to lie to them. They have known me for millennia; they always were the shelter in which I could seek refuge when the storm was nearing.
Ada. Elladan. Glorfindel. Erestor. The four pillars of my life since Nana's departure.
I have tried to avoid them, but they do not let me be. They often speak of me. They think I'm not aware, but I'm not stupid. I am able to interpret the silence that arises when I enter the place where they are speaking. They are attentive and affectionate, but they refuse me the only thing I want: Loneliness. I hate them for that. They do not understand that the swift glances they exchange when they think I will not notice are worse than explicit comfort words.
I don't want to see them anymore. I feel guilty for this childish reaction, but I don't know how to react otherwise. I don't want to see any people tonight and I may stay on this tree root all night long. On his tree root. I may stay here, close my eyes and claim that my dreams are real. I know that my father will be scared and that Elladan will stay to watch after me, but I don't want to leave this place, this tree. The world outside is too cruel, it reminds me of what has been and what will never be anymore. While, here, I can still pretend that nothing has happened, that he is still with me.
I don't want to go into the house. I don't wish to enter my room, to sleep in this bed where we used to make love. I don't want to see the sunlight roaming over the empty sheets near me when once I saw it caressing, almost lovingly, his soft skin. I don't want to look at the desk where he wrote letters to his father and king to explain the results of some council with mine. I don't want to see the place where we were so happy.
I can't stand my memories anymore. I don't want to think of the past; I would like to erase it, to make a new start. But I know I cannot. How could I forget the past when I have no future?
I feel the caress of the wind on my cheek and I close my eyes to pretend that his fingers are on my face. I don't dare to open them, lest the illusion might disappear. The illusion of his presence.
When he was here, we often spent days in the forest bordering Imladris, enjoying the song of the birds and the rustlings of the leaves. I'm no wood elf; I had never had a deep bond with nature because of the human blood running through my veins. But he taught me how to enjoy the simple pleasure of the whispering of the trees. I still do not discern what they say, but now I understand what one could seek in their songs: the quiet comfort of a sweet cocoon, the mere illusion to walk in a world where time has no grasp, the promise of the Heavens.
Elladan has moved. I can hear him. His footsteps are light, just as those of all the Firstborn. If he was not my brother and if I didn't know he would come and try to convince me to go back home, I would never have heard him. But he is my twin and we share a deep connection. At least, we used to. I know he is approaching because each time I stay here too long, he comes to me. It's a ritual between us now. He will put his hand on my shoulder, I will not level my gaze, and he will ask me if I'm well.
"Are you well brother?"
What do I say? As usual, I only nod. I don't want to speak, even if he is my twin, my brother, and my best friend.Maybe because of that. I truly wish to scream my anguish, to tell him that my whole existence is drowning in the depths of depression, to say to him that a part of me is missing and will never come back, that my heart is torn in tiny pieces. But I don't scream. I don't even speak. I simply nod my consent. I know he is no fool, but as long as he accepts my lies, I don't care.
"You should go back home."
Second usual sentence. I hear myself answering him:
"I should."
I always say the same thing. And every time, it seems to me that this voice is not mine. I hear the light whisper that escapes his lips. He doesn't know how to react, so he will go back. Alone. Just like that. He will be able to speak of me with Ada, Erestor and Glorfindel. They will be able to discuss quietly about my desperate case. I don't mind. I should, but I don't. Nothing matters because he is not here.
I never thought I would suffer so much. I never thought that pain could be so whole and consuming. I have never felt so lost, even when we found Nana in the hands of the orcs, even when Ada announced to us that she would leave for the Undying Lands, even when she bade us farewell with a last kiss. At that moment of my life, I thought that no one could suffer more than I did. I was terribly mistaken. The pain is worse nowadays. I don't know why. Yet, it's the same feeling of guilt, the same bitterness under my tongue, the same ache in my heart, but it's worse today than in the past.
It's my fault. My fault. I hide my head in my hands, just as afraid to face a truth I'm not prepared to acknowledge. I don't want to follow the train of my thoughts. But I know I have little choice left. I can't help being guilty. I cannot stop it. It's in my mind and I know it will always be there.
What may be the worse in this story is that I already know the end of it. I won't die. No, I won't. Because I'm a survivor. I will survive to whatever befalls on me, a product of my human blood, no doubt. I will survive physically, but I will never be the same again. I know how this will end. A sword in one hand, a knife in the other, and my bow on my back, I will kill those who destroyed my soul one more time. I will hunt the beasts of Sauron until there is no more left or until I die. I have a lot of time. I am immortal.
I hate orcs. I have never met any elf with sympathy for those beasts. It's a common thing for many of us to have disdain for them. But, when the path of the Firstborn crosses the path of Sauron's creations, they kill them with a sense of pity that is alien to me. I'm no surgeon. I do not try to spare my movements or to spare them the agony. I want to hear their screams, I want them to suffer, I want them to agonize. The cry of a tortured orc is the sweetest music to my ears. I know that many people do not understand the fury that runs in my blood and in my brother's. But those ones have not seen those they love destroyed both physically and mentally by those things.
Orcs had stolen my mother to me. Now, they have taken my lover. Who will be next?
It's my fault. If I had traveled with her to 'Lorien, Nana would be still with us today. If I had been a little bit more understanding and did not fight with him, he would have been less carefree and they would not have taken him.
It's my fault. I was not the lover he needed me to be. He needed me to be patient and understanding. And I was not. I tried. I swear I tried. But I couldn't. I know he loved me in his own way. He was afraid. Afraid to love. Afraid to let anyone see through his shell. I hoped to be the one whom he would let see his heart. I almost succeeded. Almost. But now, he is dead, and I will never be able to make him understand that there is nothing to be afraid of.
He was a prince, and I didn't understand how he could take his duty so seriously. How he could let his father come between us. How he could give up so easily, without even fighting. Where he needed to be supported, he only found incomprehension and... disdain.
I knew the first time I saw him that he was different from others I had known. All in him screamed this difference: his regal attitude, the way he looked at you without seeing you, his air of superiority, his tall and lithe body which spoke of hours of training, his cerulean eyes clouded with something indefinable. In him, all was alien, but also familiar. Wherever he went, everyone was stunned by his beauty. When he entered a room, silence was often made. He was the very son of Anar walking on Arda, a soul gifted by the Valar. He was light where others were shadows. He was ethereal where they were merely earthly. He was clever where they were stupid and surprising where they were boring.
But that's not what made me love him. It was not the light in him that caught my eye, but, on the contrary, the shadow that sometimes clouded him. It took me time to read the truth hidden behind the facade, to discover that his laugh concealed a great sadness and most of all, a great fear. Fear to see anyone truly knowing him. Fear to love and to be loved.
It took him time and efforts to accept me as a friend and as a lover. We fought often, I to destroy his shell, he to protect it. It was difficult, but he was worth of it. Each part of him discovered made me love him more, because they were hardly won.
I was immediately attracted to him. I don't know if it was love at first sight, but one day when I looked at him, I found myself craving to bury my hands in his golden mane and to kiss his fears away. But I failed.
I failed.
I failed him as I had failed Naneth. And at the same time, I failed myself. I didn't keep my vow. The vow I made to always love him and never give him a reason to doubt my feelings for him.
I tried to be strong-hearted. I always told him how much I loved him. I called him my love, my heart, my life. I tried to be generous where he was selfish. I was very aware that he loved me in his silent manner. Without telling himself what he was truly feeling. I knew, because if he didn't love me, he would not have stood my sweet words and my promises of eternal love. If he didn't love me, he would not let me see parts of him that no one had ever seen before. He loved me...In his own way.
But only one, who has lived through the same experience, is able to tell how difficult it is. How the perpetual denial of your tenderness can be hopeless. How the silence can be defeating. I thought I was strong enough to ignore the waves of despair. But I was wrong.
The heart has secrets that the reason ignores. I knew in my very being that he loved me. But it was not enough. My heart longed for tender words that were refused to me. I couldn't stand this situation anymore. I tried, but I failed.
When the message came, he left. Oh, we discussed this together, but, whatever my opinion could be, his was taken. He had to leave. There was no arguing. He had to leave. At this very moment, I made the mistake, the one thing I will never forgive myself for doing. I let him leave on the certitude that 'us' meant nothing at all. That I thought I was a good fuck for him, nothing more. I said words I regret now. I said to him that I never wanted to see him again. I don't know how I could tell that. Now, I don't want anything else than him next to me on this very root.
He left and he will never come back. The orcs took him in the path between Imladris and Mirkwood. He fought bravely, but he fell. They brought him to a cave, far from the stars he loved. He died there, overwhelmed by the darkness, tortured by orcs, which didn't even deserve to live.
He spent one week in their hands before Mirkwood warriors found him. One week in the hands of Sauron's minions. The news of his death reached Imladris one week ago. One week ago, my world changed. And it has changed forever. I will never be the same again. Because death took my lover.
I would give everything I own to have him back to me. I would give my life if it was possible. But I know he will not come back. I know I will never hear his laugh again. I know I will never be able to touch his skin. I know I will never be allowed to keep my promise. I will never hear him telling me the words I have sought to hear. He will never tell me that he loves me.
Some days in your life, you would rather be dead than be aware of the world around you. Today is one of those days. Each day of the past week has been one of those days. Each day has been a step toward the acceptance of the truth and a step toward the death of my heart.
I know I will survive because I am a survivor. I am an eternal survivor. My heart may be dying a little more every day, but I will never forget. I will never forgive. Neither myself nor the orcs. I will avenge his death. I swear it. I didn't keep the previous promise I made to myself, but this one.I will keep it. I swear.
My heart is dying and I didn't care. It's better this way. To love is to be weak, to be fragile. I understand him now. But it's too late. He's gone.
Leave a feedback