Ilúvatar Voronwé (vajra) wrote in adusta, @ 2009-12-26 20:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | aeotha easaahae, ilúvatar voronwé, the shadow ride |
courage without fail (aeotha)
What he could see gave him no reason to hope for anything but death.
The Underdark was as barren a realm as he'd ever visited. Most of the surface upon which they walked was dark, and rocky; overrun in patches with dirt covered by moss. Unlike the moss of above, green and welcoming, this moss grew angry and red. Like the roots of the trees it gave a soft glow that illuminated only barely. That red light bathed the bark of the trees which grew into the caverns above their heads. Tress that grew upside down. He thought now that he'd seen everything. Ilúvatar's steps were hesitant upon the wretched surface as he stared ahead. And up. Those trees were unlike any he'd seen before. Bark black as night, standing out only because the hideous dark stone that formed this cavern was lighter. They were as talons reaching out from the dark. His grimace was the only sign of emotion that he gave. That, and his hard stare, which reached out to touch the trees. They did not wither but seemed fuller beneath his gaze.
Almost as though they could feel his malice. And enjoyed it.
Beside him Eibhear strode in grim silence, his armor creaking not at all where his feet fell. Where his head turned. More than ever Ilúvatar was beginning to suspect that Eibhear had seen something in those visions which had attacked the very core of who he was. Only a hope existed in Ilúvatar, that those memories were fading as quickly as they had for the chevalier. That memories of lies could not bite to the center of your being, to who you were. Talmus seemed most affected by them. The elf had scrubbed at his hair ceaselessly since they'd first awoken from that spell. That trick. Whatever it was the illithids had done. He seemed to grimace whenever he met the eyes of his fellows. What had Talmus of the Golden Verse seen that shook him so? And if that lovely voice was most affected, it was easy to see who was least affected. Fenrir matched their pacing walk with his own, but wide of Eibhear and Ilúvatar, his hood down. Unlike the others, he was smiling.
A deal with driders, and before that poison, a glimpse of a life without strife. If Ilúvatar could have taken that life in the here and now would he do it? Knowing what it would mean to his honor, to his soul, would he take the easy way out? Was that why Fenrir was smiling? No. He was smiling because they were coming closer to death. in all the time he'd known the archer, and in the few instances where he found himself working side by side with that shadow of a creature, the only time he'd ever known Fenrir to exhibit anything approaching happiness was when they drew closer and closer to death. That death could be awaiting them here. Now. Or ... he let himself wonder if they were sitll in the thrall of the illithids even now. How would his life feel if it were unreal? Would he know the difference between fantasy and reality? Would he persist in this delusion even if they were dead? Did it matter? As long as Ilúvatar pursued his goal, he had to act as though any false move could be his death.
Didn't he?
"You want to know what I saw," Fenrir said from Ilúvatar's left.
"I do," replied Ilúvatar. "And how you were able to free yourself from their grasp."
"I didn't," the archer sounded amused. "They gave each of us our dreams. And my dreams are filled with the same thing as my life. The kill. To you they were... what? Lovers? Guides?"
"Something like that."
"But to me," and his smile was the height of wolfish desire. "They were enemies. Orcs, to be exact."
"So..."
"It would boggle the mind. And what did you see, Sir Ilúvatar?"
"I saw peace."
"How dull."
It was from that point on that Ilúvatar determined to ignore Fenrir. The archer seemed to take the hint - he was still laughing, but he moved on, loping ahead of them and into the darkness. Eibhear gave him a sidelong glance - perhaps wondering if Ilúvatar had seen what Eibhear had seen, and if the priestess figured into those visions. How Ilúvatar knew he could not say. But i twas a feeling, confirmed by nothing, that Eibhear had witnessed a life with Aeotha. A life of... some peace, fewer enemies and strife. A happier life? Surely he loved Etain. Close as they were Ilúvatar could not ask these questions. So they marched on in silence, and Ilúvatar glanced over his shoulder in search of the priestess with the dark eyes so full of pain.
He was uncertain of his reason. Perhaps to reassure himself that she existed at all.
From the first he'd thought also of the note Fenrir had demonstrated to him. A traitor in their midst, Fenrir said. Or perhaps merely a note to disrupt the unity of their group. If there were traitors in their midst those traitors gave no sign of it. If there were. Part of him wanted to assume that Fenrir simply did not trust anyone and leave it at that. This view seemed somehow lazy. As though he could not trouble himself to see into the truth of things and discover their real meaning. The axe was his arbiter. There were souls more clever than Ilúvatar in this world. He never let himself be troubled by that fact. Shortcomings were only that. And in the end he prevailed if he was cunning enough to respond at the right time, with the right pressure.
From the axe, of course. Still that itch between his shoulder blades persisted.
A warning, or an ill feeling. Or perhaps simply madness.