“An outsider could believe that certain actions would have been avoidable. That the officers and leaders should have learnt by now how a certain young elf with golden hair would bring despair to their house. Is that the only truth or is it just one way of looking at a two-sided coin?”
Silken strands of raven black hair are whisked away by a delicate, ivory coloured hand. Some of it had broken loose from its normal state. A long, full braid laid poised gently over a shoulder, thin enough to be assumed fragile as glass. Yet the owner was nothing of the sort. With her knees folded under her, back leaning against the wooden frame of a large window and with the window sill itself firmly holding her light body up from the cold floor, she twirled the pen deep in thought.
“Is truth really what we all want to know? Or are there circumstances which allow for some lenience for the ones withholding certain information? What if the withholding of information could serve to save the lives of many… would that not be a noble task?” At this, she furrowed her brows, making her forehead seem as though someone had made long marks in a bed of sand. To what length was one able to go to protect those dear to you?
Scribbling in the margin of her old diary, which was already worn and full, she hesitantly added new thoughts to an old conundrum. One which had plagued her for some time… one that concerned two elves, if not more, who were dear to her. Fate had twisted the path that her beloved Rainith and Galdorion were treading, thrown rocks and branches upon it to make it harder to traverse. Pits being dug with barking dogs in, dogs wanting to tear the fabric off their already worn apparitions. Perhaps this was their unfortunate fate of, one they had to face alone… but no, she could not think like that. There must be something they could do. Something they could help with. Of course, Rainith had scorned the help promised from lord Celephindir, thinking him a spy and a cad whose only purpose in life was to haunt her and her beloved. The confusion had not abated after Lord Celephindir’s abrupt removal , but only grown, giving Rainith even more difficulty trusting someone who could very well have turned out to be an ally.
Halting with the pen over the page, Tingruviel pondered over how to diminish the gap between two of her friends. For whatever reason, that was what he had become during the months that had passed. Her friend. A faint tint of red showed upon her otherwise pale cheeks and she said to herself that it was nothing more than a general affection. Her devotion was from an early age aimed towards the betterment of her kin, not her own emotional states. With a resolute turn of her hands, she quickly shut the book, leaving a mist of dust disturbing the sunlight coming through the window. Perhaps this conundrum would finally come to a solution. Unfortunately, as with most of them, it would not be solved by sitting mulling over what could have been.
With her silken robe touching the wooden frame she dropped the short distance to the wooden floor of the talan house she had purposed for herself while visiting the Golden woods. Her travels here had become numerous of late, more so than she had accounted for in the beginning. Again, she halted her movements, just inside the door. He could be out wandering… With a frown and a raised chin, she grumbled at her own foolishness. If he was, who cared anyway. He was just another elf, equal in character to most. She would just be civil and nothing more. Nothing more…
