The watchful sleep

Sleep is something different to this… This is more akin to being awake in a darkness that no light can pierce. And yet a darkness that has form and shape, a darkness that moves and has life within its deep endless folds. I should awake now, I know it, and my heart knows it. But does this darkness know that I wish no longer to tarry within its warmth and subtle comfort? I think not. But then… Do I think? Whose words come to me through this black sleep I lay idle within? And then light comes. A painful stabbing light, the likes of which my eyes would run from if they could. It is a change to the darkness though, at least the light has shape to it. Shapes that move slowly, becoming more than just the coloured patches that linger within my sight. Slowly, with each passing heartbeat the shapes seem clearer to me. A heartbeat? Yes… A heartbeat in my head, pumping, slowly, but so deafeningly loud. Can it be my own I hear within me? A face I now see, shrouded with a slowly shimmering sea of golden snowflakes. I know this face. But does this face know me? There is heat upon my brow, that much I know I can now feel. But that face, those eyes, staring into me with lips that whisper a tongue I cannot hear. And yet for all this I know what is being said. The darkness makes a last sweeping return before all falls silent upon me once more. It is sleep this time. A sleep I am not part of, and a sleep I know is most welcome. The flets fall softly under foot as I gaze out across the Anduin. The woods so familiar to me spread out before my eyes, besieged beneath by a blanket of cool morning air as I lean back, lowing myself slowly to sit. Someone moves to sit beside me, the throbbing in my head allowing me to know that much at least. The hand upon my shoulder familiar to me as I turn my gaze slowly, trying not to shift my sight too swiftly for fear of the darkness coming once more to my sight. The Lady Elithriel has an expressionless expression upon her face, her eyes staring into mine, never wavering or blinking as she looks at me. Nay, she might so well as look inside my thoughts she stares with such insight into a man. The Elven tongue falls upon my ears as the snow falls upon the slopes of a mountain. So little at first, seeming to carry no weight or anything of much import. But it builds gradually into layers of understanding, until finally my mind threatens to let it all slide to the dark depths in one fell swoop. Things have been spoken of which before this day I knew not of. An understanding of myself, or at least the beginnings of an understanding has formed. The dull aching pulse in my head is lessened, although the thoughts and meanderings of my mind have begun once more. A few more peaceful sleeps under the watching gaze of the wood, just a little more time, and I shall once more be myself.