Rainith

Continued from Manhandled,  Folly and Fury, Sword and Stone,  Black Ice, Deep Thoughts, The Speech, Expectations, An Unprofitable Servant

Dear Lords and Ladies of Swan,

It saddens and ashames me greatly to write this letter, but circumstaces of the latest events have given me no other choice. 

Sir,

You do not know me, but I met your wife Rainith in Duillond, and I could not be anything but troubled to hear the lady speak of your present difficulty, which the whole House is full of talk of, and the poor lady is near rattled out of her wits from worry. She desired that I write you, and give my opinion, and I promised I would, for I have concerned myself thoroughly in this matter.

I was out of bed yesterday without too much pain, and ate with a very good appetite, as I used to do, and being so long indoors, I was allowed to walk on the grass a little and look upon the stars, when the lady Rainith came to me, and among other things tells me that her husband Galdorion has gotten himself mixed into a grea

      He comes to me with shadows in his eyes. We sit with our backs to a stone statue, facing out over the river, but Galdorion's eyes are distant, looking at something I cannot see. His conversation is hesitant, his smile as brittle as glass. It is as though a cloud has passed across the sun, although the dawn still seems as bright as ever. We have walked these paths before – I know what is coming almost before Galdorion opens his mouth to tell me. I sit silently, listening, hoping he cannot see the dismay in my face.

All healings of the heart and mind are slower, unhurried and gradual than those of the body, for these wounds are the deepest and bitterest. Parnard watched the townsfolk cheer as the body was cut down and laid into a pine box; the noise drowned out the lamentations of a sobbing woman. The mob surged forward, grabbed the box and threw it into the river.

     The sun shines warm on the water, determined not to abandon its grip on the summer sky just yet. I sit with my bare feet just brushing the light waves that set the docks to creaking, and the small boats bobbing placidly about. The small dock-cat sits pressed beside my legs, paws folded possessively over a piece of fish she has stolen. I run one hand rhythmically through her fur, feeling the rumbling vibrations of her purr as she stretches out more lazily, content to sit in the sun and be loved.

"Everything I have, and everything I am, is yours."

       Soft strains of music float across the bridge. The stars dance through the ripples of the lake, bathing the sanctuary in silvered light. I take a deep breath, feeling the nerves and excitement that flutter in the pit of my stomach like tiny trapped birds. To my side, Galdorion fidgets anxiously. He is close enough to reach out and touch, but I do not move. We are both stood still, waiting.