The Secret of the Forest

28 - Ghosts

Some truths can save us
Some take our lives
Some truths are fire
And some truths are ice.
(Sleeping At Last: South)

Anna wasn't sure if she'd rather scream, beat her pillow, or smash her drinking glass to smithereens, because not even all of them combined seemed remotely satisfying enough to vent her rage. And sadly for her, none of them would be possible anytime soon, as Brethilwen showed up for her morning visit only shortly after Thranduil had left her room. Anna had to cling to the last fragments of her paper thin composure to make it through the medical routine without breaking apart. To her relief Brethilwen kept her visit unusually short and Anna was finally able to give free rein to her pent up feelings. Waves of fiery anger and icy despair clashed inside her in an emotional thunderstorm. She felt helplessly deprived of her life and her choices, indefinitely tied to a bed she wanted to leave behind now more than ever. Since the prospect of screaming or sacrificing her glass seemed all of a sudden a tad overly dramatic, she resorted to the pillow, which lay, blissfully unaware of its imminent fate, before her. She slammed her fists into her silent companion with all the strength she could muster, dealing out a quick succession of angry blows until her face was flushed pink with the exertion. But the floppy softness offered no resistance, yielding all too willingly to every beat she aimed at it. With an exasperated groan she let go of it and took out her anger on the mattress, imagining how much more gratifying it would be to hammer against Thranduil's broad chest instead. But even halfway through the thought she remembered how he had held her so close, his mouth almost touching hers. What if they had been undisturbed? Would she have allowed him to go ahead? Wasn't that what she had wanted all along? Have his lips claim hers in a passionate kiss? Have him whisper in her ear that he wanted her, loved her even?

She buried her face in her hands and crumpled onto her bed, a picture of misery, her anger shattering into a million pieces and revealing a wounded heart beneath. If only she could silence the gentle flutter in her chest! But she had already let him in too far and now she paid the price for her foolishness. Falling for an Elvenking wasn't something recommended for a mortal woman, she should have known so beforehand. But now it was too late and what has been broken might never heal again. And as her rage ebbed away, the tide of tears rolled in, her pillow soaking them up until it was damp and she finally drifted into an uneasy sleep. This time it was not dreamless, but filled with the most unsettling mixture of obscure trees, their branches swaying above her ominously. Trying to run from them, she found herself swallowed by a pitch-black shadow, burying her and the trees in unfathomable depths, a swirl of impenetrable darkness drowning her in an endless night. She cried for help, Thranduil's name stuck in her throat, but he didn't come. No one came to her rescue. She suddenly sat bolt upright, a silent scream on her lips and her nightgown clinging to her body all soaked in sweat. It took her a moment to realise that she was still in her bed and whatever darkness had threatened to claim her, had not reached her yet.

°°°°°°°°°°

A sudden draft of cool air brushing her cheeks had Anna snap out of her drowsiness. Brethilwen had returned and was now heading towards her with an urgency in her demeanour that was not her usual style. Suddenly overly conscious of her dishevelled appearance, Anna hastily wiped her nose on the sleeve of her nightgown, realising that is was possibly futile to try to hide the evidence of her crying. And by the look on Brethilwen's face, she most likely already knew the reason for her current emotional state. Brethilwen dropped her satchel on the table beside the book and the wooden box, Thranduil's heartfelt gifts, and let herself sink onto the mattress with a deep sigh.