Chapter 2

478 19 59
                                    

You must excuse my boldness, hiril vuin, for I was not permitted to write this letter. It contains things many think should stay hidden, yet you must know. Goheno nîn if you opened this letter expecting an ordinary message from a friend asking about well being and daily activities. You'll get none of that in these words, not even comfort.

::::::::::

The pub had an air of life to it. It breathed as a creature would, sound of its patrons swelling to a peak and then lowering, then heightening once more. Bitter alcohol permeated the air, sweat and dirt, grease and meat, too. Poorly crafted metal lanterns hung from the wooden walls, a few hanging from the low ceiling, a plate of thin metal protecting the walls from the lick of flames. Only a few lanterns flickered solemnly, as the sun shone through fairly well-cleaned windows. I eyed a few young women wearing brown serving gowns. No doubt they were the ones responsible for the clean windows.

I shifted in my chair, tapping the butt of my pen against the yellowish pages of my new notebook. Well, newish. Since that event with the strangely kind man a few weeks ago, I've been writing nearly everything down. Just in case I forgot everything.

I felt as if a looming hole was being me, threatening to suck me in. The hole was the dark fog swallowing my memories, coming ever closer every day. It was too unnerving, the thought--no the action--of my memories disappearing. Sooner or later, I'll fall into that deep, dark abyss and lose myself forever. As of right now, I'm barely a person. I've no memories of a childhood, no memories of a lost love, none of learning how to defend myself. No memories at all, up until about two months ago.

And this bow, inscribed with the name of an ellon, was the only lead to getting my past back. To filling that yawning hole behind me back up.

Biting my tongue, I twisted the strange quill in my fingers. Supposedly, it was a new thing on the market. A quill that didn't need an ink well. It certainly had its pros for someone who is always on the run. What'd y'know, before I kn--

A group of men entered the pub. I forced myself to sink into my chair, like a girl who was wanting to forget her sorrows. I hooked a few fingers around the tankard of ale I purchased and forced myself to take a bitter gulp.

Sweeping my eyes around the semi-full room carelessly, my eyes met those of the men who walked in. One of them stared at my form and nudged one of his friends.

Dragging my eyes to my notebook, my heart jumped. Squeezing my palms closed, I shoved them under the table.

Please, Valar, don't let that horrid light leak from my hands.

The touch of their eyes didn't leave me, but there was no way they could recognize me. Not with the brown dye in my hair, not with the brown locks covering my pointed ears. I lowered my green eyes, taking a swig from my tankard once more.

The men sat at a table near the bar, calling for a waitress to come assist them.

I breathed out and set the tankard back on the table. I glanced at the kitchen door; if need be I could escape through there. There had to be some kind of back door.

But... I eyed the men--and quickly looked away when I caught one assessing me.

So, acting natural it'll be.

Leaning forward, I took a small sip of oh-so-terrible ale and wished I could taste something better like... like...

I shook my head and snatched up my unique quill, careful not to reveal any light, and inched my leather notebook closer. I quickly began writing today's event underneath what I had already wrote and including what just happened with the men. Nothing intriguing had come about.

New DawnWhere stories live. Discover now