Of Fairytales and Happy Endings

Chapter 12. Secrets of a Tower.

It cannot be seen, it cannot be felt, Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt, It lies behind stars and under hills, And empty holes it fills, It comes first and follows after, Ends life, kills laughter—J.R.R. Tolkien.

Chapter 12.

Secrets of a Tower.

Darkness was his one comfort. That is why he insisted on it surrounding him. The light made him feel transparent, it made him vulnerable. But the darkness was safe; it locked secrets and kept things hidden.

He had been living in this tower for three years already. All of society thought he was in Italy. They thought his health was poor. They thought he needed the southern sun. In truth, he hated the sun and the light it shone down on the earth. When the light inside of you has been snuffed out, what beauty can light on the outside hold? When darkness is what composes your soul, the very thought of any light is repulsive. Misery seeks company, despair wishes for despair, and the one thing sorrow cannot abide is even the slightest hint of joy.

Thus, Elwyn Blethyn kept himself covered with the blanket of darkness, and in the depths of despair. Day in and day out he sat, staring at nothing, counting the seconds and wishing for death. A death that never came to him, because the minute he would finally make up his mind, Charles would come rushing in and talk him out of it. So many times he had been on freedom's doorstep, and in the last minute his persistent cousin would walk in and he would agree to remain in bondage just a little longer.

"But not this time," thought Elwyn. "This time he won't get the better of me."

Charles had been called away by his father for a week, and Elwyn felt at last he had his chance. Charles was gone, Raj was out; this was Elwyn's moment and he wasn't going to lose it.

His hand reached for the knife on the table, but he never clasped it. There was something, something in the air that made him turn towards the door. He sniffed the air, letting it sweep up his nostril and into his lungs. He did it again.

No, it could not be. It was impossible. His mind was playing tricks on him. They say it happens to those who are alone for too long. He shook his head and reached for the knife again. And once again he did not grasp it. The scent was stronger now. He swore it was stronger. Again his head turned towards the door. What was happening? There was no way this scent could be in his castle. It was a scent he had not experienced for nearly three years, a scent he had almost forgotten. The scent of a woman.

It was so mind boggling that Elwyn didn't know how best to react. The sound of footsteps coming closer caught his attention. With every sound the scent got stronger.

"Good God, surely not!" Elwyn thought, half in wonder, half in dread. At last the handle turned and the door squeaked open. Elwyn held his breath, not knowing what to expect from his unexpected visitor.

And then the door opened and a figure appeared. She wore a dark blue riding dress, her hair gathered up and a hat resting atop it. Her face was flushed from the long climb up the stairs, though in the darkness Elwyn could not see this.

She stopped short at the sight of a figure sitting in the chair. The poor light hid most of his features, but the white mask was clearly visible.

For a few seconds the two of them stared at each other.

"Thousand apologies," Beatrice said at last. "I didn't think anyone...well...I was sure this place was abandoned."

Elwyn didn't know how to reply. It had been so long since he had heard a woman's voice, he'd forgotten what it sounded like. Her voice was smooth and graceful, like the drops of a summer rain. It reminded Elwyn of what he was, of what he was hiding and he turned his head slightly away from her. How dare she come up and see him like this. Who was she anyway? Her accent suggested she was not from Wales. She seemed rooted to her spot and Elwyn figured he needed to say something.