Swords and Staffs

18. The strange neighbour

BANG! I wake up immediately to the sound of thundering against the wall. Must be coming from next door. Who would make such a racket in the morning like this? Talk about disrespectful neighbours! There was continuous slamming on the wall, Blue was barking like mad and I felt sick and headachy as a result of the weak fire.

I slipped my flats and my robe on, picked up Blue and tried to calm him down.

"It's ok boy!" I yelled over the banging, stroking his head, and setting him down again so that I could talk to whoever was next door and give them a piece of my mind.

I quickly exited the room in rage and pounded on the door. I was stood there for at least a minute, waiting for someone to answer.

"Excuse me!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Hello!"

Surprisingly, the door opened.

A male elf stood in the doorway and looked at me apologetically whilst saying "Sorry for the bother miss." I stood there no longer angry, no longer enraged. I stared at him; my eyes widened.

He seemed nice. Looked nice even.

He had pure white hair which was styled into a neat half and half hair style, not too long, not too short either. His eyes were a vibrant and iridescent pink which stood out from his hair, making them seem prettier than they should be. His facial features were soft but stern, blending nicely into the moulded shape of his rounded chin. And his smile. His smile was pure white, the complete replica of his hair colour.

"Hello..." I answered, frozen in place. What was I doing? This guy is making racket next door and when I go banging on his door to give him a piece of my mind I just stand there and say 'Hello'? 'Hello'!

"Hi..." he answered back, puzzled as to why I was just standing there admiring his white hair and looking like a lost puppy. Funny, like Blue who was barking mad in the room.

"I'm so sorry about the noise, I was just mounting something on the wall, miss..."

"Mccloud. Arlene Mccloud."

"Arlene," he repeated approvingly, "Would you like to come inside Arlene and maybe have a glass of wine or two, it's the least I can do for disturbing you..." I nodded.

"I'm Dante, by the way... Dante Willbrooke." he quickly added before I entered the room where he was staying. It was so neat, tidy. Nothing like my scruffy little room that was overloaded with dirty washing and dog food.

"Sit."

I did as I was told and sat on the armchair that he was indicating. I looked around the room. There were many different things that described his personality. A traveller he seemed for he had a huge backpack stuffed in the corner of his room along with a guitar and a bow, snapped in the middle, with only string that held it together. He also had a fold up easel stood by his balcony, a painting, of what I couldn't figure out yet, half finished.

"What's that painting of?" I asked, trying to start up a conversation so that it would be less awkward and less silent.

"Oh, that. It's just something I've been working on for a while now, nothing too special."

"What is it going to be of?"

"I don't know. All I'm painting is the background at the minute." He paused and took a sip of his wine, "I'm looking for something that inspires me, something that I care about which I could portray in my painting. I need something I am passionate about. However, I haven't quite found what I'm looking for yet." He took one look at me and went into his little kitchen to get two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.

"Care for a drink?" he asked me, sitting down, and pouring himself a glass on the stand.

"Umm... sure" I answered, I wasn't really much of a drinker, and it was mainly just to be polite. Dante poured me a glass and handed it to me, I took it, considering to actually drink it, give myself a tiny bit of fun in my life.

"So, what's your story?" he asked after sitting into the armchair next to me.

"Sorry?"

"You know? Your story," he paused, "Your backstory."

"My backstory?"

"Yeah, where you grew up, what life you had before, how you ended up living in this crappy inn, you know, that sort of stuff," he looked at me, curious pink eyes.

The question burned me to answer. I began to feel uncomfortable in the suspense and bit my lip to try and force a word out, any word that I could manage, but I couldn't. I had been through so much and, even though it had been a month since 'the passing', I wasn't over it yet. And I wasn't entirely comfortable sharing my feelings, emotions, and past experiences with this random guy I met two minutes ago.

He looked at me clearly embarrassed by my response but quickly recovered himself by nodding and pouring himself another glass of wine.

"Apologies, Arlene. I shouldn't be so pushy. Since the war, we elves have had quite a difficult time making friends, I just thought maybe you would be different. You know, with me having not spoken to anyone in a while. I overestimated myself. As you can see, I am not quite as talented as I had anticipated with my social skills, I shouldn't expect you to tell me everything about you all at once. I now realise that was a little rude." he smiled at me shyly, got up slowly from his armchair and started pacing the small room, back and forth, from wall to wall.

"You needn't be so tense around me, it's not like I have anyone else to turn to, it's nice of you to apologise, but I will assure you that it is not necessary. It is much better than any of the elves I have recently spoken to." He looked at me, trembling. As if he was afraid of something, he looked worried, I began to worry.

"Dante? It's really ok, don't be so startled," a pause.

"Dante?" he quickly jolted his head around to the door.

"Quickly, Muriel! Get down to the basement! They're breaking down the door!" he yelled at the top of his voice, grabbing his guitar along with my hand, launching me onto the sofa and racing off towards the door.

He clung to the set of draws by the armchair and started to drag it towards the front of the door as if to barricade it. Once barricaded he guarded the door, standing in front of it, holding his guitar by the neck as if holding a sword.

I lay there on the sofa, gobsmacked. What do I do? This man has gone mad! He was talking to me fine a minute ago then he goes into some kind of panic-stricken frenzy!

"Dante!" he didn't answer, he just stayed guarding the door. Before I could say his name again, he collapsed down to the floor with a loud thud and a piercing scream, a face of sheer pain, as if he had been shot. He had passed out. I gasped.

"What in Aaldin's name...?"

I jumped from the sofa and ran towards him to check that he was breathing. I put my fingers on his neck to check his pulse. He was breathing fine. I hoped that he was breathing fine anyway. I knew nothing of medical procedures, being trapped in Mournstead all of my life didn't aid the expansion of my knowledge.

"Dante!" I yelled, lightly tapping him on the face. No answer.

"Dante!" I yell again, tapping him slightly harder. Still no answer.

"DANTE!!!!!" I finally shriek, slapping him with all my strength and hurting my hand as I did so. The slap was awfully hard; however, he still hadn't awoken.

"Oh, come on!" I yelled losing my temper.

I hurriedly looked around the room to try and find some smelling herbs to revive him. However, there were none. Of course there wasn't any! This is an inn, not a hospital!

I had no choice. I had to give him air by blowing into his mouth. If he got the wrong idea, then this could become awkward really quick. But he wouldn't know. Would he? He would be unconscious still. But surely when he wakes up, he will get the idea from my puckered-up lips and bending over him aimlessly.

I decided that I had no choice, lowered my face down to his to awake him and braced myself for whatever was going to happen next.