Recently rewritten in the middle to reflect feedback.
Remains
People think, because I don’t speak much, that I have nothing to say. People think that silence means simple. I am neither simple nor have nothing to say, I just care not to speak.
When they first brought the Qunari warrior into the tower, he didn’t speak much either. Found prone on the banks of Lake Calenhad, the healers were at a loss for how to help him. His physical injuries were only slight but he seemed unable to even support his own weight. Though they explored every hair on his strange body and discussed the problem late into the night, the Qunari’s condition remained the same.
I was asked to bring him books from the library. It didn’t help.
“Jerron. Bring the Qunari a book.”
“Jerron. Try some Ferelden history this time or perhaps a story.”
“Jerron. Read aloud to the Qunari. Can you manage that?”
After a time, the healers visited the Qunari less frequently and I was his foremost carer. Given his apparent disinterest in his surroundings and treatment, I was able to make detailed drawings of his anatomy for the Tower’s records. After more time had passed, he became aware of my ministrations, if still not the books piled next to his bed.
The first words he spoke were to me. “Do you feel shame?”
I don’t feel anything. “No.”
People think, because of what I am, that I must have been weak. People think I would have become an abomination. Perhaps I would never have been a Great Mage, whispered awe following me along hallways, but I
know I had sufficient power to wield magic. I would have been no abomination.
Often, it is Ellin who finds books for me to take to the Qunari. She meets my gaze now.
“Hi Jerron. Do you think our visitor would like this book about crafting herbal poultices?”
“You look well, Jerron. Has the Qunari taken to reading yet?”
“Jerron! What a beautiful day it is outside. Care to accompany me finding herbs for our visitor?”
There was a time when Ellin would avoid my eye as well as me entirely. The power of my youthful adoration her made her uneasy. As the brightest, and most beautiful, apprentice she commanded the young men as easily as she commanded magic.
I must, I must keep this fire burning. Two, no three apprentices have given up. I can join them and rest. No I mustn’t. Ellin’s fire still burns and so does Nate’s. She is looking at him again. Why is she looking at him?
So tired. I can’t stay awake.
I know how to forget my fatigue. My herbal knife. Aaargh. The pain. The pain is all I know. The pain. And yet, my fire burns.
Ellin is looking at me. Her fire is extinguished and I have won the trial of endurance. I am weak.
I remember the pride I felt as she looked at me, astonished and impressed, how they all looked at me, even as I know I will never feel pride again. When the First Enchanter discovered the cuts on my arms I knew I would be in trouble. I didn’t know that the trouble would be the Rite of Tranquility.
“You will be late for your meeting with Enchanter Matthias, Ellin.” His interest in Ellin is more than for her duties as a Circle Mage.
“Oh, you are right. Will you help me prepare, Jerron?”
She does not know why I am what I am but she knows I am no longer something to be feared. I no longer feel the sting of her rejection.
People think, because of what I am, that I was scared. People think that in order to protect others, mages need to be protected from themselves. I know I had courage enough to see battle and strength enough to prevail.
As the Qunari began to take some food and water, he started suffering nightmares and delusions. He would even fall out of bed with a mighty thump.
“Jerron. Could you check on the Qunari?”
“Jerron. The Qunari is disturbed again. Perhaps another book.”
Sometimes, the Qunari would tell me a little of his homeland as I attended to him. Often he would ask me if I dreamed. I remember dreams, though few that were frightening. He asked me if I felt safe in the tower and if I was ever scared.
One night, he gripped my arm, met my gaze and whispered, “I see you have lost your sword too.”
The next I heard, he was gone.
“Tranquil” is also how people describe a still pond. They will leave it undisturbed, save to gaze at it from time to time, as into a mirror. Whether or not there is life teeming below the surface of the water is unimportant to all but those wanting to eat fish.
When one is made Tranquil, much is lost but much also remains. The memory of my modest ambition is not something I dwell on, but it is still with me. The idea that I once had potential enough to become a passable mage also lingers. I might no longer love Ellin but her beauty is more plainly obvious to me now than it ever was.
It is true that I rarely speak aloud. Yet, I feel no sadness. I am content to serve and wait out my remaining days.
Modifié par Firky, 21 juin 2010 - 03:31 .
Retour en haut
), my interest was more clinical than personal. I didn't feel for the character as much as I thought I could have, because the character's own feelings were always distant.
