a faerie tale III

So was this what death was, she wondered, unconsciously rubbing the silver cross that hung from the silver chain around her neck between thumb and forefinger. Am I dead? She lifted her left arm and stared at the wrist. No scar. No open wound. Nothing. Was all of that a dream? If so, what was this room she had awoken into? Where?

The bed she lay on was so soft it was like air, yet so firm at the same time. The deep violet velvety sheet that covered her had a wondrous texture like she had never felt before. Looking around she noticed the stone blocks that made up the floor and walls was naturally white, not covered with coats of paint to make them appear that way. Other than herself, the bed, and the dark brown wooden door on the wall opposite her, there was nothing else in this small room.

She attempted to raise herself up onto her elbows, but dizziness assailed her viciously, and she was forced to lie back down. Closing her eyes she breathed deeply through her nostrils until the vertigo passed. Even that slight exertion made her feel incredibly weakened. She began to drift helplessly into sleep.

The sound of wood on stone close to her brought her mind quickly back. Opening her eyes she was greeted by the sight of a small man seating himself in a chair by her bedside. Head down, his long straight blond hair fell forward, completely blocking his face from view, as the light blue cloak concealed his body. Firmly seated he lifted his gaze to her and pushed his hair aside. Momentarily her dizziness returned as her mind attempted to gauge his age. He looked so young and youthful, yet ancient at the same time. And his eyes, his bright blue eyes were filled with what seemed catastrophic depths and unbearable light. When he spoke his voice was as soft and firm as the bed she lay upon.

“I am sorry to disturb you, child. You need to rest. I merely wished to introduce myself, and I know you have questions, which I will answer as I may. My name is Eleison, might I inquire yours?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
“I’m Christina,” she replied weakly. “Where… what is this place? Am I… dead?”
“No, no, not dead, child. You nearly were, very nearly. But now you are, how shall I say this, I am not certain you will believe it. You are in a castle. The Castle of Thaeron, High King of the Fae.”

“Fae?”

“Faeries.”

“Are you a faerie then?” He nodded slowly. “Where are your wings then? Faeries are tiny creatures with wings.”

“In your land, we are naturally small, though not always so. But now you are in ours. As for wings, yes, I do. But they exist only as I wish them to. They are not necessary here and now, so they are not here, yet when I want them, there they are. I am sorry, that response was a bit confusing, eh?”

“No, I think I understand. How, how did I get here?”

“Well, child, er Christina, you were found in a field with wounds on your wrist there, with very little life left in you. The hows and whys of that situation I think best left for another day, but so that you know, if you wish to talk, I wish to listen” Visions of her past erupted into her mind as she breathed out a thank you. His voice caught her though, the sound of it soothing her, and bringing her back to the present.

“A group of our kind found you. One of them, Orindain, took it upon himself to help you. It is difficult to explain what transpired there. He used his will to heal your wound, and then transferred some of his life into you, that you might be strong enough to recover. The others brought you here, so you may be looked after.”
“Orindain? He saved my life? Saved by a faerie? Brought to their castle. I just… how can this be real? Faeries are things to dream about, to make songs and stories of, they don’t, they don’t save your life and take you to their castles.” It just wasn’t real. It could not be. This was just her mind, comforting itself as it went to sleep, knowing it would never awaken.

“I am sorry, child. Christina. I thought to comfort you, but I see in your eyes that I did not.” He knew he would not, but still he made the attempt. His heart would not let him do otherwise. “Here, drink this; it will help relax your mind that you may sleep peacefully.” A slender delicate hand moved out from under his cloak, holding a vial of clear liquid.

“What is it?”

“Water, mostly. It will not harm you at all, I promise.” She took it from him and held it up, staring at it intently. If this was not real, if it were all in her mind, then there was no danger, as she was already dying. If not, then what did it matter still? If this were poison, death was what she longed for anyway, wasn’t it? And if it did what Eleison said…

She removed the top and drank it in one swallow. She was unprepared for the fact that as soon as it hit her stomach it would go straight to her head. Dizziness assailed her again, only this time it seemed to wrap her mind in a warm blanket and kiss her on the forehead. Sleep had her before she even realized it was on its way. Only the quick reflexes of Eleison kept the vial from falling to the floor.