Words

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Lord! The incessant boredom!
I am surprised I survived.
My life... my waking life... has become one continuous strand of tasteless, unextraordinary, monotonous events.

I suppose explanations are in order.
The good doctor pronounced me cured of all ill health. He requested a private interview with me yesterday afternoon. He began by making me promise never to reveal the truth to my father, but confessed that he found no proof of mental instability in my "symptoms". He ruled that the symptoms my father had witnessed were no more than the behavior common in young men my age that had been erroneously blown out of proportion. He admitted that I'd been bed-ridden for the past two weeks merely because he feared for his job and position. Perhaps, he concluded, I might be grateful for a good long rest away from Father.
And on my part, I had to admit the two-week peace had been beneficial to my health... or at least, to my sanity.

All the same, I cursed that apothecary as I stood and exchanged empty conversations with nobility that I would never remember. Father had his hawks eye on me nearly the entire evening.
I owe my short escape to the General's daughter Ariella. I must admit I like the girl. She is quite clever, friendly and boisterous. Very amiable, even if she does possess a trail of freckles across her nose. I'm still laughing over her admittance to me that she'd spent the entire evening stealing feathers from the dames' and damsels' headdresses.

I awaited the late hour when the general population would retire for the night, and the wonderfully expansive Hall would be empty. I dismissed the staff so that I might have the small pleasure of extinguishing each candle myself. My steps echoed through the hall. Each waxing candle shimmered dimly in the reflection from the Hall windows.
I was surprised when each candle sconce had been snuffed, but still a small light burned dimly somewhere. I noticed it reflected off the glass.
It came from high above, that lone light, and I followed it up a hidden stair to a balcony I had never noticed before.
There she was.
Asleep. Lying across the balcony floor in a white nightgown, a tiny, dying candle at her elbow.
Her skin glowed with the candlelight that I immediately snuffed.
I tripped halfway down the steps and ran away, forcing my mind to believe I had imagined it.