awake

I saw my sister running through the orange groves, the black braids in her hair bouncing up and down on her back, shrieking with laughter. As she ran past me she turned and smiled, her eyes full of life. I saw my own hand lift to wave at her, then watched them return to their work. Beneath my fingers I pulled free the constricting leather lacing holding the unkempt tail of hair, began patiently to untangle the dark strands flecked with silver. Godrich's snoring woke me from the other side of the cold fire. Her laughter faded into his animal grunting. The summer-bright sky broke and resolved to the grey northern clouds. From near Ost Forod the lake is a wide sea, flat steel in this morning's light. Or silver, like the star on his shoulder. I sit, this page half-written, staring... The lake, the silver star, the lady, the oath, the land itself and this Man in it. I do not understand, nor do I understand my place in it. Does she hate me, fear me? Did she know; taste the lake the first time I stepped into it, did the water dissolve some essence of me to alarm her and raise her ire? Can she know me before I know myself?