Books, Blackouts, and Blacksmithing
The moonlight cast an eerie shadow on the entranceway, the hairs on the back of her neck up on end as she stared down at the front door. Her skin was crawling, her heart beating frantically in her chest because there was a box in the entrance hall – or the deep blue runner which ran from the door to the two rugs which ran up the two sets of stairs if she wanted to be specific. Everything was so very extra in that place, though that was something she was quickly coming to terms with. What she couldn’t quite come to terms with was that someone had left that box there.
Which meant that someone had been in that house while she had been busy.
And she hadn’t noticed.
Her fingers twitched, digging into the wood of the banister upon which she was perched on. She was overlooking the hallway, clad in the shadows of the hallway, and yet probably still horribly visible to anyone who might be peering through the windows beside the doors. As if on cue the hairs on the back of her neck stood up on end, part of her twisting her head around viciously, as if there was someone standing right behind her.
There wasn’t anyone behind or around her – or even on the ceiling. She’d checked. Instead there was only a lonely little box perched in the entranceway, and Sakura didn’t have the first idea about what to do with it. She tilted her head, moving slowly and silently then, slinking down the railing of the stairs like a cat on all fours. Eyes darted around the entrance hall, searching for any human or animal-shaped shadow, coming up empty on all counts except for her own shadow.
Part of her almost wanted to turn the lights up individually how she’d learnt to the night before – with the little dial in the middle of the two glowing crystal-like rods powered by something Sakura had yet to figure out for the life of her. Yet turning the lights to a brighter setting than the already dim glow they were on would only alert outside eyes to where exactly in the house she was.
Toes dug into the soft blue carpet lining the entrance hall, her breathing ever so soft as she hesitantly crept towards the innocuous box sitting there. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear giving rise to panic as her eyes jumped between the windows, ascertaining there was no one there before she continued on her way to her destination.
Sharp eyes picked out the rectangle of an envelope set atop the box, and cautiously, Sakura picked it up as though it were a live exploding tag. There, written on the front of the envelope – the letter – was a neat script proclaiming:
Aerloth
Sea Flower, her mind translated almost instantly, fingers brushing over the smooth brushstrokes which had made up the name. The name which could only belong to the body she was stuck in for one reason or another. “Aerloth,” she whispered almost reverently. It was one of the few pieces of information she had about the body she was inhabiting; a clue about who she was supposed to be acting like.
She wondered about the real Aerloth sometimes, the real owner of that body who clearly could no longer be with them, given how she was inhabiting that very body. Her arms wrapped around herself fear making her breath catch in her throat, the reedy whine she let out all too telling of how close she was to having another episode. Fingers shook, tucking the letter away in the pocket, part of her wondering about whether or not to read it. After all, it wasn’t like she was actually Aerloth. Rather, she was just stuck in her body without a clue of how to get out.
Her fingers smoothed over the surface of the box, which was, in actual fact, a wooden crate now that she was close enough to see it properly. Cautious, ever wary of traps, she pried it open, blinking at the sight she was met with. On one hand, she no longer needed to worry about procuring supplies, but on the other hand why? Why had someone gone to the trouble to deliver her cooking ingredients?
Mind racing to figure out an answer, she hunkered down behind the box, heart beating furiously at the flash of movement in the corner of her eye. As if someone had just chanced a glance through the far too big windows lying on either side of the intricately carved front door.
There was someone outside.
Gingerly, she peeked out from around the side of the crate, ears straining to pick up any hint of a noise. They did – catching the sounds of the faint murmur of voices and the trudging of footsteps atop gravel as whoever had evidently delivered her supplies retreated from her house. Her apparent home, given how she didn’t appear to be going anywhere anytime soon.
Panic thrummed in her chest, arms straining as she lifted the crate and carried it off towards where the kitchen was – further inside. Perhaps if she hadn’t have done any exercise in the last few weeks of her residency, she would have found carrying it to be a bit more difficult. As it was, she made it to the kitchen with little fuss, her nerves shaken ever so slightly from the sudden appearance of food and, more worryingly, people.
Shivers ran down her spine, an insidious fear creeping and lingering around in her gut even long after those strangers had left the vicinity. Or so she assumed. She didn’t know whether they were lurking about just out of sight and hearing range. Her hands twitched, fears rising once more because she didn’t want to become a curiosity yet again. She just wanted to be plain, boring Aerloth.
“I’m Aerloth,” Sakura whispered, wondering if one day uttering those words would feel like less of the lie it currently was. Fingers traced the envelope as she sat on the kitchen counter, the crate placed next to her, ready to be unloaded. “Should I open it?” she mumbled, staring at those unfamiliar and yet familiar letters she could read as well as she could speak the strange language of that place. Though ever time she spoke or read, it was just another reminder that she was far, far away from the ones who had tormented her, and Sakura took comfort in that.
Comfort was a rarity which was oddly becoming more common the longer she spent in that place.
Shaking her head, Sakura put the envelope back into the voluminous pocket of the oversized trousers she wore. It could wait. The shaking in her hands, and the fear she felt couldn’t – which meant it was time to busy herself with putting her supplies away, reading books in the library, cooking dinner, and perhaps some time spent in the forge she was quite quickly becoming fond of. It didn’t matter that nothing she had made there had turned out quite alright. All that mattered was that she was doing something and losing herself in the rhythm and routine she had found in that place by the sea.
“Again,” she muttered to herself, her words barely audible above the crackling of the fire and the sound of the metal hammer descending on her half-formed blade. “And again,” she whispered, her hands feeling stiff and dry from the constant heat she was surrounded by. Sparks flew up through the air, a smile curving at her lips as she stared at how far she had come from the shrivelled mess of metal which hadn’t even deserved to be called a knife. The same shrivelled, broken mess of metal which sat pride of place on the dresser in the room she had long since laid claim to.
Not that she had ever slept in the bed.
The wardrobe was far more comfortable for her, and Sakura thought it always would be. Lying on a bed made her feel too exposed for her liking. She had already tried it once or twice, and always wound up returning to the wardrobe for her rest periods. The same rest periods which felt as though they were getting shorter and shorter, despite her not being affected by a clear lack of sleep, and that in itself was curious.
Sakura had her suspicions, mostly to do with the periods where her attention seemed miles and miles away as she completed a task which she knew so well she thought she could do it in her sleep. It was almost alarming to think that might be what was happening. Aerloth’s body was strange and odd in ways she couldn’t quite describe, and those ways were ultimately affecting her in the end.
The few tasks she had never fallen into that strange waking-slumber were few and far between – the most prominent of them being reading, given how it required a large portion of concentration. She also made an effort to never slumber while forging, though sometimes repetitive actions made her concentration wane and that odd dulled state surface.
Her eyes narrowed on the glowing metal, a soft sigh escaping her as she continued in her task, silently making a mental note to go over the lists and methods of quenching she had discovered in the library on one of her daily ventures. That was one of many things she had read up on – whoever the one who had used that forge before her evidently deciding to keep a written note of what had worked and what had not.
Which had turned out to be incredibly useful for her, though she had yet to achieve the perfect shape or strength or sharpness which she wanted from a blade. The little she remembered from her father differed from the methods written out there – the blades the one before her had made meant for toughness and impact, a sharp comparison to the blades her father had forged. The blades her father had made were sharp and yet that sharpness lent itself to brittleness, meaning such a blade was not as good for parrying, lest the owner wish for it to break that much sooner.
The sound of metal meeting metal rang in her ears, almost seeming to form a strange song of sorts. It was a melody unlike any she had heard before. Not that Sakura really thought it mattered all that much, humming to herself as she continued in her work, wondering if her latest blade would be less of a failure than they usually all were.
She doubted it.
It was nice to dream though – even if it was a dream which would take a while for her to reach. Sakura was no stranger to hard work, after all.
She started small, knowing she would have to overcome her aversion for all things outdoors and the terror that other people seemed to inspire within her. That in itself was an obvious fact, even if it had taken a few days for common sense to override that crippling fear and silent assurance that she didn’t need to do anything about it. She did, and that was the crux of the matter.
It began with her opening a window by a centimetre, and then slowly opening it that much further and further until a person could easily vault into the house. Not that they could without springing any of the traps laid out around such openings, but the unease was still there. She didn’t think she’d be perfectly at ease until she had a weapon on her person as well. Not that it would be happening any time soon – although she was perfectly capable of creating a makeshift weapon in a pinch, there was something so very alluring about the call of the steel and iron she was always attempting to forge into weaponry.
The terror that other people inspired was a lot harder to overcome, and it began with her keeping vigil over the front door whenever her supplies began to dwindle after twelve days – that which counted for two weeks there, given how a week was only six days.
There was something almost amusing about the fact that people so rarely ever looked up, and Sakura was content to watch the intruders – potential threats – from the banister, the top of the curtain rails, and occasionally from atop the large light fixture in the entranceway. All that mattered was the fact that she was watching them and learning of their weaknesses. After all the time spent in that large, empty mansion, she knew its layout so very well. It was home territory, and she would have the home field advantage. That in itself was something she knew how to take full advantage of.
The moon was high in the sky by the time she decided to make her move, the night cold and unforgiving, telling of the winter about to come howling at their door. Her supplies within the forge were dwindling, and she needed them restocked – and that meant engaging with the silver-haired and the brunette intruders who came to the front door like clockwork every two weeks.
There were curtains beside the doorway, thick and all too easy to hide within, and so that was what Sakura did as she waited ever so patiently for the intruders to arrive. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear gnawing at her belly until she felt as though she might throw up.
Then there was a familiar click of the door being opened, and she finally received her first closeup glimpse of the ones who brought her supplies and intruded upon her house. They were almost androgynous, their skin seeming to glow ever so slightly beneath the moonlight, and it was only when they spoke that Sakura realised the brunette was female and the long haired silver locked one was male.
“Well, I’ll assume she’s managing just fine by herself here, given how these crates always seem to vanish,” Silver-hair said, hefting the next crate in to rest on the blue rug it was always placed on.
“Faelon,” the brunette hissed, staring at him pointedly. “Her brothers are growing concerned, especially since she hasn’t returned their letters, and they asked us to check. In case you’re forgetting whose employment we’re currently considered under…”
Sakura felt her brow furrow. Brothers? She shook her head, making a mental note to freak out about certain things later. Her only priority there was making contact and asking them to restock the forge with all the required materials she needed whether it be oils or metals or other things she still didn’t know the names of. She reached out, materialising from the shadows then to clamp a hand down on Faelon’s shoulder.
Faelon screamed like a little girl, and the brunette’s hand clamped around the sword at her waist. Her heart pounded in her throat, dimly aware that they were armed and she was not – nor could she use her chakra properly if they wanted to harm her. Fear made her breathe out that much more harshly, concealing the shakiness she felt as she tightened her grip on Faelon.
“Lady Aerloth,” the – not a woman, an elleth part of her murmured – lady greeted, and Sakura felt herself go as tense as a bowstring. “What brings—”
“Forge,” she bit out, unable to stop herself any longer. She needed to say her piece, and then she needed to go and hyperventilate in her wardrobe-bed until she calmed down from the undue stress that confrontation was causing her. “The forge needs to be restocked.”
The brunette blinked, smiling placidly in a way which didn’t reach her eyes. Too late, Sakura realised she had spoken over her, and she opened her mouth to apologise for that—
“Honestly,” Faelon grumbled, seemingly trying to shake out of her iron grip to no avail. “Did you destroy your father’s old work area in one of your temper tantrums?” he muttered, shaking his head, oblivious to the way Sakura felt her brow furrow. “You should be glad your brother won’t be needing to—”
“Faelon,” the brunette hissed, elbowing him almost covertly in the side before she turned her attention back to her. “You are aware that your expenses here will be made a note of – your eldest brother will see them, and given how you are both exiled and under house arrest, you are meant to be on your best behaviour if you want even a chance of returning to Mithlond.”
Sakura blinked again, nodding stiffly. “Restock the forge,” she said stiffly, watching cautiously as the elleth nodded at her demand. “Thank you,” she added hastily, vanishing into the shadows of the corners of the room, silently praying that those would keep the eyes she could see staring in her general direction from following her as she sucked in a ragged gasp. Tension fled her body as she leant against the wall, watching as the pair of them left with only a curious and a confused stare directed at the shadows of the entrance room in which she hid within.
“Is it me,” Faelon mumbled, still just within her earshot, “or did she say thank you?”
She breathed out at that, legs shaking even as she sprinted back to where her wardrobe-bed was, burying herself in her covers, wrapping her arms around her as her body shook like a leaf. There had been just a bit too much information unloaded on her in such a short space of time – the main concern being that Lady Aerloth had older siblings. Older brothers – plural – if she had understood everything correctly.
Tears filled her eyes, panic clawing a space in her chest as she gasped for breath, because how exactly was she supposed to behave like the Aerloth they undoubtedly knew? She couldn’t. She didn’t even know what the original Aerloth had behaved like, nor whether she could imitate it as such.
That in itself would incite curiosity.
And curiosity was that which she feared, especially when it involved herself.