The Last Ring-bearer - Kirill Yeskov [148]
It did look like his store of luck was empty. Well, that depends: today he lost to everyone – the Elves, Aragorn's men, the DSD – but managed to stay alive. No, wait – actually, he was allowed to live, that's different. Or did he dream up the whole thing? The garden is empty, no one to ask but the cicadas… He got up and knew right away that he did not dream up the blow to the head, at least: pain and nausea sloshed around in his skull at about the ear level. He put his hand inside his jacket to find the key and felt the warm metal of the mithril mail, which he had put on back at the bank, for extra protection before meeting Elandar. Yeah, it did help a lot today, right…
The moment he managed to insert the key into the keyhole, the door opened and he faced the sleepy butler, a huge phlegmatic Haradi named Unkva; Tina, scared, was peering from behind his shoulder. He moved inside past the servants; Alviss, closing her robe as she ran down the stairs, was already near.
"Goodness, what happened? Are you wounded?"
"No, just a little drunk." Dizziness hit him with such force that he had to lean against a wall. "Was just passing by, thought I'd call on you for old times' sake…"
"Liar…" she sniffled, and her arms went around his neck, leaving the wide sleeves behind. "God, how I'm tired of you…"
…They lay side by side, barely touching, and his hand glided slowly from her neck down to the curve of her thigh – carefully, as if not to brush off the silvery moonlight.
He finally mustered the courage to say: "Aly!" and she, somehow understanding immediately what he was about to say, sat up slowly, hugging her knees and putting her head down on them. Words stuck in his throat; he touched her arm and felt her moving away a tiny distance that he would now have to spend the rest of his life crossing, without any guarantee that it would be enough time. That was how she was: constitutionally incapable of making a scene, she could be silent in a manner that made him feel like a total bastard for a week… and that's exactly what you are, Baron. Didn't she have some sort of a matrimonial prospect on the horizon before you showed up? She's no little girl, she's almost thirty… you're an asshole, Baron, an indifferent selfish asshole.
"Your Secret Service courteously gave me until tomorrow noon to quit Umbar forever, or they'll just kill me. I'm in their sights and can't escape. So it goes, Aly…" He thought: this is probably how men tell their mistresses that they can't see them while their wives are suspecting something; he almost cringed with self-disgust.
"You seem to be justifying yourself, Tan. Why? I understand – it's just Fate. And don't worry about me," she raised her head and suddenly gave a quiet laugh, "I was more farsighted this time around."
"What're you talking about?"
"Oh, nothing, just woman stuff…" She got up and put on her robe. There was something so final in that movement that he asked involuntarily: "Where're you going?"
"To pack your things, where else?" she looked at him with a bit of surprise. "See, I can never be a high-society dame. Sorry, I'm just not refined enough. I should've made a hysterical scene right now, just for formality's sake, right?"
He had lost too much today in one fell swoop: the goal he has been striving for all these months, his belief in himself, the country that became his second home (even if against his will), and now Alviss… Knowing it was all over, he plunged ahead desperately like a man jumping off the pier to catch up with a departing ship.
"Listen, Aly… I really can't stay in Umbar, but you… what would you say if I asked you to go to Ithilien with me and become Baroness Tangorn there?"
"I would say," there was nothing but infinite weariness in her voice, "that you've always been too fond of the subjunctive, whereas women, by their nature, prefer the imperative mood. Sorry."
"What if I change the mood?" He was trying as hard as he could to smile. "In the imperative it goes like this: marry me! Is