Said company proved more than agreeable tucked under a tree of pink light and geometric roots. Strange was in the habit of reading the most difficult parts of books aloud, as though speaking them might render them sensible. He did so quite often when reading the History of Seven, and Norrell allowed his eyes to close and the vibrations of those words to shiver against his back and his hair. Yes, this was all he could want and more. He would not tire of it, even when Strange was at his most vexing, for he was there, and he was safe. And after Strange did something foolish, or cast something dangerous, Norrell would fret and they would argue, and then after a few days they would return to this state of peace and enjoyment.
He would not admit to himself that this was everything he had imagined a marriage to be, nor would he name what they had between them in that term. It would upset Mr. Strange, he was certain, and in any case, they were two gentlemen. Such an arrangement could not be a marriage, but a necessitated comfort and convenience of their situation.
Strange asked him about one of the more esoteric passages, and Norrell turned his head to answer, and to steal a glimpse of Strange’s perplexed and fascinated expression. In close, he could see how the eternal night had washed away any tan Strange’s skin might have once possessed, and how the lines at the corners of his eyes had deepened a little over the years. He wondered about his own, but imagined the opposite, for he had never felt so light and so carefree as this. Why would lines appear upon him in this state?
Whatever he said in response (for indeed he could not recall the specifics) seemed to please Strange, who laughed and looked down at Norrell. Norrell continued to look up at him, quite content to ignore the text for a moment.
“It is a wondrous strange world we have found here, is it not?” Strange asked.
“I should think it the most peaceful place I have ever seen,” Norrell agreed.
Strange felt silent for some time, and after a bit, Norrell decided to begin reading again. But even as he raised the book, Strange lightly ruffled Norrell’s hair. Norrell closed his eyes and enjoyed it. Strange tended to be tactile, but this was perhaps more than usual. Still, Norrell had no intention of complaining. Strange’s hand, still in his hair, set to stroking it back along one side, brushing against Norrell’s ear with his fingertips as he did so.
After a time, with one hand still stroking Norrell’s hair and the other resting lightly upon the book they read together, he said, “I realized the other day that I have never thanked you. I know you’ve had little choice in your presence here, but I am grateful even so. I do not think I would have survived these twenty years without you at my side.”
Norrell knew he should say more. Something was happening here, and he was not certain what it might be. But something was certainly expected of him. He gathered his thoughts and his words together and said, “You need not thank me, Mr. Strange, for I find our fate to be quite enjoyable. Moreso, I fear, than ever you have.”
Even as he said it, he knew it was wrong. He did not mention Strange’s wife as a matter of course, nor did he mention the long years that now separated them in both time and age. Strange’s hand stilled upon his hair, but did not draw back.
“When we set out,” Strange said, quiet but fervent, “everything was such a wonder. The places we saw were beyond anything I had ever imagined. Yet I felt guilt at every turn, for I did not believe I should enjoy myself. I felt I should be searching with every fiber of my being for a means of dispelling the Pillar and returning to England. But as the years passed, I could not maintain that drive. There was so much to see, and to learn, and the magic we have done has been most extraordinary. To have all that, and yet persist in misery, seems to me the height of ingratitude.”
“It is not,” Norrell said. “You have lost a great deal.”
“And I have gained a great deal.” Strange’s hand resumed its movements, and his thumb rubbed across the sparse hairs at the nape of Norrell’s neck. “You are a difficult man to thank.”
“I simply seek to reassure you that such thanks are not necessary.” Norrell found his voice surprizingly thick and his breath ever so slightly short. It was likely the heat of the day, although he had not considered it to be great until then. “There is nowhere else in all the worlds I would rather be.”
Re: FILL: A Newly Woken World (2/4)
He would not admit to himself that this was everything he had imagined a marriage to be, nor would he name what they had between them in that term. It would upset Mr. Strange, he was certain, and in any case, they were two gentlemen. Such an arrangement could not be a marriage, but a necessitated comfort and convenience of their situation.
Strange asked him about one of the more esoteric passages, and Norrell turned his head to answer, and to steal a glimpse of Strange’s perplexed and fascinated expression. In close, he could see how the eternal night had washed away any tan Strange’s skin might have once possessed, and how the lines at the corners of his eyes had deepened a little over the years. He wondered about his own, but imagined the opposite, for he had never felt so light and so carefree as this. Why would lines appear upon him in this state?
Whatever he said in response (for indeed he could not recall the specifics) seemed to please Strange, who laughed and looked down at Norrell. Norrell continued to look up at him, quite content to ignore the text for a moment.
“It is a wondrous strange world we have found here, is it not?” Strange asked.
“I should think it the most peaceful place I have ever seen,” Norrell agreed.
Strange felt silent for some time, and after a bit, Norrell decided to begin reading again. But even as he raised the book, Strange lightly ruffled Norrell’s hair. Norrell closed his eyes and enjoyed it. Strange tended to be tactile, but this was perhaps more than usual. Still, Norrell had no intention of complaining. Strange’s hand, still in his hair, set to stroking it back along one side, brushing against Norrell’s ear with his fingertips as he did so.
After a time, with one hand still stroking Norrell’s hair and the other resting lightly upon the book they read together, he said, “I realized the other day that I have never thanked you. I know you’ve had little choice in your presence here, but I am grateful even so. I do not think I would have survived these twenty years without you at my side.”
“Twenty? I had thought it only ten.”
Strange sounded unaccountably fond. “Indeed not, sir.”
“Oh dear. I shall have to pay more attention.”
“It is quite all right.”
Norrell knew he should say more. Something was happening here, and he was not certain what it might be. But something was certainly expected of him. He gathered his thoughts and his words together and said, “You need not thank me, Mr. Strange, for I find our fate to be quite enjoyable. Moreso, I fear, than ever you have.”
Even as he said it, he knew it was wrong. He did not mention Strange’s wife as a matter of course, nor did he mention the long years that now separated them in both time and age. Strange’s hand stilled upon his hair, but did not draw back.
“When we set out,” Strange said, quiet but fervent, “everything was such a wonder. The places we saw were beyond anything I had ever imagined. Yet I felt guilt at every turn, for I did not believe I should enjoy myself. I felt I should be searching with every fiber of my being for a means of dispelling the Pillar and returning to England. But as the years passed, I could not maintain that drive. There was so much to see, and to learn, and the magic we have done has been most extraordinary. To have all that, and yet persist in misery, seems to me the height of ingratitude.”
“It is not,” Norrell said. “You have lost a great deal.”
“And I have gained a great deal.” Strange’s hand resumed its movements, and his thumb rubbed across the sparse hairs at the nape of Norrell’s neck. “You are a difficult man to thank.”
“I simply seek to reassure you that such thanks are not necessary.” Norrell found his voice surprizingly thick and his breath ever so slightly short. It was likely the heat of the day, although he had not considered it to be great until then. “There is nowhere else in all the worlds I would rather be.”