Elendr Shrieks
The Shrieks Between the Questions
Title: Elendr Shrieks-The Shrieks Between the Questions
Author: Opalina Jalcon
From the journals of Opalina Jalcon 2001
The North Gate of Icemule is never truly quiet.
There is always the scrape of boots against packed snow, the murmur of merchants, the bark of guards who have long since forgotten how to smile. It is the sort of noise that fades into the background until something cuts through it.
Today, that something was Elendr.
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
It slipped between conversations like a knife between ribs.
"Why would they?"
I paused.
Not because I knew the answer.
Because he sounded like someone who had once known it.
The words tumbled from him in strange circles, each question chasing another until they devoured themselves.
"Where is it all going?"
"Who is going with it?"
"When will the answers make themselves known?"
Most who passed offered him nothing more than a sideways glance before continuing through the glacier gate. A few laughed. One child stared until her mother tugged her away.
I listened.
Years on the road teach you the difference between nonsense and truth wrapped in broken glass.
Madmen often speak in circles.
Prophets do too.
The trick is discovering which one you're standing before.
"Who are they?"
"What is it?"
The questions piled atop one another until they became almost unbearable to hear. Not because they made no sense...
Because they made too much.
Every question demanded another.
Every answer dissolved before it could be grasped.
Then his voice changed.
Only slightly.
Enough that the hairs on my arms rose beneath my sleeves.
"There are always questions."
His eyes were fixed on nothing I could see.
"But what are the right ones?"
I found myself wondering if he'd spoken directly to me.
I had questions of my own.
Questions about roads that refused to stay mapped.
About shadows that lingered too long.
About people who smiled with their mouths but never their eyes.
Questions about the strange feeling that every journey lately seemed to be pulling threads from the same unseen tapestry.
Then came a single word.
"LISTEN."
Not shouted.
Commanded.
The gate suddenly felt colder.
The glacier groaned somewhere deep within its ancient heart, and for the briefest moment the chatter of travelers disappeared beneath the sound.
I listened.
I heard boots.
Wind.
Ice settling against stone.
A raven somewhere overhead.
Nothing more.
Or perhaps...
Nothing yet.
"Good questions!" he cried.
"WHEN?"
The word echoed against the frozen walls.
No one answered.
How could they?
Time keeps its own counsel.
I adjusted the straps of my pack and continued toward the gate, though slower than before.
Some riddles aren't meant to be solved the moment they're spoken.
Some are planted like seeds.
Waiting.
For the day you finally stumble into the answer and remember...
You'd heard the question long ago.
Long before you knew it belonged to you.