Abaddon III

III

So once again Jabberwock bided his time—as he had for seconds, minutes, and hours. As the days had become months, the months, seasons, and the seasons, years; as the tide turned and the earth revolved on its axis, he and the princess had become increasingly dependent on each other and waited . . . for until her eighteenth birthday, Eluned’s parents would not allow her to leave the kingdom.

And, the more patient Jabberwock became, the more Eluned champed at the bit, so to speak. For as much as Eluned longed to discover the world, Jabberwock was going to miss their clearing with its occasional fairy ring and the company of an innocent, if strong-willed, child who visited him whenever possible. He knew also that the world is cruel and that it wouldn’t be long before the innocence in Eluned’s eyes was snuffed out as easily as the flame of a candle.

He dreaded introducing her to the world of pain and fear outside the kingdom. He couldn’t be completely sure that her tender psyche would escape unscathed. Scars were sure to form each time her heart was truly broken. And the fear, distrust, hate, gluttony, greed and all the terrible things that existed only in a minor sense in this protected world of hers would hit her like a hurricane out there.

If she couldn’t withstand it, he would regret it for the rest of his life and that would be a mighty long time. But destiny (and a certain Someone) had them meet, and time, that ever-so-precious commodity (and something Eluned, herself, had countless times in the past and would countless times in the future meditate on) would tell.

The question was, of course, how much of life should she, could she, experience without crossing fine lines, unwritten boundaries? Questions floated in and out of the Bandersnatch’s musings. How much must one push oneself to really live? Was not a quiet, peaceful existence enough? Yes, he answered himself, for some. King Seraphim and Queen Ceridwen seemed perfectly content whereas the Princess Eluned felt imprisoned by the borders of this tiny kingdom. She was ready to slip from her bonds of captivity, to soar like the wild birds she so admired above the walls of the castle, above the highest trees, wheeling higher and higher, to touch the clouds, the stars, if possible.

How much should she be allowed to savor, if in fact, he could control (even to a minute degree) her destiny? It was a complicated task he’d undertaken but one he felt bound to fulfill. After all, was there really a choice?

He heard her voice calling his name, huskier now at the age of seventeen (practically eighteen), more dovelike and mournful in its essence. Gone was the carefree nightingale. Here now, rushing into the glade as if it might disappear before her liquid eyes, appeared a woman both exquisitely beautiful and innocent; a woman so impatient to begin a journey, an adventure, that she could barely contain herself. It appeared to Jabberwock as if she might sprout great white wings at any moment and soar over the walls of the castle and over the boundaries of the Kingdom to begin a journey that would end . . . well, even the Bandersnatch did not know how it might end.

to be continued tomorrow...