"See! This is the perfect replica of Aragorn’s sword…" Anne felt the flat side of the blade in awe. "I’ll love to own it… but it would seem like a waste of money once the movie’s fad is over."

Elijah was not fascinated by the movie which Anne made him sit through thrice- that amounted to nine hours of his precious life. However, the reward was probably this shop for watching the movie over and over again caused Anne to be obsessed by the medieval swords they used and thus, she dragged him out to this quaint little shop selling all kinds of knives, daggers, swords and even light-sabers- whatever they were.

His eyes drifted across the wooden layout of the shop and were baited by a display case showcasing an expensive looking dagger with a sapphire-adorned hilt resting on deep purple velvet pillow. It was the only dagger in the display and the light that danced off sinuously its shiny serrated blade pierced into Elijah’s eyes, casting a spell of sorts on him. Leaving Anne’s side when she had waved the sales assistant over to haggle prices, Elijah went over to that particular counter to admire the dagger in close-up.

His reflection reflected sinuously on the serrated blade and the dark blue sapphires reminded him of his own eyes- though he felt a little egoistic for making that comparison. Tracing the shape of the dagger on the counter glass’ surface as if he was touching the real thing, he was rudely shocked when the hoarse, small voice of the balding shopkeeper spoke very closely to his ear.

"You have a good eye. It’s a collector’s item by Savrok, one of the oldest families in the dagger-making trade. The last dagger to be made by Anton Savrok himself. See the hilt? It’s made of blacklip mother of pearl and abalone mosaic handle, bejeweled with sapphires, which, in the night, gives off a deep blue sheen under the moonlight. The design is Persian Folder and the blade is stainless steel plated with 24K gold like the sun ray, blessing it, kissing it so you can win in battle with it even if your enemy had disarmed away your sword. Its engraving shows Hephaestus at his volcanic forge- forging this dagger’s serrated blade…" The shopkeeper’s voice withered off hauntingly. Elijah eyes widened at the dagger’s history and its crafter’s symbolic artwork etched onto both sides of the golden blade. He was intrigued by the dagger because while it seemed ancient- it also exuded timelessness and subtle power.

"Of course it was Anton’s romantic notions that he could make blades as well as the legends boasted Hephaestus could but yes, you can never go wrong with an Anton Savrok’s dagger. Not only are they intricately beautiful- they can be lethal so it’s best you use it as an ornamental piece under lock and key." The shopkeeper’s peeled his eyes away from the dagger and turned sideways to look at Elijah. Elijah still could not break away from the spell that must have been enchanted him when light from the dagger perforated into his eyes.

"How much is it?"

"It’s priceless. I will never sell it to anyone who could not love it. Many asked the price… many could pay with cash but none with their heart."

At that moment, Elijah almost giggled because the shopkeeper was sounding more and more like some Advanced Dungeons and Dragons fanatic. But when he could finally tear away from the dagger to meet his eyes, he could tell that the shopkeeper was speaking from his heart for he charily studied Elijah and nodded.

"You like it, maybe even love it."

"It’s beautiful, really" Elijah admitted. "But I know I can’t afford…"

"I’ll love to give it to you but business acumen is at conflict with my desires. It should value at close to a hundred thousand dollars but I can let it go at seventy. Even then, I think it should be quite a huge problem for you." The shopkeeper regretfully added even before Elijah could balk at the offer.

"Well… I… I’m just a lowly waiter but it’s an exquisite thing, really. I really wish… never mind." Elijah shrugged. He could not expect the shopkeeper to just give it to him out of a common passion for the dagger, could he? Well, a person could always wish- after all, movies were full of such weird people whose ardor for the most atypical things guide their hearts to do the most unthinkable act.

And he could tell from the finely detailed and vigilantly crafted dagger which spoke, no, which sang of the forger’s love for his craft that the price quoted was more than fair. The two men resumed to admiring the dagger, each thinking their own thoughts about the transaction which could never be despite willingness on both sides when Anne bounced over to his side and grabbed his waist, jolting him when electricity from her fingertips shocked through his system. He spun around, not knowing why he wanted to hide the dagger from her view by blocking it but he felt he needed to mask his affinity with it from her.

The shopkeeper was still mesmerized by his own inventory.

"What’s that you’re looking at?" Anne glanced over his shoulder, trying to look past him onto the display but he casually guided her away when, in his mind, he was busily calculating how many hours he needed to work to be able to own an atom of that beauty.

"Nothing. So… have you bought Aragorn’s sword?"

"Nope... it’s too much to pay for a fad. I’m not even in these things…" She gestured for him to bend over so she could whisper into his ears when they were a couple of steps away from the quaint shop’s exit. "The shop opposite sells movies’ trinkets and stuff… not good quality but cheap! I can probably get the sword from there and hang it up in my room for a few months."

Elijah smiled- amused because her eyes shone with so much excitement over the hope of finding a better bargain. With one arm around her waist, he led her out of the shop and allowed her to guide him to the shop she was talking about.

"Your fascination with this sword is well and good, fair maiden. However, I fear you’re thinking of using it on your poor, lowly servant." Elijah teased her as right after they maneuvered past the busy intersection.

Anne laughed at his drama and haughtily tilted her head. "I just might… so you better watch how you treat me. Of course if you’re generous, lavishing and loving, you won’t have to eat steel."

He pretended to be horrified by her playful threat and the both of them burst into laughter. Half an hour later, they were out on the streets again, empty handed but it did not matter. Shopping for the sword was but an excuse. Once they knew all they wanted was to spend precious time together, not finding the rightly priced item was not a catastrophe enough to dampen their spirits- it left not even a slight dent.

They needed no Aragorn’s sword or Arwen’s pendant. They were in love- straight and simple.

***

He sat up on his bed with cold sweat plastering the material of his pajamas onto his back. The memory of the dagger he saw a couple of days ago invaded his being. When his eyes were shut, there it was, tempting his mind’s fixated sight. It grabbed him, seized him with the violence of obsessed yearning- craving.

So possessed he was by his own image dancing in the depths of the reflective serrated blade that he actually caught himself thinking of ways to steal it. Strangely, guilt did not set in until he was conscious of the fact that he was really going to it. He had been heady whenever he planned the theft in his daydream- the imagined sensation of touching the cool metal excited him and shocked his heart into rapid pulsations.

He shook his head to dispel the power the knife held over him. Disappointed and shamed by the temptation and incursion so close to sin, Elijah forced his eyes to open and wake up to a new day. It would soon be the time he should get ready for his morning shift in the restaurant and he did not want to be late. When he could finally regain back self-control, he realized, with some bafflement at how, during the disgraceful reverie, he had rolled up his sleeves and now, as he watched with rounded eyes, his right hand was scratching over the scars on his left-arm- not the casual kind of scratches when one itched. His fingernails actually dug into his skin and left red welts.

He stopped himself and rolled his sleeves down hastily. The alarm rang then, prompting him that he had to make his way to the bathroom or he would be late and skinned alive. Rubbing his eyes, he struggled out of the bed when the dagger flashed again in his mind and he shook his head vigorously to chase the thought of it- even a ghost of the thought it- away.

Immediately, he regretted doing that- it made him giddy and disorientated. Holding on to the headboard for support, Elijah willed for the nausea to pass.

Images assaulted him- one after another quickly and forcefully. Bloodstained pictures kept him rooted to the floor. A man fell right before his eyes- a Goliath. Screams. A boy wailed into the night.

Too hastily the images came and went as if someone had quickly snatched them away from his mind, deciding coldly that he was not ready yet.

However, the remembrance was more than just images- it was sensations and smell and those lingered on longer, tingling his nose and nerves. He smelled the copperish stench of blood; he felt the sharp, piercing vibrations of a blade through skin and then, the momentary resistance that bones provided which was easily split- inadequate walls of calcium.

Then through soft, beating flesh, the blade made its foray heartlessly.

When the incoherent flashback past, Elijah slid down to the floor and chewed on his right wrist, hyperventilating with his heartbeat hammering frantically away.

He was so very much afraid.