http://engarian.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
engarian.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
b2mem2017-03-03 08:56 am
engarian.livejournal.com) wrote in b2mem2017-03-03 08:56 am
Entry tags:
Chasing Summer Dreams
B2MeM Prompt and Path:Major life changes, Red
Format:short story
Genre:Romance
Rating:PG
Warnings:None
Characters:Maglor, OFC
Pairings:None
Creator’s Notes:Tolkien provided the sandbox, I merely play with the bucket and shovel he left behind. No profit of any kind is made from my fanworks.
Summary:Love – it can come in so many ways, via a glance, a wink, or even a song. The love borne from one song becomes a life’s goal for one young woman.
Major Life Changes - Chasing Summer Dreams
Suliel hadn’t intended to fall in love. She had been content, living in her small village, caring for her aging parents. Her brothers had all fallen in battle and her older sister was married, living far away. Sometimes she got a rare letter from her, but coin for the hiring of a scribe was hard to come by in these times of war.
No, she hadn’t intended to fall in love, until she did and everything changed.
Her father was burning with fever and her mother was at her rope’s end with worry for him. “I’ll go to the tavern and get a bucket of hot soup for Popa,” Suliel had said, and she took a few coppers from the box, wrapped her threadbare cloak around her thin shoulders, and prepared to walk the mile in the late afternoon of the blustery winter.
“Wrap up warm now,” her mother called out. “It’s blowin' a winter storm our way and I cain’t be havin’ both o’ you sick.”
“Yes, Moma,” she said, wrapping her heavy scarf around her head and walking out after picking up the lidded bucket for the soup. The sharp gusts blew right through her cloak, tangling the exposed strands of her hair into knots. It was a cold, brisk walk to the tavern but she didn’t dare run, the dirt road was icy and it would be too easy to slip and turn an ankle.
Shivering, she pulled open the plank door; grumbles and cries of “Shut the door, lass,” met her efforts. It took a few seconds for her to catch her breath but she walked into the common room after shaking off her cape. Her scarf draped over her arm, she walked toward the large hearth at the back of the room. On the other side of a wall was the kitchen, which shared the hearth with the larger tavern.
“Suliel,” the barkeep called out from his station. “What brings ya' owt on such a dread night?”
She walked to him, passing several of the old herders who were wintering their flocks in nearby barns. They were regular patrons of the tavern in the winter, but rarely seen during the warmer months when they were in their fields with their sheep. They sat, grouped at one end of the long trestle table, nursing their ales and eating stew and bread; staying dry in the common room before returning to their barn lofts for a night of cold damp sleep. Her nose wrinkled as she passed them. They smell as bad as a wet dog, she thought.
“Popa is doing poorly,” she told the barkeep. “I was hopin’ you had some soup or stew I could be bringin’ home for ‘im.”
“O' course, child. Sit you down in that corner n' warm yourself. Gi' me your bucket. I'll have the wife fill it for ye.”
She sat on a stool, glancing up as a tall, thin man walked past, something clutched under his arm. Closing her eyes, she sucked up the warmth, steeling herself to walk back through the cold, windborne sleet.
A bright melody started up from the far side of the room. Narrowing her eyes, she gazed at a strange sight. The tall stranger was seated with a musical instrument of some type beneath his chin. He pulled a stick across the strings creating a tune that smelled of mild summer nights, fireflies and whippoorwills. Her breath caught and tears threatened as memories of her brothers playing together in the summers of her childhood arose with the tune. The murmuring talk between the herders died down as everyone seemed lost in their own memories of other times.
In later days she was asked how long the stranger played in the tavern that night and she was never able to answer. It wasn't the length of the performance, it was the music. It grabbed each of the people in that room differently. When those who were there that night talked about the stranger and the music, it seemed that each person experienced the song differently.
For Suliel, the music was love. Love for her parents who, as it turned out, wouldn't live out the winter. Love for her brothers who had died before them, and her sister who was to pass on from childbirth complications within the next five years. Most of all, love for that stranger, whose name she never learned. It was long before she returned home with the soup that night. She sat, as if tied to her stool, and the stranger‘s song brought the warm, beautiful, and hopeful days of summer to her feet.
In the spring, after burying her parents, she closed up the house and left. She spent the remainder of her life searching for the musician. She tracked him from town to town, nation to nation, across borders, fields and wastelands. She grew proficient at protecting herself with a sturdy staff and sharp knife as she followed the rumors. Yet, she always remained several days behind him. She never flagged, her focus and goal became the sole meaning to her life. At long last, after many years, she lay on her deathbed, still chasing and still in love. The door to her room opened and a tall, thin shadow entered, sitting gracefully down next to her bed.
"You've been seeking me for long years. I cannot forever turn my back on such long-held devotion. What can I do to reward you for your constancy?" his soft voice spoke, the mere words making her labored breathing a bit easier.
"Please," she whispered with the last of her energy. "Bring back summer for me one final time. Let me have again the love I shared with those who are long gone. A lone tear slipped down her weathered cheek.
"I will play you through to the Summer Lands," he whispered, kissing her tenderly on her forehead. "Inasmuch as you love me, I also love you, and I will remember you forever because such is my gift and my doom." Maglor put his fiddle under his chin and as he played, she saw grey storm clouds part and a broad ray of golden sunlight light a pathway leading into a green meadow. In the distance, stood a familiar group of people. Laughing and weeping tears of joy, she ran towards them as the song receded into the background, finally fading away.
Format:short story
Genre:Romance
Rating:PG
Warnings:None
Characters:Maglor, OFC
Pairings:None
Creator’s Notes:Tolkien provided the sandbox, I merely play with the bucket and shovel he left behind. No profit of any kind is made from my fanworks.
Summary:Love – it can come in so many ways, via a glance, a wink, or even a song. The love borne from one song becomes a life’s goal for one young woman.
Major Life Changes - Chasing Summer Dreams
Suliel hadn’t intended to fall in love. She had been content, living in her small village, caring for her aging parents. Her brothers had all fallen in battle and her older sister was married, living far away. Sometimes she got a rare letter from her, but coin for the hiring of a scribe was hard to come by in these times of war.
No, she hadn’t intended to fall in love, until she did and everything changed.
Her father was burning with fever and her mother was at her rope’s end with worry for him. “I’ll go to the tavern and get a bucket of hot soup for Popa,” Suliel had said, and she took a few coppers from the box, wrapped her threadbare cloak around her thin shoulders, and prepared to walk the mile in the late afternoon of the blustery winter.
“Wrap up warm now,” her mother called out. “It’s blowin' a winter storm our way and I cain’t be havin’ both o’ you sick.”
“Yes, Moma,” she said, wrapping her heavy scarf around her head and walking out after picking up the lidded bucket for the soup. The sharp gusts blew right through her cloak, tangling the exposed strands of her hair into knots. It was a cold, brisk walk to the tavern but she didn’t dare run, the dirt road was icy and it would be too easy to slip and turn an ankle.
Shivering, she pulled open the plank door; grumbles and cries of “Shut the door, lass,” met her efforts. It took a few seconds for her to catch her breath but she walked into the common room after shaking off her cape. Her scarf draped over her arm, she walked toward the large hearth at the back of the room. On the other side of a wall was the kitchen, which shared the hearth with the larger tavern.
“Suliel,” the barkeep called out from his station. “What brings ya' owt on such a dread night?”
She walked to him, passing several of the old herders who were wintering their flocks in nearby barns. They were regular patrons of the tavern in the winter, but rarely seen during the warmer months when they were in their fields with their sheep. They sat, grouped at one end of the long trestle table, nursing their ales and eating stew and bread; staying dry in the common room before returning to their barn lofts for a night of cold damp sleep. Her nose wrinkled as she passed them. They smell as bad as a wet dog, she thought.
“Popa is doing poorly,” she told the barkeep. “I was hopin’ you had some soup or stew I could be bringin’ home for ‘im.”
“O' course, child. Sit you down in that corner n' warm yourself. Gi' me your bucket. I'll have the wife fill it for ye.”
She sat on a stool, glancing up as a tall, thin man walked past, something clutched under his arm. Closing her eyes, she sucked up the warmth, steeling herself to walk back through the cold, windborne sleet.
A bright melody started up from the far side of the room. Narrowing her eyes, she gazed at a strange sight. The tall stranger was seated with a musical instrument of some type beneath his chin. He pulled a stick across the strings creating a tune that smelled of mild summer nights, fireflies and whippoorwills. Her breath caught and tears threatened as memories of her brothers playing together in the summers of her childhood arose with the tune. The murmuring talk between the herders died down as everyone seemed lost in their own memories of other times.
In later days she was asked how long the stranger played in the tavern that night and she was never able to answer. It wasn't the length of the performance, it was the music. It grabbed each of the people in that room differently. When those who were there that night talked about the stranger and the music, it seemed that each person experienced the song differently.
For Suliel, the music was love. Love for her parents who, as it turned out, wouldn't live out the winter. Love for her brothers who had died before them, and her sister who was to pass on from childbirth complications within the next five years. Most of all, love for that stranger, whose name she never learned. It was long before she returned home with the soup that night. She sat, as if tied to her stool, and the stranger‘s song brought the warm, beautiful, and hopeful days of summer to her feet.
In the spring, after burying her parents, she closed up the house and left. She spent the remainder of her life searching for the musician. She tracked him from town to town, nation to nation, across borders, fields and wastelands. She grew proficient at protecting herself with a sturdy staff and sharp knife as she followed the rumors. Yet, she always remained several days behind him. She never flagged, her focus and goal became the sole meaning to her life. At long last, after many years, she lay on her deathbed, still chasing and still in love. The door to her room opened and a tall, thin shadow entered, sitting gracefully down next to her bed.
"You've been seeking me for long years. I cannot forever turn my back on such long-held devotion. What can I do to reward you for your constancy?" his soft voice spoke, the mere words making her labored breathing a bit easier.
"Please," she whispered with the last of her energy. "Bring back summer for me one final time. Let me have again the love I shared with those who are long gone. A lone tear slipped down her weathered cheek.
"I will play you through to the Summer Lands," he whispered, kissing her tenderly on her forehead. "Inasmuch as you love me, I also love you, and I will remember you forever because such is my gift and my doom." Maglor put his fiddle under his chin and as he played, she saw grey storm clouds part and a broad ray of golden sunlight light a pathway leading into a green meadow. In the distance, stood a familiar group of people. Laughing and weeping tears of joy, she ran towards them as the song receded into the background, finally fading away.