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"No-Man, Whom I Prefer Above All Others", by Himring
B2MeM Prompt and Category: Initial prompt no. 10: Improvisation: the art or act of playing music, harmonies or variations that are composed on the spot without previously learning them; making it up as you go along
Format: chaptered
Genre: character study
Rating: PG13
Warnings: angst
Characters: Ancalime
Pairings: Ancalime/Hallacar
Creator’s Notes: This is the second chapter of the story that started with Mouth Music, but you can follow without having read the first part. It has now turned out that there will be a third chapter (or an epilogue) to this sequence. Overarching title is or will be: "In the Hills of Emerie".
Summary: Ancalime in the aftermath of Hallacar's declaration of love and the disturbing revelation that he is in truth a relative of hers who had taken on an assumed identity.
Ancalime sat among her own green hills and wept tears of rage. He had laughed. Not only had she been deceived, but he had laughed before revealing the truth. It was clear that he saw nothing fundamentally wrong with lying to her, making a fool of her, and would do so again, if it suited his purpose and if she was fool enough to let him.
She had, of course, suspected he was not quite the humble shepherd he had introduced himself as—he clearly had more schooling than was common among those who had no choice but to keep flocks—but she had still believed he was not someone who she could have met, outside the hills of Emerie, on an even footing.
‘How else could any wooer find you?’
You are a cousin of mine, Hallacar, and my father favours yours. You could have come to Armenelos and sought an introduction at any time. To be sure, I might have been less approachable there, but it would have been the honest thing to do, if you wished to meet me. Instead you sought me out here in the hills of my home, invading the place where I felt safe and at peace, because you wished to gape at me as a curiosity.
And still he professed to love her and clearly thought that made everything all right, that lying to her, manipulating her, was the fair and noble thing to do, as long as it was done in the name of love. But what kind of love was this, that had no respect for the wishes of the beloved? It was a man’s view of things, her mother would have said, and, as it had turned out, she was, after all, right.
She had almost managed to trust him. Love was neither here nor there, it was trust that was the important, the difficult thing. A wasted effort. He would never even appreciate what he had almost gained, what he had irretrievably lost. He was merely disappointed that she was unwilling to comply with his wishes, after his fervent declarations of love.
‘I love Emerwen and care not now who she may be.’
That was what he claimed. But she was Emerwen Aranel, both shepherdess and princess, and he clearly had not understood either part of her as well as he assumed.
She thought with regret, of the songs he had sung to her, from the time when the Edain had been pasturing their flocks out east, before they had crossed the Ered Luin into Beleriand and encountered the Eldar, how he had improvised upon them to make the old songs their own story, his and hers, and themselves the subject of old songs. It had pleased her to be woven into those songs, age-old and yet new, as if he and she were all part of one rich cloth and that cloth stretched all around them and a long way back.
But no, that was just another way of being taken in, an excuse to have another’s will imposed on hers. She would not consent to become merely part of another’s song. It would always be her own song, from now on.
Format: chaptered
Genre: character study
Rating: PG13
Warnings: angst
Characters: Ancalime
Pairings: Ancalime/Hallacar
Creator’s Notes: This is the second chapter of the story that started with Mouth Music, but you can follow without having read the first part. It has now turned out that there will be a third chapter (or an epilogue) to this sequence. Overarching title is or will be: "In the Hills of Emerie".
Summary: Ancalime in the aftermath of Hallacar's declaration of love and the disturbing revelation that he is in truth a relative of hers who had taken on an assumed identity.
Ancalime sat among her own green hills and wept tears of rage. He had laughed. Not only had she been deceived, but he had laughed before revealing the truth. It was clear that he saw nothing fundamentally wrong with lying to her, making a fool of her, and would do so again, if it suited his purpose and if she was fool enough to let him.
She had, of course, suspected he was not quite the humble shepherd he had introduced himself as—he clearly had more schooling than was common among those who had no choice but to keep flocks—but she had still believed he was not someone who she could have met, outside the hills of Emerie, on an even footing.
‘How else could any wooer find you?’
You are a cousin of mine, Hallacar, and my father favours yours. You could have come to Armenelos and sought an introduction at any time. To be sure, I might have been less approachable there, but it would have been the honest thing to do, if you wished to meet me. Instead you sought me out here in the hills of my home, invading the place where I felt safe and at peace, because you wished to gape at me as a curiosity.
And still he professed to love her and clearly thought that made everything all right, that lying to her, manipulating her, was the fair and noble thing to do, as long as it was done in the name of love. But what kind of love was this, that had no respect for the wishes of the beloved? It was a man’s view of things, her mother would have said, and, as it had turned out, she was, after all, right.
She had almost managed to trust him. Love was neither here nor there, it was trust that was the important, the difficult thing. A wasted effort. He would never even appreciate what he had almost gained, what he had irretrievably lost. He was merely disappointed that she was unwilling to comply with his wishes, after his fervent declarations of love.
‘I love Emerwen and care not now who she may be.’
That was what he claimed. But she was Emerwen Aranel, both shepherdess and princess, and he clearly had not understood either part of her as well as he assumed.
She thought with regret, of the songs he had sung to her, from the time when the Edain had been pasturing their flocks out east, before they had crossed the Ered Luin into Beleriand and encountered the Eldar, how he had improvised upon them to make the old songs their own story, his and hers, and themselves the subject of old songs. It had pleased her to be woven into those songs, age-old and yet new, as if he and she were all part of one rich cloth and that cloth stretched all around them and a long way back.
But no, that was just another way of being taken in, an excuse to have another’s will imposed on hers. She would not consent to become merely part of another’s song. It would always be her own song, from now on.
no subject
I really like how you describe the old songs, and the last couple sentences: She would not consent to become merely part of another’s song. It would always be her own song, from now on. That's a powerful ending.
no subject
It seems clear to me that Ancalime has major trust issues, after what went on with her and her parents, and that would strongly predispose her against manoeuvring such as Hallacar's, while he probably saw it as romantic.
I'm glad you like the ending.
no subject
no subject