Fertile Fields by Erulisse (one L)
Mar. 3rd, 2019 12:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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b2memB2MeM Prompt, Card and Number:I20:Citrus, 31-Orange, Freeze, 34-Blue, Grape Jelly, 36-Purple, Separation, 51-Darkness, Darkness Format:ficlet Genre:gen Rating:R Warnings:mention of death and suicide Characters: Pairings: Creator’s Notes (optional): Summary:Many years later she reflected back to the halcyon days of her youth. War had come in her middle years, her husband and two sons falling in lands far away under clouds of fire and darkness. She alone remained working the land.
FERTILE FIELDS
The rich soil of the dormant volcano is perfect for the grape vines. The fruit grows heavy; rich and full of flavor as the plants feed on Orodruin's discharge. One section of grapes is destined for wine - white, red, and deep carnelian. A second variety of grapes will be jellies, the flavor treasured by cooks throughout the region. Her favorite section of the farmstead was on the far western side. Here, she tends a small grove of orange trees, tucked in a steep-walled narrow valley. The trees were sheltered from the unexpected storms that sometimes raced towards the volcano's broken cone, still puffing a gentle plume of smoke. The orange liqueur she makes from the fruits of the stunted trees is a favorite of the rich and royal.
When they had first wed, she and her husband had walked the length and breadth of their lands, finally climbing up the broken slopes of the volcano. They had stood at the brim of the crown and looked down on a wide desolate area of steaming fumaroles with a small pool of still-liquid lava. Orodruin was sleeping, but still alive.
She gave birth to two sons and they raised them in the shadow of the volcano. Minor earthquakes tumbled the occasional fence, but the mountain seemed content to allow their stakehold. Men, however, had their own plans and ambitions. A proclamation came from the North - an army was required to move South, against enemies of a distant land. The farms lost their males - everyone from the newly bearded to the grizzled, but hale, were conscripted. She was now alone with her groves, the trees, and the ever-present mountain.
For several years she lived in hope, breathing prayers to whatever deities might be listening. "Bring back my boys to me." "Let my husband return to my side." As the time stretched onward, her prayers lessened, until finally, they ceased altogether. Her heart began to freeze. The gods were deaf to her voice; she was on her own.
Ten long years after the armies had left for the south, she gazed past the fields to the gently smoking volcano. Of those who had left, less than half had returned, many maimed by battle. She would have accepted injury - injured trees and vines often became stronger as they recovered. What she could not accept was facing the winds of the future alone. Within her, something broke.
She looked westward and began walking, after two days finally reaching the rim of the volcano. A steep, unstable slope beckoned her upward. Finally reaching the top of the crown, she gazed down, even as she had with her husband at the beginning of their lives together. She stepped forward onto the unstable scree.
As she slipped and fell, running toward the small lake of molten lava ahead, she saw her family standing in front of her fields of grapevines and orange trees. *Come to me,* she heard within her heart. She held no regrets as she ran toward the lake of lava, seeing only the eyes of her loved ones as she welcomed the heated embrace and death's numbness.
FERTILE FIELDS
The rich soil of the dormant volcano is perfect for the grape vines. The fruit grows heavy; rich and full of flavor as the plants feed on Orodruin's discharge. One section of grapes is destined for wine - white, red, and deep carnelian. A second variety of grapes will be jellies, the flavor treasured by cooks throughout the region. Her favorite section of the farmstead was on the far western side. Here, she tends a small grove of orange trees, tucked in a steep-walled narrow valley. The trees were sheltered from the unexpected storms that sometimes raced towards the volcano's broken cone, still puffing a gentle plume of smoke. The orange liqueur she makes from the fruits of the stunted trees is a favorite of the rich and royal.
When they had first wed, she and her husband had walked the length and breadth of their lands, finally climbing up the broken slopes of the volcano. They had stood at the brim of the crown and looked down on a wide desolate area of steaming fumaroles with a small pool of still-liquid lava. Orodruin was sleeping, but still alive.
She gave birth to two sons and they raised them in the shadow of the volcano. Minor earthquakes tumbled the occasional fence, but the mountain seemed content to allow their stakehold. Men, however, had their own plans and ambitions. A proclamation came from the North - an army was required to move South, against enemies of a distant land. The farms lost their males - everyone from the newly bearded to the grizzled, but hale, were conscripted. She was now alone with her groves, the trees, and the ever-present mountain.
For several years she lived in hope, breathing prayers to whatever deities might be listening. "Bring back my boys to me." "Let my husband return to my side." As the time stretched onward, her prayers lessened, until finally, they ceased altogether. Her heart began to freeze. The gods were deaf to her voice; she was on her own.
Ten long years after the armies had left for the south, she gazed past the fields to the gently smoking volcano. Of those who had left, less than half had returned, many maimed by battle. She would have accepted injury - injured trees and vines often became stronger as they recovered. What she could not accept was facing the winds of the future alone. Within her, something broke.
She looked westward and began walking, after two days finally reaching the rim of the volcano. A steep, unstable slope beckoned her upward. Finally reaching the top of the crown, she gazed down, even as she had with her husband at the beginning of their lives together. She stepped forward onto the unstable scree.
As she slipped and fell, running toward the small lake of molten lava ahead, she saw her family standing in front of her fields of grapevines and orange trees. *Come to me,* she heard within her heart. She held no regrets as she ran toward the lake of lava, seeing only the eyes of her loved ones as she welcomed the heated embrace and death's numbness.
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Date: 2019-03-03 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-03 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-03 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-04 03:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-04 09:52 am (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
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Date: 2019-03-12 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-13 01:31 am (UTC)I've always heard that volcanic soil is among the world's richest. The ending was sad, but necessary. At least she was able to rejoin her family on the other side.
- Erulisse (one L)