I feel like Monty Python here... "And now for something a little bit different." This is a concept I have had in the back of my mind for a long time, I hope I have been able to do it justice! I am quoting Shakespeare's A Midsummer Nights Dream here. Thank you for reading! Cate.
We rarely know what is happening in someone else's heart. For Gilbert Blythe, there was a small window in time that he was completely unaware of.
Four minutes and seventeen seconds.
A window of opportunity that closed almost as soon as it opened, that would not open up again for many years.
Four Minutes and Seventeen Seconds.
Late one summer afternoon, Anne Shirley walked along the road between Green Gables and the Blythe residence, her hand occupied with a basket of baked goods she had packed earlier. Also in the basket was a worn copy of Shakespeare's works, which she and Gilbert were currently using in their studies. As she came around the corner, she saw him standing, as expected by the gate, his long form relaxing against the fence post.
"Are you ready?" she called, teasingly.
"Ready to make a donkey out of myself, I assume." he said drily.
She laughed. "You know that atmosphere is everything, Mr Blythe. A Midsummer Night's dream will be truly magical deep in the woods."
He swung out of the gate easily, his own book in his hands, which he unceremoniously dropped in her basket, taking the handle from her then. "I don't doubt that, Miss Shirley. I just wonder what you will have me doing out there, especially after what you tried with Elaine…." he said pointedly, earning himself a shove.
"No water, Gil, just trees. Many, many trees."
He looked across at her with a smile. "Is that why you wore this dress? It's pretty."
Anne looked down at the delicate fabric with smile. It was a pretty white print with green ivy trailing over the material, making her feel like a queen of the forest.
"Thank you. And yes, I felt it was in keeping with our outing. We're going out to Hester Gray's garden." she said with a big smile.
When they reached the garden Anne led them down the row of cherry trees, and they set up their picnic beneath them. With cups of cordial in one hand, and their books in the other, they sat reading aloud to each other in the sunny afternoon.
Anne eventually stretched out on her front next to where Gilbert was sitting, her book propped up in front of her.
"The real question is, what made the king and queen of the fairies behave as they did?" she asked thoughtfully. "I never understood how the little changeling boy was able to divide them from each other. "
Gilbert shrugged. "Maybe it was never about the boy. Or maybe they weren't really that close to begin with."
At that, Anne's frown was directed at the unfortunate scholar.
"Gilbert, how can you say that?" she said, reproachful. "They are the king and queen- they must love each other. They do."
He stretched out beside her, grinning at her cross face. "Come on Miss Shirley, you know it's permissible to have an alternative opinion."
"Not that one! Oberon and Titania must love each other deeply. The whole passage where she describes the effects of their conflict on the countryside around them shows how deeply hurt they are."
Gilbert reached across her to take another biscuit. "If they truly cared, how could something so small divide them? Was there no hope of sharing the boy? And besides, if Oberon really loved her, why would he resort to humiliating and hurting her, finally tricking her into giving up the changeling?" he said reasonably, making Anne sit up indignantly. She leaned down to give her words emphasis.
"They do love each other. What if it was jealousy? You see that Oberon taunts her about Theseus, as Titania teases him about being in love with Hippolyta."
Gilbert nodded solemnly. "So maybe they just needed some good old marriage counselling." he said with a smirk.
At this Anne turned crimson, and she got up to storm away.
"You won't even take it seriously! I'm trying to help us learn here, but if all you can do is tease-"
Gilbert sprang up, and grabbed her arm. "Anne, I'm sorry, I promise I won't tease anymore. I just don't get this stuff like you do."
She glared back at him. "You know full well you understand it as well as me. You are just being stubborn-"
"And you're not listening to what I have to say either." He said, hands on hips. "I thought we worked better as a team, even if we come at the thing from different angles? Has it failed us yet?"
Anne sighed reluctantly. "I suppose not." She gave him one last frown. "I don't like it when you make fun of a story I love." she said, grumbling.
"Alright, I won't do that. But no more jumping down my throat when I give you my honest opinion."
The two of them sat back down, and as Anne pulled the book back onto her lap, she felt something tickling above her ear and flinched. She was surprised to see Gilbert's hand pushing a flower into her hair.
"If we're going to do this, let's do it right." he said with a grin. "There are all kinds of flowers out here, we'll make you Titania and I'll be Oberon. Then we'll argue it through and see who wins in the end."
Anne chuckled, finding novelty in the idea, and soon her hair held a wreath picked from the old garden and its surrounds. Gilbert even found a small pink rose on a bush that had run wild in the eastern corner of the garden.
Suitably attired, and each munching an apple, the two of them kept reading the old story. Anne smiled, watching Gilbert assume the role of Oberon again. She had forgotten that he had often recited, and was captivated by his portrayal. The pride of the king, the spite of the thwarted lover took shape before her, and she found herself clapping delightedly when he had finished.
As twilight fell in the little garden, Anne lifted her head from her book. The warm breeze, carrying the scent of the ocean blew through the pine trees behind them, its haunting sound playing like music in her ears. Anne took a deep breath in, watching the flowers bend across the field. The trickle of the creek nearby, the late cherry blossoms dropping over them where they sat. Anne thought dreamily that the evening had an odd sort of magic about it. Anything might happen on a night like this.
She looked across at Gilbert, lying back on the rug near her, book discarded in the dimness and hands clasped behind his head. He was looking out at the horizon, and in the silence she studied his untroubled face. Dark browed, teasing hazel eyes that would sometimes change when she looked into them of late. A tenderness would appear there, an unspoken question. Anne gave a little shiver. It was even more unsettling that sometimes she almost seemed to answer him.
A blossom fell on his chest, and she watched him pick it up gently. A smile curved on her lips, watching him. He was handsome, she had to admit. His curly hair messy in the wind, and the twisted grin that would appear so easily when she was around. It was in these moments that she realised his company was so very satisfying. A likeness of mind, his quick humour and that intelligence that she had to work so hard to keep up with!
She suddenly noticed those eyes fixed on her and went pink, knowing he had caught her staring. He sat up, holding the blossom in the palm of his hand and reached out to grab hers with other hand.
"First I will release the fairy queen.…" he quoted with a grin, pulling her to her feet. Anne smiled at him, as he crushed the blossom in his fingers, and pretended to anoint her eyes.
"Be as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see….
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen." he said in a whisper.
Four minutes and seventeen seconds.
She noticed the first stars were beginning to come out in the steel blue sky, and Anne suddenly let go of Gilbert's hand, with a mischievous smile.
"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows," she answered cheekily as she walked down towards the little creek. Gilbert followed her in step, over fallen branches, the faint light sparkling on the water's surface.
"Oh, isn't it wonderful, Gil?" she said, her voice dreamy and content. "A garden with a brook in it by moonlight. What in the world could be more delightful?"
Gilbert smiled at her. "You."
Her startled eyes flickered up to meet his, and he shrugged enigmatically. "Moonlight makes people say the craziest things, don't you think?" he said, with a grin. Anne shook her head at him, her own smile lurking.
"I think it's made you forget yourself, Mr Blythe." She teased.
"I am the escort of the queen of the fairies, Anne. I don't forget myself." He took her hand and bowed to her in a surprisingly courtly manner.
Anne laughed. "I told you it would be magical out here. Now I wonder what Charlie would say if he knew what a wonderful King of the fairies you make, Gilbert?" her eyes twinkled at him. "I have a good mind to tell him tomorrow. And Moody, and Fred-"
"Oh no you don't-" He went to grab her, laughing, however she was quicker than he to move, and she swiftly ran back the way they had come. He caught her as she arrived under the cherry tree, and wrapped long arms around her, lifting her off the ground. He placed her down without releasing her, and she shook back the hair from her eyes to see him. Hearts pounding, and bodies suddenly still.
Four minutes and twenty three seconds.
The smell of the flowers in her hair, the starlight and gentle breeze acted on her like a lullaby. For once his closeness didn't threaten; for once it felt natural to be here. Her chest rose and fell with a breath that somehow didn't seem enough. She could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, and the unexpected strength in his arms. Her eyes were drawn to his lips, close to her own, open and breathless as hers were. Disconnected thoughts ran distractedly through her mind, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to be kissed by him. And what would happen if he did.
And in that moment, where her eyes looked into his with a new found consciousness, Gilbert suddenly recollected himself. He thought of the dreams they had, of the patience he would need in the years to come, and somehow forced himself to step away from her gently.
Anne's eyes were wide and unsure as he turned away, and she retreated into unaccustomed shyness and confusion. Seeing him turn from her hurt her somehow. No, no, this couldn't be right, it wasn't real. He turned to her again with his ready smile, and she saw it- the play within a play. Her friend, walking with her into the realms of imagination for her sake, play acting to make her laugh. She had been swept away by the beauty and romance of the night, that was all. At that moment, Anne began to distance herself from the dangerous moment that had opened up for her- resolutely packing it away with forbidden and foolish imaginations.
They gathered up the remains of the picnic and walked home together; Gilbert happily unconscious of the opportunity that had just passed him by, and Anne, walling up her heart a little more with every step. When at last he left her at her gate, he reached up and pulled the wreath of flowers from her hair lightly.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked her in his normal voice.
Her eyes lowered, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. I have some things I need to do tomorrow. Perhaps the day after that though?"
She looked up to see an easy smile cross his face, and he handed her the circlet of flowers.
"Sure. I'll see you then. Night, Anne." He walked back down the pathway in the moonlight, and as she watched him go a little shiver went through her. She mustn't be fooled again.
"No more yielding, but a dream." she whispered to herself.
Some years later, on an unseasonably cold spring afternoon in April, Anne stood at a lectern delivering her paper on Shakespeare's use of metaphor to the Redmond Senior English class. She looked out over the room as she spoke, catching Roy doodling on a piece of paper absently. She spoke eloquently and disinterestedly on A Midsummer Night's Dream, and the ways Shakespeare conveyed tension and disharmony through the environment; when her voice suddenly faltered. An unbidden spectre rose before her eyes. Instead of seeing the pale and effeminate Oberon that was often portrayed, she saw brown, curly hair and a pair of roguish hazel eyes, challenging and passionate in the depths of an old garden. Like in a kaleidoscope, she saw a moment broken, a drawing away, and the eventual death of something precious in an orchard.
The class grew slightly restless in the uneasy silence, and even Roy looked up to see what Anne was taking so long about. Her anguished eyes were drawn to the dark clouds outside. As she tried to gather her thoughts, she asked herself bleakly how long it had been since she had seen him. How long since they had been a boy and girl, finding hidden places in the woods together. She forced herself to finish her speech, and it was the absent curly haired boy that she addressed in a soft, broken voice.
"And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension;
We are their parents and original."