You guys are unbelievable! I was blown away by how many reviews I got last chapter. chuppachup, yes I'm using all real fairy tales (very entertaining research, believe me) and will be announcing where I've gotten each one as they arise in the story. I'm so glad you're enjoying it. Kat, I hope this counts as an ASAP update! ;) mel and pixievix, so you liked the Princess Am part, huh? More of that this chapter. Thank you so much, jaffa (and do you mind if I ask if your name comes from Stargate SG-1?)! I am planning on pursuing a writing career. If you're interested in reading a little of the novel I'm working on (among other stuff), my website's linked in my author profile. swim6516, I'm glad you're enjoying the bubble universe...so am I! ;) I3itterSweet, so cool that you're adding me to your faves! I'm honored. :D And, Joe, it's great to hear from you again. I was afraid for a little while there that maybe the bubble universe had scared you away. I'm glad it didn't, though. And don't worry about not guessing Am was the princess. You weren't supposed to. :) Lastly, MysteriouslyUnique, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the rest of the story!
Whew! Thank you all so much for your encouragement...it resulted in a rather unexpected writing frenzy on my part (ten pages of text at a part I was sure I was stuck at) and thus I am posting chapter 8 ahead of schedule. Enjoy!
Chapter 8: South, Ever South
That night was indeed a "merry feast." Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday joined their talents to create thick rabbit stew and hot flatbread, a finer meal than even Princess Lily had tasted in a long time. The fire was bright and high, but despite the warm night, they crowded close around it, eating and laughing. Thursday delivered his promised account of the journey to the fortress and back, though he spent most of the tale frowning as the other brothers boldly inserted their own details. It was not as good a telling as Gordo's but far more amusing.
In fact, the brothers were very good at relaying funny stories, and more than once Lizzie found herself gasping through her laughter as the brothers began telling as many humorous Saturday stories as they could remember. For nearly an hour, the youngest brother sat smiling uncomfortably, his face flushed bright red. At last, though, the Saturday stories ended, and the brothers took turns reciting poetry and singing. Lizzie, warm, her stomach full, joined in several of the refrains of the strange songs and even sang a song of her own, a slow one off Isabella's newest album. It lent itself well to a capella, especially when Gordo and then some of the brothers sang along.
She winked at Gordo as soon as his voice met hers, remembering his comments on stage fright...and his general dislike of pop music. He merely rolled his eyes at her, as though to say he did, in fact, approve of Isabella's growing musical maturity and that, actually, he felt quite comfortable in front of these people. And to prove it, as soon as she finished her song, Gordo launched into a poem of his own.
It wasn't one she recognized, although, really, she wasn't paying much attention to the words. She sat, enthralled, as his voice rose and fell over the syllables, flowing over the snaps and curls of the old language. The others were equally rapt, a beat of silence meeting the conclusion of the poem. Then Princess Lily clapped her hands together and cried, "So beautiful, Sir Gordo! A very worthy gift for these humble betrothed! From my deepest heart, I thank you, Sir." Tears gleamed in Lily's eyes and Lizzie rather wished she'd paid more attention. Maybe she could get Gordo to repeat the poem later.
Speaking of which, since when did Gordo memorize poetry?
Lizzie turned to ask him, but Gordo was surrounded by the brothers, all of them shouting over each other, clamoring for him to teach them his poem. Shrugging, she turned back and smiled at Lily, also sitting alone. After a moment, the princess stood and walked the few steps to join Lizzie.
For the rest of the evening, the men gathered on one side of the fire, practicing Gordo's poem, while Lizzie and Lily sat on the other, talking. There was no doubt that the princess was Lily, she had her own gestures and expressions and tones of voice, but every once in a while Lizzie would catch her doing something uncannily like Am. Most startling, her sense of humor was a near replica of Am's wry wit. Before long, Lizzie found herself responding to the princess in much the same way she would Am. Keeping the details light, she even told Lily of her and Gordo's quest.
By then, the two were barely awake, blinking and yawning almost continuously. Lily excused herself and headed away from the fire to sleep, but not before she promised she would help in any way she could. Lizzie mumbled a thank you, and even as her mind tried to work through the possibilities of Lily's offer, she found herself curling up where she sat and drifting into sleep.
The next morning dawned far too early for Lizzie. Clenching gritty eyes against the persistent press of sunlight, she rolled over and tossed her arms over her face. She'd slept well, and deeply, but after all the walking of the past two days, it wasn't nearly enough.
"Time to get up, sleeping beauty," came Gordo's voice from somewhere above her.
"Eh, Gordo," Lizzie groaned, squinting up at him, "don't jinx us!" Gordo's forehead folded then smoothed as he grinned, raising his hands.
"Sorry," he said, "no more mentions of fairy tales. I promise." Lizzie nodded in satisfaction.
"Good," she grumbled. "Now leave me alone."
He chuckled. "Nope. Sorry, Liz. Rise and shine."
Ha. And he said he wasn't a morning person. Borrowing one of his own lines, she growled, "You rise. You shine." She tried to hold onto her scowl, but a smile rose of its own volition as Gordo collapsed to his knees beside her, wheezing with laughter.
"Do I really sound like that?" he managed eventually. Lizzie merely raised an eyebrow, reaching out to grab one of Gordo's arms as she sat up. Her back was in much better shape this morning, she noted—not nearly as stiff. Or was that not nearly stiff enough? A moment after she sat up, she found herself slumping forward into Gordo, her head falling to his shoulder.
"Why am I supposed to wake up again?" she mumbled into his neck, her eyes closed.
"Um, because everyone else is?" he offered. His voice rumbled low with her ear against him, sending sleepy vibrations along her cheek and neck. She resisted the urge to burrow deeper into his shoulder.
"I don't see everyone else up," she countered, lips barely moving. He was very comfortable, actually. A little bony, but warm and solid.
"Uh, Liz, that's because your eyes are closed." Ooh. Was that a chuckle rolling through his chest and down her spine? She sighed and this time did tuck her head a little tighter against his neck. The light behind her eyes dimmed immediately. Splendid.
"So?" she grunted. Now if he would just hold still, she might be able to go back to sleep.
His shoulders heaved over a deep breath, and Lizzie frowned. What did he think he was doing? Didn't he have any compassion for her at all? All she wanted was a pillow, for crying out loud. An unmoving pillow. Wrinkling her nose, she adjusted her head more securely in the crook of his neck. "StpmovgImtrygtoseep." Not exactly crystal clear, but she didn't really care. Gordo would probably understand anyway.
And for a moment, it seemed he did. He went silent and still, and Lizzie began to drift off again. Then his head turned, fingers fumbling through the hair by her ear, sweeping it back and away. "Elizabeth," he whispered, breath raising gooseflesh on her neck, "Elizabeth, dearest friend, as much as I know you want to sleep, if you do not lift your head and wake up within the next few seconds, I'm afraid I shall have to call some of the brothers over to...help. The fairy tale way. I'm sure they'd love to find we have a sleeping be—"
Lizzie's head came up with a snap. "Don't you dare even say it, David Gordon," she hissed, her hand clamping over his mouth. Blue eyes smirked over the top of her fingers.
"Awake now, are we?" he snickered, pulling her hand down.
Lips pursed, she took stock. "Yes, damn it."
He ignored her glare. "Good. 'Cuz Lily has something to share with us."
What? "Why didn't you say so in the first place?" she asked, rolling her eyes and jumping to her feet. That changed everything. That wasn't just waking up, that was waking up to the possibility they might be going home soon. She looked down to find Gordo still kneeling, eyes big and soft in his patented longsuffering expression. Yeah, yeah, poor Gordo, she thought. "I know, I'm crazy, and you're a saint for putting up with me," she nodded. "But are you just gonna sit there all day? C'mon!" Without another glance, she located Princess Lily across the smoldering remains of the fire and headed over.
No doubt Gordo was shaking his head and tsking under his breath.
"Lady Lizzie," Lily exclaimed as Lizzie reached her. "I am glad Sir Gordo could rouse you. I have very good news, dear friend, and it looked for a moment that you wouldn't wake. I have heard of a woman, a princess, to the north who has slept for centuries, and I was afraid that perhaps you had become just such another sleeping—"
"—beauty," Lizzie interjected, trying not to sound too impatient. "I know. Well, no worries. I'm awake. What's this good news?"
Lily's smile was brilliant. "I have thought long and hard on your quest. And I believe I know of someone who might help you. Rather, I know not how to reach that someone directly, but I think I know some people who can: a husband and wife, good friends of my father, who live many leagues south of here. They are very kind people and owe their success to this mystical someone whom I mentioned."
Lizzie summoned an answering smile. It wasn't all that she hoped, but it was something. Still, 'many leagues south of here'? "Sounds like a long walk, Princess Lily," she said.
Lily grew solemn. "Yes. It is. Many weeks long. But I believe I have something that will shorten the journey." A car would be nice, Lizzie thought, raising her eyebrows politely. "Here." The princess reached into the side of her bodice, presumably inside a small pocket, and withdrew what looked like...a walnut? Lizzie couldn't quite keep the disbelief from her face.
"I know," Lily ducked her head. "It doesn't appear much, but the sorcerer had many strange and wondrous things in his fortress. This was my wedding gift." Lizzie blinked down at the nut. "Originally, it opened to hold twenty yards of the finest gold cloth in the world, but one night I snuck into the sorcerer's treasure rooms and replaced the cloth with something else." Her fingers worked some invisible catch and the walnut's top snicked open. Sliding a nail along the seam, she twisted the walnut apart and grinned at Lizzie.
"The sorcerer was a fool, you know. He desired me not for my beauty and my cleverness alone, but because I have a gift much like his. Not as powerful, no, but a gift nonetheless. It was just enough to ensorcell this little shell to hold a carpet." She reached in the walnut, pinched, and withdrew a shimmering band of airy shape. As soon as the last of the shimmer cleared the nut, the shape solidified into a large carpet, maroon swirled with gold and cream and sapphire. "'Tis a flying carpet. I'd seen the sorcerer use it, and I planned that as soon as I was able, I would escape with it." Lizzie closed her gaping mouth. "It probably would not have worked, and I'm glad I had no need of it, but it will get you to the southern water forests in a mere day."
Lizzie couldn't do more than stare, first at the carpet, then the nut, then at Lily. She tried to summon words, but they wouldn't come, caught stubbornly somewhere in her chest.
"This is a very great gift, Princess Lily," Gordo said over Lizzie's shoulder. "Lady Lizzie and I are honored by your counsel and your help." Well, good, that was exactly what she'd wanted to say.
Lily blushed and smiled. "It is nothing in exchange for the help of your friends in rescuing me. Or in the gift of my husband-to-be. Or for the poem you spoke for us last night. I am glad to give this to you. I wish your quest success equal to that of my new brothers." She curtsied and Lizzie managed a curtsy in return, too stunned to do more than listen as Lily told Gordo how to use the carpet and where they needed to go. She sat silent as the brothers offered breakfast, a full waterskin, and some bread and cheese, and at last gained her voice when it came time for farewells.
The brothers—especially Tuesday—grew teary as they bid her good-bye. Most of them simply pressed her hand with theirs, but Saturday and Thursday both embraced her. She'd only been in their company two days, but she was amazed to realize how much she'd miss them. She'd even miss Lily, whom she'd only just met. These were kind people, good people, and she and Gordo were leaving them for something unknown, for something called the water forests, which sounded singularly uninviting, really. She only hoped Thursday's lessons would still apply there.
At last, the farewells were said, and she and Gordo knelt atop the spread carpet, brothers and Lily looking on. Gordo tapped twice on a cream swirl between his knees, and the carpet lurched into the air, rising as stiff as a table below her. Still, she couldn't remove the image of a floating carpet from her mind and immediately grasped Gordo's waist with both arms.
"Not too tight, Liz," he cautioned. "And smile for our friends, okay?" She nodded, although she knew he couldn't see from where he sat in front of her, and turned a wobbly smile on the others. "Good-bye and good luck," Gordo called to them, waving as Sunday returned the phrase. Then, with a muttered, "Here we go," he tapped once, softly, on a gold swirl. The carpet moved forward smoothly and, as Gordo leaned back and to the left, rose in a shallow left arch. Lizzie hardly dared breathe, but in a moment more they were above the trees, heading swiftly away from the fortress and their friends.
It took her a little while to get used to the carpet, but after a time it was more exhilarating than terrifying. The wind blew strong in her face, tugging on her skirts and the ends of her hair, and Gordo seemed perfectly at ease guiding the carpet, eyes narrowed against the sun as they headed south, ever south.
The landscape was remarkable below them, the tops of trees dancing in the wind, leaves rustling, flipping pale green then dark green, the forest opening up from time to time for a grassy clearing or a rushing stream. Occasionally birds would fly beside them or even around them, and Lizzie couldn't help the excited fisting of her hands at Gordo's waist.
"Not too tight," he reminded her, turning only slightly toward her.
"I know," she said loudly over the whistling wind, "I'm sorry. It's just, Gordo, we're flying with the birds!"
His cheek rounded in what she assumed was a smile. "Pretty amazing, huh?"
Her hands clenched again before she remembered to loosen them. "Amazing doesn't even begin to cover it!" A thought occurred to her. "You don't have a poem for this, do you, Gordo?"
A chuckle rumbled against her hands. "No. Afraid not. The poem I recited last night is the only one I've memorized."
"Can you say it for me again? I'm afraid I didn't really pay attention to the words last night, and then Lily seemed to like it so much and I didn't know why."
He shrugged. "Sure. Let me just remember." He was silent a moment, then said, "What did become of my heart when I first saw thee? I brought a heart into the room, but from the room I carried none with me. If it had gone to thee, I know mine would have taught thine heart to show more pity unto me; but Love, alas! At one first blow did shiver it as glass. Yet nothing can to nothing fall, nor any place be empty quite; therefore I think my breast hath all those pieces still, though they be not unite; and now, as broken glasses show a hundred lesser faces, so my rags of heart can like, wish, and adore, but after one such love, can love no more."
Much of the inflection that had caught her last night was snatched by the wind, but the words came across clear. "That's really lovely, Gordo. Who's it by?"
"John Donne. It's actually just the last two stanzas of 'The Broken Heart,' and it's not a very happy poem. It certainly declares the strength of love and the grief of a heart broken by such a love, but the sense of the whole poem, including the first two stanzas, is that of a love unrequited or without a home. Take the good with the bad, I guess, and Lily and the brothers chose to focus more on the good."
"Which is what you thought they'd do, right?" Lizzie guessed. He nodded. "Why did you memorize that poem, if it's so sad?"
He didn't answer immediately, breathing deeply for a long minute before he said, "I first read it when Gorgeous was in the hospital." Lizzie's own breath caught. Of course. Two years ago, his favorite grandmother had suffered a minor stroke. She'd mostly recovered since then, but Lizzie well remembered those first few months when Gordo had been utterly distracted with worry. "Donne was one of her favorite poets," he continued. "So, when I went to visit her, and we weren't sure how bad the stroke was, I brought along a copy of his poems to read to her.
"I really liked 'The Broken Heart.' I'm not sure why. Maybe because I thought Gorgeous might die—and that was pretty heart-breaking—and I guess partly because I'd just broken up with Am. I wasn't heart-broken over her, but I couldn't help thinking about her...situation...when I read the poem. Unrequited love and all that."
Lizzie nodded to his back. My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore, but after one such love, can love no more. Yikes. "Do you think Am really loves Larry like that?"
His head tilted a little, shoulders hitching. "The bubble universe sure seems to think so," he said after a moment. Lizzie's mouth tipped up. That wasn't an answer, and she was pretty sure he knew it. Sure enough, a second later, he shook his head. "But that doesn't mean much, I guess. I don't know. Sometimes, from the way she talks about him, I think maybe she really loves him like that. But then other times..."
"You wonder if maybe she's just too young to love like that?" Lizzie finished for him.
Another beat of silence, then, "That might be part of it, but, no, I think I'm just not sure of the depth of her feelings for him."
The depth of her feelings? "And how long have you been in couples therapy, Dr. Gordon?" Lizzie teased.
Gordo's answering laugh was more half-hearted than she expected. "Yeah," he conceded, very dryly. "Who am I to know anything about true, heart-breaking love?" That was exactly what she'd meant, but there was something in his tone she didn't like at all, something mocking that raised her hackles. Was he laughing at her or at himself?
She tamped down on the urge to ask, took a deep breath, and merely said, "Well, I don't know, I can't help but feel we're pretty young to be feeling true, heart-breaking love."
"I don't know about that." Not exactly the response she'd been looking for, but at least that tone was gone.
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged. "Well, how do you explain high school sweethearts who get married and live out the rest of their lives together?"
Lizzie bit her lip. Good point. "I'm not sure, Gordo. I just find it really hard to envision any of our friends finding the person they're going to marry right now. I mean, as much as I like the idea of it, I don't really believe in soul mates—you know, one person for everyone. I'd hate to think that if my one person died just a week after I met him, I'd never have another love for the rest of my life. So, barring soul mates, how would any of us even recognize true love?"
Gordo was quiet for so long that Lizzie wondered if he'd even heard her. Scooting closer, she caught a glimpse of the side of his face, profile bent in thought. Ah, just working through an idea then. She settled in to wait.
Not a few moments later, he spoke. "No," he exhaled on a long breath, "I don't really believe in soul mates either. And I suppose, yes, for most people our age, true love is beyond our understanding and definitely beyond our ability to see. But I think sometimes there's a maturity, a knowledge of self and of others that allows a few people our age to know what they're looking for. Or if not know it, feel it. And I think sometimes there's a synchronicity of time and people and place that just...works. A moment where eyes are opened to themselves and to that other person. Besides, who says true love has to start out as true love? Maybe you don't recognize it at first, but as your relationship deepens and continues, you realize it's exactly what you were looking for."
Lizzie nodded. That last one sounded almost exactly like her parents, who'd met freshman year of high school but didn't start dating until after they'd been friends for eight years. Over and over, Lizzie had heard her mom and dad joke about the Night of the Kiss, when a lightning storm, a porch swing, and a startled Jo Gerek conspired to turn a peck on the cheek into something much more pleasant. Within a year, they were married.
Still, while she thought her parents' story was rather romantic, it was strange to imagine Ethan marrying Maggie or Miranda marrying Jon or Am marrying Larry. "Do you think any of our friends will end up married to each other?" she asked quietly, only realizing after the words left her mouth that Gordo might not be able to hear her over the wind.
But apparently he had, as he shrugged and even turned to meet her eyes, saying, "I don't know."
Lizzie rolled her eyes as he faced front again. "C'mon, Gordo," she prodded, "you've got all these theories on true love. Tell me who you think might end up married."
He spared another brief glance her way. "Okay, fine." He hummed and stroked his chin, answering in an accent more French than German, "I foresee zat ze brainless buoyancy of ze Ethan Craft vill be vell matched in ze bubbly beauty of ze Maggie Fogel. Of course, zis vill not last long, as he vill leave her for ze famous singer Miranda Sanchez. Miranda, having divorced ze successful physicist Jon Dukov years before to pursue her career, vill dally vith Ethan but eventually go on alone.
"Bethel Vashington vill devote her life to serving others in missions, vhile Veruca Albano vorks her vay to becoming one of ze finest economists in ze vorld! As for Larry Tudgeman und Am Smith, zey vill pine avay for one another on opposite sides of ze country, completely unable to tell one another of zeir secret crushes. As for David Gordon und Elizabeth McGuire, after years of vitnessing zeir friends' insanity, and years of Mr. Gordon being ze only vone allowed to take Ms McGuire out for dinner und a movie, zey vill marry very quietly, very far avay from zeir crazy friends, on a remote island in ze Pacific." He gave a nod and cast a quick look at her. "How's that?"
Lizzie was laughing so hard she could barely think of an answer, let alone say it. At last she managed to gasp, "Your accent's terrible. And I think you spend way too much time with your parents."
He returned to the accent. "Ja. After spending so much time vith two psychiatrists, it is a vonder Mr. Gordon is not a head case, in my professional opinion."
"He's not?" Lizzie said. "Oh dear. Whatever am I going to do with that straitjacket?"
Gordo tsked. "Vhy, hang it in your closet beside ze other vones, Ms McGuire." Lizzie pinched his side in retaliation, then shrieked as, at Gordo's jump, the carpet dropped an abrupt few inches. No more of that,then.
****
end of chapter 8
chapter notes:
You can find the whole John Donne poem "The Broken Heart" here: w w w (dot) luminarium (dot) org (slash) sevenlit (slash) donne (slash) broken (dot) h t m There's a bunch of other Donne poems on that same site, if you want to look around. As for the one I quoted, please pardon the lack of correct capitalization and "/" to indicate line breaks, but I thought it flowed better written as a speech.