The song may sound like a love song, but I suppose the meaning can still be twisted…
Chapter 2: Memories
Song: 'Push' - Sarah McLachlan
Every time I look at you
The world just melts away
All my troubles, all my fears
Dissolve in your affections.
We ran over to father, who extended out his arms to embrace us. As I grasped his arm with Brigham, I could feel the worn leather, embroidered with the White Tree of Gondor. He smelt of sweat and metalwork, but we couldn't care less, as long as he was there.
"Oh, father, mother will be overjoyed to see you; she pines so for you when you are away on such long absences!" I exclaimed to father, looking up at his handsome face with eyes that shone with hundreds of stories to blurt out. I had so, so much to tell him.
"Will you be staying tonight, father?" Brigham anxiously asked, giving father's hand a tight squeeze.
"Yes, I will be, and for a few night as well." Father answered, giving a reassuring smile.
Ah, how that feeling of warmth is yet again driven into me! With father here, I was rid of the gloom that fell upon me for years since he left.
You've seen me at my weakest
But you take me as I am
And when I fall
You offer me a softer place to land.
Every time Father returns, past memories would rush like an impatient storm into my mind. As we retreated home, I recalled how I took a sudden interest in horseback riding, when I leaned over the wall in the past, to watch Father ride across the field home. How swift those hoofs flew, as though they had no need to touch the ground! I then snuck out to the stables one afternoon at age nine, to have a better look at these wonderful creatures. I knew my way around the city, well, at least most of it, for I used to run about the city with Father.
As I entered the stables, I marveled at the beauty and strength of the horses. I had a desire to reach out and pat one on its nose, but I was a person of no confidence, and I retracted my hand as soon as I extended it. Father had then found me in the stables, alone, and asked me if I wished to master the art of riding horses. I hesitated for a moment, but turned to Father shortly after, and nodded. Father patted me on the head, and took my hand, leading me to the end of the stables.
"See here, this is Gentlefoot, as gentle in riding as in nature, thus her name. She is never used in battles, but only for rides to send messages, for she is rather shy and unconfident in battle." Father introduced, signaling to a brown horse. It had markings on its face, a shape almost near to a star. "You can go and pat her on the nose."
I looked at Father, and he nodded. Because of my short stature, Father picked me up in his arms, and I reached out very slowly, my fingers trembling, to touch the beautiful horse. The horse had neighed and moved uneasily, but Father said in a soft voice, "Eudora, relax. Horses can sense if you are nervous, and they will not let any rider be nervous." I nodded, and tried refraining from trembling, and slowly, Gentlefoot stepped forth and I put my hand on her nose. She neighed softly in approval, and I gave a little smile. "Well done, Eudora!" Father beamed at me. Though it was but a small achievement, I was content.
The few days after, Father had taught me how to groom and tend to horses, but I must say, I was such a terrible student in the past. In the end, when I could not calm Gentlefoot down to brush her body, I sat down in frustration. I was very impatient and hot-tempered, and I simply felt like giving up at that moment. "It's no use!" I cried out in frustration.
Father then sat down beside me, and said, "It is not on the first try that you learn new things well. You have to have patience, my dear girl. You will do it one day."
You stay the course, you hold the line, you keep it all together
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you complete me,
You're the one true thing I know I can believe.
I smiled at my thoughts, and father shot me a questioning look.
We reached the doors of our home and as we went in, I ventured into the kitchen to brew tea for Father. I could hear Brigham's conversation with Father beside the fireplace.
"Father, what is it like in Ithilien?"
"Towers and buildings, carved in magnificent white. Every dawn, the Sun would spill her orange rays over the city, and it looked as though the city were made of gold. Every morning, the morning guards would greet each other loudly in unison." Father replied.
As I put the tealeaves in the teapot, I imagined how Ithilien would look like. Why were we not living there? Isn't the darkness of the past already? I had never questioned my father on this, but Brigham brought it up suddenly.
"Then why are we not to live in that spectacular city, but here in Minas Tirith instead? If we were in Ithilien, we would be able to see you everyday then!"
"Brigham... Your mother would pine for you instead of me that way. She has to remain in Minas Tirith, for she has work at the citadel."
"I thought she was unbound by duty. This is not Rohan." I commented, bringing out the tea and passing goblets to Brigham and Father.
"No duty? Oh but she comes from Rohan, she knows her country well. She has messages and news from her homeland faster than the wind can run. She is somehow a link between the two countries." Father answered, sipping slowly on his tea.
At that moment, a chilly wind blew in, and then subsided. We turned to the door, and there was Mother, removing her cloak. She had a tired face and her feet were obviously weary. As she lifted her eyes, she caught sight of Father, and froze. No one spoke.
At last, Mother found her voice, and said very softly, "Faramir?"
Father stood up, and walked towards Mother, embracing her when he stood barely an inch from her. A satisfied and joyful look spread across Mother's face, and we had not seen her smile so joyously ever since Father left for three years. Her love for Father had not faded.
I get mad so easy
But you give me room to breathe.
No matter what I say or do
'Cause you're too good to fight about it.
They had each other in their arms for a few more moments, then as they parted, Mother was in a fluster. "Oh, I have so much to tell you, Faramir. So much about the city, about the kids, about...just everything!"
Father laughed at Mother's excitement. "About our lioness as well?" Father asked, pointing at me. I looked at him accusingly. A lioness? Oh was I that horribly hot-tempered?
But thinking back, yes I was! How silly I was to, to take bird-bolts for cannon bullets! Yes, I was that petty in the past. I had a fiery temper. Father breathes no lie. For very silly things, I flare up, like Mother forgetting my breakfast, and my temper worked its way like a bullet train, as I threw my tantrums. At times like these, if Father were at home, he would be the victim of my rants and shouts, but he never got mad at me much. Instead, he would laugh at me, and make me fix my eye upon him like he were not taking me seriously. But, in actual fact, what I ranted for was really nothing serious. Oh how foolish I was then.
Even when I have to push,
Just to see how far you'll go
You won't stoop down to battle,
But you never turn to go.
Of course, yes, there were times when I went overboard, but Father never flared at me, but patiently lectured me. Often, it was through these 'lectures' that I heard stories of the city from me. We've had battle of words, but often they resulted in laughter, for we found some joke in our words. Father's words were soothing, and they could work their magic on anyone, I felt. But would they have worked on my late grandfather? I never got to see any of my grandparents, for their time had passed before I came into this world.
You stayed the course, you hold the line, you keep it all together.
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in.
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you complete me.
You're the one true thing I know I can believe.
I shook myself back to reality, when I heard Mother reply, "Yes, our little lioness. She has been a real darling. Oh and Brigham is growing up to be just like you." Brigham beamed at his father. Even though he knew grandfather had favoured our father less than our uncle, because of how Faramir was more acquainted with books and logic, Brigham always admired Father, the thinker of the city.
"You must be hungry and weary. Oh that Eudora should master the art of cooking!" Mother complained, waving her hands in the air and marching towards the kitchen.
"I'm sure your cooking wasn't that great in the past, shieldmaiden of Rohan!" I teased Mother, laughing. "All the time you've spent with weaponry."
Mother gave a sigh, too tired to argue with me. I had a quick mouth, I had no fear of speaking my mind, but it was perhaps my haste that always brought trouble to Father.
There are times I can't decide
When I can't tell up from down
You make me feel less crazy
When otherwise I'd drown.
But you pick me up and brush me off, and tell me I'm OK.
Sometimes that's just what we need to get us through the day.
Father was always there, always protecting me. He gave so much attention that I felt so blessed to have him as a father. But because of my haste in doing things, and my haste in getting hot-tempered, I always caused trouble for Father. Once, I was too quick in starting a verbal fight with the other children of the City, and in the end, it evolved to become a physical fight. I was bruised on the lip and also my arms. I stormed back home, slamming the door, feeling very angry at myself. I slumped down on my bed, sobbing a little, but I could hear Father's footsteps approaching.
"Father, just go away. I am a shame to the household." I had said between sobs back then.
Father had sat down beside me, and lifted me up, putting me in his arms. I was 8 then. "It's my stupid, stupid fault. I am so quick to start a fight! Now I won't have any friends in the city. They'll learn of my nature very soon." I shouted, my face pressed into his tunic.
"Will they? Do you belittle the children of Gondor so? They would not take it so to heart, if you apologize. Eudora, you'll be alright."
You stayed the course, you hold the line, you keep it all together.
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in.
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you complete me.
You're the one true thing I know I can believe.
After our little supper that night, I lay down in my bed, smiling to myself. Father came into my room, after he had softly closed the door of Brigham's, and sat down beside me. He smiled at me, smoothing back my fringe and placing a kiss on my forehead.
"Father," I said after a moment of silence, "thank you."