And oft, when the summer shone hot
On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,
And she heard the little spring brook fall
Over the roadside, through the wall,
In the shade of the apple-tree again
She saw a rider draw his rein,
And, gazing down with a timid grace,
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.
Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls;
The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned;
And for him who sat by the chimney lug,
Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug,
A manly form at her side she saw,
And joy was duty and love was law.
Then she took up her burden of life again,
Saying only, "It might have been!"
- "Maud Muller", J. G. Whittier
Chapter 2
I left the huge mansion in a state of horror. I didn't know what had come over me - I certainly hadn't been drunk! My sisters were curious and badgered me about my mysterious whereabouts at dinnertime. I could barely answer them. Every time I thought of it, I winced, cringed, shuddered at my own behaviour. I vowed never to look the King or his royal son in the face again. I didn't forget about his kindness to me, even after I was caught in his house, but I decided that was pity again. And the lessons were a whole other thing. I doubted that he would remember.
Months passed, and summer quickly exploded in a rush of heat and laughter. I'd occasionally see Legolas, and sometimes he would give me a quick smile or a short wave, but most of the time he'd look past me as if I wasn't there. It didn't bother me, though. When he was around, I'd duck and usually topple something in the process. Shame and my usual shyness kept me from acknowledging him.
In the month of July, my sister was married. I was busy with many chores and details. I got drunk less, even starting to avoid the drink, because I wanted to please Eruanna and I couldn't do it when I'd drunk so much that my stitches were crooked or when I tripped over nothing. I was busy, and I was happier than I'd been in years. My sister's friends and my extensive family (albeit adopted) came to our house. We spent most of our time on the enormous balcony.
Her lover was a shy one. I'd known him since I was very little, and I privately thought they were a strange match. Nevertheless, I was pleased for my sister, pleased for my parents, pleased for myself. No one averted their eyes anymore when wine was placed on the table, because I forced myself not to think about it. There were plenty of other things to think about, although it drained my willpower not to think about its rich taste.
Eventually, the day came, and Eruanna was fitted into her white gown for the last time. She looked wonderful, flushed and serene, alternating between giddy and thoughtful. My parents invited everyone - from the lowest maid to the highest nobles.
And they all came - weddings were rare occasions, as the last one had been nearly ten years ago. They were determined to make an impression.
The day would start with a bright morning, warm but not humid, with fine cool breezes and a clear blue sky. I was the last one left in the house, and I walked out slowly into the glade behind the stand of trees.
As I stood in the sun to the delicate music of harps and viols – I thought… it was, in my mind, that day, the only perfect day, the one that could never be described in words - that quality of it, the feelings that thrummed in my arms and fingers and heart - indescribable.
I was dressed in a fancier dress than usual - much fancier. I was to stand next to my sister and smile and look like the moon to the sun. Afterward there would be the normal ceremony, feast (my parents had set up nearly 30 tables, end on end), and then the celebration would continue well into the night.
I'd made a promise to myself that morning. If I could keep free of the drink this night, then I would never touch it again. If Eruanna had a child, (and I was certain she would) - wouldn't I want that child to think of me in pride, rather than shame?
But problems arose quickly. It started as Father took her hand and placed it in Arphenion's hands. Up until now, I'd just taken Eruanna's word for it - love was wonderful, and being in love even more so. But really, who cared about love? I certainly didn't - love was only to care for your family, to respect them, to mourn them when they left you, to hate the ones who took them away. Seeing her face - already radiant and lovely, but seeing her eyes as they met Arphenion's sparkling – sparkling! Seeing the tears on my mother's face, the laugh lines on my father's... I began to feel angry.
My father would never give me away.
I reached slowly for the glass that was so tantalisingly close. My father was dead, his last moments a shriek and a blur of agony and defeat. I would probably never marry; never have children at my feet. I had no expensive dowry. My wedding gown would be simple linen and my bed would be of simple wood.
I downed the dark red wine quickly.
It was like taking a breath of fresh air, and realizing that I was sinking again, sinking into layers of confusion and stupidity. My head blurred - I barely felt the accusing glances of my family.
My father would never give me away. I was vain, shallow, but yet - I'd born in the wrong place, destined with the wrong fate. I -
"I've been watching you, you know," said a dry voice on my left. The prince plucked the glass from my hands and emptied it onto the grass.
I was too shocked for words. What was he doing here? I had a sudden urge to sink into the ground and never appear again. I felt as though a pot of icy water had been poured over my head. I emerged gasping for breath, with a flood of shame pouring into me. My sisters! My new brother! My parents... my family... my friends!
I'd done it again. I looked around. There was my sister, the new bride, standing next to her groom. I met her worried eyes briefly. There were my parents, flitting like butterflies among the nobles.
And there was the prince, looking at me with sobering disappointment.
"You know, drinking this much -" and he pointed to my mediocre cluster of empty bottles, "getting this drunk isn't healthy. I thought you wanted to learn to handle a sword."
What was I supposed to say to that? It was true, but hearing it from someone so dignified made me angrier at myself. I settled with a murmur that barely disguised the rage I felt for myself: "Yes, my lord."
He'd been kneeling next to me, his legs folded over, balancing marvelously. Now he stood up. I couldn't see his face.
I thought of my sister's unborn child. In the days before, I'd had brief fantasies of playing with the baby. I'd imagined it would be a boy, a charming clear-eyed thing, laughing and plump.
"Wait," I said. "You're right. I do want to learn." I swallowed. I cringed inwardly - this was beyond embarrassing for me. I hated apologizing sincerely - unless it was silently, in my own mind, where no one could hear me. I wasn't about to fall into tears or start with a monologue about my troubles and self-pity.
"I practiced, you know." I tried to smile. "Chopping vegetables. It really is sharp."
He looked as though he didn't know whether to grimace or smile.
In the end he laughed. At that point my sister waved for me frantically and I stood up, with numerous apologies and the best curtsies I could manage. He said, "As long as you keep free of that," and I knew what me meant. I looked down. "I'll help you with your new sword."
We both laughed, a little harder than his joke deserved. I scurried away.
The next week was spent cleaning up; doing the chores that would need to be done now that Eruanna was gone. One night, exhausted from pulling the lecherous weeds that grew in our garden, I collapsed close to the fire. The bell rang, and I sprang up, curious. Who would be calling so late?
It turned out to be a rather young elfling. He handed me a piece of paper and disappeared into the night.
"Wait! Who are you?" I called, but I couldn't see him anymore. I looked at the paper. It had the royal seal and looked quite lovely. At the bottom there was a messy scrawl that I took quite some time in deciphering. In the end I decided it read, I hope you have kept your promise. And that was all.
That night I slept soundly. The next morning I woke and dragged myself to the market. I was inspecting a bushel of apples that I'd bought very closely (having just spotted a worm) when I saw him.
"Hello, your highness!" I called, and waved to him. He came over. "I got your message," I said brightly. "And, yes, I have been drink-free ever since the wedding."
So somehow it was arranged that I would spend a little time with him. It was still nearly a week before I could see him, though, and I at last found myself hurrying along the paved paths in his garden, wiping my sword of plant-juice and dirt.
I spotted him easily in the bright sunlight.
"Shall we start?" I asked demurely. And so we did. I felt flattered and foolish that the prince - a person of royalty - was actually helping me, a soldier's daughter. All in all, however, I was battered by the time half an hour had passed.
"A rest!" I gasped, and sat down heavily on a large stone. He came and sat beside me, some ways apart. Since it was a very heavy silence, I asked, "Does your father teach you? I noticed you are very good."
He shifted. Smiled rather distantly. "My father emphasizes using the bow and arrow. He is always aware of the dangers that could... befall me."
"Ah… in the forest, you mean." A sudden curiosity struck me. "Are there spiders living in it? I've heard they're half as tall as any healthy guard."
He nodded, rather grimly. "Yes. They're repulsive. I'll never forget the first time I killed one. Those pincers and their foul speech..."
And he paused, looking beyond me.
I hesitated, feeling as though I were intruding on him, overstepping my boundaries. I had actually come to admire him. He was a very, very kind individual. He'd laughed and poked fun at me, but he either had a very hard time covering up his feelings or was doing it on purpose – I could tell he was helping out of curiosity – of pity, and wondering.
In truth, I was abashed, and I didn't like the feeling at all. For the first time I considered him from a female point of view. He stood there, not breathing hard at all, even though I was panting like an old wind machine, tall and straight, with youth still mixed with something darker and just emerging. I blushed and looked down.
"What?" he asked, concerned. "What is it?"
"Nothing," I lied.
