Tuba Mirum- Hark the Trumpet
Author's Note: Thank you once again for writing such supportive reviews. Once again, I'd like to ask most of you if it would be alright to leave a review after you read any of the chapters. Reviews are like water for writers just as applause is for musicians. It doesn't matter if you are not totally pleased with the story. As long as you expound your thoughts on the reviews, that's all that counts, really. To fellow writers who read this, I'm sure you'll understand. Those reviews help us improve to write better stories for your enjoyment. Okay, enough ranting. On with the show!
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Tuba mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulcra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum.
Mors stupebit et natura,
Cum resurget creatura,
Judicanti responsura.
The trumpet, scattering its awful sound
Across the graves of all lands
Summons all before the throne.
Death and nature shall be stunned
When mankind arises
To render account before the judge.
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He ate his dinner in silence, never bothering to meet her gaze as he slowly took in what she had prepared for him. Ever since he had come to the convent, he had pushed away the lingering thoughts of the mission away from his mind. Part of him realized that it was imperative that the mission must be completed, lest he want another agent of the church to come after the elusive Sister Rinoa. Yet, the other half of his conscience told him that it was wrong to take the life of an innocent woman, even if it was an order decreed by the church.
She had avoided looking at him, knowing it would only hurt her more if she exchanged a glance with the only person who had ever refused her help. She silently lifted his dinner tray away from his bed, very well aware that he would look in her direction every time she turned away.
She stepped outside the room, closing the door quietly behind her, leaving the room in a dead silence that seemed to eat away at his guilt. Did he really want to hurt her?
The friar leaned his head against the cloud-like softness of his pillow and exhaled, mulling over his brash actions against the woman who had been nothing but kind to him. Maybe he really didn't deserve her help. Maybe he was destined to be a loner. After all, turning people away was what he did best after his knack for taking their lives.
"I am such an idiot," he repeated to himself again, keeping his eyes on the dead-white ceiling as he began weaving a new plan as to how he can repair the damage done between them. Why did he care anyways? Since when did he begin to care? Did he really have to restructure a bridge of friendship between himself and Sister Julia? She's only a nun. Then again, she was the only one to ever show this much kindness and love to him…ever since that fateful day.
A short brown-haired boy cried as he ran the rain-drenched streets of Vienna. He did not know the reason why he was in such a hurry to escape what lay behind, but his instincts drove him to sprint as fast as his little legs could take him.
In the distance, he saw the high-rising, gothic spires of the Saint Stephen's Cathedral. It was an all too familiar sight to the boy as he found a temporary destination for the evening. Just as he was about to reach the entrance, he lost his footing as his foot brushed a slippery cobblestone. He barely had enough time to brace himself for the fall as he placed his hands before him to support his weight.
Pain. It was all he could feel as the hard pavement came in contact with his skin. Unable to move, he allowed his tears to fall again. 'Why am I here?' he wondered out aloud as he stared at the empty streets in front of him. It was midnight, and he knew that the only place that would readily open its doors would be this great holy structure before him.
He couldn't allow his injury to prevent him from reaching its great doors. He had made it this far, and the church was only a few steps away. He tried to stand up, but the pain was too great. Feeling defeated, he decided it best to crawl to a corner where neither rain nor wet nor stone would bother him for the evening.
It was then that he found a car parking in front of the church. It was white, and a man dressed in a light blue dress shirt and dark slacks began ascending the steps. A woman in nun's clothing followed him soon after. Both were about to enter the building when the woman saw him sulking in his corner.
"Dear?" she called to him as she lifted the hem of her robes to avoid the wetness. "It is late at night…don't you have a home to go home to?"
The boy shook his head and looked down at his own feet. The nun offered him a hand. "You shouldn't be out this late. If you don't know where to go, we'll take you in for the night."
The boy didn't answer her or seem to recognize her presence. His emotional wounds were still fresh. The man who had come with the woman came behind her and talked gently to the boy.
"Please young one, it wouldn't be safe for you to stay out in the cold. There will be snowfall tonight and I'd think it would be best if you stayed in the church. I shall have a room for you. It's not the best, but it is warm and you will find better shelter there than out here."
The boy let loose another tear as he looked at them both. He tried to get up, ignoring the pain as most young boys like him would do whenever they scraped themselves. His attempt was in vain however, as he whimpered softly when his knees hurt too much.
"Oh dear, father, he is hurt! Can you carry him inside?" The father gave the nun his bag without another word and lifted the boy into his strong arms. The nun led them inside the church and through a long corridor until they came to a hall of rooms. She fumbled her pockets for a key, and inserted the metal piece into the lock. Leading both men inside, she turned on the light and closed the windows. Walking towards one of the cabinets, she brought out a thick comforter and fresh clothes for the drenched boy.
They helped the boy change into dry clothing, and gently lay him on bed. The priest watched from the frame of the door as the nun tried to console his troubled soul. She was caressing his forehead as she spoke to him softly.
"What is your name dear?"
The boy's eyelids were beginning to flutter as the nun's gentle touch lulled him slowly to his slumber. "Squall…Squall Leonhart."
The nun smiled when he uttered out his name. "Squall…do you know where your family lives?"
The boy shut his eyes, trying to search for the existence of his family. He was disappointed when no faces came to mind. "No."
The nun seemed to frown at his statement. "Do you…remember your family?" she asked, fearing the question that would receive an answer that she had been expecting all this time.
Just as he was about to fall into a deep slumber, he tiredly shook his head, and drifted off to sleep. The woman pulled the comforter over him and walked towards the man waiting for her at the door.
"We must we do?" she asked him worriedly as she watched the young boy's chest rise and fall slowly.
The man's brows were furrowed as he looked at the child. "We will take care of him as if he were our own child until his family finds him. That is what the Lord would do."
He had remembered the day he had begun living as a member of the church. The wonderful people who resided there had provided him shelter and food while they could have left him for good on the streets. He couldn't turn away such kindness.
"I have to do something for her," he whispered to himself as he reached out for his rosary and began praying again.
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During the previous night, another one of the sisters had come to his room in place of Sister Julia. After putting him to bed, he noticed that the nun had left in the middle of the night. An hour later, he had gone to sleep.
The following morning, the sister whom he came to know as Quistis entered the room with a breakfast of eggs, ham, and bread.
"Good morning Squall. Is everything better today?" she asked him as she set the tray on his bedside table.
Squall prepared himself for another battle to sit up on the bed, but he was surprised when most of hi s pain had gone away. She was right. He really was going to be able to take a walk. "I think I'm feeling better. My back doesn't hurt so much anymore."
Quistis smiled and handed him the plate of his breakfast. "I'm glad to know you are better Squall. In no time at all, you will be able to resume what you were doing before the injury."
Squall nodded and ate his breakfast quickly and quietly. When he had finished his plate, he returned it to Quistis and decided to ensue one of his rare conversations. "Have you come to replace Sister Julia?"
Quistis was puzzled at his question and gave him a smile. "If you're worried that what happened last night drove her to hand over the job of tending to your injuries to us, you are mistaken. She had to go to the nearest town with Irvine the caretaker to purchase vegetables and a bit of meat for the following week. I was assigned to take over her shift. But don't worry, she'll be back this afternoon."
Squall looked guiltily at his own hands, wishing that they hadn't pushed her away like that. "I didn't mean to talk to her that way."
Quistis sighed and gave Squall a sincere look, also trying to decipher the expression on his face. "If you feel that you have wronged her, then you should apologize to her."
"I did, but she refused my apology."
Quistis gave him a consoling smile, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Squall, sometimes apologies aren't immediately accepted by women. Sometimes, you have to add something extra to make it slightly more exciting. You might want to do something for her. Write her something if you want. I assure you, she always has accepted whatever it is that her patients give her."
Squall attempted to move his legs, shaking himself off the bed as he got up on the floor. Upon contact with the ground, a familiar pain shot through his legs, but Quistis was there to hold him up. "Squall! Friar Leonhart! What are you doing?"
Squall was seething through his teeth as the pain battled against his will. "I'm taking a walk!"
Quistis was panicking as she handed him two crutches to prevent him from doing any further damage to his sprained muscles. Holding one of his arms to help support him, the tall blonde used what strength she had to keep him from falling. "Friar, this isn't worth it! If you keep exerting that much effort on your muscles at this point, you will only end up being hurt more! Do you honestly want to lock yourself up in this convent for eternity?"
He stood himself up on the two crutches, limping quite impressively for a man who just recovered from his injuries. He quickly made his way to the door. "I need to do something. Please don't stop me!"
Quistis ran behind him and tried to hold him up again. "If you're looking for Sister Julia, she isn't in the convent!"
Squall ignored her and continued walking towards an exit that seemed to lead him towards a field of flowers. "I'm not looking for Julia," he plainly stated as he continued to limp. He let pain defeat him once. That won't happen again.
"Squall, please listen to me. I don't think your muscles can take the pressure of walking just yet!" she frantically told him while still accompanying him. 'I wonder how Rinoa puts up with this man. If only he weren't handsome…I'd let him be.'
Finally, outside, Squall took in a breath of the fragrant countryside breeze and sat down on a bench. Quistis was there, still too shocked that he was able to leave the building without furthering his injuries.
She held her arms akimbo on her waist and gave him a smirk. "Well, I must say Friar Leonhart, I am impressed. None of the patients before have ever attempted to exit the building and gone outside before their first week of recovering in the convent."
Squall didn't reply as he gazed at the vast expanse of blooming flowers before him. It truly was a beautiful sight, and it was no wonder to him that Julia loved coming out here. He was curious though, about the origins of the convent. He had never heard of it until now, and the place seemed perfect for situating such a religious place. "Tell me Sister Quistis, how did this convent come to be?"
Quistis descended on the bench beside him and looked into the gorgeous sight before her. There seemed to be a blank look on her eyes as she began retelling the convent's story. "About twenty seven years ago, the building you see behind you was not a convent. It was actually the house of a woman who lived in the countryside. There was a woman named Raine who lived there, and since the region is a transitory area between London and another busy city up north, she would usually nurse the people who were hurt in the area. Together, she, a family known as the Dinchts, and a few other townspeople decided to use the area as a rest stop for travelers to gain income for the town. Since Raine was living alone, she decided to turn the house into a convent for nuns who not only did religious work, but medical work as well. Two years passed, and more nuns from all over the country and certain parts of Europe came to this convent since it was placed in such a wonderful location. You could imagine that this place seems to be more laid back than London. Anyways, Raine called it the Convent of the Sisters of St. Agnes for two reasons. First of all, Saint Agnes was a woman beatified in England as a saint for nursing the sick and helping the weary. People say that she spend her last days in this obscure area, but that's not the bulk of it. What I heard is, Raine is actually a member of Agnes' family, giving her the inspiration to give this convent the name of her great great great great grandaunt."
Squall found himself drawn by the story of the convent's beginnings, and found Raine's name to be quite familiar, although he was not quite sure where he had heard the name before. "Is she still here?"
Quistis turned to him, puzzled by his question. "Who she? Do you mean Raine?" Squall nodded and she explained, "Raine was once the caretaker of this convent. One day, a man was traveling down the very same path that you took and was somehow injured in an automobile accident. The Dincht family found him and sent him here, where Raine took care of him since the rest of the nuns, oddly, were sent at the time to do mission work elsewhere. Déjà vu if you ask me. Anyways, they both fell in love and somehow, the man was able to talk Raine into following him to wherever it is that he came from. That was the last we ever heard of her. We've had at least three caretakers in the convent since Raine left, the latest being that brute of a pervert Irvine Kinneas. Although I can't complain much about having a male caretaker since there are a few people who come to rob the church. He could easily drive them all away with his rifle."
Squall ruminated upon all that she had said, and found one of the names to be very familiar. "Dincht…the Dincht family that you speak of…do they have a boy named Zell?"
Quistis laughed and said, "Well, now that you mention it, they do have a boy called Zell. His parents still come here to donate medicine to the convent whenever they can. Why? Do you know Zell?"
A slight smile appeared on Squall's lips when he remembered meeting Zell during that fateful night. "No, but I did meet him on the way here. He offered to fill my car with gas. He seems to be…extremely happy."
She laughed when she understood what he was trying to say. "He is indeed. His parents are German-Jews who moved here after the war. They've been helping the convent ever since and despite the success of the father's automotive business, they never found a good enough reason to leave this town…God bless their hearts for their benevolence."
Squall focused his attention on the fields again when an idea came to mind. "Sister Quistis, when is Sister Julia coming back?"
Quistis caught herself in a daze when she replied, "Sister Julia…who? Oh! She's coming back in about four hours. She usually buys a few medical supplies on the way so it would take her slightly longer to get back to the convent. Why do you ask Squall?"
Squall had a boyish grin on his face. "I have an idea."
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Rinoa returned to the convent after purchasing the food needed to sustain the sisters, Irvine, and her ever so stubborn patient. On the way, she noted to herself that she ought to purchase a few yards of linen bandages and plaster and other medical supplies in case a certain friar was stubborn enough to do what a recovering patient wasn't supposed to be doing. After all, they were running out of medicine.
She was just about to enter his room when she remembered what he had said to her last night. It hurt her again to think about it, but she decided to push it all away. What was the use of pondering upon such useless things anyways? She knocked on the door twice.
"Sister Julia, I want to remind you that knocking isn't necessary if you're the one behind the door," called a voice from inside. 'How did he know?' she wondered as she closed the door behind her. He was behaving in bed, reading his Bible when she entered. He looked up at her.
"I was being polite friar," she dryly told him. "Knocking is an absolute necessity. It's protocol too. You should know that." She didn't look at him as she filled a glass of water and brought it to him, still keeping her gaze away from him.
He noticed that she had reached out for a few pills beneath the cabinet, giving him a tablet so that the pain wouldn't bother him anymore. After mouthing a silent thank you, he gave her back the glass. She still wouldn't look at him.
"Get some rest…you'll need it," she seemed to order rather than suggest. Her tone had changed from sweet and gentle to bitter. "You'll be out of here soon. The sooner the better, am I not right?" she questioned him sarcastically.
As she was just about to walk away, Squall stretched his good arm and pulled her closer to him, reaching out from under his pillow and shoving something quickly but gently into her hand.
Rinoa was surprised by his sudden actions when she felt the vehement pull toward him. She was going to get into another argument with him when she looked down and saw a bouquet of flowers…very beautiful wildflowers.
His eyes seemed to be begging her forgiveness, and he contorted them is such a way that even Mother Teresa wouldn't be able to resist him. "I'm sorry Julia. I was being selfish. I should have considered your feelings more…forgive me?"
Rinoa stared in shock at the rainbow of petals as a smile crept into her lips. She wanted to thank him, but part of her told her to listen to what more he might have to tell her. She remained silent, yet attentive. "I've been proud and inconsiderate of your kindness, and you're the only one to shower me with this much attention. Please Julia…don't stay mad at me."
Rinoa couldn't resist touching his cheek gently with her fingers. "I won't stay mad, as long as I know that it's sincere Squall." She sighed contentedly and walked around the bed, setting the flowers in a water-filled vase. "They're very beautiful. Thank you. It's the first time anyone has ever presented me something like this."
She unconsciously sat on his bed, his arms only millimeters away from her back. He had this longing to hold her…yet he couldn't. He couldn't possibly do this to such a woman for everything that had done…even more so for what she lived for. "You see them everyday in the flower fields…how could this be any different?" he inquired her, wondering why these flowers seemed so special. It was, after all, only a sincere apology.
Rinoa knelt down and clasped his hand gently in hers. "Flowers are flowers. They are beautiful in their own respect, but their true beauty comes in full bloom if it is given to you from someone who cares."
His hand slowly moved to touch her face. She didn't seem to want to stop him, so he continued further on, unaware that she was thinking about something at the moment. It was then that it happened.
She slapped him. It wasn't very strong, but it caught him by surprise, however. "Ouch! What was that for?"
She rolled her eyes and started berating him again. "You went out to the flower fields didn't you?"
Squall held his cheek firmly, still feeling the sting of her blow. "I…I…"
"Where else would you have gotten these flowers? I don't think any of the sisters would have done this for you? Squall! I've told you so many times before! You're injured! If you had gone out, you could have made the injuries more severe! What were you thinking?" She wanted to grab his crutches and throw them into the river so that he couldn't use them.
Squall remained speechless, shocked that a nun would slap him in the face. "If you were ever injured again, I'm serious with this but I'll ask another one of the sisters to take my place!"
Rinoa shook her head and did something that took Squall by surprise. She hugged him. Slender arms wrapping around his neck, she softened her tone and spoke to him. "But thank you for the flowers…they really made me happy." Squall was dumbfounded and wide-eyed as he could only return the hug.
She pulled away from his embrace and sat once more on the edge of the bed, keeping her hand on Squall's. To his surprise, she let it stay there. "Squall?"
"Yes?"
"Did you really mean what you said earlier?" she asked him, looking directly at his azure pools as if they were the source of her answers.
He closed his eyes and nodded, turning his palm over to hold her hand. "I wanted to write it to you but…unfortunately my hand is not strong enough to grip a pen yet."
She suddenly realized their proximity and pulled away to Squall's disappointment. Despite her feelings for him, she reminded herself that she was a nun and couldn't get involved with a man. "As long as you are sincere Squall, I don't care if you write it in giant letters or have some plane write it in smoke."
Rinoa stood up and set the vase on his bedside table. Looking at them, she tilted her head slightly. "You know, I'd like to go picking flowers some time. Care to join me if you're well?"
"We can go now, if you want to," he suggested as he propped himself up from bed, thankful that the painkillers were quickly acting on his nerves.
"Squall…"
"If you have a wheelchair, I'll be fine."
Rinoa giggled and sighed. "Oh fine…if it will silence your whining, I will get you a wheelchair." She left the room and reappeared about five minutes later with what Squall had requested.
"I'd have to get you a blanket for the cold outside though. Your arms aren't ready to stretch to accommodate your coat sleeves, so I'll get something to cover you up." She walked to her all-purpose cabinet and found a blue blanket and placed it on top of the wheelchair. 'Not to mention it will cover your extremely nice abs…and not to mention the rippling chest and those arms….oh dear, what am I doing? Rinoa! Enough of these thoughts!'
She brought the apparatus beside him and he gingerly set his foot down on the floor. It surprised him that it didn't hurt so much as it did this morning. He set the other foot down, and when they were both on the floor obeying his every command, he smiled contentedly to himself. Rinoa came up in front of him to help him up, and soon he was standing again, with "Sister Julia" as his crutch of course. As he was about to place himself on the wheelchair, a pain shot through his back as he groaned out loud, causing his sense of balance to suffer as he fell…on top of her.
Of course, the fall would never be complete without a Kodak moment. There he was on the floor, his body on top of hers, his lips separated only by an extremely short distance…too short for his or her comfort. Naturally, Sister Quistis and Sister Selphie would find the perfect moment to come in.
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Tada! Finished! I hope you like this one. I had fun writing this chapter so please read and review! Your reviews mean a lot to me. If you don't like it, then go ahead and say so!
The next chapter is coming up: Liber Scriptus! Hang on there, I promise I'll update!