I do not own The Village.
I do love it so much.
Speaking Further On Such Matters
For Her
The medicines from The Towns are strong; they work hard to heal him.
As does Ivy, beloved Ivy.
Ivy with her soft voice.
Ivy with her strong, gentle hands.
Ivy . . .
"Your color is stronger, Lucius."
. . . and her particular way of seeing the world.
"I think you are healing well."
Even so, he is too weak; they will not allow him up.
Not Mrs. Clack.
Not his mother.
". . . rest. You must not tax your body further."
Or her father.
". . . marry my daughter. She will need a strong, hale husband to keep up with her."
And so, with nothing to do but sit and stare at the four walls of the Healing House . . .
". . . stick of wood? Why would you need a stick of wood?"
. . . Lucius Hunt casts about . . .
"I have a task I wish to complete."
. . . for something to occupy himself.
"Alright. If that is what you wish."
"I do."
And as she turns to go, . . .
"Thank you, Mother."
. . . his quiet appreciation . . .
"You are welcome, my son."
. . . gladdens her heart.
It must be a good and proper stick.
Long and straight.
Strong, yet pliable.
It must be gotten from the dry wood pile.
Hazel, cherry, or holly, preferably.
He doesn't know exactly how it should be.
But he surmises the general idea.
And that he will manage.
For her.
His mother brings him several blanks to choose from.
He is very particular; it must be just right.
And finally . . .
"This one."
"You are sure? This one will suffice? You would not wish me to cut down a tree for your consideration?"
She is jesting, of course, his mother is.
Softly, gently.
Only to make him smile, he thinks.
She has never been manipulative or cruel.
Especially not now, not when he has come so close to death.
"No. This will do. Thank you, Mother."
"You are welcome, my son."
He has been working as hard as his healing body will allow.
His task nearly complete; the item nearly perfected.
It has been cured and cleaned.
It has been smoothed with a blade, all discomforting protuberances and roughnesses removed.
He can now run his hands all over the surface of it and feel no jab, no sliver.
He has rubbed in oil, diligently and well.
One coat and then to dry.
Cleaned and coated once more.
And it is almost ready.
There is but one tiny detail that he finds most important to include before presenting it for her approval.
This he works in utmost secret.
Meticulous and with unwavering care.
There where she may rub a thumb upon.
And then, after weeks . . .
"I have something for you."
. . . it is ready.
"Ah, is this what you have been working on in secret?"
And he can do naught but stare.
Though he supposes he should not be surprised by anything she may or may not reveal herself to do.
And so he simply speaks.
"Yes."
She moves forward, her boots find the edge of his bed.
Her hand finds his.
And Lucius Hunt guides that hand to the thing he has made for her, just for her.
A walking cane.
Crafted over a fortnight, smoothed to her touch.
And carved . . .
"I know yours broke in the woods. That you have others now. But this one is special."
. . . with the initials of the name she shall have when they are joined as man and wife.
Her fingers find it. Her thumb.
IWH.
Ivy Walker Hunt.
"Oh, Lucius."
And he watches . . .
It is perfect."
As her sightless eyes well with tears.
"Thank you."
And her smile brightens.
"You are welcome, . . ."
All the world . . .
". . . my love."
. . . around her.
Okay, so, whilst preparing for the role of Lucius Hunt (and maybe during filming), Joaquin Phoenix made a walking stick for Bryce Dallas Howard. Carved her name into it and everything.
So that's absolutely precious and the best kind of method acting and I can't even.
Hope you enjoyed!