The voice of my beloved! Behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
My beloved is like a roe or a young hart…
My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
- Song of Songs 2:8-10
Albus' heart jumped as Gellert emerged from the trees, his hands thrust into the pockets of his sky-blue robe. His hair was a little unkempt, but apart from that he looked as though nothing untoward had happened. There was a calm expression on his face, and when he saw Albus he gave a beatific smile.
"So this is the deer place," he said quietly.
Albus nodded, watching Gellert warily. Were they just going to pretend that nothing had happened, that Gellert hadn't lost his temper and threatened Albus with violence?
"And where are the deer?" Gellert asked, looking from side to side.
"I'll show you. In a minute." Albus swallowed. "There's something I… we… ought to talk about."
"Yes, Albus." Gellert drew close to Albus and took his hands. "I must apologise once again for my behaviour. I have not been myself recently. I promise I will not let it happen again."
"Oh, uh, well," Albus stammered, caught off guard. He had been steeling himself for a difficult talk with Gellert, but this pre-emptive apology had stolen his thunder. What was up with Gellert? He looked so peaceful and happy, so different from how he'd been just a quarter of an hour ago. He looked as charming and perfect as he'd been on the first night Albus had met him. All the hardness and anger had fallen from his face like a mask, leaving his expression sweet and vulnerable, like a little boy's. Albus couldn't remain upset with Gellert now.
Hand in hand, they walked along the edge of the forest, the grass whispering against the hems of their robes.
"Try not to make too much noise," Albus said. "They're flighty. They run at the first sign of danger."
"Like someone I know," Gellert said quietly.
Albus' ears burned a little at that. "They live deep in the woods and usually only move about at sunrise and sunset. Most people don't get a chance to see them. But I happen to know that they like the grass here."
After a few minutes, they spotted red-brown shapes moving on the outskirts of the clearing. Holding a finger to his lips, Albus led Gellert by the hand, closer to the animals.
"Roe deer," Albus whispered. "They're reddish now, but they become darker in winter. The ones with antlers are males."
"Do they eat grass?"
"They eat all kinds of things: grass, leaves, berries. They like the soft plants and the flowers here."
On either side of the river, the mountain was clothed with emerald blades of grass and wildflowers rippling in the wind. The deer moved among the plants like careful gardeners, pausing to lower their heads and pluck a yellow blossom here, a young shoot there. Every few seconds they would raise their heads and look all around with their big eyes, their ears twisting from side to side. The clearing was still and quiet, apart from birdcalls in the distance.
"This is nice," Gellert said.
"Yes," said Albus.
"I can see why you like to come here. But do you spend so much time on your own? Do you not have friends in this Godric's Hollow? I thought that you had many friends in Hogwarts."
"Well, my mother died recently. I don't much feel like company."
"I am sorry. Of course, you need space for your grief."
"It's not just that. I've always liked being by myself. Even before."
"I know what you mean. Before I met you, no one really kept my interest for very long. But now, I feel that you and I are kindred spirits."
"I don't think so, Gellert. You and I are different…"
"Not so much as you think. Trust me. I know yourself better than you do."
Albus was quiet. For a minute or two he was lost in watching the movements of the deer, almost forgetting that Gellert was there.
"I still think you and I are opposites," he said eventually.
"How so?"
"Well, you are… loud. And..." How could Albus say this tactfully? "Confident. Very driven. Assertive. You know what you want and you take it."
"So, you are saying politely that I am rude and ruthless, with no consideration for the other fellow."
"No, I didn't say that! Don't put words in my mouth."
Gellert chuckled. "You wish I should put something else in your mouth?"
It took Albus a few moments to work out what Gellert had said. He knew it was something saucy because of Gellert's expression, a wickedly suggestive look that made one feel he had committed sexual assault with just a glance, and left one with a rather dirty, indecent feeling. Albus' cheeks went hot. "Do you think about… lust all the time?"
"Not all the time. Quite a lot of times, perhaps. I am a normal male."
"Not all men think about… indecency all the time."
"No. I suppose some of them are sissies like you."
Stung, Albus slipped his hand out of Gellert's and walked on. He didn't want Gellert to see how much that remark had hurt him. Why was Albus so sensitive? Why were his feelings so easily hurt by the littlest things? Why couldn't he just shrug and laugh things off like everyone else? He couldn't help it. He just took things to heart.
He was starting to wish he hadn't brought Gellert here. This was a special place, almost sacred to Albus. He had often come here when he was feeling alone, miserable and tired of human affairs. There was no room for confusion or sorrow up here on the hills, only the deep stillness and rugged beauty of the wilderness. Up here, where the vast blue bowl of the sky descended to touch the upthrust bones of the earth, where the heavens met the mountains, there were no petty human concerns. The cold wind blew sharp as a knife, scouring away all Albus' fears, stripping him to the bone. The steams and rivers flowed relentlessly, washing away all his worries and tears, leaving him cleansed. The sad, lonely part of him died and his soul was reborn as something beautiful and free.
The mountains were full of life's treasures. Down in the valley, humans had invaded and polluted and despoiled, tearing down the trees, dumping their rubbish in the rivers, hunting animals, filling the air with their incessant noise, driving all the quiet, old things out of their hiding places; but up on the hills, Nature reigned in all her glory. Unafraid, she spread her flowery cloak over the hillsides, let down her hair in cascading waterfalls, stuck her jagged rocky fingers from the soil, spoke in whispering winds and birdsong.
How could Albus remain sad, when all around him there was life, uncomplicated and unapologetic? The deer, sparrows, trout and badgers never doubted themselves or lost faith. Whatever hardships they suffered, they soldiered on. Pangs of hunger, predators, disease and death had no terror for them. They had no money, no education, no fine clothes, no reputation, and yet they were more content than any human being. They were fuelled by the primal instinct of nature, the insatiable desire of life to go on living in the most hostile conditions. How Albus envied them! It was a uniquely human failing to be cut off from life and to feel despair…
Perhaps Albus should not have been born a human. He would have been happier as something else, perhaps. When he was younger, he would climb into the rocky heart of the mountains and pray, for this was a holy place, holier than any temple made by humans, for it was made by Nature herself, and the spirit of life was in the very fabric of it. He would pray to the old, silent, nameless gods that lived deep in the tranquillity of the Earth, the gods who had been here even before Freya, Woden and Thor, before humans, the gods who were so old that none could remember their names, if they even had any.
His prayer was not of the kind that most religious people would recognise, for it was real prayer. It was not a list of demands, requests or enquiries such as a child would make of a parent: would you please heal my mother, have I been good, I beg you to make me happy, if you exist please reveal yourself to me. Rather it was true prayer, without words, the oldest prayer, older than language, older than humanity, a prayer old as life itself, in which Albus' soul moved in silent communion with and wordless awe of the presence of something greater than itself, something that shook his spirit and made him weep tears of emotion.
And after he prayed, he wondered if someone had made a mistake in making him a human, for he wasn't happy in this life. Perhaps if he stood on the mountainside long enough, his feet would take root, his arms would sprout leaves and he would become a tree in the forest. He wouldn't mind that, being surrounded by his own kind. Deer would come and rest in the shade of his branches, birds would build nests on his arms and he would hold their eggs tenderly and safely. Or perhaps he would become a fox running the hills by night, hunting with his mate, returning to feed his cubs in their den. Or perhaps he would grow wings and become a skylark, wild and free, darting through the open sky, filling the air with his song. Or else he would turn to stone and become quartz, jasper, an amethyst sleeping in the warm dark womb under the earth. Or else… anything, anything, let him be anything but this wretched Albus Dumbledore. To be an animal or plant or stone… anything would be better than being human, being cut off from Nature, being conscious and aware, and feeling this pain that no other living thing felt.
From the mountainside, if one knew where to look, one could see the skeletons of past civilisations. Albus had found several old Roman roads, a Roman coin, a flint arrowhead, a chalkpit, a couple of long barrows in which Anglo-Saxon chieftains were buried, shards of pottery and a rusted iron blade. All were remnants of peoples who had sought to conquer these islands. Picts, Celts, Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Romans, French, Normans, and a hundred others had come seeking to claim this land, but in the end the land had claimed them. Their bones lay entombed in the mountain now, surrounded by the gold and weapons they had thought would save them from their enemies. The mountain was ancient and cunning, and it had waited patiently, knowing that the one enemy humans could not escape was time. And the handmaiden of time was death, which all men feared, even men like Gellert who thought they were courageous.
Albus himself had no fear of death. He knew that however beautiful this season's flowers were, they had to fade and wither away eventually. It was sad, but it was part of the cycle, and next year there would be new flowers. Albus, too, would have his time in the sun, but then he would have to return to the soil and make room for someone else, whoever he would be.
How deluded humans were to think they could own the land. In the end, the land would own them all. No matter who they were, beggars or kings, magicians or Muggles, one day their bones would all lie beneath the earth. Before humans had come to these islands, there had only been deer, birds and wolves. Before that, the land had been covered with ice and stalked by great hairy mammals. And even before that, the land had been filled with gigantic reptiles. Mountains had risen and fallen, oceans had expanded and retreated, a million creatures had come and gone, but always the land remained. It would still be there, eternal and unchanging, long after humans had disappeared from the surface of the Earth. In the face of that silent majesty, surrounded by the graves of past conquerors, in the stony heart of the mountain, it was impossible to be upset over things like the death of his father, his loneliness, his isolation. Things which seemed so big and important down in the human world shrank into insignificance here. Beside the mountain, Albus and all his problems were just a speck of dust…
He would enter a dreamlike state, halfway between sleeping and waking, in which he almost became one with the mountain. He felt the stillness and silence of stone enter his troubled heart and fill him with a deep peace he could never find on his own. It was such a sweet relief to be spared from his troubled thoughts, to just exist without being self-conscious, being aware, doubting and hating himself. He wondered if he could do as Merlin had done, and slip beneath the rock and become part of the stone forever. If he could turn into stone himself, and sleep, unburdened by these chaotic thoughts, his life would be so much easier. He touched the mountainside, feeling the warm living rock beneath his fingers. Let me in, he prayed, let me descend into the darkness of the Earth and sleep again in her womb. Life out here in the world is too bright, too harsh, too painful. Let me have the peace of stone. He could almost hear the mountain's reply: Not yet. The time will come when you return to me, when your bones sleep inside the earth, besides the bones of all the others. But not yet. Albus wondered, But why? Why am I out here? What is the purpose of it all? The mountain rumbled, and he thought it was laughing at him. Know you not? Ask the flower why it blooms, ask the deer why it runs, ask the skylark why it sings. And Albus asked, but there was never any answer, or if there was, he couldn't understand it.
And into this sacred, timeless place he had brought Gellert. Gellert, with his rough ways and his sneering mouth and his lack of respect for anyone else. Gellert, who thought that life was one big joke played on everyone for his own amusement. Gellert, who had no sense of the sacred, no quietness in his soul. Gellert, whose idea of enjoying nature was to kill animals for fun! Albus had thought it would be nice to share this place with someone else, but Gellert was incapable of appreciating it, and he was only going to spoil everything.
"Albus?" Gellert caught up with him. "Why do you look so down? What are you thinking of?"
"Nothing. Just thinking about what you said, that we're kindred spirits. You're wrong. Very wrong."
"No, I am not. You can be different from someone and still be the same as them. Look." Gellert took hold of Albus' arm and pointed high into the sky. "Tell me what you see."
"The sky?"
"And in it, giving light and life for everything?"
"The Sun."
"Yes, yes, Lady Sunna. And her brother - "
"Mon -"
"Lord Mon, as you say. He and his sister are kindred spirits, are they not? They are both holy, both made of light. But they are also different, for She rules over the day, and He rules over night."
"I don't see what this has to do with you and me…"
"Do you know why they parted ways? Because Sunna and her brother were different. She was golden and fiery and strong, while he was silver and cool and gentle. And Sunna loved people, so she lived in the morning sky to share her beauty with the whole world, and all admired her radiance. Lord Mon was shy, so he ran and hid in the darkest night, and only the owls, foxes and night travellers saw his beautiful silver light. But the two of them are made of the same substance, and they still loved each other. And they say that on some days, at dawn or twilight, when the night and day meet, you can see Lady Sunna in her chariot of gold and her brother Mon in his chariot of silver, racing across the sky armed with bows of sunlight and moonbeam, hunting the storms of the heavens."
After a short silence, Albus said, "I understand what you mean. But are you comparing us to gods?"
"Why not? We are gods, with our powers. Compared to other wizards."
"As I said earlier, you have a rather healthy ego."
"Where is the harm? If one is talented and powerful, why shouldn't one be proud?"
"Just be careful. Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall."
"Stop your Christian babble. There is no one alive who can destroy me, or cause me to fall. If they dare, let them try. I am the Master of Death, the right hand of destruction. I take life away and give it back again. I walk without fear in the terror of night. My wand is the power and the fury, the sword of Tyw. My breath is the strength of Woten, my fist is the hammer of Thor. And when I have the Hallows, I will be invincible."
"The Hallows? You don't mean the Deathly Hallows?"
"The very same."
Albus frowned. "I didn't think you would be the sort to believe in fairy tales."
"Fairy tales, no. Ancient history, yes."
"So you believe the Hallows are real artefacts? With real magical powers?"
"I do. And you will help me to find them."
"I see. And do I have a choice in the matter?"
"Yes. Will you choose the sad, closed life of not knowing your full power? Or will you come with me and do things you never dreamed possible?"
Albus paused and shivered slightly. "I've dreamed many things, Gellert. More than you can suppose. But I know the difference between dreams and reality."
"Your problem, Albus, is that you think too much. Sometimes you must simply do things. You weren't put in this life to be quiet and think, but to live. You must go out and experience things. Do crazy things. Let yourself go."
"How, exactly?"
"Like this. Come."
Gellert broke into a run, pulling Albus along by the hand.
UPDATE:
Hi everyone. The good news is that I have slowly started writing again. I tentatively plan the next update for Sunday March 4.
Thanks for your patience and understanding.
Update 2:
I need more time. I have written 1 464 words of the next chapter. This week will be busy for me as I'm starting my new semester. I'll aim for Sunday 11 March. Deadlines give me something to aim for, but remember that I don't usually keep them!