AN: At this point in the timeline Melena is not aware of the fact that her mother has died.
Melena - Munchkinland - Part One
Dear Mother and Kerrin,
I'm writing to you from Hadrans Lake, a lovely place near a settlement in the northern hills of Munchkinland. Frex brought me here for a short holiday but he has, as happens far too often for my liking I must tell you, been called back to the Capital to attend to business that can neither wait nor be delegated or so he tells me.
I don't know if you received my last letter yet but as I haven't heard from you I shall assume not. In that last letter I made very light of the problems I have with Frex's mother, in this I will more candid. Her constant harping on a variety of subjects quite drives me to madness at times. I think that is the true reason Frex brought me here, thought he insisted he too needed a short respite from his duties. You see I lost my temper rather spectacularly with her, you know what you say about red-haired girls Kerrin? I'm afraid I rather disgraced myself but the nerve of the woman!
In all the time I worked with you, Mother, I never heard you ask such personal questions of a woman who wanted to be a mother as this woman has asked of me recently!
When she told me I should consult the family doctor, and what does a man know of a woman's fertility I ask you! Well that was the last straw, as they say, I got to my feet and shouted at her. Pointing out the fact that we had been married less than a year, Frex is in excellent health and hardly in need of an heir at this point, and (just to make sure she understood my point) informed her that both of us were quite capable of producing a child without her advice!
I must tell you her face coloured so that she could have easily been one of us and didn't I feel better for getting those feelings out of me…until I realised Frex was in the room.
He actually scolded me in front of his mother! Scolded me like a little one caught stealing sweets – I spent the night in one of the guest rooms. I imagine his mother had a lot of stored 'I told you so's to share with him.
The next morning he told me that he'd arranged 'a short time away for the two of us'
Melena laid the pen down for a moment to collect her thoughts.
I cannot say that I no longer care for him, but I think that I now understand now what people in stories mean when they say their partner is not the person they fell in love with. Perhaps things will get better when he settles into being Governor (and his mother returns to Gillikin!)
If they do not...no it is too soon to say such things, I will speak more of it when I write again.
My love with you both, as ever,
Melena.
Melena blew softly on the paper to dry it then carefully folded the letter and sealed it before placing it into a waterproof type of envelope to give to the messengers when she returned to the city. A glance outside showed her it was late afternoon, still a whole night to go before Frex returned, she sighed. Just when she thought she was doomed to spend the rest of the day embroidering or something equally pointless there was a knock on the door.
"Please come in," she called out politely, expecting a local from the nearby village to enter – they seemed to be under the impression that she could not manage to cook for herself and Frex.
"That's mighty kind of you, little lady," a tall man with dark hair, its colour impossible to tell thanks to the pouring rain outside. "I was sure I'd be spending the night in that storm there when I happened to see your lights shining out."
"You must have missed the village," she replied politely, doing a quick mental once over of her appearance and deciding that her spring dress, while not appropriate for formal occasions, was fine for greeting storm blown visitors. "I've been told that these spring storms bring up a mist sop think you could walk right down the main street and never see it if no one happened to make a noise as you did so. But listen to me babbling at you when you must be soaked to the bones, please sit down, would you like a blanket?"
"I'll just take this big jacket off, most of the rest of me is dry, but I would not say no to a warm drink if you had some to spare."
He had lovely dark brown eyes, Melena noticed, as she took his coat and hung it up over the back of the door – next to his bags.
"I'll put some water on to boil," she told him, standing up to do just that, not unaware of the way he was admiring her as she walked. "What brings you to these parts, if I may asks?"
"I'm travelling these parts, selling a few things as I go, see the parts of Oz I've never seen before."
"That does sound interesting, what do you sell?"
"At the moment I'm selling my Miracle Elixir, wonder curative for all sorts of dis-eases and gives you a nice warm feeling on a cold night."
"It sounds wonderful," replied Melena, genuinely impressed, she had never encountered a travelling salesmen in her life so it didn't occur to her that it was not as miraculous as he implied.
"Now there's a thought," declared the stranger, as if the thought had just occurred to him (and perhaps it had only just occurred). "Why drink tea when we can warm ourselves up with something spicier?"
"Why indeed?" replied Melena.
"You just have yourself a seat, my dark eyed beauty, and I'll fetch you a drink."
"I thank you for your compliment, sir, but I must point out in the name of honesty that your eyes are far darker than my own."
"That's as may be but you're the first dark eyed lady I've seen since I entered this land full of blue eyed lasses."
He walked across the room and brought back a small glass bottled, coloured green.
"Is the glass green or the drink?" she asked curiously as he uncorked it.
"The drink, but the glass is stained by it. Try it, won't you?"
A Gillikinese woman, or even a Munchkin, might have protested the lack of a glass but Melena felt no need for such niceties and simply tilted the bottle slightly above her mouth. She remembered from her training that a strange food should never be tasted first in large quantities and intended to place only a drop on her tongue but the liquid was less viscous than she thought so she ended up with a mouthful.
She noticed immediately that it didn't make her head spin or go fuzzy, like the first time she had tasted wine, instead the world seemed to come into sharper focus. Smiling the tall man took the bottle form her for a mouthful of his own.
"You like it?"
She knew it was really a statement, not a question, and smiled in response. He grinned, making him look much younger than the mid thirties she guessed his age to be, and passed the bottle back to her. A drop of the liquid, sliding from the outside of the bottle onto her skin, distracted her from another taste.
"What a fascinating colour," she remarked. She found that the colour was as indefinable as the taste has been when she took that first mouthful. "Not grass or Ikari or moss or even emeralds. What would you call this colour, if you could not just call it green?"
"I usually just call it green," he replied hesitantly. "But when I think of it I think of everything that makes green – the essence of green, if you will."
"The essence of green, I like it," she nodded dreamily and the man smiled.
"Another drink, my beauty," he offered. She smiled again and took another mouthful just as the storm started in earnest and the rain seemed to be almost shaking the cabin apart.
"I just adore storms, they don't have nearly enough of them here – compared to home."
"And where do you call home?"
"The South," she replied, in her mind dancing barefoot in the spring rainfall under the trees that needed the water to live. "The glorious, wondrous, free South."
It took the man a moment to orient himself to Ozian geography and realise she meant Quadling country.
"And here I thought it was the lamplight that gave your hair that pretty red colour to it."
"Such compliments! I haven't had so many since the last time I was asked to dance."
"Is it a requirement, in your country, to compliment a lady while dancing?" he suggested smoothly.
"Not at all but we do so enjoy dancing."
"Well far be it for me to refuse to allow such a beauty the opportunity to do something she enjoys," he declared extravagantly as he leapt to his feet, very spry for a man his age as well. "Shall we dance, lovely lady?"
Melena carefully set the green bottle down on a table and nodded her agreement. The last time she referred to had been at her wedding, she hadn't since because Frex's mother had insisted she needed lessons in 'proper' formal dances before she could be seen in public.
"There isn't much room though," she pointed out quietly as he took her hand to draw her near to him. "And no music either…but I wouldn't swap this for a room full of people."
"You prefer to be alone?"
"Well not entirely alone," she replied, putting her free hand on his shoulder. "Two seems to be just the right number for this room, don't you agree?"
He nodded agreement and counted out a one, two, three, four beat for them to begin dancing to.
"Do you invite every traveller who passes the door into your home?" he asked curiously, once they'd settled into a silent rhythm.
"Of course, my mother raised me to be hospitable. We're not usually inviting them in because of storms though, it rains most of the time at home."
"And do you dance with them all?" he responded mischievously.
"Certainly not," she replied, pretending outrage then lowering her eyes in mock shyness. "Only the handsome ones."
A short time later he halted the dance, explaining that it had gotten a bit warm in the room.
"I'll just take my waistcoat off, if you'll wait a moment."
"It is very warm in here," agreed Melena, who was feeling the effects of drinking the miracle elixir and suspected that the drink was mostly made of strong spirits. Her voice turned huskier as she suggested: "Why don't we go to the other room, it'll be cooler in there."
"An excellent idea, my beauty," he replied, knowing exactly what the next room was and what was being suggested.
The rain was gone by dawn the next morning, as was Melena's visitor. She stirred briefly as he kissed her cheek and closed the bedroom door behind him. She woke up properly when the midmorning light shone through the window of the room and smiled softly as she saw the little green bottle left on the other pillow, with a note next to it.
"Here's to a wonderful memory, my dark eyed beauty," she read the note out softly. "I'll think of you often as I travel the lonely roads of Oz."
Smiling softly she folded up the note and placed it, with the bottle, in the bag of cosmetics that she never used but which Frex had insisted the maid pack into their luggage. She dressed hastily, not bothering to brush or tie her hair or even put shoes on, and raced outside to enjoy the morning. It had been far too long since she had done any of the things that made her happy as a young woman (and seemed to bother Frex far less before they were married).
Who could care about muddy feet and petticoats when the sky was so blue and the air was so fresh?
Who could care about Munchkin manners and Gillikinese stuffiness when the grass was so soft and obviously there only to be danced upon?
Who could care about jewels and cosmetics when there were obliging flowers to be picked and woven into a garland for her hair?
Who could care about the world beyond these hills when the sun was warm and the meadow just begging her to lie down and rest upon it?
The answer to all of those questions, as it turned out several hours later, was the Governor of Munchkinland - Frex Thropp.
"Melena!"
His loud outburst, shattering the peace of the meadow, startled her out of her sleep and she leapt to her feet.
"Frex!" she exclaimed in reply. "I am right here, must you speak so loudly."
"What are you doing?"
"Clearly something that is far more offensive to you than one would have presumed," replied Melena, speaking stiffly in response to his demanding tone. Frex sighed heavily he'd hurried back from his necessary trip to the capital to find half the village gossiping about seeing his wife 'dancing around half-dressed in the hills'
"I left you alone for one night!" snapped Frex. "And the first news I hear when I get back is that the villagers have seen you out here, unescorted, indulging in heathen behaviour!"
Melena fought back an angry retort and instead smiled at him sadly.
"You knew who I was when you asked me to marry you, Frex yu adére."
She could tell he didn't quite know how to react to her suddenly being what he considered reasonable.
"I thought I did," he replied quietly. "You've changed since then."
"No," disagreed Melena, with the same sad smile that made her look much older than she acted (by non Quadling standards anyway). "You're the one who changed, Frex, I am who I have always been."
She could see on his face that he wanted to deny it but, though she waited several minutes, he did not refute her statement.
"Come back inside please, Melena," he said wearily.
Irritation at being treated like a child (again!) warred with her wanting to compromise with him as she had grown up believing partnersshould.
"Because you're ashamed of me?" she said finally, deciding she had ignored this topic for far too long.
"What?" exclaimed Frex in what Melena thought could be genuine surprise. "Of course not!"
"That is not what the Dowager Lady Thropp has been telling me since we were married, or say rather since your father passed on for before then the only communication that she initiated between us was comments upon the weather."
Frex knew very well that his mother had been unhappy about, but grudgingly accepted, his marriage while his father had been enchanted by Melena and confided to Frex (after rather more wine than was good for him) that if he, Governor Anthar Thropp, was not a married man already his son would have some competition.
He shifted his weight uncomfortably as he remembered one particular day, during a holiday from University to introduce Melena to his parents, when his father had been openly flirting with Melena and his mother had made some comments – he didn't recall the specifics now - about how a Gillikinese or a Munchkin girl would have been much more modest in her response. He hadn't thought much of it at the time because his mother often criticised the 'outrageous behaviour of young women these days' but now he wondered if he should have listened more closely. The Unnamed God knew if wasn't that he didn't love her! Only that there always seemed to be a 'but…' whenever he thought that.
"I could never be ashamed of you, Melena," Frex assured her, after taking too long (in her opinion) to think about his answer. "But there are things you do that, that I would prefer you did not."
"And how is that different to being ashamed? You do not want me to do those things because it embarrasses you for people to see me behaving in the way of the people who raised me, as your reaction today has shown me quite clearly."
She took a deep breath then interrupted Frex before he could respond.
"I don't want to talk to you now, Frex. I am going for a walk so I can decide whether or not I even want to live with you anymore."
"You can't just leave!"
"That's part of my point, Frex. I am not a helpless Gillikinese or sheltered Munchkin girl whose parents will disown her at the first hint she has not been a 'proper' wife, this marriage was not arranged by our parents and I know the Laws of Oz well enough to know that it can be undone with little difficulty."
"Melena," protested Frex. "I know things have been difficult for you, since my father died. But you must understand my mother is used to doing things a certain way and she's just trying to help you, like I'm sure she wishes she had someone to help her when my grandfather passed his duties onto my father."
"I'm going for a walk," repeated Melena, though there were a lot more things she could think of to say than that. "I will speak to you later."
To Frex's surprise, for he half expected her to vanish that afternoon, she did come back to the cabin. Melena informed him, in several uninterrupted sentences, that she understood the stresses he was under and had reviewed her impulsive decision to go home. It hurt him that she didn't think of where they lived together as her home but the sentence she concluded her speech with made him feel better because he felt the circumstances she described would never happen.
"I promise I will stay as long as our love for each other is stronger than the things that test it."
Quadling translation:
Yu adére my love