Reminder:: This is one of the last disclaimers, but I shall proclaim it once more. I do not own the strong references found below!
I can see the finish line…!
As always, thank you for reading!
Chapter Forty-Nine :: Let Go
Part One
Not more than four days of travel brought Ioreth and I to the furthest outskirts of Rohan where a small village was situated in the middle of vacant nowhere. Because we were out of water, we decided this was where we would stop. And make our home.
The first steps after dismounting Alatar were a little shaky. All day on horseback and riddled with nerves, we peered around. There was only one road that was weather beaten from passing travelers. A stone well with a rickety rope line without a bucket marked the edge of town. Besides for the wooden shacks, homes, and smithies along the path, that was it.
Upon further investigation, we found there were open fields beyond the village where an arm of the Entwash met the Mering Stream. So Ioreth and I rode a few miles further and found ourselves in a pretty little field with a steady water source.
Unloading everything off Alatar, I took the water gourd and made for the river for a refill. Ioreth carefully watched me from the horse, hesitantly opening one of her baskets. "Finwen?"
I looked over my shoulder, still not used to her saying that name. She rarely said it when I lived in the Houses and now it just felt weird and wrong. Technically, I was deceiving her by not telling her my real name.
"What exactly are we doing here?"
"First," I started, capping off the second pouch of water. I had tasted it, swished it around in my mouth, and decided I've had worse. "I have to tell you. I would like if you did not call me Finwen anymore."
The old woman gave me a strange look, wrinkling her nose in confusion.
"My name is Sarah."
Her eyes softened. I could tell she was wondering what else I had neglected to tell her. In our days of riding, we were unusually quiet. Of course we spoke and often, but it was about nothings and of little importance. We were most concerned getting our mind off of Gondor as a whole and the only things we could say about ourselves were concerned with the realm. So we had done better making comments on the scenery or complaints about being squished in one saddle.
We looked away from each other, tending to more things to make camp. Or at least I did. Ioreth was still fingering her basket ties.
While unpacking the necessities to build our strange tent structure (made from a blanket from the houses and a bunch of sticks), I cleared the grass as best I could with my boots and found many of the flowers I was crushing were small and white. Upon further investigation, I found whole bushes of the plant. Camellia Sasanqua flowers. What were the odds?
When I was about to make the connection to Ioreth, she spoke up. "You never answered me, dear. Is this a stop? A camp?"
"Home." I looked up from the flowers and smiled.
"Out here? There's not a soul!"
"I thought it would be best." I said, ignoring the weeds for now and pulling the blanket tighter over the sticks and staking the mesh down into the grass.
"We'll be nomads? Tent people? Really, dear, you need to give me something more." Ioreth put her hands on her hips, taking authority.
"No, no, no." I shook my head, pushing a tent pole up. I pitied Alatar for having to carry all of this. "We'll live here. We're a few minutes ride from a decent village and by the looks of it, they could use a horse-master in these parts."
"Horse-master?" She asked. Ioreth shook her head. "You're out of your mind if you think you can build a ranch by yourself."
"Am I?" I asked, looking at the clouds. They lazily passed and a quick, cool breeze swept through. It felt nice in the summer heat. I laughed. "Hm. Perhaps I am. But you can't argue – I'm determined! And this is what I know. It's not embroidery or flower arrangements or dances or halls with kings. I work with my hands. I raise chickens. I birth foals. Maybe we'll have a dog – who knows? It's… home."
I could tell she still wasn't convinced with this 'man's work.' Stepping over the jumbled tent ropes, I gave her arm a nudge. "Besides, I won't be alone. And this village could use a couple of prosperous doctors, hm?"
"Doctors?" She scoffed with emphasis on the plural. "You barely know your barley from your thyme!"
"That's not true—!"
"Pish posh! If this village is going to be needing medical attention, I'll be the one to take care of it. Grow me the right herbs with those man hands of yours before you start bringing fowl and all the rest!"
I gave her a hug, finally satisfied. That night, we rested in the tent after a small supper. The heat of the sun was gone, but I could still feel it under my skin when I closed my eyes.
The following week was filled with intense physical labor. Of course, I wasn't going to be able to build a house out of nothing on my own – with or without Ioreth. So I went into the village and bribed a few villagers with the prospect of a village medic. Luckily, they were quite taken with the idea of Ioreth around and got to work gathering the right materials from the distant forest and from vacated buildings along the road.
Although it was questionable why two women were living by themselves, I just told the nosey villagers that my husband was still in Minas Tirith under the company of the King. After this lie, I was honored a little higher and the slightly creepy older men in the party stopped looking me up and down.
Though carts and wagons came in a town effort to build a house, we had barely gotten the walls up after the ruddy foundations when the week was spent. It took a week more for a roof to be secured above our two room shack. It wasn't beautiful, but at least we had shade now. I swear that my skin darkened a few permanent shades in those two long weeks.
One night under the light of a lamp burning off pig fat, I sat at our only table while Ioreth refilled our water by the river. I was engulfed in my parchment, so I didn't hear her as she approached from behind and looked over my shoulder. "What are you drawing, Sarah?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of her voice and swishing dress. I was back in boy's clothes – the tunic and pants with my old boots that I missed. Again, this wasn't very strange because most of the women in the village were more than willing to understand I had work to do that couldn't be accomplished in a dress. We certainly chose a kind-hearted town. My long blonde hair as pulled into a tight pony tail at the top of my head. Feeling so nostalgic, it almost felt wrong when she didn't call me 'Lady.' Still, it had taken her long enough to say 'Sarah,' so I wasn't about to spoil one of her first times with my real name.
"They're plans." I said, covering part of my parchment with my arm. It was unnecessary though – Ioreth could not read.
She squinted at the papers anyways, not believing me. To distract her and fearing she could in fact read, I started a new topic. "Ioreth, you said to me once that everything you needed was 'up here.'" I tapped my temple. "You know everything there is to know about herbs and remedies and all that, don't you?"
Taken a bit off guard, she stopped her squinting and feigned modesty. "Oh… I wouldn't say that…"
"I will if you won't." I countered with a smirk. "I want to write a book."
"A book? What good is a book?"
"I want you to tell me everything you know and I want to write it down. Let's face it – we're not going to live forever. If our knowledge dies with us, what good have we really done? Let me pen this down. But only if you wish it. I wouldn't want to make you do something out of your comforts."
Ioreth smiled and shook her head. "Speak of books later. You've enough on your platter and it's grown late."
I agreed and decided to let the fat burn out by leaving the lamp on the table for the night. I also left my papers, not concerned anymore about Ioreth. She wouldn't bother with them anyways. Like she said herself: what good is a book? To her anyways. I yawned, feeling the heat of the summer even stronger this night. In fact, it felt more like a fog that was slowly settling over my brain.
That night I slept in a feverish state. And I didn't wake up until August.
Ironically, the new village medic came crying for help to the townspeople the next morning. Her young companion would not wake. With the proper materials from a few women who were willing to help, Ioreth felt she could handle Sarah by herself, but they insisted to ride along back to the shack and see what they could do to comfort the old woman from Gondor.
When they returned, Sarah was sweating and fighting her blankets in her dreams. The women cooled her down with river water and forced her to drink. They went about stripping her of her tunic and setting her up in a proper night gown. Without much else to do, the few women of the village took orders from Ioreth and prepared herb potions to keep busy. It might help the girl if she would inhale the scent of calming plants burning.
Throughout the evening and into the night, Sarah would not wake. She panicked and cried and made quite a show of herself. It scared those present half to death.
Feeling bad for Ioreth, two women of the village agreed to spend the night. The eldest with a hooked nose made some tea over the fire and served them all. Ioreth was so worried to leave the girl's side that she was hard to persuade to even receive a cup of tea. Sarah's occasional moan could be heard by the three who settled themselves around the table in the main room.
Ioreth was about to stand, but the elder of the two patted her wrist and she sat back down again. "She'll be alright. Just a nasty fever."
"A wonder, no?" The second said, a good thirty years younger than the other two. "She looked so strong… Probably all the man's work she's done since she arrived."
"I knew it." Ioreth shook her head, berating herself. "I shouldn't have let her onto such fancies! She's but a girl!"
The woman with the hooked nose nodded and sniffed, as if she could smell something amiss with Sarah. "Young ones these days… So headstrong. Ludicrous that her husband hasn't shown up, if you ask me!"
Ioreth wondered at this, but knew better to hold her tongue. She just shook her head sadly. How many lies did she tell? Did she lie to Ioreth, too? Who else had Sarah lied to? She changed the subject. "I'll be begging your pardon, but why is it that you do not speak Rohirric? I didn't know Westron was used in these parts."
"It's not called the Common Tongue for sport." The first said. "I was born into Westron. My father was the only one to speak Rohirric in my family."
"The world is so scattered… I hope this new King over in Gondor can figure things and put them right." The second sighed, staring into her tea cup.
The elders fidgeted with gossip about the happenings in Minas Tirith, but both decided to forget the rumors and sip at their tea. At this moment, Sarah let out another loud cry of alarm. This time Ioreth was not stopped when she hurried into the next room.
"Poor dear." The first woman sighed.
The second peered at the table, this time a bit closer than she had before. Finally, her curiosity got the best of her and she picked up one of the many papers.
The eldest rubbed her bulbous nose and turned to the other, noticing she was reading. "What's that you've got?"
"I'm not sure… It's so bizarre—"
Ioreth re-entered the room with a hanging head, rubbing her hands on her apron. "She's quiet now… Her nightmares seem to be worsening."
"Miss Ioreth?" The youngest asked, holding the paper up for her to see. Ioreth immediately wrinkled her brow. "Did you write this?"
"Are you reading, child?" The first woman asked.
Both women looked at the girl suspiciously as she slouched slightly in her chair. "My… My father was a messenger in Edoras. Papa taught me to read when I was little. He said it was important."
"Bah!" Hooked Nose shook her head. "Nonsense! Words and books are trivial. Little use, if you ask me—"
"Why? What does it say?" Ioreth interrupted, sitting back down at the table with more interest.
The youngest picked up the paper again. "Mind, some of the words are a little unfamiliar to me… But it seems to be addressed to her husband? Letters?"
Ioreth took the papers, looking them over foolishly for a moment before she remembered she could not unravel the code before her. Spreading the pages out, Ioreth asked: "What do they say? Can you read them? Aloud?"
Now confident they did not belong to Ioreth, the young woman felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. "It's not really my place to—"
"Heavens, if you can read them, read them!" Hooked Nose insisted on Ioreth's behalf.
Taking up the first page she saw, the youngest cleared her throat and read: "'Dear… F-Far…' I'm sorry; I don't know that word…"
"Says she can read…" The first woman muttered.
With more determination, the second read on. "'I know I will never send these, but it's nice to pre-pretend.' Um… she goes on to say something about… Hold on, I can read this: '—sorry to have left in such a hurry without good-bye. If only I cold' – er – 'could say these things I've always wanted to say to you…' Should I continue?"
Ioreth's head buzzed. She picked up another letter and gave it to the girl. "Here, try this one. What does this say?"
Taking the new paper, she cleared her throat and began somewhere in the middle: "'Sometimes I wish I could be a lady of the c-cur-court and be by your side, but I know know-now.' Sorry. 'I know now that it can never be. It …tears me apart, but I need to be free – in the open where I can see the sky without stone walls. If I can make a new life for me-myself I know I will be able to forget. It always tends to work in ...fic…fic-ti…? Fic-ti-own?' Oh! 'Fiction!'"
Ioreth was putting the pieces together rapidly. Separating the pages, she asked: "And how many are there? How many did she write?"
"Um…" The woman looked over the pages carefully, checking each heading. "It appears she wrote a letter once a day. At least. For a few weeks, maybe? Let's see… the earliest day I see is perhaps a day or two after Midsummer? She continues until just last night on July 19th."
"Are you sure, Ioreth, that the girl's not waiting on but running from her husband? It's what it sounds like to me by all this 'leaving without good-bye' nonsense." The first woman suggested grimly.
Ioreth sank back in her chair. She wasn't about to confide Sarah's problems with strangers. "It's… complicated, I'm afraid."
The old woman left the two out by the table where the oil lamp was still burning and brought herself before the sickly girl in bed. Ioreth sat beside the bundle of blankets on the floor, not yet with a cot, and stroked Sarah's hair from her pasty face in the dark. "Oh, child… I should never have agreed to go with you… I should have made you stay. Foolish, girl! You'll kill yourself with thoughts like these…"
I opened my eyes and was immediately blinded.
There was no sound for a long time. Just a buzz. The buzz became a beep and with a sensation like plastic rustling in my ear, I heard an excited voice beside me.
"—God! She's …up! Waking—!"
The secret I had kept closest was being unfolded before me. The split between dimensions I had felt all along. My mind rattled with the possibility I would not wake up in Middle-Earth and I opened my eyes, hoping beyond all hope…
What I saw was certainly not Middle-Earth. A flat tiled ceiling and a colorful blue balloon in my peripheral. I tried to lift my head, but the strain was too great with no result, so I gave up trying to move my neck.
"Sarah? Sarah, can you hear me? It's Mommy! Mommy's here, baby! Can you look at me?"
Rolling my eyes as much as I could to my right, I saw my mother. Her hair was a lot shorter than I remembered, cropped closely under her chin. Her eyes were puffy and red and her face was wrinkled. She had gained some weight, too.
I couldn't form words. There was something in my mouth anyways. I could barely feel it though. My lips told me it was plastic and I was salivating all over it, but I didn't know what it could be or where it went. It touched my throat, but after that, it just disappeared.
When I looked back at my mother, she was standing. She shouted something at the door before frantically sitting back down again. I saw my hand in hers, but I didn't know she had been holding it. Guess I couldn't feel that either.
"Mr. McLaughlin…? Yes, your wife… – daughter Sarah." A voice that belonged to a ponytailed nurse in pink informed the man in the hall. He sprinted into the room and took a seat next to Mom.
The absence of hair threw me off along with the new, darker rimmed glasses. He had a tie hastily thrown about his neck that I was dying to fix and he was much thinner than I remembered. Dad.
"Hey, honey…" He smiled at me, resting his hand on mine. "Can you hear me, Sarah?"
"I'm afraid she won't be able to recognize you." A doctor whose presence had gone unnoticed by me until now spoke up from my left. "The brain damage—"
"But look at her eyes!" My mother defended me. "She's looking right at us!"
"Confusion. And curiosity is my guess." The doctor nodded. I couldn't look to my left as far as I could to my right, so I had no idea what he looked like. His voice sounded like he was past fifty.
My father tried to talk to me anyways. "Sarah, you were in an accident. Do you remember?"
Of course I remembered the accident! The scraping of metal and the crunch of the car's shell and motor were forever imprinted in my brain. A brain that this doctor said I didn't have. I tried to tell my father that yes, I remembered. I'm so sorry for going on that stupid ride! I didn't even want to go…! I tried to tell them to slow down! God, where are they? And what happened to you guys? Why does everything look—?
"—tried to warn you that this might happen." The doctor was calmly explaining. "To put it out right, I'm afraid she's more or less a vegetable."
A vegetable?-! How dare you!
"Is there any hope for rehabilitation?" Dad asked.
My mother wiped her eyes at the doctor's negative response. "Sarah? Sarah, it's okay… Can she hear us?"
"I highly doubt it." The doctor lied again and then tried to comfort them.
I can hear you! I can see you! I'm not stupid! I'm… trapped. I'm trapped in this stupid, numb body and my mouth won't work and I'm scared and I want to feel my legs and I want to go home where Alatar is and I want to see Ioreth – God, what was going on?
Mom covered her mouth and the monitor started to beep louder. The doctor went about fixing it as I realized why my head felt so heavy. My body felt… gone. I gave my mother the most questioning look I could muster, but she didn't understand. She held my hand to her face and rocked back and forth, saying something I was having trouble hearing.
My father tried to fill me in, set on his own track of rehabilitating me against the doctor's prospects. "Sarah, you're twenty-six. If you can hear me, blink, okay?"
I tried to blink, but I wasn't sure if it worked for some reason. I was having trouble with the easiest tasks…
My parents got excited, so I must've blinked. The doctor hadn't made any noises in awhile. I started to wonder if he left.
"Sarah, you're paralyzed – don't panic, okay? You broke your neck in the accident." Daddy said slowly and carefully. "You'll be okay though, alright? You're okay, kiddo."
"Sh, sh—" Mom stroked my face.
It hit me all at once. Asleep for eight years. Paralyzed. Broken neck. Middle-Earth? How had the passage of time differed so greatly? Was it all a dream I was having? Back in this reality, it was hard to believe any of it was real. But… I had to go back! I wanted to go back. In that world I had Ioreth. I couldn't leave her… I had a loyal, beautiful steed. I had the honor of speaking with the greatest King of Men. I had friends in the Shire. I had met the White Wizard. I had seen the beauty of the elves and the skill of the dwarves. I had known what it was like to be in love, even if I lost it. I had legs.
I started to panic. What if I lost all of that? What had I lost here? My siblings had spent eight years without me – where was Stephanie now? Lord, she would be in high school. Simon wasn't a baby anymore. What was he climbing now? Certainly not the refrigerator.
I want to go home! I want to go home!
My words fell on deaf ears. All that came out was a strange, garbled moaning noise as I tried to speak with the tube in my mouth. I doubted my tongue would work in this world if the tube was gone. All too soon I realized I didn't have my braces anymore. But instead of feeling elated, I felt the opposite. Most of my teeth had been knocked out.
I tried to scream and push and do anything, but I could not. All I could do was moan and prove the doctor's point that I was just a vegetable who didn't know who or what anything was. I was dumb.
The only thing I could do was cry. Tears tracked down my face and Mom brushed them away, ignoring her own. The doctor was suddenly at my side and a light was shining in my face. The monitor buzzed angrily and a nurse swung around the corner. The doctor shouted something and the nurse left, returning a second later with two nurses behind her and a stand of equipment.
Mom was speaking, but I couldn't hear her again. Dad was trying to comfort me, too, but it was useless. I stared at them, trying my best to communicate. Let me go… Let me go…
Was I going to die? Would it be possible to go back?
I suddenly knew. And I felt glad.
The connection was about to be broken. I would be loyal to one life. And unrequited love was nothing compared to all of this. I would rather live in a world where I knew that I had lost… than feel nothing at all.
"Lrr…" I grumbled through the mouth piece.
The nurses were moving around my parents, doing their best with them in the way. They weren't going anywhere.
"Lee…" I tried again. "Leett… grrr… Leeet… grrroo… Lett gro… goo…"
My mother nodded, looking me straight in the eye. Clutching mother's shoulder, Dad asked what I was saying and she repeated it. "Let go."
With all my might, I found that God was merciful. I shakily squeezed her hand and smiled before my eyelids blocked out the harsh lights and my ears tuned out the shouts.