Chapter 3 - Shelter from the Rain
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The wind was rising and the puny tree beneath which Eeyore was sitting did not provide him much of a shelter.
"Just keeps gettin' better," he grumbled to himself as a bunch of damp leaves landed straight onto his head, splashing cold water all over his face. "I'll probably catch a cold at this rate. Just the kind of thing that always happens to me."
As he was uneffectively trying to wipe the water from his eyes with his long ears, Eeyore suddenly grew aware that the rain had stopped hammering his drenched fabric, though strangely, he could now hear its loud rattle resounding even more distinctly around him. When he looked up, he was puzzled not to find himself staring into the starless sky through the barren branches above, but rather at a large circular shape that appeared to be hovering over him. His head swiveled around and there at his side stood a familiar silhouette, holding up an umbrella twice as wide as its own small stature above them both.
"Piglet?" he almost exclaimed in his astonishment. "What are you doing here? No one should be outside at a time like this."
"W-well... I was..." began the smaller animal, stopping to catch his breath before he could resume his explanation. "Actually, I was thinking the same thing, Eeyore. I couldn't sleep knowing that you were outside in this weather because of us, so I t-thought I should invite you to come spend the night inside with Pooh and me... but w-when I got to your place, I could not see you anywhere and... and then I found your note."
Piglet's breathing had almost slowed back to normal by then, but his back was slouched and his short legs were wavering with apparent fatigue.
"How did you get here on your own?" inquired Eeyore, deliberately straying from the point.
"I, uh... well, I followed the path through the forest, but I had no idea where you could be. I was s-s-so afraid that I had lost my way and I'd never find you. Then I saw this g-great hill and it reminded me of the place where I've always been able to find you, at home... I know how much you like the view from the hilltop, so I was r-really hoping that if you had come this way, you would have stopped here. You don't know how relieved I am to see you!"
Piglet demonstrated his affirmation by throwing himself forward to wrap his free arm tightly around the closest one of his companion's much thicker front legs.
Eeyore's features lightened up almost imperceptibly as he looked down at him.
"So you came all the way here just to find me?"
"Why, y-yes," answered Piglet as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, finally letting go to meet his questioning gaze. "I was t-terribly worried that something might have happened to you."
"Really?" Eeyore sounded genuinely surprised. "Don't see why that should matter so much to you, but thanks for your concern. Sorry you went through all that trouble for nothin'."
Piglet was so shocked that he almost lost his grasp on the umbrella, causing it to sway dangerously in the inconstant breeze.
"Wha-what are you saying, Eeyore? You're my friend. Of course you matter to me! And to all the others at home, too. Why did you leave us? D-d-did we do something wrong? Please, let me know if... if we said something that hurt you, or if there's something we should have done. M-maybe if I had tried harder to find your tail, or if I had offered to help you rebuild your house..."
"It's not that," said Eeyore, shaking his head despondently.
"N-no? But, then... what's the matter?"
"You don't really want to know, do you?" asked the donkey, looking at him dejectedly, only to avert his gaze almost immediately. "It's okay. Didn't think you would. You don't have to pretend to be interested, you know. Tell the others they don't need to worry about me. I'll be fine."
Piglet was hurt by his companion's assumption that he did not care to hear him out, but tried not to show it as he uselessly shifted his feet around the large puddle he could not avoid standing in.
"You won't really, though... will you, Eeyore?" He waited a few seconds for an answer that did not come, before adding tentatively, "I do wish you would tell me why you couldn't stay. That's why I'm here."
Eeyore appeared unsure for a moment.
"Nothing interesting to it, really, but since you insist..." he let out a hollow sigh. "You saw what happened back there, Piglet. You all tried so hard to cheer me up once more, but I ruined it for all of you. Haven't been very grateful, have I? Didn't feel like doing anything cheerful, to be honest, but I suppose I should have let you all give it yet another try without complaining and pretended to feel better, if only for the sake of showin' some appreciation for your efforts. Sayin' what really was on my mind only made everybody upset. Should've expected that. After you all left, I thought for a while and realized things would most likely never change. Figured I'd been bothering you long enough and you'd all be better off without me, as some of you seemed to think so. That's why I decided to leave."
Piglet's big leaf-shaped ears, which had been drooping lower and lower as he listened, now hung down limply against the back of his pear-shaped head. He asked with a weak, strangled voice,
"You... you really thought we wouldn't mind if you were gone? That we could j-just let you walk out of our lives forever without even trying to stop you?"
"Thought you might not notice," replied Eeyore sullenly with a shrug.
Piglet was so mortified that it took him a moment to compose himself enough to speak again.
"Oh, Eeyore... How can you believe we could p-p-possibly be happier without you?"
Eeyore did not answer, but his head seemed to grow heavier, as though its stuffing had been replaced with lead marbles.
"No one thinks you're a bother. We didn't leave because of you. It-it's, actually, it was... w-we just had to..."
Piglet trailed off lamentably, failing to come up with a convincing argument.
"Can't blame you," Eeyore said resignedly, still staring straight ahead into the nothingness. "I can see why no one would want to stay around for long. Someone as hopeless as me's bound to draw others away, and yet as troublesome as I may be, you keep tryin' to make me feel like I belong. Rabbit's right, though; I don't have to keep dragging you down with me all the time. My problems aren't yours and I know you've got more important things to do than hear about 'em."
"W-w-well, I guess he just... I mean, we... thought you wanted to be alone..."
Piglet's words had decreased in volume and sounded more like a question than a statement.
"Just to be left alone," he thought he heard Eeyore rectify quietly.
An uncomfortable stillness set in, only disturbed by the dreary weather raging on around them. Piglet felt that he ought to speak some word of encouragement, but he found himself unable to come up with something wise to say. Feeling smaller than ever, he stood anxiously by his downhearted friend's side, until at last he decided to make a desperate attempt to break the deafening silence.
"We never wanted you to leave, Eeyore. Everyone would be awfully s-sad if you weren't there anymore. There's so much good in you that makes the forest a better place..."
He did not see Eeyore roll his eyes in response, but he did hear his incredulous snort.
"I really think so!" Piglet persisted, stretching his neck in a vain attempt to establish eye contact. "You may be gloomy at times... a-alright, most of the time, but it doesn't matter! That doesn't take away all the things that make you a great friend. You're thoughtful, p-p-patient and generous, and very loyal. Y-you see beauty in things most of us never pay attention to; you let others have the f-first pick even if that means you get nothing and you're always ready to lend a paw whenever there's a friend in need. R-remember when you tried to save Roo from the river by letting him hold on to your tail..."
"Didn't really help from upstream," muttered Eeyore.
"... or when you went out on your own in the great rainstorm to s-search for a new home for Owl, until you found the perfect place..."
"That was your house, wasn't it?" Eeyore interrupted mournfully, his massive head sagging between his shoulders. "Only found out afterwards. Yet another thing I did wrong. Sorry you lost it 'cause of me."
"N-n-no, no, it's fine, really!" Pigglet stammered, suddenly wishing he had not brought it up. "It was much too big a house for such a small animal as myself, anyway, and now I get to enjoy breakfast with my best friend every day! I guess what I m-meant to say is... we don't always know how to express our concern, but you're a v-very important member of our big family and always will be. No one could ever replace you, Eeyore."
Piglet felt that he might as well have been urging the tree to go running down the hill and up again. Seeing that trying to convince his taciturn companion of his sincerity was not getting him anywhere and feeling more discouraged with every failed attempt at getting any positive response out of Eeyore, he anxiously twisted his hands around the wooden handle that seemed to grow heavier with each passing minute and merely concluded,
"We honestly do like having you around, n-not because of anything you can do, but simply because we think of you as a very dear friend and we care a lot about you. Do you... d-do you not believe that we do?"
Still getting no reaction, Piglet gave up, letting the tormented night have the last word. He felt terribly awkward and a growing fear that all his efforts were only making matters worse was internally urging him to simply leave the lethargic donkey be and hope that he would eventually come to his senses by himself. Any attempt to reach him appeared to be utterly useless so far.
Still, Piglet's sensitive conscience kept him from turning away. Eeyore had always seemed to be made of heavier stuff than any other animal he knew ‒ and Piglet had sometimes wondered if the sawdust he was filled with might somehow be partly responsible for that ‒ and yet, as dark as his outlook on life could get, Eeyore never cried; he never seemed to get overwhelmed with worry or disappointment, to lose his temper or to become emotional over anything, no matter how distraught anybody else would have been in many of the situations he had so placidly faced. The worst possible misfortune was all he ever expected to come to him and whenever it did not, it was only a matter of time before he would be proven right. He never reached out or asked his friends for anything, nor even expected them to pay him any mind, only following them from a distance when they insisted on including him. He so seldom expressed any kind of emotion, aside from his seemingly eternal pessimism, that it was to be wondered if time had rendered him too numb to feel anything at all, which tended to be intimidating for such a sensitive animal as Piglet. Yet, as the latter looked at his friend's still form, hunched over miserably in his frozen stoicism, he found an outburst of sympathy rising in his tender heart, which he soon found himself unable to conceal any longer. Without risking another word, he took a small step to stand closer to him and reached out hesitantly.
Sensing the tiny paw that had come to rest gently on his side, Eeyore raised his head slightly. Casting his persistant companion a weary side glance, he could hardly tell if what he thought he could see glistening faintly on Piglet's chubby cheeks were tears or raindrops. Finally, his dull voice rose again.
"I know you all worry about me, even though I must be a pain to have for a friend. Just find it hard to believe anyone could really want me around."
He paused, swiftly consulting Piglet's inquisitive stare, before averting his again. His voice dropped even lower, as did his entire posture, as he went on.
"After my first owner grew tired of playing with me and gave me up, I never dared to get my hopes up again. After all, nothing lasts forever. Wish I could feel at home among my friends, but I always have the feeling that it's just a matter of time before they'll have enough too. I know I'm not easy to live with. I'm boring and moody and I got nothin' nice to say. Doesn't look like things'll get better any time soon and I can't expect others to bear with me indefinitely, so I prefer to leave than to wait for them to throw me a goin' away party, if you see what I mean."
Piglet's arm, which had slowly retracted back to his side, suddenly went up to his mouth in shocked realisation as he recalled the incident that Eeyore was alluding to, and how the latter had immediately assumed that his friends wanted him gone, when all they had been trying to hint at was just that he let Pooh have his own house back. Without offering any opposition or even asking why, as though he had long known that moment would come sooner or later, he had merely turned his back on them and grimly trotted out the door. At the time, Piglet had been confused by his reaction, but never had the thought occurred to him that Eeyore might actually take it as a cue to leave the Hundred Acre Wood. Now he could feel a shudder crawling up his back at the thought that they could have lost him so easily that day, had Tigger not had the presence of mind to go after him right away.
"I... I'm sorry, I didn't know..." he stammered. "You had never talked about that before. W-why didn't you tell us?"
"No one ever asked me," came Eeyore's reply. "Didn't want to bother you with my depressing story. Thought it wouldn't make much difference, anyway."
Piglet was now staring at his own feet, which had started tracing circles in the damp grass.
"I'm sorry, Eeyore," he said. "I-I don't know what to say."
"Ain't much to say about it," Eeyore shrugged.
"I really wish there was something I could do," Piglet sighed defeatedly, fiddling with the handle again.
Eeyore looked up at the underside of the umbrella that Piglet was still holding above him, although the rain was falling much more softly now.
"You're already doing a lot," he observed, his voice slightly warmer.
"But it's not enough," said Piglet quietly. "It's just... I really want to be a g-good friend, but I don't know how. I always fear that I'm too small to do anything important. I feel I can't be strong or b-brave enough to be helpful to those I care about and it scares me to think I might let them down. S-sometimes, I even wonder if they need me at all..."
Noticing Eeyore's troubled stare, Piglet realized that he had gotten lost in his own thoughts and quickly added, "But even if they don't say it often, I know they see something good in me and that makes me want to believe it too. I'm lucky to have friends who love me the way I am. I know they love you as well, Eeyore, a-and so do I. What can we do to show you we care?"
"Nothing you haven't already tried," said Eeyore, shaking his head. "Even though you're good friends, I never expected you to make everything alright. I know you mean well, but I'd rather you didn't try so hard and then resent me when all your efforts fail to make me feel better. Wish I could stop being so gloomy all the time, but I can't. Maybe that's just part of being me. Must be frustrating for those who live around me. I'm not good at showing it, but I really am thankful for all you've done. Especially you, little Piglet. You've always had a heart that's too big for your own size and better ears to listen than most, and there you are again, braving this storm in the middle of the night to look over a grumpy old donkey."
His voice softened at this, though he remained grim. Since Piglet was staying quiet, he went on. "I appreciate that you've wanted to make me happy all this time. It's not your fault that I'm not. Don't know why I can't be like the rest of you. Even when I bother to try, I just make others feel uncomfortable or lose their patience, like the time I made a mess of things by wanting to be like Tigger. It's no use. I'm tired, Piglet. Tired of being the one who needs to be cheered up all the time and who can never return the favor, tired of pretending that I'll be fine when I know I won't and of being a burden to you all. Wish I could be a little ray of sunshine like you, but all I bring about is rain. Seems I can't help being what I am, so I don't want to ruin your happiness with my presence any longer."
It took Piglet a few seconds to pull himself together, with the brisk realization that even after all that had been said, he was still losing this battle.
"B-b-but you don't, Eeyore!" he replied earnestly, his voice rising higher from the fear seizing him. "I... the others and I really don't mind if you don't say much and if you can't cheer. You don't need to be like Tigger or anybody else. We like you the way you are and j-just having you with us is all we'll ever need of you. We never wanted to change you into something you're not or to put p-pressure on you..."
He fell quiet as a frown seemed to crease Eeyore's brow, fillling him with guilt, but if it lingered there for a fleeting moment, the blink of an eye erased it as swiftly as it had appeared and what had seemed to Piglet like a reproachful scowl had already faded back to the forlorn expression he had come to view as his friend's normal state.
"I'm sorry," Piglet said again, his voice fading down so low that it became difficult to hear over the gentle dripple above. "I hadn't realized... We-we only hoped that we could help you, in our own very clumsy way, because... well, we thought that's what you would expect f-friends to do. We didn't mean to make you feel worse by insisting so much. P-please forgive us if we did."
This time, there was no mistaking the sniffling sound that went by Eeyore's ear. He turned to see Piglet, who was wiping his eyes with the back of his free hand. Hanging his head close to the ground, Eeyore moaned in a voice grimmer than ever,
"See, now I've made you cry. Told you I'm only good at making my friends as miserable as I am."
Piglet sniffled again. "No, it-it's not you, Eeyore. I'm crying because, be-because I had no idea how you felt. I had always assumed that you were just being uselessly negative and that all you needed was something fun to take your mind off whatever bad things you made up. I never thought of asking you what you really wanted, n-never dared to take the things you said seriously... as if ignoring all the pain I didn't want to see could somehow make it all go away. Now I wish I had gone to see you long before you decided to leave. I should have taken the time to listen to you and t-tried to understand instead of wanting to solve things my own easy way. I think... I think I was scared, because seeing you always so s-sad, it breaks my heart and makes me feel so helpless. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better, but I just d-don't know any way of doing that and I feel like I've failed you. I'm sorry I haven't been a better friend for you when you needed one."
Eeyore opened his mouth to say something but found himself at a complete loss for words. He could only look at his tearful companion, unusual distress contorting his features. Being so acutely aware of his own feelings, it seemed he had somehow come to forget that even the merriest and friendliest of his companions could be hurt as well.
"I didn't mean..." he began ruefully, only to stop short as he detected a change in the cool air.
Although the rain had considerably died down, the wind was rapidly getting stronger. It caught in Piglet's umbrella, making him lose his balance and fall on his rear. As it began to pull him backward toward the slope, Eeyore extended a leg to stop his motion and moved aside so as to be sat right behind him, thus preventing him from sliding further away.
"You should go home while you still can. Looks like the wind's rising up again and I don't think I could ever forgive myself if it carried you away because of me. Was awfully nice of you to come 'round. It's good to be heard, sometimes."
Sitting up with his back propped against the donkey's stout knee, Piglet looked up at him, his black eyes still brimming with tears.
"Come back home with me," he begged. "Life at the Hundred Acre Wood wouldn't b-be the same without you. You know that Christopher Robin would go searching everywhere for you. It was you who found him when he ran away and who led him back to us, and w-when he's sad, not even his best friend can understand him the way you do. He really needs you. We all need you, Eeyore. P-p-please, don't leave us. You can live with Pooh and me until we have your house rebuilt, or for as long as you want, and I'll make sure that you won't be bothered anymore."
Eeyore seemed to consider this for a second, but then he shook his head, his long ears dangling heavily on each side of his massive head.
"That's very kind, little Piglet, perhaps the kindest thing I've ever been told, but it wouldn't change the fact that I'd still be gloomy and make you all feel sorry for me. Things can't go on like this forever. I'd rather stay here, where I can't hurt anyone's feelings... aside from mine, at least. Life will go on more happily for you now and you'll most likely forget me soon enough, though I won't forget any of you. Of all those I'm leaving behind, I think I'll miss you most. You're more helpful than you know. Be careful on your way back, my little friend."
Piglet suppressed an exasperated sob. "But... b-but I can't leave you here all alone in this rain!" he protested, getting back up to face his stubborn companion.
A sudden draft blew again, this time snatching the umbrella out of his hands and taking it somewhere unseen, far away into the darkness. With a weak cry, Piglet plunged right back between the donkey's forelegs, which drew back protectively on either side of him as Eeyore told him,
"No need to worry about me. This isn't the first rainy night I'm spending outside. I'll live through it... probably. This tree will keep me company and in the morning I'll have wild flowers to talk to, maybe even some bugs if I'm lucky, though I can't say I usually am... Flowers have a lot of wisdom to share if you listen very closely, you know, and they might also be the best listeners you can find. I'll get used to living out here. It's a nice place, at least for someone who likes to have a great lonely hill for a home. Not like things could get much worse than they are."
As though to contradict him, a low rumble could be heard in the distance, announcing the passing of a nearby thunderstorm. Peering cautiously around his friend's bulky shoulder, Piglet looked back to the meadow down the hill and his eyes eagerly followed the trail that lead into the dark forest. A shiver ran down his spineless back at the thought of his warm bed waiting for him on the other side and, for a moment, he was cruelly tempted to answer its silent call. Nevertheless, his determination was growing stronger with every passing second, until finally he knew he had made up his mind. Letting out a longing sigh, he leaned back against his friend's broad chest, holding his knees together to rest his chin on.
"Aren't you going back, Piglet?" Eeyore asked him after a while.
"I'm staying with you," the little pig answered with more conviction than he usually had.
Eeyore's eyes grew wide and darted down to his companion.
"You can't possibly mean it. Why would you do that?" he asked, incredulous.
"Because you're my friend, Eeyore. I don't want to lose you."
"But what about the others?" Eeyore urged him again, concern suddenly all too audible in his voice. "You'd be missed, surely a lot more than I will. And wouldn't you come to miss them too? They're good company more often than not, unlike me."
Piglet's heart sank at the thought of his caring owner, his best friend the bear and all their neighbours, with whom he had forged strong bonds and known countless great adventures through the years.
"It's true, I'm going to m-m-miss my friends a lot," he said, struggling to hold back his tears, "but at least, I know they will always have each other and Christopher Robin to look after them. Being so small, m-maybe my absence will only make a small difference among them... but you, y-you're all alone here. What will you do if you ever need someone to be there for you?"
"Even if I do, I don't think anybody could really want the company of someone like me," said Eeyore, absently setting his gaze on a rock that was laying about his hoofless paws.
"I do," said Piglet, craning his neck to look up at him again. "You're important to me, Eeyore. I want to start being the friend I should have been all along, if you will only let me try."
"Makes no sense to me. I'm no fun to be around. Got nothing to offer. I'd only make you feel lonelier than you could ever get on your own, and you of all people deserve to be happy."
Piglet wrinkled his nose thoughtfully.
"W-well, I think fun isn't all that matters," he said. "When my friends are happy, it's only natural that I want to rejoice with them, but when they're not, I also want to share their sadness. I can't be happy knowing that someone I care about is hurt. D-don't you think that's what friends are supposed to be for?"
Somewhat destabilised by his insistance, Eeyore said defeatedly.
"You know I'm a lost cause, Piglet. You'd be wasting your time on me. I don't think I can be helped."
"Then I'll make sure that you will be loved, if it's all I can do," replied Piglet solemnly.
"You might grow weary of me," Eeyore warned him.
To that, Piglet shook his head vigorously.
"I won't ever give up on you, Eeyore."
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Silence fell upon the meadow, save for the rustling of leaves shaken by the autumn gale and the gentle sound of the rain, which was now little more than a drizzle, lazily dripping on them a few small drops at a time. Piglet let his drowsy gaze wander aimlessly into the empty night sky, his conflicted thoughts swirling so fast that they made him dizzy. The long road had been strenuous and his emotions had been intense. After a while, Piglet found himself dozing off despite the chilling night air, no longer able to fight the overwhelming exhaustion.
Eeyore sat still for a long time, his focus lost somewhere on the bleak horizon before him, until the moon finally found a patch of thinner clouds through which it managed to shine a pathetically dim light.
"There you are, old friend," he said, looking up into the ghostly glow over the land. "It's nice to see you again, though even with your soft light over me, it would be awfully lonely down here without a steady little friend to keep me company."
For all answer, the Moon bashfully drew back inside its refuge of shadows, refusing to let its pearly white face come any further out of the smothering clouds it had been hiding behind all evening.
"And there you go again. Already bored, I reckon. So much for conversation."
Feeling something stir against his leg, Eeyore set his attention back on Piglet, whose tiny form he could see more distinctly in the pale moonlight, still curled up into a tight sitting position with his head resting on his knees.
"You really care that much about me?" Eeyore murmured contemplatively, looking down at his frail companion, whose only answer was to shiver in his troubled sleep. "Why's beyond me. Fear I haven't been much of a friend in return. Rather not imagine what kind of a donkey I'd be if I let you throw everything away for my sake... Alright then."
Bowing down his head, Eeyore picked up the tiny pig on his big muzzle and let him slide down very carefully onto his back.
"Eeyore?" Piglet mumbled weakly, his eyes only briefly fluttering open.
"I'm right here," Eeyore said in his characteristic unexpressive voice. "Just hold on tight."
Unconsciously clinging to the donkey's thick neck, Piglet let his heavy eyelids drop again.
Throwing one last glance at the lonesome tree, Eeyore cautiously began to make his way down the wet slope. He slipped at mid-way, landing disgracefully on his chin and ending his descent much faster than he had intended to, looking very much like an overgrown and completely lost starfish. As he forcefully pulled himself back up, he was surprised to see that his slide down the hill had not even awakened Piglet.
"How very tired you must have been," said Eeyore as he slowly trotted on to reach the glistening path.