A Thousand Miles by Talullah

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Chapter 1

Legendarium Ladies April - Prompts for April 27 - Amnesty Week
General Prompt: Animal Companions
Picture Prompt: The Dangerous Journey, by Tove Jansson

Poetry Prompt: Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

The title and a line of speech were lifted from the poem.

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I was always my father’s favourite, and also my grandfather’s, although he tried not to be too obvious. Whenever he caught himself indulging me to an excess, or more often, when my grandmother chided him for it, he would say “I have many grandsons - granddaughters, I only have Vardilmë.”

My brothers Amandil and Aulendil never seemed to be bothered by this preference, neither did my cousins, but later, when Nolondil was born and I was temporarily forgotten, I was the one to be a little jealous. It was my father, the great but often forgotten Vardarmir Nólimon, who consoled me then, but in his quite peculiar way, as if, deep down he was laughing a little at me, in the kind way of one who loves you.

He said, “Daughter mine, light of my eyes. Do not be sad that everyone only has eyes for the baby. You are nineteen, a grown woman.” I was not very convinced, but he told me, with a wink, “I feel that one day he will be a great friend to you.”

A chill laden of foreboding ran down my spine at those words. I thought of talking to Aunt Tindómiel about it, but she was out in one of her mysterious voyages that left my grandmother at her wit’s end. Soon, I forgot whatever apprehension or jealousy I may have felt, and I realized I was being foolish and immature. My mother became ill and for a few months, I was a second mother to Nólimon.

He grew up, always a little frail, unlike the other children of the family, but we did become the best of friends. There was so much love then. Grandfather, the mighty Elros Tar-Myniatur, king of the star-shaped island, made sure to spend time with all his children and grandchildren. My grandmother, albeit not as expansive as he was, made sure that the family gatherings always had plenty of food, and toys and a place to rest for the littlest ones. My uncles and my aunt were loving and attentive and visited us often. My cousins were our best friends and whenever we were together, we would have so much fun, out on the sea, when in the house that grandfather had built for us in Nindámos, or riding horses, playing music, inventing theatre plays. Even after we were all adults, each with their different interests and friends of our own, we still loved to be all together.

On several occasions, my brother Amandil tried to convince me that, despite the close blood relationship, our cousin Azgarzîr would be a good match for me, as we already were great friends, but, perhaps because of Mother’s insistence that I should be married early, I kept that thought at bay and Azgarzîr, although always gentle and warm, after many years of quiet pursuit, retired to the North where his father, uncle Aulendil, had lands and kept his house.

But there was another. My grandfather made a point of receiving and hearing the representatives of the many peoples and tribes who lived in Elenna, and there was this chieftain whose son always looked at me so intensely that I blushed and my stomach clenched. Bêlzagar was his name and he lived in Ondosto. I remember, one time, when we first started speaking, him telling me that we should go there on a state visit sometime, to see and try the thermal waters. I was delighted at his description of the warm, yellowish water and frightened at the thought of it emerging from the cracks in the earth. What fires might be burning underneath our feet? Bêlzagar laughed and touched my hand, making my heart flutter.

When finally my grandfather visited Ondosto, he made it a family affair. I had overheard my father and mother speaking of it and of Bêlzagar in particular, and I knew that, although they would rather have my cousin as son-in-law, they were willing to accept a young man of a respectable and well-placed family, such as Bêlzagar’s. And he had been charming with them, as he was with everybody.

We did many things on that visit. While my father and grandfather often held closed meetings with Bêlzagar’s father and other noblemen of the land, the young people of the family enjoyed the beautiful landscape and the famed baths. I was embarrassed at how my linen shift clung to my body when I was too hot and had to rise from the water for a little bit to cool under the chill wintry breeze, but Bêlzagar’s eyes devoured me, making me feel indescribable things, so exquisite and mortifying simultaneously. And I think that my eyes betrayed me more than once as I looked at his body too, so perfectly chiseled. Fortunately, the clouds of steam covered those glances or so I hoped.

He had a sister and brothers and we all quickly became friends. I was thrilled when she asked me to stay behind and spend a little more time with them. The rest is known history - the dazzling love story of the high princess and the son of the nobleman of the land. We married in Spring, under flowering pear trees, with our large families gathered for the event. The children ran and made noise, the adults ate, drunk, laughed, danced and I was so happy that I could not speak or eat or even breathe, at times.

We retired early, under the laughter and jests of the bawdiest members of the group and by the time we were behind closed doors, I was already unraveling, shivering at every single one of his touches, my body betraying me in delicious ways. I whimpered when he kissed me, and, despite the nervousness, it did not seem odd to have him remove my complicated dress, while touching me all over, except where I ached for it the most. He was hard and made me feel it with my hand, then between my thighs. I thought I would die of pleasure, I never wanted his hands to leave my breasts, my backside. And then he entered me, whispering, “So wet,” in my ear and it hurt but he stilled inside me and touched my hair and my cheek with his fingertips, kissed me softly, and soon I barely felt the pain, only more and more pleasure.

We were happy, for a time, so happy. He spent the day with his father and brothers, hearing those who came to them for advice or settling disputes, overseeing farm work, hunting, and I spent my days with the two maids who had come with me from Armenelos and with the women of his family, spinning, weaving, embroidering, gossiping. We met at night and it was wonderful to hear about his day and to sleep together, after quenching our thirst for each other.

He was so happy when he noticed the swell in my belly. I was happy too, but fearful, uneasy in some remote part of me. Aunt Tindómiel came to stay with us for a while and, although all due courtesy was paid to her, I felt that they had not truly welcomed her. I said to myself that it was because she was the daughter of the king, and also because she was a little eccentric, something that we had all grown so accustomed to that we barely noticed.

But then, when the baby was due, my mother came and again I felt a certain coldness toward her, despite all the shows of friendship and respect. Bêlzagar, in particular, seemed intent in always being present, but much more silent than he would normally be. I made light of it, blaming myself and the often tearing state that I found myself after the birth.

For a while, things seemed to be the same, but more and more often Bêlzagar tarried in his affairs and spent less time at home with me. I mentioned it once to his sister, my closest friend in Ondosto, and she quickly told me that he had much to worry about and that I should be more tolerant. I was shocked by her dismissal but quickly convinced myself that she was right and tried to be more patient and generous with my husband. And, for a while, we were happy again. Our son grew up fast, the only child of the fourth generation of my family, as Amandil was in no hurry to have children, and we were often visited by my brothers and cousins.

Bêlzagar was attentive again and our bed was warm. Soon, I was with child again, but before the time was up I started bleeding and it died inside me. Bêlzagar comforted me and life went on. If, sometimes, I felt lonely or that there was some distance between us, despite the appearance of normality on the surface, I told myself that it was the effect of having been so much the darling of my family and that it was mere childishness on my part to wish for more.

But gradually, there was no denying. Bêlzagar started coming home late, again, smelling of wine, too tired or imbibed to search for my bed. By this time our child was a little man of five years old, so intelligent and precocious, so sensitive and full of joy. He was a delight and, although my marriage was not as warm and harmonious as those of my family, I still felt that I could not complain. Bêlzagar was an attentive father, in his own way, and had started to take our child with him to the hearings and the farm. I forbade the hunting, as it was too soon, and Bêlzagar had promised to respect my wishes.

Our son adored him and so did I, although the longing for the first times of our marriage kept haunting me. Letters kept coming from my family and Nolondil and Aunt Tindómiel often came by to see us, although they never stayed for long.

When our son was seven, the unthinkable happened. I shall not speak of it, safe for the barest facts. Bêlzagar thought he was old enough to ride a horse. I believe, to this day, that he thought he was doing the best for his son and that he chose the tamest animal he could find. But it was too soon.

I was surprised, in my grief, to be blamed for not knowing how to control my husband, as if he were a child and I his mother. Bêlzagar’s mother and sister were relentless in assuaging his guilt by blaming me. Bêlzagar would drink every and tried to make another child in me when I felt no inclination. All that was good between us disappeared and the chasm seemed unsurmountable. But still I tried, even in my grief, to forgive him and to love him, for I was sure that he had never meant for that to happen.

Nolondil came by often, during those dark days. He was the only light in my life, the only person who I could call a friend. But Nolondil had his own life and could never stay long. And he was not welcome by my husband, who developed an insane jealousy of my brother.

I could see no way out of this misery, when another child died in my womb, as the others before. Nolondil brought me a kitten, from an exotic breed the elves had left as a gift. It was useless as a mouser and it was no child, and certainly not my dear, dear son, but I could love her and she loved me back. Soon, my kitten had grown and had a litter of her own. I cared for the ugly little mongrels until they were beautiful cats, a few more like their mother, others, quite similar to the local orange-striped vagabonds.

Bêlzagar disapproved of my attachment to the cats and said a few ugly words about it, even knowing that I found in the cats what he found in his drinking - solace and forgetness.

The final drop was when, in one drunken night, he brought home a woman, a tavern whore, judging by her looks and laid her to our bed. I left the room crying and ran to his sister’s house, who let me stay the night, but quickly excused her brother and his actions, reminding me, in the process, that I could not give him a child. Such cruelty, such disappointment… I thought I could live no longer.

The next morning, I went to the warm baths, walking the long road all by myself. As I sat to rest for a while, I gazed at a pond that the rain had formed by the road, the night before, and I did not recognize myself. I no longer drew or played music, as those were not activities my mother-in-law found useful; I had been pregnant five times and the only child I had carried to term had died too soon; my beauty had faded, for, although my face still had not a mark of the years, there was no freshness in it, only a bitter smile and a dull gleam in my eyes. My husband did not love me. I remembered the words Nolondil had whispered to me the last time he had visited, as we said goodbye: “You do not have to be good. Not this way. You do not have to live buried in despair. Come home. You will always have a place there.”

I had been shocked then, but now, I heard the larks and I smelled the flowers and felt something like life stirring in my soul. I would never forget or stop loving my child but there was nothing more that I could do by Bêlzagar’s side and that I had committed no sin that deserved such a punishment of continued despair.

I walked on to the baths, to visit them for the last time in my life. When I returned, by dusk, Bêlzagar was frantic, accusing me of deserting him, apologizing for the previous night, even as he made excuses for himself. I let him speak, as our years together had shown me that there was no point in trying to argue. As he spoke, for a moment or two, I doubted myself, and wondered if I should not change my heart, but I kept in my mind’s eye the beautiful way my father had always been devoted to my mother, and her to him. I might not have given Bêlzagar the large family he wanted but, looking back, there had always been something missing between us. I would leave him and, in time, he might even find another woman, if he dared to face the king’s wrath. But, for my part, I made no point in having my grandfather or my father exert any sort of punishment or vengeance. I was done here.

I asked the maid I had left to pack a few things. I expected opposition or an attempt to dissuade me, but she seemed relieved and promptly obeyed. Bêlzagar made a few threats but in the end just sat as I prepared to leave his house forever, with his head falling to his knees. I felt sorry for him, and for a moment I remembered the handsome, gentle young man who had won my heart. But Bêlzagar was not him anymore, perhaps had never been.

We left by dawn, not to Armenelos. I could not face my father, not yet. Despite the firmness of my decision to abandon a life that was slowly extinguishing everything good in me, I knew I was not ready to face the whispers of court, nor did I want to present myself as a living reminder of a family scandal. I did not want any more strife or hurt for myself or others. I rode out toward Mittalmar. Nolondil had set his house there, I suppose to be close to me.

He welcomed me and after a few weeks of rest, and after a few letters of Bêlzagar, I decided that I was too close to danger, the danger of again doubting myself and believing that, after years of trying without success to build a happy life for the both of us, I could return to a different home.

With the help of Nolondil, who, with Aunt Tindómiel, seemed to have seen things clearly all along, I settled in the forgotten village of Almaida, by the sea, with my cats, with my faithful maid, and lived a simple life, with occasional visits from my family.

With time, there were more cats and more company. Azgarzîr came once and offered himself to me. But, even though now I saw that it would have been much better to have chosen the cousin and good friend that he was instead of the dazzling stranger, I could not bring myself to accept it, knowing that with me, he would never have the privilege of walking down the street, head held up high with his wife by his side. And that there would probably be no children, considering my history.

He never married, though, and kept coming by, staying longer and longer. Aunt Tindómiel came often and spent her last days in my house. Nolodil and his beautiful, gentle wife, too. And slowly, a trickle of women who had been unfortunate in their lives and begged me for help. I gave them shelter for a while, wrote to my relatives to find them safe havens where they could rebuild their lives and raise their children, when they had them. Even my niece Mairen came to my door, at least, from a marriage that did not seem much better than my own.

I loved them all in all the ways that I could, but each evening, as dusk fell, my thoughts were for my child, as I saw gazing at the first stars and the last light reflected on the waves, surrounded by my beloved cats.

 

This was my story. My longer years were happy, I think, even though they were nothing like what I expected in my youth. I hold no regrets or hatred in my heart. It was long journey, but I was fortunate to have so much love, even when I tried to run away from everyone.

Finis
May 2020

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Chapter End Notes

For those who may not have present the geography of Númenor, Almaida is a tiny dot on the westernmost region of the island, so Vardilmë went as far away as she could.

OMC names from Real Elvish.