Rewind... by Nienna

Uinen watched her waters rise, betraying her, breaking through her defenses. She seethed, white foam filling in the rising-wall waves, and to her horror it only became worse. All these times, all the joy and secrecy bubbling within her finally burst, spreading, polemic and vast.

Uinen flung herself out of the water, elongating into a hroa that was reddish and voluptuous. She was in no mood for being gentle or small, and so her appearance reflected this state. She was fierce, (whirling dervish, in some other time) rushing to save the only one that had ever made her care, the one who made her feel thrillingly alive.

”Tar-Míriel! Tar-Míriel!” On what little land was left, she ran. She ran to the mountain, the high sputtering tower, and grabbed the one she loved who had been left to rot by fate. (By choice, she now realized. The choices of many, and the choice of the One. How could any live with such a choice?) She understood, of course, in some dimly lit understanding. How many times had she let lives be destroyed by the unfeeling waves in the name of progress or necessity. Towards perfection, perhaps, if such a thing could truly exist, if she could even want it to exist. “You must find Tar-Míriel!”, interrupted her mind. And there she was. Uinen swooped Tar-Míriel in her arms and, through no small task, forced Tar-Míriel’s body to conform to hers. Becoming water, strong and burning as a mountain, pushing back, to create a pocket of air surrounding Tar-Míriel. Uinen couldn’t hold it up for long.

Down they swam, she didn’t even know where anymore, in these waters that had once been her dominion. Away from the land that she didn’t used to care about. But now it was not just land. It was living (dying) memories of the particular feeling of so many precious times. Suffusing into the wind and rain in secret, catching Tar-Míriel by surprise, alone in her garden of yellow flowers…

The way Tar-Míriel grew to expect her when it rained, and ran far away from the palace to places that were all their own.

When Tar-Míriel proposed, neither one of them caring about her marriage to Pharazon, for of course they both knew it was political only.

The horrified bitterness in her throat whenever she thought of Tar-Míriel’s mortality, and yet the strange comfort and poignancy in staving it off together, in forcing it out of their minds.

As they drew near to a coral reef, Uinen stopped as her strength to hold the water back was fading. She was struggling to think. Through the fog, she saw that her wavering wall of water hadn’t been enough to hold back the sea. Tar-Míriel was unconscious and dying. Uinen panicked. Tar-Míriel was dying by the moment, because of her!  How could she have been so stupid? She let go of her pocket of air, unable to even try to hold it up. She held Tar-Míriel’s slumped body close, sobbing. Just adding to the flood, she thought bitterly.

Then she kissed her lips, and Tar-Míriel’s eyes opened for just a moment. Suddenly, she knew what to do. She may not be able to change the future, for it was not within the power of Maiar to rewrite the Music, but she could stay in the past. She had never done it before, but Ulmo had told her it was a skill the Maiar possessed. She might be able to keep Tar-Míriel alive by reliving memories. If nothing else, it would buy some time.

Rewind…

Uinen lifted every recess of strength she had left to take Tar-Míriel with her. To go back, together.

She let her subconscious find the moment that was right, too exhausted for anything more.

It was warm, and the calm waves lapped on the shore. The sun shone brightly in the sea-green foam, to which Tar-Míriel would be given for the next three days. It was her one-hundred and thirtieth birthday, mere weeks before she was required to marry Pharazon. She dreaded this inevitability more than she could tell.

Today was the start of the Sacrament of Uinen, during which she would plead for solace and protection. It was something of a rite of passage among the Faithful, although assigned to no specific part of their life. The Faithful still practiced the old rituals, although no longer were they given lavish temples or the simple joy of speaking openly. To be of the Faithful was to grow up in secrecy, never assuming, always judging the circumstances, always on guard.

Always biting your tongue.

And so the ritual to protect her was carried out in the back of a secluded, simple home along the water, the home of one of her mother’s friends. It was cool inside, with well oiled furniture and rugs too scratchy to be comforting. She had been preparing for this day for quite a while, as did all Faithful children, and she finally felt ready. Certainly more ready than she felt for her marriage.

In truth, Tar-Míriel had her own, private reason to be excited. She had seen a glimpse of Uinen a few times, and had been shocked at how beautiful she was. Uinen’s image had played over and over in her mind, inciting desire like no one else. Tar-Míriel would do almost anything to be near her. But she tried to shed such thoughts from her mind, knowing she had to focus on her entreaty.

Her mother and friends formed a circle around her, calling out in the ancient tongue that could never truly be called foreign. It was more comfortable in her mouth than anything else, even though her understanding was incomplete. She was steeped in the language, and it showed itself most especially in song. Before Tar-Míriel was to be given to the sea, the Faithful called out to Ilúvatar, asking him to guide her safely and bring her peace. They thanked Ilúvatar as well as Uinen for all they had been given, for the gift of this land and this day.

The procession opened the back door and stepped onto the sand. Three people, one whose life was dedicated to carrying out ceremonies, the other two close friends, were singing behind Tar-Míriel. Everyone else drew ever shifting shapes and symbols of what they wished would come to pass. They walked out onto the thin sandbar that had been built for this purpose until the sandbar reached its end, at least forty feet out into the water. Symbols and prayers washed away, swirling around Tar-Míriel. The others returned to shore.

She took a deep breath and dove down, not sure what she would find. She remained in the water all day, until her legs grew sore, trying to clear her mind of all but orison. Tired from swimming in concentration all day, she rested on the highest part of the sandbar. She loved the sea at night, she always had, and it now seemed even more stark and gorgeous, out in the middle of it. She watched the deep blue water, almost black, and the thousands of stars up above. She lost all track of time, falling fast asleep.

In the haziness of night she felt something near her, and looked down to see the water full of little blue lights. She gasped in amazement, watching them swirl through her hair and skin. Something was foggy in her mind, still on the edge of sleep.

She dipped her head under. When she lifted it up, Uinen was there, every bit as beautiful as she remembered, although clad in a different form. Uinen’s essence filled every form she took, so that despite their difference the same wonderful feeling emanated.

Tar-Míriel gasped in surprise.

She said somewhat wondrously, “To see you is all consolation.” Uinen blinked at her for a moment, and Tar-Míriel saw a flash of deep dismay. Uinen reached forward and kissed her.

Tar-Míriel wondered briefly if Uinen kissed everyone who came out to fulfill the Sacrament, but she swiftly lost all worry about any such notions and kissed Uinen back. She kissed Uinen deeply, holding onto her in the sand. She had a sense of having done this before, of it being so fundamental and well trodden to be ingrained in her. And then all thought melted away into pure joy, pouring rich and clear blue water over her entire landscape.

“No!” thought Uinen.

She blinked at Tar-Míriel, who clearly didn’t recognize her. She had failed, and a horrified sort of quiet, chirping anger filled her. Not anger for a person so much as anger at what had taken place. She was the only one who had come back, not Tar-Míriel.

She suddenly reached forward and grabbed Tar-Míriel’s shoulder. She covered Tar-Míriel’s mouth with her own, grasping for the fullness she knew she would find. She reached into her mouth with her tongue, and Tar-Míriel responded by darting in and out and pulling her onto the sand.

By this point, Uinen couldn’t say exactly what they were doing. It didn’t even feel necessary, as just being so close to Tar-Míriel sent a surge of feelings through her, zinging with completeness. It was the most wonderful feeling, fizzy and orangey warm, covering every ounce of her one by one, or so it seemed. Tar-Míriel was lingering over her face now, languidly swirling her tongue. She had a glazed countenance that radiated the intense sort of joy not quite grounded in a single space. She looked like a child might, gazing up to catch the rain.

At last Uinen pulled back. She knew she couldn’t stay here forever, for the future couldn’t really be changed. She knew the future needed her, and a horrible screaming sort of bitterness filled her throat.

But then a realization came through her like a gush of cold cleansing water. If she was fast enough, she might still be able to save Tar-Míriel. If she could pull her away from the flood and debris, and up above the water before she drowned, she might be able to be revived. For Tar-Míriel of the present was not dead yet.  

But if she couldn’t save her? For Uinen had only one chance, as once something had definitively occurred it couldn’t be changed. The sinking feeling from earlier returned. If she couldn’t save her?

Uinen would alternate between the future and the past, she decided, always going back. Each time, Tar-Míriel would forget the last, she realized. She was sobbing again, and Tar-Míriel reached toward her questioningly. But within each moment of the past, they’d have some sort of eternity. It wouldn’t really be enough, but she would make it so. She would go back to the moments with Tar-Míriel until the last star in the sky burnt out. And maybe if anything at all existed by then, they could step together into the changed world. They could finally live continuously, still holding on after so long.

She had to go now, to return to that horrible destruction. It was unlikely, she knew, that she would be able to save Tar-Míriel. She had all the time in the world, but not in the way that she wanted it. All the same, she would call on every hidden power, every bit of strength and thought, and she would try until there was nothing left to try.

No matter what was about to transpire, she would never leave Tar-Míriel. She would be holding onto her, always.

Chapter End Notes

The song “Hold On” from The Secret Garden musical (Original London Cast) is an inspiration/companion to this fic if you’d like to hear it. I was listening to it while I first wrote and it gives me some of the general feeling of this piece and then a couple of lyrics slipped in. (Not to say that all the lyrics fit or that it matches exactly.)