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Opus
Author: Aratlithiel Summary: Summer, 1421, SR Rating: G
(Chinese translation by Emma HERE)
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December 23, 2003
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A/N – A Yule mathom for Connie Marie (‘cause she asked so pretty and all)
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OPUS
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I came with my noble truths, wrapped about me as armour. I stepped into the bower of Evil, faced it, shielded by my righteousness. I stood, looked it in the Eye…and flinched.
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Vineyards, vivid green gilded by the sun’s loving touch, endless fields of golden grain. They stretch in silent entreaty to the sky, bend in joyous supplication to the wind that speaks to them of rebirth and the promise of sweet summer rain.
I look to them with eyes unseeing and, instead, turn my gaze inward to days spent treading these fields with your warm hand in mine. I shall feel the absence of that hand keenly, for I have made my choice.
Knight and warrior, prankster, kinsman and friend. Did you guess at what lay in store for you when you formed your conspiracy? Would it have mattered?
No, I think not. Always you have been at my side, putting yourself between your elder cousin and every imagined danger encountered; cave trolls in the depths of the Hall’s cellars, dragons creeping silently from beneath mounds of laundry, taking their very lives in their hands if they saw fit to brave the sword conjured from a branch of hickory and held in the chubby grip of my courageous, magnificent Merry. Stand back Frodo! They’re sneaky creatures, they are. Like to trick you into walking right into their mouths, Cousin Bilbo says.
How valiantly you stood before the horrors your clever mind conjured. Would that those were the only nightmares you must suffer in your young life.
How do I say I am sorry for taking from you that which I can never give back? How do I mend the places in your soul my dark journey took from you? How do I beg forgiveness for what I have done…and for what I must do?
You will not understand my choice and I find that a truth I can bear. Keeping this beyond your sight is one of the few victories I may lay claim to and I hold to it, clench it in my cold grasp, protect it as I once thought to protect you. I failed miserably at the latter but will not fail at this. I will not have you step before this, for neither sword of hickory or steel can save me from what I’ve become lest it’s plunged into my heart and twisted 'til the blackness looses its hold. It will only break you if I allow you to try. And try you would, for your heart has always been a warm place for me to rest, your shoulder a sturdy place to lay my head.
But I cannot allow the darkness to taint you further. I can no longer play at this dance of protection we engage in with one another. You cannot save me from what beats within my blackened heart and I cannot bring myself to allow you to try.
And so I leave you. It is the only gift I have left to give you.
I retreat not in fear, Merry, nor in shame, but in love. There must come a time when the heart that has seen so few victories is finally triumphant and evil can be defeated by the seemingly simple act of walking away. I have chosen that time and I release you from the bonds your love puts upon you.
So I look upon the fertile landscape of the land of our youth and remember the tousled curls and lopsided grin; your gift to me when I deserved none, a tangible display of the fierce love you handed to me in your small, dimpled hands…though I cannot fathom why. I see the lands we wandered, feel the sun that warmed our days, hear the river that cradled us in cool comfort. I gather them and wind them around you, blanket you in their soft embrace.
This, Merry…this is peace. And this I leave you.
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A shadow in the darkness, I have become. Faceless ghosts speak to me in toneless voices and I bend my head in supplication. I am helpless to do otherwise.
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Pipeweed and ale, song and raucous laughter. Why is it these things always conjure memories of you? I am but a spectator in this den of laughter and easy companionship. I watch the careless steps of the dance, hear the rhyme and off-key melody, but it is you I see. You dance before me, feet stepping confidently to each thumping downbeat, head thrown back in musical laughter. Your brilliant smile sends forth light so bright I am blinded by its radiance.
But the vision fades, as has your smile, the carefree countenance replaced by one worn by the horrors of battle. Eyes that sparkled with merry youth now seem too old for the face that holds them. Innocence betrayed, trust handed willingly to one who could not keep it. I look into your generous heart and find I was forgiven even before I handed you to the fate that replaced cavalier youth with regal solemnity. Yet another of my kin from whom I have stolen a bit of soul.
Ah, my young Peregrin of the copper-tinged curls and ready smile. How many times did I find myself facedown in the grass, a bundle of laughter clinging to my ribs? How many dippers of frigid well water found their way down my back? How many creeping, leathery creatures found their way between my sheets when the young Took came to call?
You kept me young, my clever lad; kept my feet on the earth and my heart always within your grasp. None surprised laughter from me as you never failed to; none pierced my heart with the open invitation into their very soul you offered to me with no thought to what you gave away. And I have repaid you with age beyond your years, sorrow beyond grief…and stand ready to further your pain even now.
Will you understand? Can you forgive?
‘I leave for you,’ sounds a feeble excuse, even to my own ears. But I know what prowls within my heart, lingers in my blood. And I will not have it touch you. I will face your wrath at the end of time with a heart free of regret, at least for this one act of reluctant sacrifice. For I know that you are better served by my abandonment.
I will not have you dance for me, seeking the laughter that you once drew so easily but is now so sodden with tears that it drowns within me. I will not watch you judder like a poppet whose strings have broken and twisted, a desperate dance for the cousin who can no longer follow you to that merry place you keep within your heart. I will not destroy you with the hopeless hope you doggedly carry of healing what is already dead.
I leave you, my outrageous Peregrin. I leave you because I can do nothing else.
I look to the dancers before me, arms locked in simple fellowship, laughter spilling from faces splayed wide in open delight, feet stomping riotous rhythm to a tune that yet escapes me. I think of you and feel my smile cautiously emerge from the depths where it has wallowed for an eternity.
This, my beloved Took, is joy. And this I leave you.
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Blood and bone, I stand before my fate. Have I the strength to see it through? A merry chase, life has led me. Is this yet another trial set before me? Another test I have no choice but to fail? Reward for my sacrifice…or punishment for my crimes?
Perhaps a little of both.
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It is no surprise that this place should call you to mind. Colors run riot about me, fill my eyes with impossible shades of crimson and emerald. A garden of jewels you have made here, but the beauty is wasted on one who can no longer see for the grey haze that clouds my eyes.
But I can still see you, Sam.
How do I bid farewell to one who has walked with me through the dark paths of my soul? To one who has trod paths of burning stone for the love of someone who no longer knows the meaning?
You have looked into the depths of my traitorous heart, watched as I was bent and broken by shadow, yet you did not look away. Instead, you bent your back and set to picking up the shattered pieces of my self, fitting the shards into a semblance of pattern, your love the thread that stretches taut and strained in its attempt to hold them.
So like you, to believe something so beyond hope can find life again. So very like you to think nothing beyond mending.
And why not? Your life has been spent in the creation of beauty everywhere you set your hand. Our very home, so rent and torn by a shadow of the darkness we stumbled through for an age, now seethes with new life under your tender care.
But this task is beyond even you, my Sam. I think you, more than anyone, understand.
You’ve watched me drown in the depths of my own heart, seen me bow to the black, let it swallow my soul. You know why I must go, though you will not see it now. Now you hold to your belief that if you only try hard enough, give enough of yourself away, that you can do what I know is impossible.
You cannot help me, Sam…but I will do this for you. I will let you go.
I cannot watch you deny the truth to yourself, cannot witness the slow erosion of your sturdy spirit in your unending quest to heal me. I go to heal myself and to release you from this burden. I go to set you free.
I have seen many things for you, Samwise the Brave; tunnels fair overflowing with the clear laughter of tow-headed children, children with Rose’s gentle manner and your honest face. Gatherings filled with song and the love of neighbors and friends. I have seen great things for you, things that cannot come to pass if I remain the burden you refuse to put down.
And so I leave you, my Sam. I leave you to the life I cannot live, the family I cannot sire, the country I cannot but leave for fear of tainting it with my continued presence. I am jaded and unclean and so I leave my home, my life and all I could have been in your tender care.
Look for me here, Sam. Watch for me in the trees when the chill of autumn frost turns green to gold. Listen for me in the unexpected breeze that ruffles your hair with cool fingers on a hazy summer’s day. Feel me in the frosted touch of winter’s first snow. I will be here in the scent of hickory smoke that welcomes you home in the twilight, in the stars that sing their gentle lullaby to the earth, in the soft, sweet breath of children drenched in slumber.
I will be here. I will watch. And I will wait.
But for now, I cast my gaze to the sentinels of color that surround me in my reverie. Each of them touched by your hand, each of them flourishing under your watch. I close my eyes and emblazon them in my memory.
This, Master Samwise, is home. And this I leave you.
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Do I betray them all? Do I deceive them by refusing them a voice in this decision to relieve them of one who can bring them nothing but pain now?
No. To stay would be the betrayal. To leave is a gift.
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Razed and broken was this land. The country of my heart, torn asunder by a spirit so blackened by lust and consumed with vengeance it could not see the tears shed by each living thing pulled mercilessly from its cradle of earth. I hear their ghosts in the soil and weep at their loss.
Do I dare leave this place? I once thought the Road was all I ever wanted, longed for it past reason and good sense. Only in leaving this place - my country, my home – only in leaving did I come to know my heart’s true desire. And so knowing, I once more will set my feet upon the Road, once more will I leave all that I love for the love of all. I leave my home and my heart behind and take along my wounded soul – a burden that weighs nearly as heavy as that of which I can no longer speak.
I left my home to save it once. Now I leave it to save those I love.
I am weary and past all struggle. I cannot be who I once was, cannot pretend to remember what it was that made my heart beat, my voice lift in song. I have been emptied and cannot gather the strength to begin the work of rebirth. The wounds are too deep, the emptiness too vast.
But there is rebirth all about me and this I will force my veiled eyes to see. Fields, blackened and scorched, now burn golden with the light of new life. The horizon, hazed and smoky, now smudges ashes of roses against the indigo of burnished twilight. Trees, once bared and broken, wear crowns of emerald and bow to each other within the embrace of a lazy summer breeze.
And I let the truth of these things ring in my soul…
All is not lost. Some things are not beyond repair.
I close my eyes and feel the quiet heat burrow into my heart, kindle the cold ashes that lay within. This taste of warm sun on my skin is my peace. I breathe deep; fill my empty soul with the promise of life. This scent of linden and roses that lays still and watchful in the soothing breeze, this is my joy. I open my weary eyes and see emerald dappled with topaz and ruby where once trod a boy with a heart full of song. These green hills that keep their true treasures wrapped in loving embrace, this is home.
But not for me.
Not anymore.
This truth I accept. This fate I face with shoulders squared and eyes tilted skyward.
The veil pulls back, only for a moment, and I look upon all with clear eyes. I fill the emptiness with the silent song of my country.
This is hope.
And this…
This I take with me.
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END
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