Torech Besruth, Falathlorn
26th of March
A hard ride west through the lands of the Shire saw the first family of Bar-en-Acharn arrive back at Torech Besruth at twilight, with the stars gracing the night sky and the Moon peeking through the boughs of the mighty trees near the manor. Dismounting in the front yards and letting their mounts stray, Cutch and Seregrían entered the manor, with Bainiel making to ride off to her new bungalow on the heights above the Enclave.
“Ada, tell me what happens later,” Bainiel said to Cutch as soon as her mother was out of hearing. “I’ve never seen Naneth like this, and I’m afraid.”
“No need to fret, princess,” Cutch said, patting her knee. “When your mother shuts down like this, she’s actually hard at work planning how to say what’s on her mind. Give her time – and wine,” he smiled as Bainiel rode off, a wan smile on her face. Cutch then entered the Lair, noting that at the doors to the Gallery were a black hat, a pair of red gloves and a pair of supple boots cast in the corner. Passing through the Gallery to the Salon, he saw Seregrían standing at the wine rack, still wearing her travel garb and turning to him with two glasses and a golden bottle.
Ah, she’s going straight for the Duillond Gold, Cutch thought, not a good sign.
“Will you join me, dear one?” she asked.
“Always, mell bereth,” he replied. He watched as she padded to him on bare feet and took the offered glass, sipping and watching as she downed hers with three swallows, refilling it and setting the bottle on the table. He sat on the lounge and held out a hand; she sat close, and curled into his embrace, resting her shoulder on his, stretching her legs and feet out. He noted the look on her face and in her eyes, vainly hiding a pain beneath the surface.
“All the ride back from Bree, you were quiet and almost sad. What troubles you, melon nin?”
“Bainiel asked you to find out about me – she’s getting as perceptive as you, curse it.” A sip, then, “Forgive me, I should not have allowed music to affect me so.”
“You do not need to be forgiven, melon nin, simply understood.”
A sigh. “At the Welcoming Feast, I watched Bainiel trying to approach all the eligible men. It was comical in a way - but also else. She can approach a man, without the burden of the years – “
“Oh? Burden?”
A long pause and a long drink. “I guess what I wish to say is... though I don't want to hear it in my own voice - today, I was battered by the truth: that one day, I shall lose you.” Cutch could only nod, watching her eyes.
Seregrían plowed forward, “And that day shall begin the rest of my life. But... that's the choice I made, and I did not make it as a fool.” She clutched his hand. “You're dying, my love - every day, every hour - but you're also living, each and every hour - and I live with you.”
“And happily, for my part.”
“And I still hold my word: you shall live on, even after your passing, in the eyes and hearts of our children. I see your eyes in Ardanion's, and your nose in Bainiel,” they both chortled at that. “But your heart and spirit are in both of them - and they shall pass that on, over and over, down the years.”
Cutch continued to sip and listen. These aren’t words, he thought, this is venom, being drawn from this wound…
“I - I, well... I guess I am just suddenly feeling sorry for myself,” Seregrían said, her eyes downcast. “I told myself this choice of mine would not be without some visit from regret, and I invited those visits - or so I thought.”
“There’s a ‘but’ coming…”
A small smile, then, “But now that it comes knocking on the doors, it's... it's hard to bear.” Seregrían set her wine down and shifted slightly in Cutch's arms, reaching up to caress his cheek just beneath his ruined eye. “I love you, curse it.”
He turned his face to meet her eyes with his. “Curse it?”
“Yes, for it is my curse, and my blessing both. Others of my kin might say I have doomed myself. I say that loving you is not wrong.”
“Others of your kin have not lived as fully as you,” he said as his arm cuddled her closer. “I have wondered when this day would come, when I would approach the "What If?" with you.”
“Cutch, you lovely, foolish man - to cast your heart at my feet, and dare to love the likes of me!”
“You call it foolish, beyond reason. That is the wrong word. You see, melon nin, our love cannot be explained, it can only be inspired. But the "What If?" for us is the "When", for we know this ends most likely with my passing. And what I have to offer you is likely not what the immortal heart would want to consider.”
“The defiant heart in me says it will never end – but the scholar agrees with you, though, and the lover shall not give in.” She caressed his cheek. “I have watched time work its hand on you - your face, your hair, your frame. Every day now is a reminder of the time before us.”
Cutch drained his wine glass and refilled it, also offering to refill hers. Seregrían held hers up as well. “In truth, although my hair has greyed, I have not felt any of the marches of age. You have done something magical, and I feel my life will be quite long, but…”
“But each time I look at you,” she replied, “I see not time, I see you... my bespoken, brave Mortal fool. And if there's any 'magic' involved, it's your touch of Elven blood.” She drank again, then, “But that also worries me as well.”
Cutch blinked at that, raising a brow. Ah, a new wound, or an older one that she’s only now ripping the bandage off…
“Cutch, I see you in both our children,” Seregrían plunged forward. “I see myself in them, as well. But I keep watch over both of them, for I am searching for any shadow of... the Black Star.”
“Gilmorwen,” he said coldly.
“Yes. She did give you one gift, you know: your heritage.”
“Her sister says that Gilmorwen's fate was of both her own choices - and the exploitation of that turned white ithron…”
“True, but she also was compelled to choose by something within her - and that thing may have been passed along. That ‘something’ passed your parents, and passed over you - but can we be certain it will skip Bainiel and Ardanion, also? That is why I keep watch, dear one.”
“But, I see no evidence of that in Lumenire; and she’s of that same bloodline – “
“But Lumenire is not of your bloodline, merely of your blood.”
Cutch pressed her closer with his arm. “Seregrían,” he said, and this made her start; rarely would he actually say her name, and not an endearment. “You are a good mother, and better wife. Look at me, and think: have you seen any of Gilmorwen’s curse in me?”
She looked deep into his eye. “Never once, sweet one.”
His eye met hers. “The closest was the faked death. Would that qualify in your estimation?”
“You and I have spoken of that before - it was a needful thing you did, and it also gave us the gift of proof; that we were fated to become as one. Cutch, my heart,” she laid her hand upon his breast, ”you have in these last sixteen summers renewed our vows with me times beyond count; and those would never have happened, had you not dared to die, so that we might live.”
“I suppose, by your reasoning, that if I carried Gilmorwen’s curse, it turned against her?” She nodded, and he went on, “and if I do not, it was our love that defeated her?”
“Yours, and mine...”
“Our love, the moth and flame.” Seregrían nestled into Cutch's shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek. “And yet, you are still troubled?"
“With you, my heart can know all feelings: love, desire, sorrow, joy - my heart lives because of yours. And I shall live, down the years, because of you.”
“And you think it will all die with me?'
She once again touches her fingers to his cheek, drawing his mouth closer to her own. “No...”
“No, it must not, cannot, and will not,” Cutch said. “You see, melon nin, your heart was alive and strong long before you met me.” She snorted, disbelieving him. “I can prove it – for it was your heart that spoke to me from its slumber, for it was dreaming of a time without the long years of your pain. And it was your heart that made a mortal fool blurt out the desire to be an elf-lord. No, not made – inspired.
“It was always there, even in your disbelief; and it was your heart that was inspired to awaken and now, here we are!” Seregrían listened to it all and let out a shuddering sigh on the verge of tearing up.
“Were your heart not there, and strong, We would not be. So there is my proof.”
Seregrían’s mouth curled into a lopsided grin. “How empirical of you...”
“I have had a marvelous mentor.”
“And it is further proof of my initial hypothesis, you know… you are not in love alone... dear one...” Seregrían lay her head upon Cutch's shoulder again, with Cutch smiling warmly.
“Are you still troubled, mell bereth?”
“Some other time, melethel. For now, I am content with letting the years bring what they may... later...”
“When you are ready to speak of it, I am as well.”
“But for this hour... I am reminded how much I desire you - and for that, speech is not required…”
The wine had done its work. What followed was even better.
