Myran

by Angela J. Ford

  My mind jumped back to their song and the message Hal had delivered to me: “always.”

  “Later they asked us what we wanted, granting us a boon for all their questioning, so it seemed. Leon, newlywed back then, asked for safety for his impending family. I, knowing my only wish was to see you again, said nothing.” He stopped again and looked at me. “When I went away after those six months, I don't know what it was, but I wanted to see you again and tell you that I love you, but it was too late then. I thought by the time I returned, you would be married or long gone from that captive world. Leon convinced me to build you a house, even if I never saw you again. I need never see the house again. And I felt...I felt as if I were causing myself a world of pain, but the Green People suggested I build here and Leon build in Sanga San. We left Rena in the care of the Green People, hard as it was for Leon to tear himself away, and we both took long journeys away to build our homes. Even though Leon and I offered to help each other, we ended up building separately. It was a hard, long, and lonely process, but the Green People guaranteed us safety for a long while so we kept on. They have the power of foreseeing; I trust them.”

  His eyes asked me the silent question: why had I forsaken them? The Iaen were wonderful. But I was not ready to tell him it was all because of myself that I had left. “It was a long year,” he went on, “but when the house was built, I was satisfied. Then I realized how much time had passed, and I dived into the woods, eager to find Leon and Rena and leave for the fortress immediately. Only, they found me first.” He smiled at the memory. “The Green People came and told us they would take care of everything else, which I supposed meant the food and flowers because I had no hand in it. Leon and Rena came to see this house, and then the Green People led us to the other side of Shimla on a swift journey that revealed none of their secrets. When we reached the end of the forest, the Green People told us goodbye and that if we ever came this way again, we would surely meet. I knew they saw a long way ahead, and I asked them what they foresaw, but they only shook their heads and bade us remember to give you the message. We set off for the fortress then, adding some Crons to our group on our way. Each day, a feared anticipation rose in me to see you, to hold you, to love you, to see your beautiful face again, and to hear your voice. I wanted to bring you here, show you the house, and ask you to marry me. And you said yes to coming.” He looked down at my hands and then back up at me. Cupping my face in his hands, he said, “Marry me, Myran.”

  Promises. All those promises. I wanted nothing. I had everything frozen in eternal bliss. I felt the world spin around me, and I was still. My heart was full. “Yes,” I replied, and if the world had held its breath, it now exploded into life. Even as we kissed, sealing our promise, I knew they were coming.

  ***

  White butterflies danced around our faces, and wildflowers circled us. I saw them out of the corner of my eyes. They were tall, pale, beautiful, and dressed in flowing and shimmering colors. They drew near to us. The Green People circled us, and I saw among them Luthín and Tilyon. They just looked at me. The kind and gentle expression on their faces told me they were pleased, and I felt all was forgiven and washed away. I held tight to Hal's hands as we stood and faced them. The solemn ceremony would begin soon. Younger ones drew near and placed crowns of flowers on our heads. White petals were tossed through the air, and somewhere faint and distant, a joyous melody was bubbling forth. The wind stirred the leaves, the grass bowed at our feet, and the multitude of Green People formed an aisle for us. One stood in front, and I thought I recognized him, one of those Green People from long ago, who had presided while Luthín begged for my fate. Tremlore. They were tall sober, and full of strength, but not all was silent and cold. There was light in their eyes as they heralded our marriage.

  Hal held out his hand. I hesitated for the briefest second; everything was happening so fast. It was not that I didn't want it because I did, more than anything. Surprise slowed me down. How had he thought this all out? How had he loved me four years ago? My mind was still having a hard time wrapping around it. “Come with me. Just come...” he whispered. I stood and almost fell into his arms. Then I straightened my dress, brushed my hair back, took his hand, and faced the Green People. It was then that I noticed the air was full of white petals that were floating down to cover the grass, landing on our heads, and grazing our clothes. It was as if a summer snow was falling, a snow of petals. Hal and I stood at the end of the line, and I felt like royalty from far away being paid a high honor as the Green People bowed their heads for us and paved the way to welcome us home.

  Hal held my hand tight and glanced at me, almost nervous. “Are you ready?” he asked. He was still waiting for me. I felt the years drop away. It had been five years since I had first met him, and he'd been waiting ever since.

  “Yes,” I answered, savoring every last step of our separate lives and trying to keep the moment and notice everything. We walked forward.

  The strings continued to play a long and drawn out song, which made me think of wildflowers dancing and all creatures of the wood drawing together in one beautiful union. The wind stirred the white petals, and the white butterflies flew ahead of us down the lawn. The house was left behind as we walked up to the top of the hill. There among the tall grass, wildflowers, and strange creatures of the wood, I married Halender, and I thought my heart would burst and fly into a million pieces from the joy that overwhelmed my soul. Even though the Green People lifted up their voices in one wild, joyous song, it seemed the world disappeared while Halender and I stared at each other. When he took me into his arms, I thought we would never let go of each other. Every heartbeat, every breath, every thought, and our lives were intertwined. We lived solely for each other and each other alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  923

  I woke and thought I dreamed. I slept and knew I dreamed. Every time he was still there with his arms around me and his breath tickling my neck and my arms, and my response was to snuggle closer. I'd never grow tired of kissing him; we were always touching, even around the hut, we had our hands clasped and our arms around each other. We were delirious with joy, sometimes wondering if we had slipped through a tear in the fabric of life and found our own happiness. We had no notion of time; fall slipped away, and winter froze the grass. All was covered in white with no traces of the enchanting green. Slowly, spring began to melt winter's icy heart, turning the sparkling snow into pools of water to nourish the thirsty ground. Days, weeks, months, and another year passed: 923. All the while, we simply held on to each other, unaware, letting time stay frozen from the time we had swept inside after the Green People had left to the sunrise one spring day. We realized we had all we needed. The world could live without us, content in its own misery. With Halender, I forgot the fear pressing on my heart and the nervous flight to hidden places of safety. I forgot that the world was cold and it ripped away all one has simply because the Black Steeds had full control. Daylight poured through our windows, and safe in each other's arms, we could watch night fall and feel no fear. It was then I discovered just how powerful love is, and there was no describing the fire that burned within me. I was full of love for him. I was swimming, nay, drowning in it, and still, I could not get enough of him.

  923. It was absolutely the best year of my life, and also the worst, but I liked to remember the beauty of it all, even though I missed much of the year in my hut because I was staring at Hal's arresting eyes. There were times when we did not even speak because we knew. We would sit on the hill and watch the sun rise or set, amazed at the indescribable beauty surrounding us. We saw through glazed lenses for everything was beautiful.

  It was nearly summer when I realized that almost a year had passed, and I had yet to repair my friendship with the Iaen. The Green People had come to see us married, and when the marriage was official, they drifted away. We barely noticed them disappear, and I had not seen them since. I felt compelled to find my way out of the hut to their woods, seek them out,
and exchange words. It was obvious how they felt about us because they gave us this land where we lived so close to them at the end of their woods.

  One morning, I woke and broke the constant contact with my husband. “Hal,” I whispered, “I must go see the Iaen. There is much which needs to be said.”

  He looked at me, kissing me gently. “For strength,” he said, knowing it was not easy for me to go back. It was uncanny the way he understood me.

  I felt lost without him as I wound my way outside away from the hut and into the warm air. The wind stirred me, rushing me off to the forest as if it knew my mission. I walked up the hill and glanced back at the top. Hal stood watching me with a smile on his face. It felt natural for me to stop and smile back at him before drifting down the hill, the hill we were married on, to the forests to interrupt their privacy and intrude on their hidden paths. Would they know I was coming? I had a feeling they would as the shadows enveloped me. I shivered for just a minute, getting used to the chill of the forests and the shadows playing hide and seek with the sunlight. I moved forward cautiously, so as not to disturb the woodlands. I was searching, unafraid, but I knew the courtesy of their lands. For once, wild, bitter memories did not overwhelm me; I was secure, confident, and moving forward. I had to see them again. I had to let my guardians know I did not begrudge them anything, and I accepted their offer, for they had been more generous toward me than I had been to them. It was not my wish to leave behind a debt of ingratitude.

  Farther in I crept, the sunlight filtered through somehow, and the trees opened their branches, waving before me. My feet sought and found the hidden paths that led me to the glade. As if they were waiting for me, there they were. My eyes were drawn to a child, one different somehow from all other Green People, and yet one of them. She had long curls that had more of a blond color than any other Green Person's. She was perhaps three years old and ran back and forth, chasing butterflies and playing with wildflowers; she was a happy child. I looked up at Luthín and Tilyon, astonished, for I had assumed it would be impossible for them to have children; it never escaped my mind. They stood together, tall and magnificent, but genuinely glad to see me.

  I realized then it had been six years since I had last spoken with them, and yet the first words out of my mouth were: “She is lovely. What is her name?”

  I felt their pride and their forgiveness flow as Luthín walked towards me. “Her name is Ellagine,” she replied and placed her hands on my shoulders.

  Still feeling the halo of security, I embraced her, and I felt everything between us melt away into a steadfast always. “I'm sorry,” I said. “I should have never lost trust.”

  “You were angry,” said Luthín, “and you had every right to be. It all was unfair, but look, it turned out for the best. We are together again.”

  Luthín led me to the far side of the glade, and we sat watching Tilyon play with his exquisite daughter under the shady boughs. The joy in the thicket was so intense that I imagined I could see it bouncing among the leaves, dancing between blades of grass. I only wished that I had brought Hal with me. “Where is he? Your love?” Luthín asked.

  “At home where the forest ends,” I replied, “I did not dare to bring him...yet.”

  “Ah, and you should. He has safe passage through here just as much as you do. The time is coming when all Iaen will not in hostile actions drive out the mortals but rather welcome them in. You have only started the beginning, Myran.” She smiled.

  “I know the power the creatures of the woods hold and the strength of it. I would not want to break their laws here, but Hal and I are honored to live on the edge of these boundaries. We've realized the gift.”

  Luthín was quiet for a minute and then said, “Myran, I must tell you that there is another house that is built closer to the Jaded Sea. It is still within the Land of Lock. It is a haven for those who cross the sea and find themselves shipwrecked on the shores. It is far inland though and hidden...”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, suddenly feeling warned.

  “In the case that you or anyone else should need it, you will know it is there.”

  The thought passed and left. I thanked her and let that knowledge slip from my mind; it was useless.

  ***

  The fireflies were out and lit my way back as I threaded through the trees back home to my love. I was gone one day, and already I missed him. I thought my heart would explode with my desire to see him. I fairly flew through the forest out over to the hill. When I reached the top, I could see a light shining, and he stood in the doorway, watching and waiting for me. I could smell the fragrance of flowers and the dewy scent of nightfall. I felt the cool rush of wind as I walked into his arms. I thought I would never let go again.

  ***

  One morning, Hal woke and, realizing how summer was beginning to pass, looked at me and announced, “We must keep our promise and go visit Leon and Rena.”

  “Ah yes.” My mind sparked at the idea. “They will have their child by now.”

  Hal smiled at me; I could see in his eyes that he was asking me when we would have ours. I did not know it then; I could not tell him: nine months. I just took his face in my hands and promised, “One day. Now come. The Iaen will want to see us, and we must meet them together.”

  One morning, we packed up and were on our way north to Sanga San. It was a lengthy journey, but we were excited and well prepared. We stopped to see Tilyon and Luthín and their blue-eyed Ellagine. They guided us through the enchanting wood until we reached the warm land of sunshine, wild fields, blue skies, and rolling hills. There we bade the Green People farewell for a time and set off to find our friends. Those were golden days; we traveled, talked, told stories, sang songs, and shared our knowledge. Even though Black Steeds were abroad, we saw none and could tell no harmful stories. One day, a herd of white horses crossed our paths and volunteered to carry us on to our destinations. With the wind blowing in our hair and the thunder of hooves all around us, we were carried to a grove, and there our swift companions left us. Hal and I took hands and started through the thick trees.

  ***

  It was quiet. The wind sang lullabies to the trees, but no birds moved, nor did animals rustle the undergrowth. At first, it seemed an empty place, as if we would never find the rustic hut with smoke curling out of its chimney to lose itself among the treetops. It was a silent wonderland until we did come to a glade. The quiet hut appeared like a secret revealed. It had wildflowers and grass growing around its edges; it was a charming place. Hal held my hand as we walked up to the hut and knocked upon the door. All was silent as we waited.

  Suddenly the door was thrown open, and Rena stood there in shock. “Why look at you. What a sight for sore eyes. I thought I'd never see you again!” Excitement overwhelmed us, and she ended up squeezing us both and dragging us into the house. She called, “Leon! Leon! Look! It is Hal and Myran; they finally returned to see us!”

  Leon was in the midst of scooping a little child away from the fire, but when he saw us, he quickly deposited the child on the floor again and came running over with a smile. “Hal! Myran! Welcome to our home!” There was a blur of hugs, animated talking, and laughter. When all calmed down enough for us to see the decorations of their home and the tidy layout, Rena picked up the child and brought him forth. “This is our son,” she said. And he was, obviously, a mix of both of them. He had Rena's eyes and Leon's blond thatch of hair. He was a grinning, chubby boy of about a year. He smiled and laughed into my eyes, hurting my heart and making me want one of my own to grasp in my arms.

  “He's beautiful,” I said. “What did you name him?”

  “Léthin. He's always happy.” Rena smiled.

  “And a handful besides,” Leon added, laughing and tousling the babe's blond hair.

  “Léthin,” Hal repeated, and I got the strangest feeling once again. This child had something to do with a much bigger future, but the idea was too large to contain, and quickly, I brushed it aside,
wondering at how his name reminded me of the Green People.