Oh, Cool Waters…

The low moaned denials that reach my ears cannot be my own; a heart, so seared by this unspeakable pain, surely cannot make a sound.  The world ceases to exist beyond the pale perfection of her face.  Her soft smile still curves upon those rose lips, which were ever ready to part with a word, a song, a laugh.  I gather her into my arms, her body still warm and pliant, and crush her to my heart. My love, my soul, another breath is all I wish, a single word, one final instant.  But there will be no answer to that need.  How can life run its careless course without her hand to guide it?  How can the skies not part with grief and rip the world asunder now that she is gone?

Firm and gentle hands pry her body from me, meaningless murmurs in my ear, pointless actions by pale-faced girls and crones.

“No!”  I tear myself from their insistent grasp to smooth back the lank curls from her neck and face.  “She likes it up, just so…”

“We know, it’s alright…  Go on, go rest…”

Rest.  What rest?  Where in the world, waking or sleeping, will I not see her beloved face beside me in my mind and not miss her all the more?

Blind strides take me past the halls and rooms of our home, which are still full of her joyous presence, and past our dark door into the sweet summer air.  Bright sun strikes my face and I hurry toward the shade of the gray willows downstream.  The water is clear as glass near the bank and dark as honey mead at its heart, where the river races deep and hungry in its channel.

A single step takes me knee deep into its current, dampening my trousers to the thigh.  Two more will place me fully in its embrace and all choice will be forfeit; only one path lies from the river to the sea.  It would be so easy to just let it take me, just let the waters close over me and wash all care from me…

Hard hands drag me back, and I am helpless even to fight them, simply sinking to my knees in the shallows.

“Don’t do this…  Come back…”

The water is so cool on my hands, here in the shadows.

“I can’t… She’s gone.  How can she be gone?  I don’t…  I don’t understand…”

Warm hands grip my shoulders and his hot tears fall against my neck.  I am caught again, chained back from joining her by the living and the loved.

She is gone.

And I remain.

August 1, 1439 - Brandy Hall, the Shire.