She dreams of Golden Hope

Rise

„Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise." Still I rise- Maya Angelou

Belladonna Took had her pointy ears trained on the dark wood of the door and she intently listened in hopes of detecting any noise. But she was to be disappointed, because all she was met with was silence. Ominous, eery silence that left her feeling incredibly worried and desolate. It should not have surprised Belladonna, she should not have been disheartened, because this had become almost a routine, she should have anticipated that while standing outside of Laurel's room, listening at the door for any signs of life from the girl would have again proved without bounty as it had the previous two months, since Elauriel had arrived at Bag End and shortly after had left the hobbit hole, leaving behind her young daughter. Abandoning the young girl, that had been in distress when she had seen her mother riding off, undetered by her frantic pleas. The girl had cried desparately and she had called for her mother, that had only had indifference to spare for her in favour of her own grief. She had cried for hours on end, like a young child missing their mother's warm embrace would have and Belladonna had tried to motherly tend to her, and for a short moment she had been relieved, when the girl had stopped crying. She had thought that the motherly affection she was steadfastly determined to show the girl had consoled the little red-haired infant.

But soon a new gnawing worry had gripped the warm heart of Belladonna Took, when the girl had become almost catatonic. When the girl had become unresponsive to her and Bilbo and had proceeded to remain in her room, like she had locked herself away in a personal, comforting prison. Like she had retreated like a beautiful butterfly back into her cockoon. And she was. The girl was truly lovely, even at such a young age and Belladonna could see that she would grow up to be a stunning young woman, but she was so sad. When Belladonna had entered the room this morning to bring her a cup of tea and some breakfast she had gazed upon the girl, that was lying inanimately on her bed and she had seen the mournful look in her sky-blue eyes and her sadness had broken Belladonna's heart. Her catatonic melancholy caused her immense grief and worry and more often than not Belladonna would find herself awake during the late hours of night, in fear that the girl would fade just like her mother had. But she was appeased, because despite her sadness the girl still seemed alive. She did not have the ashen and deathly palor that she had seen in Elauriel during their last meeting. Despite the heavy grief she could see in the girl's eyes, she also saw a gleam of life, like her body had still not given up and she hoped that she would not. That she would be able to recover from the death of her mother before she reached a point of no-return. She would never be able to forgive herself if the girl died of a broken heart under her care. She would forever feel guilt at having failed her brother and her dear friend, eventhough at the moment she could only spare resentment toward the elvish woman. Resentment that she had left her daughter and had caused the little girl so much pain.

But perhaps it was for the best. Elauriel would never have recovered from her grief at Benji's death and she would have proceeded to treat the girl coldly. At least, Laurel was still young and still had a good portion of infancy before her. If she was shown loving care, perhaps her infancy would not be marked by her mother's self-destructive mourning. Belladonna was intent on showing the young half-elf all the kindness her heart could muster and she was obstinately decided to love the girl as her own. And she had already started, she already saw Laurel as part of her family, as a child of her own that she would care for with dedication. And with this intent, she would not allow Laurel to fade. But she did not know how she would get the little girl's spirit back. She had not risen from her bed and she lay like a lifeless doll on the matress with a far away look in her eyes. The girl had barely eaten and at seeing her self-destructive behaviour, Belladonna's heart constricted painfully.

She was shaken out of her thoughts by the soft voice of her son: „Mother, how is he?" Belladonna righted herself and flattened her brown skirt and white apron with her pudgy hands. She tried to ban the saddened and worried look she no doubt had in her eyes and with a forced, motherly smile she turned around and looked at Bilbo's worried face. She felt affection for her son rise within her and she sympathized with his unhappiness at seeing his cousin's sadness. She knew that her son had taken an instant liking to his red-haired kin, she had seen the slight look of amazement in her son's demeanour, when he had regarded her delicate features and she had sensed her son's urge to befriend the girl. She knew that Bilbo was pained at her catatonic indifference to him. He had tried to cheer her up during her first week in Bag End. He had paid special attentions to her and had shown her his books filled with the most adventurous tales and had shown her his skillfully drawn pieces. But the girl had not responded to the interactions, which Bilbo had tried to almost thrust upon her. Seeing that the boy became increasingly offended and hurt by her indifference, Belladonna had taken her son aside and had told him that he would need to let Laurel be for a short amount of time. That the girl was tired and that she needed to rest, before they could play together. Her son had proved an immense amount of maturity, when he had complied to her wishes, but the increased distance between Laurel and Bilbo had not stopped her son from worrying about his cousin's mourning. She looked at her son's wide blue eyes, and his furrowed brows that conveyed his uneasiness and she smiled at him, as if she too wasn't sick with fear at the fate of the little girl that had already endeared herself to the pair of them. „She is fine, my dear. She is still tired and needs to rest. She shall be up and about soon.", she said with a thick voice and she knew that she was not convincing her son, who was looking sceptically at the door behind her. She moved toward her son and his gaze was drawn to her, as he looked up at her through his thick, golden lashes. She crouched down, so she was eye-to-eye with her little boy and she passed a nurturing hand through his golden curls. He smiled at her unsurely and she led him off into the kitchen, where she would attempt to console him with some late afternoon tea. At her son's tight grip on her hands, she knew he was trying to believe the words that Belladonna had uttered in response to his question. She also hoped fervently, willing the words to prove true.