"Why do you go away?
So that you can come back.
So that you can see the place you came
from with new eyes and extra colors.
And the people there see you differently,
too. Coming back to where you started
is not the same as never leaving."
― Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky
49. Whole
Kat's soul left the pleasant void and arrived just above the bed where her body slept. A warmth filled her at the sight. How she had missed herself!
She heard a distant but pretty voice in her head: Call to me when thou art ready.
Then she was sucked down, and her eyes opened, and she was inside her own head again. Her soul was whole.
Time to say her goodbyes.
ʕ(ಠ ‿ ಠ)ʔ
The Voice was gone, and had been for a long time, but Sméagol was still not used to it, not after hearing it for so many years. Now when he closed his eyes there was only birdsong and the murmur of the wind in the trees. No whispers, no arguing, no incessant reminders of his guilt. For the first time since he saw It, he was completely alone.
Good riddance to that horrible thing, the disgusting piece of metal he had once called precious!
He straightened his back, trying to ease a slight pain in his joints. He was not used to standing on two legs – had not been able to, with his crooked spine – but after the kind lord King had healed him he could walk properly. It felt strange in the soles of his feet, and he was getting blisters on his heels, but it was so worth it. The slight sting of the blisters were nothing in comparison with the constant dull back ache he had been living with.
In addition to his bent back, many other little pains and hassles had been cured by the king's hands: his bad eyesight in daylight; that nasty cough and bubbling in his chest when breathing; the rot in his few, remaining teeth. He had also been dressed in fine clothes, soft and warm, and even been invited to the king's victory celebration. Though Sméagol prefered to linger here in the background, nibbling on a piece of fish (sadly ruined by cooking), and just watch the many tables, trying to get used to being among people again.
The last rays of sunshine warmed his shoulders where he stood; the Yellow Face no longer terrified him. Quite the opposite, he had enjoyed it a little too much, becoming burned – but the kind lord King had healed that as well, and then given him a hat.
Sméagol's gaze often strayed to the man sitting at the head table, and his chest swelled with love each time. Not only had his lord healed him twice and provided him with the nice hat, he had also declared Sméagol would get land by the river where he could live like he had in his youth, as a fisherman. The fish he caught would be fetched and delivered to the royal kitchen.
To be fishing for a king! Him, poor old Sméagol!
For that, he could even forgive the kind lord King for honoring the fat hobbit together with the nice hobbit, allowing them to sit with him at the head table.
Sméagol took a new bite of fish, chewing slowly with teeth that didn't ache, and realized that he felt content. Content, and, what was that word... One he had not used for centuries... Happy. Yes, that was the one. He was happy.
_,._
(Ó ‿ Ò)
Though Nellas was not one for fancy meals, and not at all one for big crowds, she found that she rather enjoyed Aragorn's victory feast. It was held north of Minas Tirith at Cormallen, a field near the river island where Boromir and she had been attacked by orcs before the battle. The fortress on the island was now free again.
Many tables had been arranged on the soft grass under a pink sunset sky, surrounded by lovely trees. A sprinkle of spring flowers spread their fragrance in the air, and between the trees glittered the calm surface of the Anduin. A good place for a party, she figured.
When Aragorn's invite came, Boromir didn't want to go at first, hesitant to leave his father. Nellas had convinced him, arguing that it would be nice to get out of the city for a while, and among the trees there would likely be more opportunities for enjoyable tête-à-têtes. He had agreed then – but only because his father was so much better recently.
Thanks to Denethor, Nellas could name the exact moment the Lord of Darkness had died. She had been reading to the old man in his room when the fear and confusion suddenly left him. Just like that, his shoulders relaxed, the worry lines on his forehead became smooth, and then he promptly fell asleep, sleeping for half a day.
Since then, he was a changed man. Still forgetful, still unable to walk, but at ease. Whatever nightmares had ridden his mind were gone.
"I hope Father manages without you," said Boromir worriedly, as if he had read her thoughts.
Nellas pressed his hand discreetly under the table. "He will, now that he's calm again. Besides, Faramir is probably with him." Boromir's brother had stayed in the city, which Nellas suspected was because the lady he liked had also stayed.
"I suppose you are right." He squeezed her hand back, and looked like he wanted to do more. But among the many guests that was probably one of those things he found inappropriate.
"Of course." She gave him a sly glance. "Anyway... I think I shall take a walk among the trees now."
When Nellas rose, Legolas, who was seated across the table, stood as well. "I will join you."
She frowned. "That is not necessary."
"I want to talk to you."
She tried to think of an excuse why now was not a good time, but couldn't think of one. Oh well. Hopefully he would be done soon, so she could be with Boromir instead as she had planned.
They walked without talking at first, Legolas humming a melancholy melody and Nellas admiring the lovely evening. She turned her steps towards a bend in the river, where a small pool had formed, squatting so she could examine the clusters of frog eggs floating just below the surface.
He squatted beside her. "What's between Boromir and you? I noticed you were holding hands."
"Love, of course." Did he even have to ask something so obvious?
"But he is a man."
She sighed; again he was stating the obvious. "I know."
"He will die."
"Yes."
"And he can't join you in the Undying Lands."
"I know."
"Then why did you allow his advances?"
"Because I love him. I just said that. Didn't you listen?"
He threw out his hands, looking frustrated for some reason. "Why did you do that to yourself? Elves shouldn't get too close to humans, it only leads to heartache; if not sooner, then later. If you fall in love with one you will be forever lonely when they are gone."
"Why would I be that?"
"Because elves only love once."
"Says who?"
"Uh... Everybody knows that."
"Then they know wrong." She shrugged. "I loved Túrin, and now I love Boromir. When he dies, I might love someone else. Or not. Time will tell."
"But it hurts to lose someone," he said bitterly.
"Yes, it hurt when Túrin died and I still miss him, but that's the way it is with life. Sometimes one is happy, sometimes sad." She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing his weary face. "You don't look well."
"Nay. I wish someone had advised me a couple of months back not to get close to a human. I did, and I pay for it now." He turned away, gazing wistfully at the river. "Anduin is near, and Anduin leads down to the sea. I shall go there soon, and perhaps find healing where the leaves never fall."
Someone approached, whistling innocently. It was Boromir who had come to join them. "Oh, are you here too? I was just taking a walk."
"And I was just leaving." Legolas stood abruptly, and then turned back to Nellas. "Think of what I said."
She smiled at him. "No. You think of what I said.
When he had left them, she pulled Boromir close and hugged him. "Poor boy," she murmured. "How little he knows."
"Poor me," said Boromir huskily against her neck. "I have not had you to myself for days."
"Time to remedy that." She tilted her head so she could reach to kiss him, and from there things soon turned very interesting.
ʕll'ಠ‿ಠ'llʔ
Recovering after long-term unconsciousness and brain injury was horrible. Kat was weak as a kitten, had no function at all in half of her body, and the part that she could still feel hurt badly. She had trouble speaking, she could only open one eye, her muscles had withered so she could just barely lift her hand, and most of the time she was all alone in her dull hospital room.
Despite her urgent plea to the nurses, it seemed she wouldn't get leave to visit Mamma for many days yet, and the waiting was grating horribly on her nerves.
At least today they had removed the feeding tube and brought her a few of her things, such as her tablet. She could update herself on the news since she left, and perhaps watch a movie or something – but first she would check the cluster of cards on her side table.
She began with the biggest one, picking it up with difficulty as if it had weighed many kilograms. Her eyes grew misty when she read it. "Dear Miss Kat, thank you for saving us. Get well soon. We miss you!" It was signed by all the children in her class, and accompanied by a stack of drawings and more personal letters.
When going through them, she almost regretted her decision to leave this world.
The next card was small and plain. It pictured a single red rose on white, and the message was short: "I'm so sorry. /J"
She recognized the handwriting, still childish and a bit clumsy though the writer was a young adult now. Johan. The one who had shot her.
Stifling a sob, Kat put the card away. Despite what he had done, she couldn't help feeling sorry for him. His life was probably ruined for good.
After finishing the rest of the cards, she turned on her tablet, browsing through the news while slowly regaining her composure. Everything felt so strange and unimportant now; though a lot had happened both globally and in her country, she found she didn't care about it.
She suddenly remembered something and typed a series of names in the search window. Several black-and-white photographs instantly appeared, easily recognizable as the young man she had met in the Halls, though he was old in these pictures. Even the pipe and ill-fitting suit were the same.
I'm glad you chose life. She grinned with the half of her mouth that worked. They even made movies from your books! Then she noticed a detail on one of the movie covers and her smile waned. Several silhouettes: a wizard, four hobbits, a pony, a dwarf, an elvish archer, two men...and last in line: a cat.
ʕ(ಠ ‿ ಠ)ʔ
It was a Thursday when Kat was finally allowed to visit her mother. A large taxi van arrived, her wheelchair was rolled onboard and secured, and then it didn't take long until she was brought into that familiar room with the plastic plants and mint green walls.
Mamma looked up from her Agatha Christie book, the same one she always read these days. She enjoyed it equally much each time because she had forgotten who the murderer was.
"Oh, there you are. Have you seen my glasses? I wanted to read, but can't seem to remember where I put them."
Kat struggled to form an answer, and not only because of her brain damage. "They're on your forehead, Mamma."
"They are, aren't they? How silly of me."
A nursing assistant parked Kat beside her mother's armchair. She leaned her head against the thin shoulder, looking at the familiar words on the yellowing book page through a sheen of tears.
"Now, now, don't cry. Is it that boy again?"
"No, it's another this time." Kat sniffed.
"You should never cry over boys, you know. There are so many of them. Lose one, gain one."
"Oh, Mamma, how I've missed you." Kat put her functioning arm around her. "I don't want to ever leave you."
Mamma looked up, smiling – as if despite her illness she knew and understood what Kat was about to do. "Death is just another path, one that we all must take. We will meet again in Heaven, love."
Kat tried to nod. "Yeah. I know."
"Now, go to your boy. But first, will you fetch me my glasses, there's a dear?"
Later that night Kat was back in her hospital bed, her favorite playlist going on repeat in her earphones while she was sorting through her memories and emotions.
Despacito! Quiero ver bailar tu pelo, quiero ser tu ritmo. Que le enseñes a mi boca. Tus lugares favoritos. Favoritos, favoritos...
When she had asked Námo to send her back to this world, she had imagined saying farewell to many people. Friends, colleagues, children – but once here, she found it was enough with Mamma. She was ready now. Ready for a new adventure.
She glanced at the time and date on the tablet and realized it was past midnight – on Good Friday.
Kind of fitting, come to think of it...
She closed her eyes. I'm done now, Lord Námo.
Instantly her heart stopped in her broken body. She felt no pain, only peace as her soul slipped out of it, leaving it completely this time. Only an empty shell remained in the lonely hospital room.
And in a prison cell a couple of days later, a young man opened a letter.
"I forgive you, Johan. Be a better person when you get out."
ʕ(u ‿ u)ʔ
Kat's soul was brought before the Lord of Mandos again, and with her soul complete it felt quite different. She was more present, more whole – and a lot more afraid about what would come. Had she done the right thing? Was this really the best choice she could have made?
"Welcome back," Vairë's melodical voice greeted her. "Before my husband sends thee to thy new world, I have a message to thee and thy beloved."
Kat looked down, rather embarrassed. "Um, okay?"
Now Námo spoke. "After his good deeds, there is a choice for him as well."
"Some call it a gift," his wife added.
"When the right moment cometh, thou shalt speak thus to him," Námo continued. He related a few short verses, and made Kat repeat them until she knew them by heart.
"If he ever doth hesitate, those words shall help him decide," said Vairë.
Kat could not hold back a waterfall of insubstantial tears. "Thank you. Thank you for everything."
"Do not mention it." Vairë smiled.
"Farewell Katharina. We shall meet again, but not in a very long time."
Námo made a motion with his hands and before she knew it Kat was in a body again. A complete, healthy one, lying on soft grass, with birdsong around her. The sun warmed her naked limbs.
Oh. Darn. This will be embarrassing...
She opened her eyes and noticed a very surprised elf staring at her.
A/N:
Sorry if this was a bit short, but I really wanted to publish it today, on Good Friday. :D
Glad so many liked my Tolkien Easter egg hehe (also fitting for the season). If anyone wonders why he calls himself Ronald, that's what I read he did in his youth. And the reason Kat had never heard of him, was that in her reality the weave was re-made, and only after she had finished her quest did he return to life and become a writer.
This is probably not at all how time travel and/or alternate realities works, but I'm sadly no expert on the subject so you'll have to excuse me. XD
Image Credits:
Screenshot from The Lord of the Rings movies.