Queen of Willow, Part Three (we love the women fandom hates, Day 4)
The last little bit for this exploration of Ophelia's death is the one that most people seem to like the most - the idea that Gertrude was there and saw the whole thing. This has a gentle kind reason for her to know what she does and it's my personal favorite of the set.
Something was terribly wrong but Gertrude couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Whatever it was kept her from choosing an outfit and she paced from her dresser to her wardrobe and back again. Realizing that she was getting nowhere, she sat on her bed, right at the edge and took a few breaths to restore stillness.
And then it hit her -it was too silent. She’d grown accustomed to snatches of Ophelia’s haunting tunes. They made her terribly uneasy and yet there was a certain rightness to the feeling. Without the girl’s sweetness to temper her moods, Gertrude feared she would soon shrivel up inside.
All at once she knew that there was only one place that Ophelia would have gone for solace and she ran for the river, not even caring what she wore anymore. She only hoped she wasn’t too late and she pushed past the willow branches. Yes, there she was, garlanded with flowers and spinning out her songs like lace. “Ophelia, my sweet, that branch will not carry your weight,” she said gently. “Please come down from there before you fall.”
The girl turned to look at her queen with a smile so pure, so radiant, so free of calculation that Gertrude felt her heart break - just as the branch itself broke. She reached out a hand to help her , but Ophelia was too far out to grab, so she looked around frantically for a branch or a rope or a vine - anything to save this woman who had once loved and been loved by her son. Meanwhile, she kept singing her songs as if oblivious to her own fate.
She couldn’t save Ophelia and couldn’t make herself leave her to her muddy death either, so she just stood and watched and drowned beneath the weight of such sweet music.
Something was terribly wrong but Gertrude couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Whatever it was kept her from choosing an outfit and she paced from her dresser to her wardrobe and back again. Realizing that she was getting nowhere, she sat on her bed, right at the edge and took a few breaths to restore stillness.
And then it hit her -it was too silent. She’d grown accustomed to snatches of Ophelia’s haunting tunes. They made her terribly uneasy and yet there was a certain rightness to the feeling. Without the girl’s sweetness to temper her moods, Gertrude feared she would soon shrivel up inside.
All at once she knew that there was only one place that Ophelia would have gone for solace and she ran for the river, not even caring what she wore anymore. She only hoped she wasn’t too late and she pushed past the willow branches. Yes, there she was, garlanded with flowers and spinning out her songs like lace. “Ophelia, my sweet, that branch will not carry your weight,” she said gently. “Please come down from there before you fall.”
The girl turned to look at her queen with a smile so pure, so radiant, so free of calculation that Gertrude felt her heart break - just as the branch itself broke. She reached out a hand to help her , but Ophelia was too far out to grab, so she looked around frantically for a branch or a rope or a vine - anything to save this woman who had once loved and been loved by her son. Meanwhile, she kept singing her songs as if oblivious to her own fate.
She couldn’t save Ophelia and couldn’t make herself leave her to her muddy death either, so she just stood and watched and drowned beneath the weight of such sweet music.