Yuletide ficlet: Steadfast (LM Montgomery - Una Meredith)
Title: Steadfast
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: For all the Anne books
Word count: Around 400
Summary: A Yuletide treat for lordessrenegade. "The sun was low over the trees, and she watched it fall over the horizon for Walter Blythe." Some lines are quoted directly from Rilla of Ingleside.
Una never told anyone of her feelings for Walter. When the news arrived, when hope was blotted out with a few telegraphed words carried from Ingleside by a stonily tearless Susan, she fell into a chair in the parlour for a while, then pushed herself upright and helped with dinner. Afterwards, she wrapped herself in a shawl and trudged down into Rainbow Valley. The sun was low over the trees, and she watched it fall over the horizon for Walter Blythe.
Boys had always frightened her with their rough and tumble games, but he had never been like that. The very first time she’d seen him he had looked like a fairy prince, slim with finely boned features and hair the same shade as her own. He’d thrilled them all with stories, often pulled from his own imagination; sometimes, like the Piper, finessed from traditional tales. The day he’d got into the fight (she never thought of that scene without shuddering in fear, although Walter had certainly not been the one in danger), he’d risen in the estimation of almost everyone, even her brothers. But she’d seen the look on his face; she knew that victory brought him little pleasure.
Una had never hated the Piper, although she’d always known that Walter would follow and she would not be able to. That was the way of it. When the war came, she knew, too, and there was nothing that she could do about it. Walter would go, although he hated violence, and she would pray for him. She prayed constantly as she went about her daily business, hoping that God wouldn’t see this as impertinence. She read the newspapers obsessively, desperate for information about what was happening to Walter, how he might be living. In bed, she followed him in her imagination, filling in the gaps left by the reporters with hard pillows, fear, wet clothes on a chilly night. Blood, perhaps, and bone. The socks she knitted were all for him, although they were mailed to unknown soldiers. The food she sent down to the poor by the harbour was cooked for love of Walter Blythe. Everything in Una Meredith’s life was done for love of Walter Blythe that year. If love and prayer could have kept him safe, she would have saved him.
When Rilla brought her the letter - gave her the letter, and that was when Una knew that her secret was no longer her own, for why else would Rilla Blythe, so recently one of the most thoughtless girls in Glen St Mary, give away such a treasured possession? - she kissed it, then tucked it into her wrap and felt warmer than she had done since the news had arrived. After dinner, when her chores were finished, she again wandered into Rainbow Valley and sought out the pair of trees - one spruce, one maple - that Walter had named the Tree Lovers. As the fairy bells, rusty now, tinkled in the evening breeze, she took out the letter.
Read her this letter and tell her it’s really meant for you both - you two dear, fine loyal girls. Tomorrow, when we go over the top - I'll think of you both - of your laughter, Rilla-my-Rilla, and the steadfastness in Una's blue eyes - somehow I see those eyes very plainly tonight, too. Yes, you'll both keep faith - I'm sure of that - you and Una. And so - goodnight.
The late September sunshine filtered through Rainbow Valley, turning the world to gold. Una pressed the letter to her dry lips again and watched the sun go down for Walter Blythe.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: For all the Anne books
Word count: Around 400
Summary: A Yuletide treat for lordessrenegade. "The sun was low over the trees, and she watched it fall over the horizon for Walter Blythe." Some lines are quoted directly from Rilla of Ingleside.
Una never told anyone of her feelings for Walter. When the news arrived, when hope was blotted out with a few telegraphed words carried from Ingleside by a stonily tearless Susan, she fell into a chair in the parlour for a while, then pushed herself upright and helped with dinner. Afterwards, she wrapped herself in a shawl and trudged down into Rainbow Valley. The sun was low over the trees, and she watched it fall over the horizon for Walter Blythe.
Boys had always frightened her with their rough and tumble games, but he had never been like that. The very first time she’d seen him he had looked like a fairy prince, slim with finely boned features and hair the same shade as her own. He’d thrilled them all with stories, often pulled from his own imagination; sometimes, like the Piper, finessed from traditional tales. The day he’d got into the fight (she never thought of that scene without shuddering in fear, although Walter had certainly not been the one in danger), he’d risen in the estimation of almost everyone, even her brothers. But she’d seen the look on his face; she knew that victory brought him little pleasure.
Una had never hated the Piper, although she’d always known that Walter would follow and she would not be able to. That was the way of it. When the war came, she knew, too, and there was nothing that she could do about it. Walter would go, although he hated violence, and she would pray for him. She prayed constantly as she went about her daily business, hoping that God wouldn’t see this as impertinence. She read the newspapers obsessively, desperate for information about what was happening to Walter, how he might be living. In bed, she followed him in her imagination, filling in the gaps left by the reporters with hard pillows, fear, wet clothes on a chilly night. Blood, perhaps, and bone. The socks she knitted were all for him, although they were mailed to unknown soldiers. The food she sent down to the poor by the harbour was cooked for love of Walter Blythe. Everything in Una Meredith’s life was done for love of Walter Blythe that year. If love and prayer could have kept him safe, she would have saved him.
When Rilla brought her the letter - gave her the letter, and that was when Una knew that her secret was no longer her own, for why else would Rilla Blythe, so recently one of the most thoughtless girls in Glen St Mary, give away such a treasured possession? - she kissed it, then tucked it into her wrap and felt warmer than she had done since the news had arrived. After dinner, when her chores were finished, she again wandered into Rainbow Valley and sought out the pair of trees - one spruce, one maple - that Walter had named the Tree Lovers. As the fairy bells, rusty now, tinkled in the evening breeze, she took out the letter.
Read her this letter and tell her it’s really meant for you both - you two dear, fine loyal girls. Tomorrow, when we go over the top - I'll think of you both - of your laughter, Rilla-my-Rilla, and the steadfastness in Una's blue eyes - somehow I see those eyes very plainly tonight, too. Yes, you'll both keep faith - I'm sure of that - you and Una. And so - goodnight.
The late September sunshine filtered through Rainbow Valley, turning the world to gold. Una pressed the letter to her dry lips again and watched the sun go down for Walter Blythe.