And the letter cometh!
I'm still looking for feedback on my first 100quills feedback, so I'm not making this next fic public yet or submitting it to the community. However, if you were curious, friends list, about how this overall serial fic would work, here's the letter I wrote a couple days ago. Now, I have a general timeline and plot spread out, and I have a rough map of the routes Remus takes on his travels. As such, his location in this fic is a little towards the end of his journies. As such, he's a little more familiar with The Girl, been on the road for several years, and so therefore has gradually given her details of his past and his persona (eventually the werewolf topic comes up, and The Girl is aware of his connection to the Potters and Sirius Black). I just haven't (obviously) written all the letters leading up to this point and only wrote this one because the inspiration hit me and I thought it was too good to pass up.
Obviously, the stories in chronological order won't follow the exact list of prompts (ex. 1... 2... etc.) so I'll probably have to post a link with my prompt chart to a list of the fics in ideal chronological reading order. But that's something to deal with when I start submitting to 100quills.
So, just like with the first fic, I'd really appreciate some feedback. What you like about the fic, and/or don't like about it.
Title: Evangeline and Gabriel
Author: Melisus the Wee (melisus)
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: 28. Lovers
Word Count: 1,694 words
Summary: Remus' travels bring him to the Canadian Bay of Fundy, where, amongst the locals, he hears of a legend which forces him to consider his past.
Notes: This fic contains the Acadian story of Evangeline as told to me by my Canadian History professor during Wednesday's lecture. I didn't make it up, and some of you may have heard different versions... but like any word-of-mouth story, it's subject to change.
It was a long and arduous trip involving much walking and even more shady hitchhiking, but I've finally made it almost full circle since I began my travels years ago. America was nice, but there is something decidedly comforting about being in the Canadian colony; I feel as if I'm just a little closer to home... even if I'm not entirely sure where home once was.
I speak of home because, as I recently spent time in a magnificent curiosity named the Bay of Fundy, the locals told me about a rather interesting "legend."
Allow me to back up here for a moment and describe the place to you. For some reason, the tides running through the water between New Brunswick (where I am now) and the province which lies across the water (Nova Scotia, I think... I'll discover its name when I go there) reach phenomenal height. Imagine, when the tide is in, looking out over the ocean like any British coast. That in itself is something of beauty - listening to the cries of gulls and breathing in the salty air. However, when the tide recedes, it pulls back far enough for one to actually walk down the gentle slope of the coast and stroll casually across the ocean floor. Amidst the mud I was able to find some of the most wonderful creature oddities. Crabs scuttled in and out of the seaweed beds, spectacularly coloured starfish clung to the slate-grey rocks, and there were shrimp - small, pale-coloured shrimp swimming within the tide pools.
But that was not the beauty of the bay. Centuries of tides moving in and out have carved and shaped little islands of rock in the midst of the bay. It is like being surrounded by giants, looming silently far over your head, patches of grass and the smallest of trees serving as their brilliantly green hair. I have never seen anything like it before, and I doubt if I ever live to see something so spectacular again. The natural world has once again put me into awe.
But there is more to this place than just the natural wonders. The locals possess a culture unique, lively, and older than this colony itself. The small wizarding settlement (one of the only ones in this province, I think) I've found myself lodging in is brightly decorated in what they call Acadian style, painting their settlements in bright bands of red, white, and blue. I found the people to be very warm and welcoming, and actually enjoyed a good long night in a warm, friendly pub while I was there.
There were songs and laughter, and I found myself perfectly content to sit alone and listen to the chattery din carried up around me in a very peculiar dialect of what I believe is French. (However, it sounded nothing like the clear French of Paris.) The boisterous wizards were not content, however, to leave me to my solitude and I soon found myself pulled into the midst of an open and lively conversation.
To be honest, I found myself a little lost with trying to keep up with their talk. The speech would switch between a broken English dialect and that strange North American French. At one point I could not help but wonder aloud why there was so much French here. Was not Quebec the French province?
The conversation immediately stopped, and for a moment I was afraid my evening was about to turn sour. But I suppose the village patrons liked me, for they laughed and didn't seem to take much offence at my remark.
"Non, mon ami," said one wizard to me. "We aren't Quebecois. Out 'ere we're Acadian."
I knew they were Acadian, having mentioned the style of their architecture in such a fashion. I was not, however, sure what separated these French "Acadians" from the "Quebecois" people of Quebec. When I said this, a murmur passed through the group. In case I had deeply offended them this time, I assured them I only asked because I was eager to learn. That seemed to charge those around me, and they quite gladly told me of their history.
I'm not sure whether this interests you or not, but I found it to be quite enlightening. This area of the continent was once part of a French territory and colony called Acadia. We took it from the French in the Eighteenth Century and, during the Seven Years War deported most of the Acadians to territories in the - then British - American states. The Acadians who lived here now were descendents of the deported who had eventually managed to return to their "homeland." This is when I first heard the story of Evangeline.
Evangeline was a young Acadian woman who lived, not surprisingly, in Acadia. She fell in love with an Acadian man named Gabriel (although I've since heard him called Louis sometimes as well) and sure enough, they became engaged. The wedding was going to be a gigantic event, as the couple invited everyone in their village to the ceremony. On the day of the wedding, however, British troops showed up at the Church and told the two lovers that they and everyone present had ten minutes to go and gather all the belongings they could, after which they would all board the ships in the harbour for mandatory relocation.
Evangeline and Gabriel did as they were instructed and were boarded by the British onto the ships. However, they did not get the opportunity to complete the marriage ceremony and so were not yet husband and wife. Worse still, they were placed on two different boats, separated and destined for two different and unknown locations.
I don't know if you are able to imagine the terrible heartache and overpowering despair Evangeline experienced, but I can. This is where the story hit home to me. Evangeline was without the one she held dearest and found herself all alone in a world that surely must have seemed alien and forbidding. I've tried repeatedly to put this behind me, but again I found myself reflecting upon that Halloween where I lost everything I'd ever gained in life. All my friends - what was practically my family - gone in an instant. It haunted me - the day I walked into your bookshop... the day I left for Cornwall... I left not just to travel, but to escape; escape the tragedy of the past and find something new. I wanted to find any shred I could of the happier man I once was. And for the longest time... as my journeys took me further and further away, and I wrote more and more letters... I began to believe more and more that I was succeeding. I began to look on each new day as something to enjoy instead of a day too long that I should curse and resent.
Then I heard of the two lovers and how the fates conspired against their happiness. Evangeline never forgot about Gabriel and continued to search for him or any sign of what became of him. And with hearing that I began to think that it didn't matter how much farther away from home I got, my past was once again searching to keep up with me. I was still nursing my pain and my loneliness as Evangeline continued to long for Gabriel.
But what became of Evangeline and her lost love? For in order to understand the lesson I learned, you must know the end of her story.
Many years after the deportation, Acadians began to group together in preparation for a return to their old homes. In one of these groups where many families found themselves reunited with lost relatives was Evangeline, searching, as always, for Gabriel.
She spied the man standing beneath a great willow and, as excitement and hope began to bubble up, called out his name: "Gabriel!"
Sure enough, it was him, for he turned and looked at her. Overjoyed at having found her love after so many years, she ran to him and went to embrace him... but he pushed her away. During the time they were separated he had married another woman, believing he would never see Evangeline again. Evangeline was crushed. She never recovered from this news and sank into a depression, wasting away in only a matter of a few short years.
That was me, I concluded. Repeatedly reflecting on what was once and how it was ripped away. And it's true that, like Evangeline, my loneliness was slowly killing me. And now it had come again to gnaw at my heart, the ache for my lost friends returning and hurting more than ever.
But, as I sat later that night on the higher shore overlooking the bay, something occurred to me. The thin crescent-shaped moon shone feebly on the water and, listening to the waves lap gently against the shore I began to think of everything I had seen on my journeys. I have seen the beauty of the world in all its different forms. Here before me sat monuments, sculpted and periodically revealed to those who lived above water by the moon of all things. Even that thing which I feared most had given me a work of art whose beauty can be seen nowhere else.
Had Evangeline witnessed this sight - this beautiful masterpiece - and continued to despair? Did she reject the world around her in its entirety because she did not have Gabriel? Was I, like this forgotten lover, to despair of all around me for my friends? No. Faced with such an image of nature and reminded of all I'd experienced in all the corners of the world, I could not simply give up and waste away.
There is a lesson to be learned in all of this. The world is a beautiful place and is always ready to offer you some spectacle. It would be foolish to remain like Evangeline, rejecting the world around you and wishing all the time for your James... your Sirius... your Peter... your Lily...
...your Gabriel.
Yours in companionship,
Remus J. Lupin
Obviously, the stories in chronological order won't follow the exact list of prompts (ex. 1... 2... etc.) so I'll probably have to post a link with my prompt chart to a list of the fics in ideal chronological reading order. But that's something to deal with when I start submitting to 100quills.
So, just like with the first fic, I'd really appreciate some feedback. What you like about the fic, and/or don't like about it.
Title: Evangeline and Gabriel
Author: Melisus the Wee (melisus)
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: 28. Lovers
Word Count: 1,694 words
Summary: Remus' travels bring him to the Canadian Bay of Fundy, where, amongst the locals, he hears of a legend which forces him to consider his past.
Notes: This fic contains the Acadian story of Evangeline as told to me by my Canadian History professor during Wednesday's lecture. I didn't make it up, and some of you may have heard different versions... but like any word-of-mouth story, it's subject to change.
It was a long and arduous trip involving much walking and even more shady hitchhiking, but I've finally made it almost full circle since I began my travels years ago. America was nice, but there is something decidedly comforting about being in the Canadian colony; I feel as if I'm just a little closer to home... even if I'm not entirely sure where home once was.
I speak of home because, as I recently spent time in a magnificent curiosity named the Bay of Fundy, the locals told me about a rather interesting "legend."
Allow me to back up here for a moment and describe the place to you. For some reason, the tides running through the water between New Brunswick (where I am now) and the province which lies across the water (Nova Scotia, I think... I'll discover its name when I go there) reach phenomenal height. Imagine, when the tide is in, looking out over the ocean like any British coast. That in itself is something of beauty - listening to the cries of gulls and breathing in the salty air. However, when the tide recedes, it pulls back far enough for one to actually walk down the gentle slope of the coast and stroll casually across the ocean floor. Amidst the mud I was able to find some of the most wonderful creature oddities. Crabs scuttled in and out of the seaweed beds, spectacularly coloured starfish clung to the slate-grey rocks, and there were shrimp - small, pale-coloured shrimp swimming within the tide pools.
But that was not the beauty of the bay. Centuries of tides moving in and out have carved and shaped little islands of rock in the midst of the bay. It is like being surrounded by giants, looming silently far over your head, patches of grass and the smallest of trees serving as their brilliantly green hair. I have never seen anything like it before, and I doubt if I ever live to see something so spectacular again. The natural world has once again put me into awe.
But there is more to this place than just the natural wonders. The locals possess a culture unique, lively, and older than this colony itself. The small wizarding settlement (one of the only ones in this province, I think) I've found myself lodging in is brightly decorated in what they call Acadian style, painting their settlements in bright bands of red, white, and blue. I found the people to be very warm and welcoming, and actually enjoyed a good long night in a warm, friendly pub while I was there.
There were songs and laughter, and I found myself perfectly content to sit alone and listen to the chattery din carried up around me in a very peculiar dialect of what I believe is French. (However, it sounded nothing like the clear French of Paris.) The boisterous wizards were not content, however, to leave me to my solitude and I soon found myself pulled into the midst of an open and lively conversation.
To be honest, I found myself a little lost with trying to keep up with their talk. The speech would switch between a broken English dialect and that strange North American French. At one point I could not help but wonder aloud why there was so much French here. Was not Quebec the French province?
The conversation immediately stopped, and for a moment I was afraid my evening was about to turn sour. But I suppose the village patrons liked me, for they laughed and didn't seem to take much offence at my remark.
"Non, mon ami," said one wizard to me. "We aren't Quebecois. Out 'ere we're Acadian."
I knew they were Acadian, having mentioned the style of their architecture in such a fashion. I was not, however, sure what separated these French "Acadians" from the "Quebecois" people of Quebec. When I said this, a murmur passed through the group. In case I had deeply offended them this time, I assured them I only asked because I was eager to learn. That seemed to charge those around me, and they quite gladly told me of their history.
I'm not sure whether this interests you or not, but I found it to be quite enlightening. This area of the continent was once part of a French territory and colony called Acadia. We took it from the French in the Eighteenth Century and, during the Seven Years War deported most of the Acadians to territories in the - then British - American states. The Acadians who lived here now were descendents of the deported who had eventually managed to return to their "homeland." This is when I first heard the story of Evangeline.
Evangeline was a young Acadian woman who lived, not surprisingly, in Acadia. She fell in love with an Acadian man named Gabriel (although I've since heard him called Louis sometimes as well) and sure enough, they became engaged. The wedding was going to be a gigantic event, as the couple invited everyone in their village to the ceremony. On the day of the wedding, however, British troops showed up at the Church and told the two lovers that they and everyone present had ten minutes to go and gather all the belongings they could, after which they would all board the ships in the harbour for mandatory relocation.
Evangeline and Gabriel did as they were instructed and were boarded by the British onto the ships. However, they did not get the opportunity to complete the marriage ceremony and so were not yet husband and wife. Worse still, they were placed on two different boats, separated and destined for two different and unknown locations.
I don't know if you are able to imagine the terrible heartache and overpowering despair Evangeline experienced, but I can. This is where the story hit home to me. Evangeline was without the one she held dearest and found herself all alone in a world that surely must have seemed alien and forbidding. I've tried repeatedly to put this behind me, but again I found myself reflecting upon that Halloween where I lost everything I'd ever gained in life. All my friends - what was practically my family - gone in an instant. It haunted me - the day I walked into your bookshop... the day I left for Cornwall... I left not just to travel, but to escape; escape the tragedy of the past and find something new. I wanted to find any shred I could of the happier man I once was. And for the longest time... as my journeys took me further and further away, and I wrote more and more letters... I began to believe more and more that I was succeeding. I began to look on each new day as something to enjoy instead of a day too long that I should curse and resent.
Then I heard of the two lovers and how the fates conspired against their happiness. Evangeline never forgot about Gabriel and continued to search for him or any sign of what became of him. And with hearing that I began to think that it didn't matter how much farther away from home I got, my past was once again searching to keep up with me. I was still nursing my pain and my loneliness as Evangeline continued to long for Gabriel.
But what became of Evangeline and her lost love? For in order to understand the lesson I learned, you must know the end of her story.
Many years after the deportation, Acadians began to group together in preparation for a return to their old homes. In one of these groups where many families found themselves reunited with lost relatives was Evangeline, searching, as always, for Gabriel.
She spied the man standing beneath a great willow and, as excitement and hope began to bubble up, called out his name: "Gabriel!"
Sure enough, it was him, for he turned and looked at her. Overjoyed at having found her love after so many years, she ran to him and went to embrace him... but he pushed her away. During the time they were separated he had married another woman, believing he would never see Evangeline again. Evangeline was crushed. She never recovered from this news and sank into a depression, wasting away in only a matter of a few short years.
That was me, I concluded. Repeatedly reflecting on what was once and how it was ripped away. And it's true that, like Evangeline, my loneliness was slowly killing me. And now it had come again to gnaw at my heart, the ache for my lost friends returning and hurting more than ever.
But, as I sat later that night on the higher shore overlooking the bay, something occurred to me. The thin crescent-shaped moon shone feebly on the water and, listening to the waves lap gently against the shore I began to think of everything I had seen on my journeys. I have seen the beauty of the world in all its different forms. Here before me sat monuments, sculpted and periodically revealed to those who lived above water by the moon of all things. Even that thing which I feared most had given me a work of art whose beauty can be seen nowhere else.
Had Evangeline witnessed this sight - this beautiful masterpiece - and continued to despair? Did she reject the world around her in its entirety because she did not have Gabriel? Was I, like this forgotten lover, to despair of all around me for my friends? No. Faced with such an image of nature and reminded of all I'd experienced in all the corners of the world, I could not simply give up and waste away.
There is a lesson to be learned in all of this. The world is a beautiful place and is always ready to offer you some spectacle. It would be foolish to remain like Evangeline, rejecting the world around you and wishing all the time for your James... your Sirius... your Peter... your Lily...
...your Gabriel.
Yours in companionship,
Remus J. Lupin