Semi-Original Fiction
Title: With Grace: Hannah's Story (4/?)
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: G
Author: philnggood
Warning/Notes: Slowly making edits. There are Hebrew names and words.
Summary: Chana (Hannah) must live with the reality of being childless after years of marriage to her husband, Elqanah. To make matters worse, her rival and Elqanah's second wife, Peninnah, torments her daily about her barrenness. Though her faith remains, each day she slips deeper into doubt and closer to losing her patience. The only hope for peace she has rests in God's hands alone.
There was a certain man from Ramathaim, a Zuphite from the hill country of Ephraim, whose name was Elkanah son of Jeroham, the son of Elihu, the son of Tohu, the son of Zuph, an Ephraimite. He had two wives; one was called Hannah and the other Peninnah. Peninnah had children, but Hannah had none. - 1 Samuel 1:1-2
Chana didn't sleep the night before their pilgrimage to Shiloh. Her mind was too full, too ripe with anticipation and dread all at once.
Watching Peninnah as she made sure their hirelings properly secured her belongings to her donkey only worsened the dread. It was the same familiar routine. The entire household would rise before dawn on the day of their journey. By lamplight there would be prayer and preparation of the livestock. They'd bring out the fattened bullock that would be offered as a sacrifice. Then they checked up on the flocks being cared for by their hireling named Tilon, a man who dutifully shepherded their sheep and was fond of Nechamah. Then there would be the preparation of their mule and six donkeys to heap their burdens upon.
After these tasks were finished, all Chana could do was sigh. Now they were ready to begin their journey. Yeroham and Elqanah, who was flanked by his eldest sons, traveled for now by foot. All of the women except Lehabah rode either a donkey or mule. Giylah and Emwunah already were slumped asleep and Peninnah quietly swayed with the trotting donkey in front of Chana. Melek, the only child awake, playfully flitted around his grandfather and Elqanah.
"I wish we were already there," Lehabah giddily whispered to Elnathan as they walked alongside one another. Besides there hushed conversation, Melek's tinking laughter was all that could be heard in the lull of early morning. That was until they came across first of the villagers who wanted to join their caravan to the holy city. Upon passing there small lodge, a man timidly called out to Elqanah.
"I know that you and Yeroham go faithfully to the tabernacle," said Yaasuw, a man Chana vaguely remembered seeing in the village before. He was a young father with two little sons and a wife with smooth dark-brown skin and deep ebony eyes shaped like almonds. She wore a headdress and goatskin tunic with leather sandals. Beside her, her husband wore a turban upon his head and similar tunic. He spoke again, "This is my wife Arjana and our sons, Nadir and Tamid. We'd like to join you on your journey."
Yeroham hospitably welcomed the young father. "Yaasuw, you're most welcome join us," he said. A smile curved on his white-haired face. "All who wish to worship are welcome."
The man helped his wife and little sons onto the yoked donkey with their loads while Elqanah walked over to Yaasuw. Though they spoke in a low voice, Chana could still faintly decipher their words from her idled donkey. "Please be warned, I have seen with my own eyes the corruption of the priests in the holy city. They have. . ." Elqanah's voice trailed off, replaced by the sound of Peninnah calling Elnathan.
"Go and lead the bullock." She pointed to the powerful bull Elqanah had steered, and Elnathan reluctantly did as he wad told.
Peninnah's eyes pierced through Lehabah like a dagger. "Perhaps you should pull the bullock and make us dung cakes for fuel along the way."
Lehabah's face was red with anger as she hissed at Peninnah. The threat of a quarrel was obvious.
"Lehabah," Chana called. "Come with me and join Batyah in greeting Arjana."
Peninnah's eyes followed Lahabah as she walked from her own donkey to where Arjana sat on hers. Batyah was already talking to the young woman. "Ah, this is my daughter, Chana," her mother-in-law courtesly said, tugging Chana closer to the donkey on which Arjana protectively held her sons.
"Shalom," Chana said, timidly meeting the woman's gaze.
"Shalom," Arjana softly said.
Chana felt relieved; this woman didn't gawk at her before speaking like the other women in the village often did.
"This is our maidservant, Lehabah."
"Lehabah," Arjana whispered, giggling after she did. Like everyone that encountered her maidservant, she was probably amused by her unusual name. The name's meaning - flame - fit her perfectly.
Lehaban stepped out and greeted the woman while Chana smiled at the two little boys who had yet to say a word.
"Your little ones are not as noisy as ours." They still didn't speak as they saw Chana smile at them.
"They're very quiet, like their father," Ajana answered, stroking the tight curls on the head of the eldest boy.
After Yeroham announced that they would be continuing in their journey, Chana returned to her donkey and was helped back on the saddle. Lehabah fell in line beside Melek, who was kicking up dirt on the barren patch of land. As he lead the bullock back into the sloping hills of Ramah, Elnathan stole longing glances back at her maidservant.
Along the way, they continued to meet villagers who wanted to join them. Some were only prepared with their offering and nothing more. "We have plenty of wineskins, cereal, and dried figs," Elqanah said; though Peninnah persistently gnashed her teeth at the very idea of sharing. "Please, come and join us," he'd offered. So the man and his wife did.
Chana marveled as more villagers continued to fall in. In all, more than five households including their own now set out in reaching the holy city. Usually only the men of the household sought to join them, but this time each house had brought his entire family-wives and children.
Chana was glad their family led the way, preventing her from wondering if the women whispered about her. She hoped those thoughts would leave her mind if she even dared to consider them.
Thankfully, the Lord provided a distraction for Chana. Just then, the sun gloriously rising in the valley in shades of gold with soft flicks of scarlet left her in awe. The cereal field and shallow stream appeared drenched in the morning's lovely colors. She could hear the children that accompanied them utter in wonder how beautiful the flame-brushed sky was.
Marvels such as these were all along the way to Bethel, the place where they would camp for the night. As they rode through Mizpah they saw valleys, sparkling streams, and hills covered in white and violet wildflowers. At times the dipping land presented a task for moving through its rugged terrain, yet no one loss their footing. "Flat land is what is uncomfortable for we Zuphites," Yeroham had jested.
After a while, some of the children who were on donkeys traveled with the other children on foot. Melek found a boy around his same age to match his vigor. Quiet Emuwnah had discovered a girl just a little older than her who could play a wooden flute. Elqanah's daughter was completely enchanted by the girl's playing, and shocked Chana when she began to hum a tune. Chana was even more surprised when Emwunah began to sing. She would've jumped down from her donkey if she could find Elqanah to tell him of his daughter's hidden gift. He always sought ways to bring his youngest daughter out of her shyness. Chana never suspected it would be through song. She made a point to remind herself to tell him.
Waves of conversation continued the entire way to Bethel. It was only when they arrived at the edge of the city that everyone started to look sulky; with dwindling strength, the men had begun immediately constructing the large goat skin tents.
The sun was setting in the sky, casting a dark shadow over the mountainous region in which they camped. While it continued to grow dark, the men made a great fire and kindled it with wood they'd gathered along the way there. While they did this, the village women rationed their food among their families. Out of all of them, Chana's family was the only one with goat meat and the servants to cook it.
Although it wasn't necessary for Chana to join Lehabah and Nechamah as they prepared their meal, she decided to anyhow. With a brief prayer to settle her nerves, she strode towards them.
"Shalom." She adjusted her linen headdress and crouched beside the women at the fire.
"Shalom," they responded all at once. As Chana looked around at the glowing faces in the fire, she realized she didn't recognize these women; it had been so long since she was last in the village. New families lived in Ramah now.
"My name is Chana," she spoke, hesitantly pushing the words past her lips.
"We know," one of them said with a laugh. The woman beside her glanced at Chana, chiding the one beside her, though barely able to contain her own laughter.
Lehabah and Nechamah both cast looks at her and then at Chana; deep lines formed on their brows. "Have you met Peninnah?" Chana asked. She'd ignored the reactions of everyone around her, simply wanting them to know she was human, not some cursed being.
The red-blazed fire crackled. There was silence. Then someone spoke.
"I've met Peninnah." It was the woman who'd introduced herself as Lior. "She bought flax from my mother-in-law," she said.
Arjana appeared at the circle and sat beside Chana with little grain cakes in her hand. All of the women stared at her as she kneeled beside Chana and smiled.
"Your robe is very beautiful," Arjana said.
Chana smoothed her hands over the soft fabric of her light blue robe sheepishly. "Thank you."
She was now simply staring at her hands in her lap, able to feel the group's eyes boring through her. "Can we speak alone?" Arjana leaned in and whispered. She looked at her new acquaintance surprised before answering yes.
They left the group and Arjana offered Chana one of the grain cakes she brought with her. "Thank you," Chana said, taking a piece of the cake as they walked along.
Nearby, the men shouted out instructions on what to do next in constructing their goatskin dwellings. They were nearly finished. Chana's family would all be sharing the same tent since two of the families had to share their second tent. It usually wasn't necessary, but it did provide more space.
"I knew of you before we met," Arjana confessed to Chana, as they neared a low-branched tree not far from the sets of tents.
"It seems many know of me."
Arjana looked at Chana. Her almond-shaped eyes didn't hold the same amusement as the others. "When I heard your story, I felt a need to reach out to you." She stood in front of tree looking out into star-filled blanket of the horizon. "You see, I was also without child for many years."
Chana's eyes widened. She was quiet as the woman spoke again. "I came to Ramah as a foreigner. Because of my barrenness, I was doubly despised by the villagers." She bowed her head as though remembering was painful. "Yaasuw and I share a strong faith in the Most High. We did not give up in our prayer." She met Chana's gaze again. "Prayer kept me strong through the agony of doubt and gossip that surrounded me. In my despair The Most High remembered me and gave me Tamid and Nadir. But as you can see, the village women still talk."
Chana just stared at Arjana, surprised but thankful by the outpouring of this woman's heart.
"I pray that you will be strong and continue trusting in the Lord." Arjana said. Hesitantly she stepped forward and placed a hand on Chana's shoulder. "Soon your sacrifice of thanksgiving will be for a child, as it is for me."
Chana thanked her over and over again. "You have shown me more kindness today than my husband's second wife has shown me since I've known her." Her laughter only partly disguised the truth in her words. For a moment she pondered how she should repay Arjana's kindness.
She glanced back at her newly-constructed tent. "I will have my handmaidens bring you portions of our kid meat for you and your family."
Lehabah and Nechamah did just that. After they had finished preparing the goat meat, they brought some to Yaasuw's family.
Everyone ate until they were full. Elqanah and Yerhoham left to join the other men around the fire that still burned. The servants, the children, and Penninah and Batyah slept in the tent in rooms separated by linen dividers. Spread on the ground were large padded mats to act as bedding. While they rested, Chana went out to feed the donkeys grain. She took with her a piece of linen cloth filled with cereal and walked out to where the tired beasts of burden were tied to their posts. She patted her donkey, Ira, and offered him the food, hearing the rise of voices beside the fire as he chewed on the grain. Once he was done, she lingered near the tent. Just barely, she could hear the voice of her husband.
"Some in Israel wonder if we will continue to be kingless." Elqanah's jaw clenched tensely between the words he spoke. "They do not know that The Most High is and always will be our king. No man is mightier than the Lord. Far too many in Israel believe in the power of men."
Most of the men nodded in agreement, except for one, who just stared wide-eyed in disbelief at Elqanah's words. He sat this way the entire time her husband spoke. Only after Elqanah was done talking did she observe him feign belief.
Chana tried to be calm, but when she went back inside the tent, she couldn't help wondering if things would only worsen for the people of Israel. The priests at Shiloh were merely a reflection of all of Israel; so many men did what was right in their own eyes.
Chana removed her headdress, afterwards thanking Yahweh for Elqanah and his father. Even with wealth and authority, her husband wasn't corrupt. She'd only ever seen him treat other men in the village with kindness, hoping to restore or encourage their faith in The Most High. The only ill decision he'd made had been marrying Peninnah. Despair slowly sunk back in as she thought of how the next few days would play out.
She touched her stomach and wondered when she would rejoice again. She'd forgotten how true happiness felt; an empty womb had taken so much joy from her.
Chana attempted to sleep as she laid on her mat that night, but couldn't. She heard everything-the night raven in the distance, the buzz of a gadfly whizzing at the peaks of the black goatskin tent; and then there was the incessant sound of what she feared was some kind of wild beast. Of course, with her sleeplessness it was possible she was hearing things, but that thought, along with the ones already whirling around in her head, kept her awake. She heard her husband finally striding into the tent and shut her eyes tightly, pretending to be sleep. Sometimes he looked into the women and servant's quarters to make sure everyone was safe. Elqanah couldn't see her fretting like this.
As she laid feigning slumber she could hear him slipping off his sandals. With a heavy, weary sigh, he headed to the side of tent where his sons now soundly slept. She could see his shadow behind the curtain partitioning the separate parts of the tent. With her eyelids slightly closed, she watched him step through the divider of fabric. He looked in her direction. She continued playing sleep. Her act worked; her husband seemed satisfied. As soon as he left, her eyes fluttered back open. She could do nothing but stare into the darkness, absorbed in her thoughts. When she saw a dark, formless shape moving through the tent, she thought her sleeplessness was causing her to see things. Startled, she sat up from her mat and looked across the room to see Lehabah missing from her spot next to Nechamah. Suspicion sunk in. Surely Lehabah wouldn't run away.
But when she heard the sound of familiar voices close to the tent, she immediately knew this wasn't the case. Her maidservant was simply attempting in vain to be deceptive.
Once Chana carefully made her way outside the tent and saw Elqanah's eldest son standing beside the livestock, she was certain the two of them had arranged this meeting.
She wanted to scold them for putting themselves in danger, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Elanathan was too honorable to try and take advantage of her, and if danger struck, he would be sure to protect her maidservant. Chana had no reason to worry.
She was getting ready to slip back in the tent when she overheard Lehabah questioning whether Peninnah would ever approve of their betrothal! Chana's mouth instinctively popped open. Were they actually considering marriage now? Peninnah would surely fly into a tantrum if she were to discover they were.
Elnathan's gentle way of reassuring Lehabah that his mother would come around--the persistence in his words, each one thickly laden with devotion--reminded her so much of his father. Watching them embrace, Chana could tell he really cared for her. She was surprised her how much they already seemed betrothed. "Tomorrow wouldn't be soon enough," she spoke into his robe. "I'm just a little a scared."
Elnathan stepped away and looked at her. "Of my mother?" He seemed amused instead of concerned, playfully flicking one of the plaits in her hair. "Where's your fire, little flame?"
"I'm afraid I may grow angry and strike at her. I pray every day to tame my tongue."
I'll pray for you too, Chana thought. If they were to be married, she would face more derision from Peninnah than she already did.
"Please, don't worry," Elnathan assured. He reached and touched her arm as Chana felt a touch on her own arm. She jumped and spun around to see her husband.
"What are you doing out here?"
Without answering, Chana nodded to the opposite end of the tent where Lehabah and his eldest son now spoke so quietly she could barely hear them.
"Are you upset?" Chana asked.
She waited, and Elqanah didn't respond.
"You knew they would meet like this? Without anyone present?"
He pulled her closer to the entrance of the tent and she detected a smile on his face again. She was glad to see him smile after troubled disposition earlier. "I know what they're discussing."
Chana saw the calm features on his face. There was an air of knowingness on his countenance.
Her eyes widened. "You knew that he was planning to ask that they marry?"
Elqanah nodded.
"He told you he would speak to her." Chana said, catching on. She eyed her husband with furrowed brows. Had he urged this secret meeting?
"I didn't know it would happen in this way, nor at this time, " he admitted, as if he'd heard her unspoken question. "She will make a good wife for him."
Chana inwardly agreed, now believing it more today than she ever had.
"What a mischievous pair they will make," she remarked.
She walked inside the tent and he followed, speaking as to not wake his resting sons nearby. "Like us." The pale moonlight moved over the smile on his face.
Chana softly chuckled as she remembered their own such secret meeting during their betrothal. How Elnathan was so much like his father.
At the sound of shuffling footsteps outside, they quietly returned to their mats. Through half-closed eyelids, Chana watched Lehabah lay back on her mat. She looked peaceful, pleased. Chana prayed for her own shalom as she thought of her husband. She thought of herself in her youth. She thought of their youthful mischief. With Peninnah in Shiloh slowly fading from her thoughts, sleep slowly took hold. Her eyelids went from tiny slits to completely closed. Peace, finally. At least for now.