Fanfic: "Memories of You" - Chapter 7 - "Love is Patient"
Check out my profile link to Visual Guide to 'Memories of You'" on my LJ page. Pics of what I imagine things to look like, such as Fred and Lizzie's cabin, Grampas Bluffs, and the village. Plus, the instruments mentioned in this chapter are traditional to Welsh culture. There are pics of those there as well.
"If you could hold me now,
I wonder what you'd feel.
Would it all come back to you?
What would memories reveal?
And you will never know
until you're standing in my shoes -
just how much you can love someone
and how much you can lose.
And if I could make you turn around,
to see how we were then -
just one look into my eyes
you'd fall in love again..."
-Tara Maclean
"What did they find?" Iracebeth's eyes were cold with fury. No sooner had they completed the enclosure to keep her new army in than some lunatic had nearly burnt the thing down. She leaned forward towards Stayne, awaiting his answer.
"You won't like it, my queen." He wondered yet again why he always had to be the one to bear bad news. At least he was fairly certain she wouldn't chop his head off - not today, anyway.
"I don't care if I'll like it or not!" she shouted. "What did you find?"
Stayne climbed the stairs to where Iracebeth sat and handed her a small, empty vial. She took it and sniffed it gently.
"Lighting fluid."
"Yes, your majesty."
"Do you know what this means?" She looked up at him expectantly, but he didn't answer. "Someone tried to kill my army! Someone's been here, trying to set fire to them with lighting fluid!" She threw the small bottle across the room where it broke.
Stayne, who hadn't thought that far ahead about it, now considered the possibility. "I don't believe any of the huntsmen would do such a thing. They've seen your exquisite wrath first hand."
There had been quite a few executions the first few weeks after settling down here, and though Iracebeth's favorite method of dispatching unwanteds was to chop off their heads, it was much more rewarding (and quite a deterrent to future problems) to see the traitors marching around with the rest of the dead soldiers.
"Oh, no," she said. "I'm sure no one from here would do such a thing. There's only one person who knows the land and is stupid enough to come here twice...no, make that three times now."
She should have killed him when she had the chance. In fact, as she thought on it, she should have just slit his throat in that field in Queast where she'd left him so long ago, but she was stupid and naïve then. Her past decisions mocked her now - had she really been so foolish to think that Freddie would ever help her of his own will? Again, she thought of the child that his wife carried with envy - a child who could help her become ruler of the whole of Underland, not merely stopping at the mountains or the Crimson Sea. A child with his father's powers under her control, plucking the fears from the minds of her enemies to be used against them. Her mouth watered at the glorious thought of what could be. Damn! She'd given the order to have his wife killed when she'd found they had escaped - clearly she'd been overwrought.
"Stayne, I've changed my mind about Freddie's wife, Lizzie. Have them bring her to me when they find her instead of killing her."
Ilosovic Stayne, who was frequently confused by the queen's behavior since he had no idea of the plans hatching in her mind, never the less answered directly, "It will be done, Your Majesty. There is one more thing. Huntsmen found evidence of horses having been stationed on the outskirts of the woods and they tracked evidence of their riders to the edge of the courtyard."
"So," she hissed. "They've been spying on us as well." She thought for a moment, then waved her hand dismissing the information. "No matter, let them come - in fact, put out the order not to approach or harass them. Let them get overconfident. If they see nothing has changed, they'll stop coming after the heavy snows fall." She grinned wickedly. "Then we'll send our new army to visit my sister."
Days turned to weeks, and life passed in the village of Southern Outland. Lizzie became fast friends with Dyvych's family, the woman herself becoming to Lizzie like the mother she'd never had. Fred ran patrols twice a week with Illynyr and the men on rotation that day. The days were becoming shorter but continued to be unseasonably warm, at least according to those who lived there. Lizzie, accustomed to seasons which began and ended on a regular schedule regardless of the weather, found that in Underland, one really did 'wait' for winter. Winter didn't begin until the first snowfall. Spring began when the first leaves appeared on the trees, summer when the prickleberries ripened, and autumn when the leaves changed.
Nearly every evening, Fred and Lizzie sat at their table recounting their day, sometimes playing cards, other times just talking until well into the night. For Fred, it was just enough to remind him of what he had lost. There had been nights when that he felt so close to her again that he'd had to leave the cabin and be alone, bitterly cursing Iracebeth into the dark night that hid his tears.
Each time, Lizzie was left to wonder what had happened. As the weeks passed, she found she looked forward more and more to the end of the day, to their time. How odd that sounded in her mind, but as a person who had always been a bit awkward and shy around men, she found she'd never been so at ease with anyone her whole life. Those times when he'd left, there had been an incalculable sadness in his eyes, and she'd begun to wonder if maybe he was remembering his wife. She'd wondered since that first day about the rings on his fingers, but there were matching rings on a chain around his neck so she wasn't sure what to make of them. Dyvych's daughter, Mairwen, had explained to her that it was a sign of mourning after one's spouse had passed away. Lizzie never brought up the subject to Freddie, and he never talked about it.
That morning, the cabin was quiet when she woke up, which was odd for a rest day. Freddie was an earlier riser than she was and she could usually hear him clunking around with something in the other room. Sometimes she got the feeling that he was loud merely to wake her up, especially if he had somewhere he wanted to take her. How he could always seem to find the most amazing places when they were out wandering around was beyond her. This morning she dressed and opened the bedroom door to find herself alone in the cabin. She tidied it up a bit and then went out the door. She'd walked through most of the village, about to give up and go find something else to do - not that she was looking for him - when she heard screaming coming from the field where all the kids usually gathered to play. She turned towards it and saw a flock of young girls running around, brushing at their dresses and shaking their hair out. She grinned knowingly and walked around the field from the other side, coming up the trail through the woods across from where the girls had been playing. Freddie, with six of the village's boys, crouched behind the bushes laughing at the girls who were still combing through their hair in the distance. He turned around and flashed her a bright smile. If it was one thing she had learned (or was it relearned?) about him was that, at heart, he was nothing but an overgrown kid - at least when he could get away with it. She went over and knelt down with the boys.
"What are you guys doing?"
"Why do you think we're doing anything?" Fred's eyes sparkled with mischief. He seemed to be hiding something behind his back.
"I saw some girls running around screaming like something was after them." She smiled sweetly at him. "Of course I thought of you."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, nonchalantly. "I've found that girls generally run around screaming for no reason."
"Right. What's behind your back?"
He innocently held out an empty hand.
"Oh, come on...I'm not an idiot. What are you up to?"
One of the other boys held up an enormous caterpillar. "We're helpin' 'em practice flyin'," said the boy, "so's they get th' hang of it 'fore they turn t' butterflies." He put the caterpillar on a thin piece of wood, about a foot long and an inch wide and expertly flipped it, sending the creature over the bushes and straight into the hair of one of the girls who immediately screamed and ran away. The boys howled with laughter. Lizzie whacked Fred on the back of his head. "You're terrible!" she teased. "Did you teach them how to do that?"
He grinned back at her. "They learned from the best."
She laughed at him. "I'm getting lunch, care to join me?"
"Sorry kids, gotta go."
The boys grumbled and whined as he stood up to leave. "Aw, come on Freddie, we was just getting' started!"
"Don't worry, I'll think of something even better next time." He turned to walk away with Lizzie when he felt something breeze past him. "Run!" They both ran from the boys, getting pelted with caterpillars as they went.
Fred stopped her before they entered the dining hall. "Hold on, I think you've got one caught in your hair."
"Ick, get it out." She turned around so her back was to him.
"Hold still." Fred reached out with hands that slightly trembled with the memory of touching her and pulled her hair back from where it spilled over her shoulders. Gently he raked his fingers through it, feeling for the non existent caterpillar.
Lizzie willed her heart to slow down as he stepped closer to her. He so very rarely touched her, but when he did, it seemed...she couldn't explain it, like a memory she could feel but couldn't see and couldn't find. There was something about him that was so different from anyone else she'd ever known. He could be a silly cut-up one minute, teasing her about one thing or another, then his eyes and voice would change slightly and he'd talk about something serious. He was a regular Jekyll and Hyde at times, two separate personalities, yet perfectly integrated with each other.
"Hmm, I guess it fell out," he said, stepping back from her. "Come on, I'm starving."
Later that evening, the weather turned colder, and the first flakes of snow fell on the village of Southern Outland.
To the north, a huntsman turned warlord rode along the ranks of men who had sworn their allegiance to him and to the Red Queen. Together they numbered nearly 600 strong. The chuffs from their horses breath peppered the night along with the muted clinking of the armaments they bore. At their head, the black flag of Northern Outland snapped in the wind. Remenhal guided his horse over to his second in command. He would be unable to ride with his men, but his was the greater army - an army of destruction and annihilation. He found it endlessly amusing that it was comprised of those who would have given their lives to protect the land and people that was, in death, their destiny to destroy.
The light snow swirled up from the cold barren land like banshees - the harbingers of death in ancient legends, and the wind keened eerily through the forest beyond them. It was almost time to leave.
It was still early - earlier than Lizzie normally woke up to be sure, the sun was just beginning to rise. That feeling was back - the feeling she'd had several times during the past two months of having dreamt of something important that she couldn't remember - a field? A forest perhaps? Or maybe a person? She could never recall after she was awake. She got up and looked out the window and smiled at the thick flakes of snow falling outside. Winter had come at last. She stripped off her gown and threw on a dress - the dark emerald green one that Freddie had commented looked good on her. She smoothed her hand across it, smiling as she felt the slight rise just below her navel, though it was hardly noticeable to anyone but her. According to Dyvych, who was also the resident mid-wife of the village, she guessed she was around 12 to 13 weeks along.
She shivered. Her room was cold and she supposed she was going to have to start sleeping with the door open if she wanted any heat from the fireplace. She opened the door and crept over towards the man lying by the fire. She stood quietly for a few minutes, watching him sleep.
"You're up early," he murmured, making her jump.
"I had a weird dream."
He opened his eyes and turned towards her, propping his head up on his elbow. "Really? What about?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, I can never remember. Hey, you should get up and look outside. It's snowing pretty hard."
He threw back the top of the bedroll and climbed out, wearing shorts Lizzie was relieved to see, though she still felt herself blush as he came over to where she stood. His bare shoulder brushed against hers as he gazed with her out the window. She stepped back - and noticed the scars on his back.
Fred felt the emotion ripple through her, the same feelings she'd had so long ago the first time she'd noticed them, though he doubted this time she'd throw her arms around him.
"What happened to you?" she asked softly.
"I got into a fight with Iracebeth... No, I suppose that would be Stayne actually," he corrected. "I lost."
"I'm sorry." Her eyes were still riveted to the marks that criss-crossed nearly every inch of his back.
His eyes searched her face, but she wasn't looking at him. "It was a long time ago." A thought flashed through her to him - she wanted to touch him, wanted to run her fingers along the scar she was looking at. She swallowed. He hesitated, waiting, but she made no move.
"I don't bite," he whispered gently.
She looked up then, startled at his reply that was so apt to what she was thinking, and for a second their eyes met. A world of lost memories stretched out between them, and to Lizzie it brought the same pain that made her wake at night with tears on her pillow and an incredible feeling that she had lost something that was more precious to her than even her own life. She stepped back and looked away.
Fred couldn't understand what it meant. There were times, like just then, when they came so close...to what, he didn't know. Almost as though their lives, the way they were meant to be, hovered there between them - but she'd always turn away, and he didn't press his luck. Someday...someday when all this crazy mess was over, someday if the spell broke (which he was becoming more and more cynical about as the weeks turned into months)...someday she'd be his again. He couldn't bear to think about her not.
He turned back towards his corner of the room where he grabbed a shirt and threw it on. "There'll be a festival tonight."
She looked back at him, grateful for the change of subject. "What do you mean?"
"This is the first rest-day after the first snowfall," he said, grinning. "I have it on good authority that Dyvych is going to conscript you to help bake pies. I want a bramble-berry."
"And no doubt would eat every bite of it and save none for anyone else," she teased.
"Hey, no one asked me to share."
"You ran off with the whole pie!"
He shrugged. "You make good pie."
There was not much she could say in response to that. "Come on then," she smirked. "Let's go see what trouble you can get yourself into."
The dining hall had a large kitchen in the back where the families who took turns at providing the meals would cook. It really did remind Lizzie of something from her days at camp, though the stoves and ovens here were all wood burning and there was no refrigeration. She stuck her head in the door and found that it was already full of good smells and plenty of helpers. Dyvych spotted her and waved her in as she made her own way over to the door.
"You're just in time, dearie. You'd best take over from Angie, I'm not sure if she thinks it'll taste good or if'n she's just not payin' attention, but I think she's put th' mashed roots into a pie."
She and Lizzie both broke out laughing. Mashed roots were, as far as Lizzie could tell, exactly the same as mashed potatoes. "She's probably too busy thinkin' about her new beau for this week," said Lizzie.
Fred popped in behind Lizzie and poked her in the ribs. "I want pie."
"You! Out!" Dyvych scolded him. "There's no men allowed in the kitchen on festival days. They do too much samplin' and not enough cookin'!"
There was a slate of cookies beside him. He reached for one, but the weaver woman whacked his hand. "Get!"
He looked over Dyvych's shoulder. "I think somethin's burnin'."
Lizzie shook her head and rolled her eyes while the woman turned around just long enough for Freddie to grab two cookies.
"See ya' later, Lizzie," he said as he brushed past her, escaping the kitchen.
"So," said Lizzie to Dyvych, "we need pies?"
"Aye! You know where everything is. Oh, and Lizzie...just make an extra one for Freddie this time."
Lizzie grinned at her and started to work.
Almost everything had been completed with the food that would need to cool so all the women, Lizzie included, grabbed chairs and went into one of the large storage rooms built onto the kitchen. They made a circle of the chairs around an enormous pile of roots that needed to be peeled and cut. Lizzie took a seat and listened as the gossip started to fly. She'd found that being around the women of a clan was a lot like a soap opera, only it was real life and you just heard about things instead of watched them, of course. There were a couple of givens - everyone listened patiently to Angie talk about her boyfriend of the week, to Thera and about how she swore her neighbor was growing horns, and of course everyone had their own superstitions about how to tell if Lizzie was carrying a boy or a girl (but thankfully they'd grow tired of that lately). Lizzie listened, but only half-heartedly. Her mind kept drifting back to earlier that morning and to Freddie's dark blue eyes as she stood beside him at the window.
"...isn't that right, Lizzie?"
The question jerked her out of her reverie. "What?" she asked as the others giggled.
"I said Freddie'll keep you warm this winter," said Angie.
Lizzie blushed furiously. "I'm...we're...it's not like that." She tried to concentrate on peeling the root in front of her. Murmurs of surprise and disbelief floated around the circle.
"Really?" asked one of the younger women. "Well, if he's available, I can take 'im off o' yer hands for ya', if you'd like."
Lizzie raised her head and glared at the woman, her face even more flushed than before.
The woman laughed. "Oh, I see. He's not that available, now is he? Don't worry, Lizzie, I'm only jokin'. Besides, he don't look at none o' us like he looks at you."
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," said Lizzie.
"Then y'ain't lookin' in th' right direction." More snickers followed while Lizzie tried to will herself to disappear.
"Now, now," said Dyvych, "enough with that, leave poor Lizzie alone." The woman turned to her. "Dear, why don't ya' escape these meddling hens for a while and see if we've got enough wood for th' stoves."
Lizzie hopped up, relief evident on her face. "No problem." She hurried back into the front of the kitchen and dutifully checked the wood boxes. The last one was only half full, so she threw on her heavy cloak and set off to where the wood was stacked against the fence-line that separated the woods from the village common across a short field. The snow was about six inches deep and she was glad she'd worn her boots that morning. She stopped in the middle of the field and looked around at the huge flakes that were falling - not thick, but steady. She didn't see anyone and grinned as she threw back the hood of her cloak and looked up into the gray, seamless sky - laughing as the flakes fell in her eyes and against her lashes, tickling her face. She stuck out her tongue and tried to catch one, but missed and spun herself around, chasing them until she caught one.
Fred, having exhausted most things he could think of to do, including a snowball fight with the other kids had taken to sitting against a tree not far from the dining hall doors, waiting for Lizzie and watching the snow fall. He was about to give up and find somewhere warmer to go when the door opened and she came out. He trailed her, hiding behind trees and bushes, fulling intending to whack her with a snowball as soon as she walked into the open field. Instead, he watched transfixed as she threw her hood back and her arms out, feeling the snow fall against her face, trying to catch snowflakes - just like he'd seen her do a million times when she was a child.
As heartbreakingly difficult as the last two months had been for him, he had been able to see a different side of Lizzie, one that he had never been able to experience before. They had started here with him been nearly a total stranger to her and now their relationship was close to what it had been when they'd first come to Underland. It crossed his mind that this was how life might have been, in a different time and place. If Lizzie had been born in Underland as he was, members of the same clan (as they seemed to have been adopted into here). He would have done anything to win her love. He watched her another minute before he chucked the snowball at her. Incredibly - he missed.
Lizzie spun around, her eyes picking out Fred's movement from the tree-line. She took advantage of the opportunity of him hiding and not being able to see her to quietly run to the other side of the hedge he was behind. She scooped up two huge handfuls of snow, leaned over the bush, and dumped it on his head.
"Hey!" he complained, shaking snow off his head and out of his hood. "That's not fair! That's not how a snowball fight works!"
Lizzie laughed. "Oh, are we playing fair today? I didn't know you knew that rule."
He scowled at her, not accustomed to having anyone else get the upper hand in a game of his own choosing. "Ha ha, very funny." He stood up and brushed himself off. "What are you doing out here anyway? Did ya' miss me?" he teased, noticing she blushed slightly.
"No, I need to get more wood. Since you're obviously not busy, you can help me."
"You don't have to be snotty about it."
Her eyes narrowed at him. "What in the world are you doing?" Surely he hadn't been waiting for her - had he? "Have you been sitting out here in the cold waiting on me?"
"No, of course not! I was having a snowball fight with the kids."
She glanced at him doubtfully. "The kids all came in for hot tea half an hour ago at least."
"Do you want help or not?" he grumbled.
Lizzie laughed. "Come on."
They reached the woodpile and Lizzie loaded Fred's arms down with wood. They were nearly back to the door of the dining hall when it struck Lizzie that Freddie walking in with her, carrying the wood she'd gone to get, was only going to make her the brunt of more teasing and gossip.
"Put the wood down here, I'll carry it in."
Fred looked at her suspiciously. Something just didn't add up right. First, the pregnant lady gets sent out into the snow to get more wood, now she wanted him to put it down before the got to the kitchen. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not putting it down in the snow just for you to pick it up again," he told her. "Hold the door for me."
Reluctantly she pushed open the door, her eyes darting around nervously. Maybe no one would notice them.
Freddie brushed past her. "Which box?" he asked.
"The last one." Why hadn't she put the wood from the box closest the door into the other one? Now they would have to walk right past everyone. She sighed. She was going to hear about this one for sure.
Fred emptied his armload of wood into the box and looked around. "Where'd ya' put all the goodies?"
"Never mind that," she whispered fiercely. "Get out...please?"
He grinned, curious as to why she wanted to get rid of him so badly. "Why?"
Laughter erupted from behind them and he turned around to see a group of women sitting in a loose circle, all their attention focused on himself and Lizzie - whose cheeks had turned quite a spectacular shade of red. His eyes shifted between them and her, picking up on their thoughts, and he realized that he'd managed to insert himself into some chick gossip session of which he and Lizzie seemed to be the focus of. No wonder she'd wanted him to leave. If he wasn't so afraid of what her reaction might be, he'd give them something to talk about, gossiping old hags.
"All right, all right, I'm going. See ya' at supper." He flashed her a grin as he disappeared out the door.
Lizzie sighed and went back to her chair and picked up her knife and a root, ignoring the bemused faces surrounding her.
"So..," started Angie, "that was awfully nice of him to help you. Did you find him or was he waiting for you outside the door?"
"He looked pretty cold," said a woman named Glenna. "I'll bet he was waiting out in the snow for her."
Lizzie decided staying quiet just wasn't working. "He's married," she said quietly.
"No," said Angie, "he was married. I've seen his wife's rings around his neck. Poor guy, I wonder what happened to her." She was quiet a moment, lost in speculation. "Oh!" She looked back at Lizzie, astonished. "You don't remember him, from before Iracebeth took you, right?"
Lizzie glanced at her warily. "No..."
"Maybe they're your rings, Lizzie! Maybe you're really his wife and you just don't remember him!" Her eyes lit up at the possibility. "Wow, wouldn't that be amazing?"
"I think I need to check my pies," muttered Lizzie. She got up and left the circle, willing herself not to even consider such an outrageously improbable suggestion.
After supper, everyone gathered in the town square where a few of the villagers had gotten together sort of makeshift band. There were a few people with what looked like some sort of a pipe with horns on both ends, one person with a large harp, another with a harp that was much smaller and woman with another instrument she'd never seen before, some sort of a box with strings on it. Lizzie asked the person next to her what the two she didn't recognize were. The pipes were pibgyrns, and the box with strings, which was meant to be played like a violin apparently, was a crwth.
The music started and people partnered off to dance in the square, but Lizzie's attention was caught more by the people lighting lanterns and hanging them from the trees. A sliver of a memory came to her - lanterns, like Japanese globes, hanging from the boughs of an apple tree in bloom - and with it came that painful feeling of having forgotten something that should never have been forgot. She left the crowd and wandered back towards the edge of the courtyard as her tears began to fall.
Freddie looked around for Lizzie, but he couldn't find her anywhere. They'd gotten separated after supper when she'd helped to clear the tables and he'd gone to help carry wood for the bonfire. A woman noticed him, told him he looked lost, and pointed him towards the tree-line at the edge of the courtyard.
He started across the short field, wondering why in the world Lizzie had come all the way out here. She was going to freeze to death. He found her sitting against a tree, all but invisible with her cloak wrapped around her and her hood pulled down over her face, and sat down close beside her.
"Hey, what's wrong?" He felt her sorrow, even without seeing her tears.
She raised her head and pushed her hood back enough to see, but didn't look at him. "I was just thinking, that's all."
"About what?"
She shook her head. "It's nothing, probably. It's just...sometimes I remember things, but they don't make any sense. Something will remind me of something else and...," her voice caught as she began to weep again, "...and it...it's just nothing...but it hurts. It feels like my heart is braking, but...the memories, they never mean anything."
Fred put his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head back against him. "What did you remember?" he asked her.
"An apple tree at night," she sobbed, "in full bloom. There were lanterns hanging from the branches." She shook her head. "That's it...that's all it was, just a split second, and then it was gone."
He was glad she couldn't see him, for her words had made his own eyes burn with tears. A night he would never forget, on a balcony at Marmoreal, when he had touched her - kissed her - without thinking of himself as Drop Dead Fred, but as a man grateful for the forgiveness of the woman he held so dear. He gave her a gentle squeeze.
"Freddie?"
"Yeah?"
"What if my memories never come back? What if they're gone forever?"
He rested his forehead against the wool of her hood, not wanting to even consider that possibility. "Then we'll just have to make new ones," he said, without thinking. Someone was calling to them from across the courtyard. "Hey, we'd better go before they send out a search party." He stood and helped her up, keeping her hand in his as they walked back to the square, which was now nearly as bright as day with the lantern light reflecting off the snow. Fred stopped abruptly and dropped Lizzie's hand. She turned around and watched as he slowly sank to his knees, unmindful of the cold ground. Lizzie knelt down in front of him, worried. His eyes, an odd sea-green color, seemed to be focused on something far beyond them, beyond the light of the square, beyond the night that surrounded them.
"Freddie? Are you okay?" she reached out to touch him, but a hand caught hers before she did. It was Dyvych who had also knelt down beside them.
"Don't touch him, dear," she whispered. "He's seein' something."
Others who passed stopped and watched, murmuring to those around him until it seemed the entire village held it's breath, waiting to know what was happening. After two or three minutes, he groaned and rubbed his eyes, focusing again on the world around him. He looked grimly at Lizzie and Dyvych.
"What have you seen?" asked Dyvych.
"A future I hope can be changed," was all he offered. "Where's Illynyr?"
"Here," a voice called behind him. Fred stood as the young leader made his way through the crowd.
Fred drew him aside anxiously. "I think we should go north and check Iracebeth's fortress. We haven't been there since the snow started falling four days ago."
"What did you see?" asked Illynyr.
"Marmoreal burning."
A/N: I haven't gotten any response from anyone on LJ or any comments, so I've decided if I don't get any comments this chapter, I'm just going to be posting it on Fanfiction.net instead of here, and then just post the whole story here once it's finished.