*Bran is not looking at the valley, now, but peering deep into memory.*
We were on the river, weren't we? Eirias was burning in my hand, and all I could think was of my lord Arthur inviting me home. Of Pridwen, and apple trees, and maybe... maybe even a dog Cafall, I don't know.
I remember John crying out, and Merriman...saying something, I don't know what. He was tired, Merriman. I remember that much.
*Will's voice is quiet, and his face is distant and a little sad, as he stares out across the valley and the hills beyond, and into the mists of a day long ago.*
He asked what of it was real, his life with her. If any of it was.
And Merriman told him all of it, in its way. For her, too. We are human too, and those of the Dark as well. When she lived in this world, in that life, it was real and true for her.
But always there is that deeper, other self too, and that is what has dominion in the last resort.
She was Blodwen, just as I am Will and the youngest of my family. But just as I could never stop being an Old One, never choose to renounce that... She is the Rider of the Dark, too, always and deepest. She made that choice long and long ago, and it binds her still and ever.
Then she has bound herself to betray herself, so that every act of the White Rider is treachery to Blodwen Rowlands. Everything I am, and everything I do, will only remind her of her treason.
You Old Ones, you keep such secrets, always. It's for humans' own good, really, that they not know too much. Humans are weak. Humans die. *Bran is nearly spitting with scorn.*
But you have given this world back to humanity, as a great responsibility to hold and protect. You owe us some trust.
And Paul, he will learn what you do not want him to know. He will guess. Perhaps even Blodwen Rowlands will take pity upon him and tell him. You would not like that at all, I think.
Secrets do not last long at Milliways. If your brothers are to come to Milliways, you must tell them first, before Milliways tells them in some less pleasant way.
*Will listens, his face unreadable. When Bran has finished, he looks down again, gazing unseeing at the bracken. After a very long moment he nods a little, and raises his head to look out over the valley again.*
*quietly, without looking at Bran* I did tell Stephen, once.
*evenly* He was not Paul, either. I am not sure about James, but Paul could understand, I think.
Also I wonder what you would have done with Stephen, if you could not simply have lifted your hand and erased his knowledge of what you are. If you had no choice but to be, for Stephen, an Old One of the Light as well as his youngest brother... Perhaps he would have understood, in time, if you had given him time.
*The sun is sinking towards the horizon now, and the temperature is dropping into bitter cold.* And here I am, Will bach, letting you freeze on a Welsh hill and talking about unpleasant things instead of sending you home to your warm dinner. John would have my hide.
I'd invite you home for tea, but there might be questions.
*He stands, brushing off his hands and jeans. A moment, then he glances sidelong at Bran, and nods a little -- perhaps agreement and perhaps only acknowledgment of Bran's view, but either way there is at least some concession in it, and sober worry in his face. Then it is gone, and he is a boy again, in the cold of late afternoon in a Welsh January.*
*Will smiles, a quick goodbye as if he were only heading down the street. And then he turns in the twilight, and is gone. A faint half-heard phrase of bell-like music drifts on the cold wind, and slips away.*
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2005-01-23 10:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-23 10:28 am (UTC)*He looks at Bran, compassionately, and then out over the sunlit valley.*
*softly* Do you remember what Merriman said to John Rowlands, there at the end? About what was real?
no subject
Date: 2005-01-23 08:21 pm (UTC)*Bran is not looking at the valley, now, but peering deep into memory.*
We were on the river, weren't we? Eirias was burning in my hand, and all I could think was of my lord Arthur inviting me home. Of Pridwen, and apple trees, and maybe... maybe even a dog Cafall, I don't know.
I remember John crying out, and Merriman...saying something, I don't know what. He was tired, Merriman. I remember that much.
What did he say, Will?
no subject
Date: 2005-01-23 09:52 pm (UTC)He asked what of it was real, his life with her. If any of it was.
And Merriman told him all of it, in its way. For her, too. We are human too, and those of the Dark as well. When she lived in this world, in that life, it was real and true for her.
But always there is that deeper, other self too, and that is what has dominion in the last resort.
She was Blodwen, just as I am Will and the youngest of my family. But just as I could never stop being an Old One, never choose to renounce that... She is the Rider of the Dark, too, always and deepest. She made that choice long and long ago, and it binds her still and ever.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 04:51 am (UTC)Then she has bound herself to betray herself, so that every act of the White Rider is treachery to Blodwen Rowlands. Everything I am, and everything I do, will only remind her of her treason.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 05:11 am (UTC)We have other problems, perhaps almost as difficult. What will you do about your brothers?
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 05:18 am (UTC)I don't know. If I could be sure they would not come straight back to the bar it would be easy, of course, but as it is...
*One arm unwinds from around his knees, and he plucks idly at the green bracken.*
Paul is starting to wonder.
*His voice is very calm and matter of fact, and the control in it almost hides the bleakness underneath.*
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 05:25 am (UTC)May I tell you what I think? Bluntly?
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 05:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 05:37 am (UTC)Tell them both the truth. As soon as you can.
You Old Ones, you keep such secrets, always. It's for humans' own good, really, that they not know too much. Humans are weak. Humans die. *Bran is nearly spitting with scorn.*
But you have given this world back to humanity, as a great responsibility to hold and protect. You owe us some trust.
And Paul, he will learn what you do not want him to know. He will guess. Perhaps even Blodwen Rowlands will take pity upon him and tell him. You would not like that at all, I think.
Secrets do not last long at Milliways. If your brothers are to come to Milliways, you must tell them first, before Milliways tells them in some less pleasant way.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 05:47 am (UTC)*quietly, without looking at Bran* I did tell Stephen, once.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 05:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 05:57 am (UTC)He started wondering, too. There are messages that can only be passed by word of mouth, you see, safely.
It was too much for him. To reconcile the little brother he saw born with the idea of an Old One. Too much to believe.
*A breath in, a breath out, and his eyes drop back down, though his face does not change.*
But he was not at Milliways, as you say.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 06:03 am (UTC)Also I wonder what you would have done with Stephen, if you could not simply have lifted your hand and erased his knowledge of what you are. If you had no choice but to be, for Stephen, an Old One of the Light as well as his youngest brother... Perhaps he would have understood, in time, if you had given him time.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 06:07 am (UTC)Perhaps.
*His voice gives nothing away, of hope or of disagreement, and his eyes are distant. One hand still twists through the brown winter bracken, idly.*
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 06:21 am (UTC)I'd invite you home for tea, but there might be questions.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 06:49 am (UTC)I should think there might.
*He stands, brushing off his hands and jeans. A moment, then he glances sidelong at Bran, and nods a little -- perhaps agreement and perhaps only acknowledgment of Bran's view, but either way there is at least some concession in it, and sober worry in his face. Then it is gone, and he is a boy again, in the cold of late afternoon in a Welsh January.*
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 06:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 07:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 07:05 am (UTC)