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May. 12th, 2005 03:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
theravenboyOn Tuesday, Bran accompanies Owen to prayer meeting. Owen accepts Bran's presence without comment. At chapel, Bran listens closely to the text discussion. He sings hymns with a quiet intensity that causes Owen to watch him with concern as well as with pride. Returning home in Owen's old Land-Rover, neither Davies speaks a word.
On Thursday, Bran goes again with Owen to meeting. Only a different list of hymns and a different sermon distinguish this meeting from Tuesday's. In the Land-Rover on the way back, as the wipers clear the thin rain off the windshield, Bran says, "I am sorry I disobeyed you Monday."
Owen does not take his attention from the empty road. "Do not apologize, boy," he says, negotiating a difficult turn. "I should not have asked. It is your life, there, that I told you to give up."
Bran is silent. The Land-Rover swerves around a rock in the street and proceeds slowly home through the rain. At last, Bran says, "It is not my life. Not all of it."
Owen parks beside the cottage. They enter the warm, dry kitchen and wipe their feet on the mat.
Bran says, "I need to talk to her, I think. To listen, really." There is no need to specify to whom Bran is referring. "Would it be all right if I went back?"
Owen closes the door and turns the lights on. "I do not know how it is that you get there, but could you take me with you when you go?"
Bran hesitates. "I think that I can do it. I use the harp, you see. It has magic... but if you do not mind, I think this time I need to go alone."
Owen looks at Bran directly. Whose son is he, yours or Owen's? "Then take me another day. Go, Bran. Go and take care, and come home soon."
Bran smiles shakily. "A useful thing, the magic. You will not even know that I have gone." He does not move from where he stands before the stove. There is an awkward moment of silence.
Finally Owen reaches out his hand into the air. Bran takes it and grips it tightly before going upstairs to unwrap his harp.
On Thursday, Bran goes again with Owen to meeting. Only a different list of hymns and a different sermon distinguish this meeting from Tuesday's. In the Land-Rover on the way back, as the wipers clear the thin rain off the windshield, Bran says, "I am sorry I disobeyed you Monday."
Owen does not take his attention from the empty road. "Do not apologize, boy," he says, negotiating a difficult turn. "I should not have asked. It is your life, there, that I told you to give up."
Bran is silent. The Land-Rover swerves around a rock in the street and proceeds slowly home through the rain. At last, Bran says, "It is not my life. Not all of it."
Owen parks beside the cottage. They enter the warm, dry kitchen and wipe their feet on the mat.
Bran says, "I need to talk to her, I think. To listen, really." There is no need to specify to whom Bran is referring. "Would it be all right if I went back?"
Owen closes the door and turns the lights on. "I do not know how it is that you get there, but could you take me with you when you go?"
Bran hesitates. "I think that I can do it. I use the harp, you see. It has magic... but if you do not mind, I think this time I need to go alone."
Owen looks at Bran directly. Whose son is he, yours or Owen's? "Then take me another day. Go, Bran. Go and take care, and come home soon."
Bran smiles shakily. "A useful thing, the magic. You will not even know that I have gone." He does not move from where he stands before the stove. There is an awkward moment of silence.
Finally Owen reaches out his hand into the air. Bran takes it and grips it tightly before going upstairs to unwrap his harp.
