As long as I live

As long as I live
By Cúthalion

March 28, 1441, The Shire

“Ouch! Oh, that hurts… ouch!”

The morning silence of the cool and cloudy day was shattered by the painful scream of a young voice – followed by an annoyed sigh.

“I told you to stay home, Ham! This is the last time that you drag me into taking one of my little brothers with me when I want to deliver a birthday present.”

„Elly, my knee hurts!” The voice of the small boy hovered dangerously at the edge of a sob. „I’ve stumbled over a stone, and my knee hurts, and I wanted to visit Aunt Lily, too, and I’m big enough, and you’re mean… and now it’s bleeding!”

Meanwhile he was sobbing indeed, and his weeping and the soothing voice of his elder sister wafted into the open window of the nearby smial. The room was a study, with a huge shelf on the wall, filled with books and parchments. A small desk stood close to the window, the tabletop made of shining oak wood, with a leather pad, two ink pots and a quill in a stand made of ivory. On the leather pad lay a big, opened volume, the pages covered with descriptions of herbs and flowers, accompanied by accurate sketches and half a dozen recipes. At the sound of the crying outside the woman sitting behind the desk raised her head, frowned and peered out of the window.

She had a calm, clear face with big, amber brown eyes, a pert nose that gave her a juvenile expression, and a full mouth with a heart-shaped upper lip. People always said that she looked younger than her fifty-seven years, but those who spent more time with her were not so sure; there was a certain tiredness in her gaze, rarely showing up but nevertheless viewable for those who knew her better. She worked as a midwife for more than twenty years now, and though the elder folks of Hobbiton and Bywater still remembered her predecessor – the legendary Amaranth Brockhouse – very well, Lily Proudfoot was enormously popular. She could name each child she had helped into this world, and she had even accompanied the birth of every single son and daughter of the famous mayor Samwise Gamgee. And now, while looking out of her window, she discovered Sam’s very first child and one of his younger sons, Hamfast, born 1432. The knee of the boy was obviously injured, and his tear-streaked face was a dramatic sight, even from the distance. She leaned over the windowsill.

“Elanor? Hamfast? Come in!”

The boy limped down the gravel-strewn path that led to the round door, painted in deep blue. When he had finally reached the entrance the door opened, and Lily Proudfoot took his arm and helped him over the treshold. Elanor followed them inside.

*****

“Shhhh, Ham… I know that hurts, but we must clean it first. Now now… don’t cry anymore. Very fine… see, now it’s over. That’s a brave lad.”

Elanor peered over the shoulder of the midwife. Lily dabbed blood and dirt from the bruised knee of the boy with a clean cloth; she had dribbled a clear liquid from a small flask on the cloth first.

“What’s that?” the girl asked.

Lily looked up at her and a mischievous smile shone in her eyes.

„Pear Brandy.” she replied, and the smile deepened and reached the corners of her mouth. “The father of Mistress Rosie has been distilling it for ten years now, and this is the strongest essence. Perfect to clean a wound.”

She took a piece of gauze and a long white bandage out of her old leather bag and five minutes later Ham sat beside the kitchen table, munching a piece of raisin cake, properly comforted and obviously proud of his adventure. Lily poured boiling water into the tea pot.

“You didn’t come to my birthday party.” Elanor stated.

“I know, child, and I’m really sorry.” the midwife replied. “But the twins of Pansy Bracegirdle insisted on being born just when I was preparing to leave for Bag End.”

“This was the third time in five years,” Elanor said, her slightly accusing tone softened by her smile and the warmth in her voice. “Mama and Papa have missed you, same as I did.”

Lily looked at her and like many times before the beauty of the young girl made her heart miss a beat. Long hair, pale blonde like the early morning sun, big, wonderfully shaped eyes, grey and clear like the sky short before a spring rain and a mouth like rose petals. Suddenly she remembered this face, rounder and much smaller, and a hand with a missing finger, stroking the plump baby cheek with aching tenderness and loving awe. Look, Lily… she will have the best of two worlds. A shining beauty to remind everyone around her of the ancient wonders that are gone, and the strength and happiness of the Shire…

“Aunt Lily?”

Lily blinked and came back to the present.

“I have brought you my birthday gift.” Elanor produced a small package from the pocket of her blue apron. It was a white handkerchief… a pretty handkerchief, fine linen, the four corners embroidered with tiny lilies.

“Did you make this?” Lily asked.

“Yes.” Elanor hesitated. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I do.” Lily leaned in and kissed the young girl’s cheek. “Very well done. Thank you.”

Elanor took a deep breath.

“You know, I’ve seen Mama’s bride bodice. She told me you made it for her. All those roses and forget-me-not’s… Mama said that it was like an unexpected spring after a long winter.”

“It has indeed been a long winter before your father came back and married her.” Lily said with a smile, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes. “But the frost didn’t only come from ice and snow. It was a bitter year when they were gone.”

Elanor noticed the tense tone in the midwife’s voice, but a quick glance didn’t reveal anything… it was as if long, heavy curtains had closed behind the face of the elder woman.

“Now you look like Papa does around this time of the year. Well… at least before he started to read me the Red Book, anyway. I was nearly ten when I heard everything about the quest for the very first time.” A long pause. Elanor felt that she was moving on dangerous ground now. “Did you ever read the Red Book, Aunt Lily?”

„No.” Lily shook her head. „But I saw how it was written, and the story was told to me.”

Elanor blinked in surprise.

„Oh, was it Papa who told it to you?”

„No.”

„Mama?”

„No, someone else, child. And that’s a tale for another day. I have to make my round now, and I’m sure your mother is waiting for you.”

This was clearly a farewell, and Elanor understood the hint and rose from her chair. Ham had finished his mug of milk and his raisin cake, and he was glad that he could leave; the conversation wasn’t very interesting for a nine-year-old boy anyway. But he didn’t forget to say a proper goodbye and even managed a bow when his sister curtseyed beside him. Then they were out of the door and went down the path through the small Proudfoot garden and the tulip beds full of tall leaves and fat, green buds, and soon they were out of sight.

Lily closed the window and sat down in her chair behind the desk. She stared down at Elanor’s handkerchief with eyes unseeing, and she remembered the time when she embroidered Rosie's wedding bodice.

Roses and forget-me-nots, blooming under her hand in the gentle colours of spring, and outside the door she heard the exciting sound of suddenly awakened life and new hope… Hobbiton was being refurbished and the destroyed Bag Shot Row was made anew, with cozy smials and newly planted gardens. From time to time she saw Sam, flourishing in the warmth of Rosie’s love like the primroses and pansies, and she showered the cloth under her needle with pink and blue petals while her heart lay idle, a field full of stones and thorns.

Lily opened the drawer and pulled out the parchment and the small, old bag of black velvet. She unfolded the parchment and let her thoughts wander back once more… this time one year further.

His voice, talking, talking… sometimes clear and calm or even with a laugh in it, then, while the tale went on and reached the darker parts, hesitating, hoarse and very low. Sometimes she had to lean in very close to understand what he said, but she didn’t dare to touch him until he closed the distance between them himself. And then she held him in her arms, rocking his shivering body like a mother would do with a child, until he finally closed his eyes, gave a sigh of exhaustion and relief and fell asleep in her embrace.

Four verses on the parchment, and then the last one, the verse that he had changed when he came back. Lily read the first line aloud, and the sound of her own voice made her wince.

This is my last summer here, love, take my hand…

She quickly folded the parchment and put it back into the drawer. Now only the old velvet bag was lying on the leather pad. She pulled it open and the ring fell into her palm. The amber petals shimmered on her skin like liquid gold. She stared down at it, then she raised her hand and pressed her lips on the delicate blossom of jewels.

Now it’s twenty years, she thought, twenty years, melethron. Twenty years of waiting, twenty years of remembrance and longing. And no, I feel the old pain not a bit less than I did when you stepped out of my door for the last time. Sometimes I’m very tired, melethron, sometimes I’m very, very tired.

Lily sat for minutes without moving, then she slid the ring into the bag again and put it into the drawer. She leaned over the book with the sketches and recipes again.

I’m still waiting, and I will wait twenty years more, even forty or fifty, if I have to… as long as I know that you are waiting, too.

The last line of the last verse on the parchment came back into her mind, and she smiled, her face quiet and yet determined.

“As long as I live you will be in my heart…” You told me that we will meet again, if not in this world, then surely in the next. You didn’t make me many promises, but you kept them all. One day... it will come, I know it will. One day!

She closed the volume and took down her cloak from its hook, picked up the old leather bag from the chair where she had placed it to bandage Hamfast's knee. She went out, shutting the door behind her, and turned from the path onto the road to New Way, a straight, slender figure, her hair shining like a crown in the sunlight that broke, at long last, through the clouds.