Closing the Distance (Chapter after "A Cold Campsite")

[Iris 0]

Closing the Distance

 

Nearly two weeks of Moiraine's icy behavior had passed. She was no longer livid, but held emotions far away from Lan, trying to make herself seem vacant and uninterested in his presence. She and Lan spoke to one another in a matter-of-fact way. She was cordial, but never friendly. She kept her distance in every respect, often spending nights they camped with her head on her hand, elbow propped up, reading or writing, back turned to him. Most of the time, unbeknown to him, she stared at the same place on the page for an hour before putting it away and laying down to sleep. She was always sure to give Lan the impression that she did not want to be disturbed. This impression was most difficult to give when they were riding, since those were times in which they were accustomed to having friendly conversation. The silence was awkward for both Moiraine and Lan, but Moiraine was determined.

 

Lan felt helpless and frustrated, but he always wore his same stony expression, as if nothing affected him. He did what he thought was the right thing with that lie. He still wanted to know what happened that day in the woods. Finding out was the only way to reverse the damage that had happened. But she wouldn't tell him, and she kept herself too distant for him to even lightly broach the subject. There was really nothing left for him to do but fulfill his duty to protect her, and he would uphold that duty until his death, no matter how much distance Moiraine built between them.

 

The more time that passed, the more worried Lan became over their bond. He was just as skilled at burying his emotions as Moiraine, but he allowed his worried thoughts to flow while she slept.

[Iris 0]

A fire crackled merrily in each of the large hearths. Aside from the Whitecloaks, it felt good to be in the inn. Music and laughter filled the room, and despite the stony expression Lan always wore, he felt his own mood lighten considerably. He hoped Moiraine's did as well.

 

Moiraine, pretending to be only a lady from Cairihen, had secured them two bedrooms. The innkeeper, a fat, jovial man, led them to two rooms which stood side by side.

[Iris 0]

She had hoped Lan would sit down while she stood. She felt that would give her an advantage over him, but he stood behind her

[Iris 0]

Moiraine looked up at him, tears sparkling in her eyes that pleaded to him not to make her go own. He hated seeing her cry like this, but he knew there was more. Whatever came next was causing her to react like this, to hurt her. He needed to know, no matter how difficult it was for her to open up to him and say it. “I'm sorry to hurt you, Moiraine, but I need to know.” He wanted to hold her and comfort her, but he was sure his touch would drive her away.

 

A tear spilled down her cheek as she looked away from him, She covered her face with her hands, audibly crying. Lan let her cry until she was ready. Then she spoke in hushed tones, straining to hold back her sobs. “I felt you making love to me, Lan. I felt everything from you. It flowed through our bond. And you said,” she sobbed for a minute and she continued in a whisper “”You look so beautiful over me, Moiraine....and you feel so beautiful inside.” She broke down now, crying and unable to stop. Lan only stood there looking at her, feeling so much anger at himself, for violating her and making her cry like this. She felt his anger too, but misunderstood it. She wanted more than anything for him to hold her while she cried, but she knew he wouldn't.

 

“Then you let my wrists go,” she continued, still crying, “and you kissed me, Lan,” she whispered, crying into her hands. “You kissed me. And then I healed you.”

 

Lan watched her move away to sit down on the bed, burying her face in a pillow, crying. He had never seen her like this. He had seen her face death and horrors that would make any woman cry, but she never did. But she cried now. This was how women cried when their honor was ripped away. He had ripped her honor away.

 

He sat down beside her. “Moiraine, I'm so sorry for what happened,” he tried to say it calmly, over the anger he felt inside at himself. “Had I been conscious of myself, I would never have done such a thing to you. I would never have touched you in that way.”

 

Lan suddenly felt an explosion of emotion from Moiraine: anger, sorrow, and pain mingled together to such an intensity, it almost made him flinch. She lifted her face from the pillow and looked at him, her eyes red from crying. “Of course you wouldn't do that to me, Lan” she said in a tone that was so low, so fierce. He felt taken aback, not knowing what to expect from her. She had a wild, almost violent look in her eyes. “You would only do such a thing with another woman,while I have to feel it!” her voice lifted to a crazed shout as she said those last words. He had never heard her talk like this, but he only sat there and listened, her beautiful face just inches from his own, contorted in rage. Her low, fierce tone continued. “I'm sure there are lots of pretty girls, even some tavern whores, in the common room.” Her eyes glimmered with viciousness. “ Why don't you go find one and enjoy yourself? A man like you needs satisfaction--something I don't provide for you. Why don't you go find one who will sit on top of you and ride you? That's how you like it, isn't it Lan?”

 

Lan swallowed, shocked, yet desperate to save things between them. This moment felt like a last chance, “Moiraine, I...”

 

“Get out!” she screamed at him, fury marring her beautiful face.

 

Lan moved away toward the door. He hated himself. She felt his hatred, but she thought it was for her. She cried again, holding the pillow over her face. Lan quietly opened the door and stepped through, shutting it behind him. He could still hear her crying as he moved away down the hall to the common room.

 

Lan sat down at a table, drinking from a mug of ale. He puzzled over the abrupt change in Moiraine's behavior, going from hushed sorrow to intense fury so quickly. Why had she behaved like that? He never imagined she would lash out at him like that, ever. She always held herself in such a dignified way, stubborn and proud, when she was angry or upset. But now she was breaking down, crying and screaming and flying at him like any other woman. Aes Sedai or not, she really was just a woman. But what right did she have to be so angry with him? What did she want from him? He felt his frustration with her building back up. She expected him to understand why she was upset, to read her mind. But he could only read her emotions. “Bloody lot that helps when it comes to a woman,” he thought bitterly.

 

And that comment about finding a woman to sleep with! He had sex with women before, Moiraine feeling it, but she always let it roll off her back. Granted, she did look a bit off-color in the morning,but after that she only held herself gracefully, pretending that she had felt nothing.

[Iris 0]

Lan reached out to Moiraine's emotions. He could still feel her pain, her sadness, but with it was also a dimming of her senses. She rarely drank much, but Lan noted that she did look a bit tipsy upstairs. And after their conversation she probably drank more, trying to drown out her pain. He couldn't blame her, he wouldn't mind drowning out his own as well.

 

Lan observed the common room. Some people danced, others gambled and drank. A small group of Whitecloaks left their table, moving up the stairs of the inn. Others made their way back out into the street. Women moved about, some serving ale, others city on men's laps, flirting ostentatiously. There was always ale to wash away a man's troubles, but there was also women. Lan rarely had to lift an eye, let alone a hand, to attract a woman—women came to him. His strong, muscular body, his light blue eyes, and his respectful manner with women was hard for most to resist.

 

He glanced at the women in the common room. Usually serving girls were the most willing to share a man's bed for a night. One young woman looked in his direction, smiling in a sultry way. She was fair, with dark hair and eyes, like Moiraine. He smiled back. “Moiraine” he thought spitefully. “This was her “suggestion” wasn't it?” No matter. Most likely she would be passed out soon, unable to sense anything by the time he was enjoying himself. He reached out to Moiraine and found things very hazy. She was drunk and would be sleeping on her bed by the time he got back to his.

 

Meanwhile, Moiraine clutched the side of the four-poster bed. She had drank before, but never let herself become this drunk. The wine had been strong, but surely only one or two glasses should not have this affect on her. She pressed her hand to head. Spots of light seemed to pop across her line of vision. Her temples throbbed. The light of the room flickered on and off, threatening to plunge her into darkness.

 

She had seen drowned-drunk people many times, most enjoying it before passing out to sleep deeply. But this was something else. Not only could she feel it in her head, but she felt a numbing sensation moving down her legs and arms. Her blood felt like ice in her veins. She started to shake, barely able to stand as she leaned against the bed. Something was wrong with that wine. Very wrong. She remembered once how a female innkeeper, a thief really, had offered her a glass of tainted wine. Realizing the trick just in time, she bound the woman with a flow of air and made her drink it instead. She watched as the woman had convulsed and passed out to the floor, followed by two gruff men approaching her unconscious body, licking their lips. The thought sent a shudder down her already trembling body.

 

A knock came at the door. “Lan,” she thought with relief. She could barely reach out to him or even to Saidar. It was frightening. She tried to put one foot in front of the other. Just walking required a strength she was quickly losing. Finally, she reached the doorknob and pulled the door open, almost falling as she jerked it back. The sneering smiles of three Whitecloaked men, eyes red from drinking, met hers. Startled, she tried to embrace Saidar, but it was unreachable now. She tried to call out to Lan, to say his name, but she couldn't. Her mouth tried desperately to make a sound, but none came. She felt herself slide down to her knees on the floor, darkness swallowing everything.

 

Lan was just entering into a bit of flirtatious conversation with the dark-eyed serving girl, when he felt Moiraine startle, quickly followed by nothingness. She must have passed out completely now, but why did there seem to a be fleeting moment of fear? Perhaps she had fallen down and hurt herself. A line of worry creased his brow. The serving girl slid her hand on his thigh. Lan faltered, temptation urging him to stay. He could feel that Moiraine was sleeping deeply now. He would enjoy himself with the serving girl at little longer, then when he went back to his room to wait for the girl to join him, he would check on Moiraine.

 

After another half hour or so, Lan walked up the stairs. He came to Moiraine's door, a sliver of light said the door was not entirely closed. “Moiraine?” he said, as he pushed the door open. There was no one there. Her things laid about as if she had just been there, yet she was gone. There was no evidence of any kind of struggle, yet he felt that she was unconscious, as if in a deep sleep. He walked around the room. She was gone and the door had never been closed behind. And now that he focused on her ball of emotion, he found that she was physically very distant.

 

Lan's mind worked with stealth, a prominent feature of Warders. He recalled the group of three Whitecloaks that moved up the stairs of the inn, shortly before he felt Moiraine's startle, the same ones who held that leer at her too long when they entered the inn. Lan moved out of the room at a run, dashing through the back door of the inn.

 

Two men sat near the back door in the alley, mugs of ale in their hands, laughing and talking loudly. They were drunk, but not too drunk to be blind. Lan turned to them, “Did you see three Whitecloaks come out of this door, carrying something?” he asked commandingly. The two men laughed drunkenly, making some joke about Whitecloaks needing to carry their bloody useless hides out of Andor. Lan proferred his sword, pointing it at one of the man's throats. “Answer my question,” he said in a deadly voice. “Did you see three Whitecloaks leave this door, carrying something?”

 

The man spluttered, eyes wide, “We did see three of em, a little while back,” his eyes nervously glancing at the sword. “They came bursting through the door, running fast to the stable. One of em was carrying something over his shoulder, wrapped in a cloak. He waited outside the stable, toward the alley, while the other two got out three horses. Then they three mounted and took off fast as the wind that way,” he pointed south, down the dark street.

 

“Exactly how long ago did you see them?” Lan asked, sword still pointing threateningly.

 

“Bout half hour ago,” the man responded nervously. Lan turned to the other man. “Is that right?”

 

The other man lifted his hands, as if in surrender, slopping ale. “I swear by mother's grave it's true, just don't stick that sword at me!”

 

Lan resheathed his sword with dead graceful and ran to the stable. He felt for Moiraine--she was still asleep. Within moments he had saddled Cat Dancer and was heeling the animal as fast as it would go, southward into the night.

[Iris 0]

Still no comments? Come on, guys

 

I know Moiraine seems a bit off character in this one, but keep in mind that these are still her twenty-something days and she is a bit drunk.

[Marie 73]

Is this the end of the fic then?

[Olivia 26]

Had a busy day; didn't have time to sit down and enjoy some fanfic. Don't freak out if it takes Moiraine's Worlders a while to post responses. The World posts as the World wills.

 

Hehe, I liked Lan staring down the guys who leered at Moiraine. I do hope Moiraine manages to get herself out of this tangle like her usual strong self, rather than some silly damsel in distress. Do keep writing

[Iris 0]

No this is not the end (what an awful cliffhanger that would be!).

 

Well Olivia *gulps* hehe, you may or may not disappointed with the rest of it. Obviously Mo speaks about times when Lan did save her, so I think it's justified that there times she just couldn't save herself, not cause shes a wimp but bc of the circumstances.

 

You'll have to wait and see what happens

[Vertex 23]

He did what he thought was the right thing with that lie.

 

That came out a bit awkward.

 

Flanks of Whitecloaks could also be seen thronging the streets--too many Whitecloaks for Lan's taste.

 

'too many for Lan's taste' would have worked better.

 

Ehh, me got lazy pointing out mistakes. But there are only minor things anyway. Me goes to read the next!