To Leave Something Behind

[Iris 0]

Here's one for you now, Aleyna More of the bittersweet variety.

 

To Leave Something Behind

 

Moiraine sat upon her bed in the Sun Palace, with its heavily carved dark frame in the linear Cairhienin style. The furniture, like so many other things in the room, reminded her of her childhood. That stray thought would only serve as the starting point to the loop of memories that would continuously spin in her mind--had she not had the morrow to think on. How odd, to be back in this place where she had grown up, to spend perhaps her last night in this world.

 

Two letters were addressed and sealed, stacked neatly atop one another on the writing desk across the room. One was addressed to Thom Merrilin, the other to Rand. She knew she was mentally commenting on the obvious, but those two letters represented the future. If she had a future that involved those men. Only the Light knew if she really did, but those two letters reminded her of the possibility—a possibility that she so desperately prayed for.

 

She shied away from thinking of the future, which beckoned the past to resurface in her thoughts yet again. When she wanted to forget about one, even if only for a moment, the other was there to quickly replace it. It was as if the present didn't exist accept to think about what was or what would be. Thinking about the past brought her thoughts to Lan. In her mind, he had become a symbol of her past, even if he was still with her now. She had left him no letter, and that hurt her, but not more than her leaving would hurt him. She wished she could explain it to him, but she knew she couldn't. One had to do what one must and be what one must.

 

But she could leave him something, even if that something wasn't words, or an explanation. They shared a bond that ran deeper than blood. They were not just Warder and Aes Sedai. They had shared too much, and been through too much, to be just that. No Aes Sedai could ask for a more skilled and dedicated Warder, nor could Moiraine have asked for a better companion, a more trusted friend, to have shared this quest.

 

And now their twenty year quest together was coming to an end. He would take a path different from hers. She only thought death would separate them, and in a way, it was about to. But she would leave him something. She had to. She couldn't just leave him in emptiness. He, above all, deserved something.

 

Moiraine reached for her ivory-handled belt knife which lay on the bedside table. She lifted it, considering, then positioned it. With one swift motion she sliced with the blade, and tears spilled down her cheeks. But not from physical pain. It was a cut that cut away the past. That cut away Lan. Still, with that cut, she would leave him something.

[Iris 0]

***

Lan heeled Mandarb at a break-neck speed, the animal's neck glistening with sweat. He had no need to rush, but within him was an urgency to flee that scene, as if fleeing from the scene of Moiraine's death would somehow alleviate the hollowness he felt inside himself. But he knew it wouldn't. Yet he still heeled the horse on. He would stop to rest the animal soon, but not until he was as far away as he could be without killing the beast.

 

He had left all her possessions behind. He remembered looking at Aldeib, and at the saddle she had just been sitting in minutes earlier. He couldn't bring himself to take anything of hers with him, but now he was starting to regret it. He needed something of her---anything. Anything to make this deathly emptiness inside somehow seem full, even if only a little. Her notebook or pen. Her brush. Her perfume. Something. Anything.

 

He made camp that night in the woods, alone. How many times had he sat with her in a campsite like this, taking her for granted? She had nearly died so many times, and so had he, but did he really ever accept that it could finally happen? An owl hooted in the night. Perhaps a predator lurked. Or bandits. He wouldn't avoid them if they did.

 

Lan opened his saddlebag to remove his toothbrush. Death was not reason for a man to let his teeth rot, though even the pain of rotting teeth seemed inconsequential. He could also count his coin. He would need to buy supplies for his journey east.

 

To Lan's surprise, his coin pouch felt extremely heavy. He simply stared at the bulging leather sack for a few minutes. He didn't even realize how his hand had tightened around it.

 

Abruptly Lan picked up his saddlebag and turned it upside down, the contents spilling to the earthen ground. Wads of clothing were bunched atop his usual travel items, with that enormous pouch of money sitting off to the side. He began rifling through his things, when his hands slowed upon a dark velvet pouch he had never carried, or seen, before.

 

He lifted the the pouch to his face delicately, as if lifting a figurine of blown glass. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, his fingers trembling as he pulled the mouth of the small pouch open. Heart hammering against the inside of his chest, he tilted the pouch with one hand so that what it contained fell out onto his palm.

 

And he cried like he had never cried before.

Edited December 23, 2009 by Iris

[Iris 0]

***

Nynaeve sat in a chair at the inn where she and the other Aes Sedai were staying with the Kin. Lan was out and about with Jaem and the other Warders, most likely practicing the sword. One would think that a man who carried a heron-mark blade would eventually tire of practicing something he had already mastered. But then again, Nynaeve had never pretended that she understood men.

 

She kicked her green skirts out impatiently. In truth she was irritated that Lan was not in their rooms when she got there. If only she had the bond from that lightskirt Myrelle, then finding him would have been as simple as snapping her fingers! But she didn't hold his bond, which meant she would have to go looking for him, which would make her seem desperate. So maybe it was the middle of the day, but she and Lan rarely had time alone and they were still newly-weds! Plus, the man needed to bed down with her, and not just for masculine reasons. His eyes were still as dead as if they yearned for a grave. Nynaeve shuddered. She would heal him somehow, whether as an Aes Sedai or as a wife. Moiraine had left him dead, but she would bring him back to life.

 

Just recalling Moiraine's name made Nynaeve feel a spike of anger, which was Nynaeve's usual reaction to even the memory of that woman. With a sigh she stood up and began pacing the room. She was not going to sit here and just idly wait for Lan. But if she left and he came and they missed the chance---! Nynaeve found her hand on her braid before she could stop herself. Withdrawing it, she sat down on the bed, placing her chin in her hands.

 

Her eyes fell upon Lan's bags, and her expression softened into one of curiosity. What did the man carry around with him? Of course she mostly knew, as she had seen him taking out his possessions before, but she did not know for certain everything he kept in his bags. And she was his wife. Surely a wife should know such things about her husband.

Stifling a small sensation of guilt---she had a right!---she picked up his bag and set it on the bed. She began by dipping her hand inside and taking things out one by one, his underwear, a toothbrush, his pipe, the usual items. But suppose Lan came in and found her going through his things? If she really wanted to know everything before he came back....

 

Nynaeve turned the bag upside down, a pile of items forming on the mattress. She gave the bag one final shake for good measure. Of course all the things he didn't take out daily would be right on top. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Except--

 

Nynaeve frowned, lifting up a small velvet pouch. What was this? Lan certainly was not one to carry around a velvet pouch. She raised the pouch slightly as if weighing it. It was light. Could it be empty? But why just carry around an empty pouch? Nynaeve's frown deepened as she opened the pouch and shook out the contents into her free hand. Her chin dropped. And she stared. Could it be?

 

“What are you doing?” came a voice from behind her. Lan's voice. And it wasn't simply a question. The tone implied an accusation.

 

Nynaeve dropped the pouch and its contents and turned to Lan. She could see anger in those cold eyes. She felt abashed. She had been snooping. But then again, what was that thing in the pouch! Before she had a chance to return any anger, Lan had strode over to the bed and had put the thing back in the pouch, and with one mighty sweep of his hand, brushed the contents off the bed and back into his bag. He said nothing and walked back to the door.

 

“Wait!” Nynaeve said, fists on hips. “You're leaving again? You just got back! And—we need to talk, Lan!” She paused. “About what was in that pouch!” There she had said it.

 

Lan slowly turned to face her, and for once she actually felt a little afraid of him. No, she was not afraid of him! Yet that stare could make a stone crumble. “I don't want to talk about what was in that pouch.” Nynaeve opened her mouth but Lan forestalled her, raising his voice just slightly, “Not now. Not ever. Nor do I ever want to find you going through my things without my permission ever again.” Lan paused and Nynaeve opened her mouth, but then shut it again, her hand moving to her braid. Lan looked away for a moment, looking pained. When his eyes returned to hers, they were still cold, but his voice softened. “I will be back soon.” Then he walked out and shut the door.

 

Nynaeve stood silently looking at the closed door for a few minutes before sitting back down on the bed. Was that thing in the pouch really---? Why would he keep---? Her eyes stung. No, he was hers now. Yet that woman still had a grip on him. Even now, from some unmarked grave in another world, she did.

Edited December 24, 2009 by Iris

[Iris 0]

***

Lan had made sure Nynaeve was asleep when he rose from their bed. He had been internally furious when she had taken out that pouch. Of course he had been mad that she went through his belongings, but her taking out that pouch was like someone invading a part of himself that no human being was allowed to encroach upon, even his wife. It was a part of himself that would only belong to Moiraine, a void that only she had ever occupied and that only she could fill. For the rest of his life that void would be there, and it was hers, and that had to be respected.

 

It had been some time since he had taken out that velvet pouch himself. Of course, with Nynaeve as his wife he rarely had the opportunity. But he didn't feel the urge to. In the beginning, when he had first lost Moiraine, he took it out constantly, holding its contents--longing for her to come back, yet simultaneously feeling the strength to go on. Now he just kept the pouch, knowing it was there with him always as she had been with him always. But seeing its contents again today made him want to take them out again himself. To revisit some of those memories. To see her in his mind's eye. To hear her voice if only in a memory.

 

Nynaeve continued to sleep as Lan took his bag over to the small table beside the window, moonlight spilling in through the glass. He reached his hand inside, moving it around until he found the familiar touch of that pouch. He pulled it out, and with one final check on Nynaeve, opened it up and turned it, its contents coming to rest on his outstretched hand. He felt wetness sting his eyes. It had been some time since he had taken it out and held it, feeling its silken touch.

 

A single lock of dark, curling hair, tied with a blue ribbon.

 

And it still smelled faintly of roses.

[Aleyna 1]

THIS...IS...PERFECT!

You portrayed everyone,well, perfectly. xD

Nynaeve and Lan were so well written it felt like I was actually reading the book.

So sad, but I really wish Momo did something like that.

Thank you, you made me a very happy panda! *happy panda dance*

[Iris 0]

maybe she did...we'll never know

 

i'm so glad my fanfic has turned you into a happy panda (i think?) i'm also most flattered by your compliments. *gracious nod of thanks*

 

now where's part 2 to that little number of your's, hm?