Rhûn Darkmoon and Lihan Taifun
Nienna wobbles a few steps, trying to walk while bombarded by the newfound set of physical awarenesses. It was, as Aulë had promised, very different from her experience up until now, in a physical body. A rock shifted under her foot, and she shifted, off balance one more time, gripping Aulë's hand to steady herself. Muscles in her leg and ankle tensed, sending more sensations into her already overcrowded awareness. "Aulë," she moaned, "how do the mortals ever manage this at all?"
Aulë watches Nienna carefully as they resume their journey. He can feel the influx of sensations upon her as she begins to walk through the control link he still maintains with her mind. The movement of air upon her skin as she walks forward, the press of her dress against her body and especially her weight as light as it is, bearing down on her feet as they took each step; he could feel it all through her. Now a small smile curved his lips at her words as he answers, “They manage it well enough, you know. Not only manage it but enjoy it.”
Nienna bites her lip. How often had she advised patience to others, and here she was fussing like a petulant child herself! "Indeed? And how many of them enjoy it on their first day? I've heard midwives say that more than a few of the mortals complain quite a bit their first day!" She staggers on, not wishing to admit how difficult walking is.
Aulë gives Nienna's hand a light squeeze of encouragement as he walks slowly beside her. “The mortals do not walk on their first day at all, you know. It takes them months to master the control of their bodies and limbs while they learn how everything works. You are actually doing quite well and you will get better.” He looks down at her in thought a moment and then guides her steps to the roadside where he had spied some wild foxgloves growing. “Come, it is not all unpleasant, you know. Let me show you something.”
Nienna nods distractedly, following Aulë's lead. "It isn't so much 'unpleasant'. But there is so much to keep track of at once." The grass to the side of the road is tall, and brushes oddly on her bare ankles.Aulë looks down at her. “The grass is softer under your feet, yes? But here, let your fingertips feel this.” He reaches out and takes one of the tall stems of delicate blooms, bending it carefully towards Nienna so she could touch the softly speckled petals. “Touch this. Feel it. Tell me what you feel.”
Nienna reaches carefully toward the flower, trying to concentrate only on that. She runs a finger along a blossom, from stem to the tip of the petal. The petal has almost not weight, and yet ... yet it does have some weight, and resilience. "So delicate," she whispers, "and yet, in its own way, strong. I push on it, and it pushes back." She nudges the petal inward again, fascinated as it springs back into position when she removes her finger.
Aulë smiles to see her delight in the bloom and he gives a small nod at her words. “Yes, there is much in this mortal world that is like that, you know. The growing things have a beauty as well as strength. They are as constant as the passing of the seasons, unlike the one who created them.” His brow darkens a moment as he thinks of that one, his wife, Yavanna Kementári, Queen of the Earth and Giver of Fruits. She whose words had betrayed the influence of that dog, Eönwë. He gives a small shake of his head as though to clear his thoughts of her, but his voice is brusque as he says, “Come, the day draws on, and I see some wild raspberries growing further down the road a little. We shall collect some to have with our supper tonight.”
Nienna releases the flower stalk, and it springs upright again. "Good bye, little flower. Be well!" Smiling to herself, she follows Aulë toward the next wonder.
Aulë takes care to keep to the grassy verge of the roadside, knowing it would be kinder to Nienna's feet. He is silent as they walk, battling his inner thoughts, but once they reach the raspberry bushes he cautions her. “The stems on this plant are slightly prickly, so take care. The fruit, though, are delicious. Do not try it yet, as I have not opened that pathway for you. I shall do that later when we camp. But for now, feel the fruit as we pick them but take care with the stems.”
Nienna reaches out, carefully touching a leaf, but not a stem. A ridge of sharp prickles on the underside of the leaf scrapes her finger, and she pulls back suddenly, scratching her arm against a stem in her haste. A tiny thread of red blood beads up along the scratch on her arm, and she watches in amazement. She has seen far worse injuries, of course. But the sting of this tiny scratch is the first she has every truly felt in her own body. She continues to stare, the berries forgotten, comparing the look of her arm to the sensation.
Aulë drops his travel pack to the ground and rummages in it for some clean loose cloth. Finding a square he loosens the water flask from its outer fastening on the pack, unstoppering it so he can dampen the cloth. “Here,' he says, as he takes her arm gently. “This will help.” With a strangely light touch for such large and calloused hands, he dabs the scratch with the damp cloth, wiping away the droplets of blood and then turning it to press a clean cool corner of it to the small wound. “It eases the sting, yes? “ he asks as he looks down into her green eyes.
Nienna watches in amazement. Of course she knew that keeping a wound clean was important, and had often enough watched Nolë and Elenwë and the other Elves washing some scrape or cut. But watching had given no hint of the coolness of the water, or the texture of a cloth, nor the relief that such washing brought. She smiles gratefully as Aulë finishes tending her scratch. "Yes, it does! I never realized!"Aulë smiles back at her, entranced by her childlike wonder in such simple things, forgetting a moment about the wound or the raspberries. Realizing he had been just standing there, holding her arm, staring into her eyes, he coughs to clear his throat and looks up at the sky. “Come, it shall be dark soon, Let us collect some of these while there is still light to do so.” Reluctantly he releases her arm and lifts the cloth from it, tucking it away in his travel pack for later washing at the lake. Before he closes the pack he withdraws a small leather sack and shakes it out. “This will do to hold them until supper,” he says as he begins methodically to pick the raspberries. “Do not pick any of the green ones for they will be bitter.”
Nienna grits her teeth, and gamely attempts to pick raspberries. She finds a few near the ends of stalks which can be picked without touching either leaves or stems. The berries are indeed soft to the touch, plump with the juices inside, and warm from the sun. Curious, she sets one in her mouth. She can feel it, resting on her tongue. Biting into it, she is aware of the tiny seeds, but, as Aulë warned, she is not yet equipped to detect any taste. Disappointed, she turns back to searching for berries that can be safely collected.
Aulë smiles to himself as he sees Nienna steal a taste of one of the fruit as they work. Impatient woman. He smiles more at the thought. For some reason he was finding great pleasure in opening her eyes to the joys of the physical world. When at last he judged they had picked enough fruit, he tied the neck of the sack with a cord and stowed it carefully in his pack before hefting the pack into place on his back. Turning to her he again offers his hand to her. “Shall we continue to the lake, my little Student of Life?”
“Of Life?" She questions. "I've been alive all this time!" But her face grows still and thoughtful as his meaning sinks in. Thousands of years in spirit form, consoling the spirits of the Dead was certainly valuable work. But could it be called "life"? She straightens herself up from the berry bushes, and takes Aulë's hand to steady her on the next leg of the journey.
Aulë squeezes her hand briefly as they walk. “Yes, you have been alive, Nienna, but you have not been truly living. You have existed. Life, in all its complexities and experiences, is a very different thing to that.” He continues to walk beside her in silence a moment, observing her through the control link he held. He frowns as he notices how much her feet are troubling her still, even though they walked now on the grassy verge. He knew the lake wasn't too much further but… “Your feet trouble you still, do they not?” he asks as a solution to the problem comes to mind.
Nienna nods tiredly. "Yes, they do. This is so much to learn in one day. It is amazing. But I am more tired than I remember ever being. Tired," she hesitates, searching for a word, "in a different way."
Nienna tenses as Aulë suddenly pulls her off the precarious balance she had on her feet, and a small surprised squeak escapes her lips. But, as she realizes she is not falling, she relaxes. It is a completely unaccustomed position, for one who never was a child, who never had mother or father. Yet it is not uncomfortable. Certainly it does take the pressure off her burdened feet. "Yes. My feet thank you. But how much farther are we going?"
Aulë's stride is unhampered now by her hobbling steps, and he is making his way swiftly down the road. Long years of physical labor had built him a powerful body and even carrying the weight of the other Vala and his pack was no problem to him. He points with his chin down the road. “The lake is just beyond that next spur of forest now. Once we are there you can rest while I make us a fire for the night.”
Now that she is no longer trying to walk, Nienna's tired body slumps between Aulë's arms. She leans her head against his shoulder, trying to find some semblance of order within her mind. Yet the sensations continue to bombard her. The pressure of his shoulder against her head, the breeze that fluttered their hair. The sun, cooler now that evening was approaching, but still detectable. The scratch on her arm now shows only a thin pink mark, and with only the tiniest ache.
Aulë smiles as he feels Nienna relax in his arms. He knew that without having to control her body to walk, she would be able to just concentrate on sorting out all the different sensations she felt. The fewer demands on her at the moment, the better. Rounding the spur of forest at last, the lake lay bathed in the glory of the sun's setting light. The waters sparkled pinkly, and the land around it lay in a gentle mist of creeping twilight by the time he set her back to her feet by the water's edge. “This is where we shall stay tonight, I think. Not quite brother Manwë's palace” His brother's name bring a bitter edge to his voice. “But I think you and I shall do well enough here for now.”
Nienna feels her feet under her again; bearing her weight and making those small shifts in muscle that maintain balance. Although her mind is struggling to organize the thousand tiny details of the landscape -- each cloud, each wave on the lake, each blade of grass -- into a coherent whole, she does detect an unusual tone to Aulë's voice. "You don't like Manwë's palace? Why should it matter where we stay? We are …” No, that was no longer entirely true. As long as they inhabited physical bodies, it would matter, and some spots would be more comfortable than others. She changed topics. "Is there something I can do to prepare for our stay here?"
Aulë's reply is gruff as he drops his pack and begins to take out the contents. “Oh Manwë's palace is fine enough in design and comfort, but I like not some of those who frequent it.” He spits out the last words as he stands, his travel blanket in hand. He is silent while he shakes it out of its folds and holds it out towards Nienna. His scowl dissolves under a soft chuckle as he notices how big the blanket was next to his companion. “I think this will keep you warm enough tonight, sweet friend,” he says ruefully. “Indeed, it should wrap around you twice almost. Set it where you wish, and I shall go find some wood for a fire. Settle yourself and rest, and when I return I shall introduce you to the joys of taste.” He smiles down at her and strolls over to where the forest pressed against the edge of the lake in search of kindling and fallen branches with which to bank their fire for the night.
Nienna takes the blanket, and holds it up. The wool is sturdy, yet soft to the touch. "Did this come from Lady Yavanna's sheep? Did she make it?"
Aulë snorts and calls over his shoulder as he strides toward the forest. “That 'lady' would never sully her hands in such menial everyday work. Her precious plants are all she cares about. That is good dwarven work you are holding.” His brow darkens again at the mention of his spouse. “Well, her plants, and now, it seems, a certain Maia also.” He mutters to himself as he enters the tree line.
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