The First Lesson

Played by:
AelKennyr Rhiano
BelenosStormchaser Magic


Yavanna stares at the hands folded on her lap. They were folded there for lack of anywhere else to put them. One thumb rubs idly at the coarse brown fabric of her skirt. It is so much warmer than what she had worn previously. Why has she only been clothed in fern fronds and berries? She has not thought it odd until last night. Lying in the narrow truckle bed in the tiny attic room at the top of the stairs she had lain for a long time thinking as she listened to the scurryings of mice and birds in the thatch above her head. Yet every time she'd tried to think how she came to be in the forest that day, her mind would skitter away like a nervous horse, shying from something just out of view.

...her mind would skitter away like a nervous horse...

Yavanna is grateful for the meager comfort of that narrow bed.  No matter that it is short for her tall frame or that it creaks with her every moment.  It had been warm, and her belly full for the first time in days, yet sleep had eluded her.  The old woman's questions, many as they were, has raised tenfold more in her own mind.  She sighs as she leans back against the hard wooden chair.  Questions, so many questions with no answers.

The night had cooled off, as night still do this time of year.  The heat of the day leeches out of the house in the wee hours of the morning, and the chill of the late night creeps into the old woman's thin bones.  Tossing and turning, she spends the night, rolling over, first on one hip, then another, a constant shift to relieve the arthritic joints.  Up above her this night, in the attic room, the bed creaks, and the old, straw-stuffed mattress rustles as the odd young woman settles in.  She chases sleep, too, thought the older woman, and realizes she has let their stranger into her house without even knowing her name.  A lost, wild creature, the old woman thinks, and she slips into sleep in the hours right before daybreak, dreaming of two trees, one silver and one gold in the center of a garden of impossible beauty.

She awoke to cramped muscles, and stiff joints, and fought them both to swing  stiff legs over the side of the bed. With a grunt she rises, as she does every morning, and hobbles into the common room to pour a basin of water in which to wash her face. Then, as she does every morning, she sets a kettle upon the fire for her tea and slices the day old bread to put upon a metal sheet and set it, too, by the fire to warm and toast.

But this morning, she does not break her fast alone. This time, the oddly tattooed woman is sitting with her, her eyes sad and old, though her face is youthful and unlined. They eat in silence, sit in silence, and finally, the old woman clears her throat.  "So, you have nowhere to get, is that the way of it?"

"So, you have nowhere to get, is that the way of it?"

 Yavanna is so lost in thought that it takes her a moment to register that the old woman has spoken.  Blinking, bringing her mind back to the small age-worn room, she looks up and stammers her reply, "I... I must have somewhere to go.  No one just appears fully grown in the middle of the forest.  But.. I.. I don't know where that somewhere is."  She stops a moment as a thought occurs to her and she makes to rise as she continues, "I have imposed on your hospitality greatly.  Your kindness in taking me in last night was so very gracious, but I should not impose further. I... I should go and keep searching." She looks down at the warm skirt regretfully, "Do.. do you want your clothes back?  I can leave my cloak in payment.  It is not much but the silver clasp might bring you some coin?"

"I have imposed on your hospitality greatly.."

The old woman frowns, and her two sparse eyebrows look nothing so much as fuzzy caterpillars bunched up in mid stride. Her lips thin into a tight line, and she leans forward, slapping a thin, worn hand down upon the wood table with a loud noise."Here, here, young woman, don't be implying I'd rob you of the only decent garment you have." She gives a loud huff and affixes her baleful glare upon the young woman. "I'll not have it said Arianna turned out a daft, starved, near naked girl to die in the woods." She tried to rise, but her left hip catches, and she slumps back into the chair, her shoes making a sliding, squeak.

Her lips thin into a tight line..

"You best stay here, with me, until you collect what wits you were given," the older woman continues, but her voice is cracked with the pain that shoots through her body.  "Them hands of yours don't look like they seen much work.  You no aversion to labor for your supper and board?"

"You best stay here, with me..."

 Yavanna jumps as the hand slaps down on the table and subsides back onto her chair. She looks at that hand as it rests upon the table, calloused, wrinkled and work-worn, and then looks down at her own. Wonderingly she turns them over. The skin is smooth and soft, the fingers long and tapering and the nails well-cared for. "No.. no I don't think they have, but.." she looks over at Arianna. Did she say her name is Arianna? and her eyes fill with compassion as she watches her struggle to master her pain. She squares her shoulders, and her voice is less uncertain as she continues. "But I shall not take without giving in return. I am willing to work for my keep." She hesitates a moment before whispering, "Do you really think I have lost my wits?"

"Do you really think I have lost my wits?"

Flustered, the old woman reaches up and pats about her hair, as though to smooth it back into the band she had wrapped around it.  Her fingers pat nervously as her bead bright eyes regard this younger woman. "I am Arianna, but people in younder village, where the creek is, and the stink comes from when the wind blows right, they call me the 'old woman of the woods.'"

She forces herself to stop the nervous motion and folds her arms across her chest. "Well, I reckon they the right of it. Outlived most of them what would give me a race for that title, so 'old woman' will do, if you can see clear to call me by name." She shifts in the chair, the cool of the morning beginning to fade as they sit.  "Yes, girl, I reckon you once had wits.  Look it your hands. And the way you sit there. Must be from some kind of family with some wits and some riches too, I be thinking."

"..so, 'old woman' will do.."

She cocks her head, her eyes regarding the other much like a bird of the field; head turning this way and that. "But, you never mind. There be lots of folk with less sense get by in this world, and you are a beauty , though you be longer in the flank than any woman I ever seen.  Tell me your name, girl, afore I name you something you regret."

"..Tell me your name, girl.."

 Yavanna 's eyes widen at the question.  Her name? What was her name?  She frowns in thought. What had 'he' called her?  Yolanna? Ivanna? Everything else he had said had been so clear.  She knew with every fibre of her being it was HER name he called, but it had been unclear, muffled somehow.   Swallowing to ease the lump in her throat that came any time she thought of 'him', she stammers, "Ivanna.  My name is Ivanna.. I think." No, it wasn't right, she knew it, but it would do for now.  Frowning, not wanting to think more on her dreams of him, and certainly unwilling to tell the crone about hearing his voice, she clears her throat and looks around the small room. "What.. what would you like me to do?"

"What..would you like me to do?"

The old woman -- Arianna-- purses her lips at the other's answer and taps her foot a little.  "Well, then, I shall call you 'girl' untill I think me a proper name for you," she says at last, very tone a little cross. "Keep your name to yourself. Tain't of concern to me."  She sweeps her gaze across the used plates on the table. "You can start with clearing off the table and washing up the plates and cups and other things in the washtub yonder. " She gives a hard stare at the woman before her."I reckon you know nothing about weeding and tending plants, do you?"

 Yavanna 's shoulder slump a little, knowing she had offended Arianna by the vagueness of her reply, but she would not, could not tell her about her dreams. She would think much worse of her than simply lost wits if she did, she was sure. Instead she rises easily to her feet and collects the empty plates, carrying them across the small room in two strides to the workbench that holds the washtub. She looks at the water in the tub and at the dishes in her hand uncertainly. What should she do now?

Yavanna dunks the plates into the water and swirls them around a little, still stacked in her hands and is pleased to notice some of the food crumbs float off the top plate.  She swishes them around a little more and glances back over her shoulder at the crone, "I like plants though. I was never afraid when I was in the forest. It was like I was among friends, dear friends.  I.. I could learn if you would teach me?"  Thinking that if a little bit of time in the water removed some of the crumbs then more time must surely be better, Yavanna settles the plates, still stacked onto the bottom of the tub and turns to face Arianna. "There, they will be quite clean soon, I'm sure." she says with more confidence than she really feels.

Yavanna.. turns to face Arianna

"Quite...clean..." The old woman gapes at Yavanna and painfully lurches to her feet.  "Daft girl, never seen a kitchen or a washtub, I bet." She hobbles over and bumps Yavanna with her hip as she pushes past, grimacing at the pain the action cost. "Now, pay attention, girl!"

"Now pay attention, girl!"

She grabs the younger woman's wrist and urges her to turn around and face the tub.  With a grunt, the old woman takes a well worn rag and scrubs vigorously at a plate.  "You have to WASH each thing and then you take it out of the water and set it over with the other dishes and plates and things to dry." She looks over and up at Yavanna's face and says slowly. "Plate next to plate.  Bowl next to bowl, Cup next to cup. And don't be breaking my crockery.  I won't go into town to replace such. You will be walking there if you do, and back. Won't be such a joy to do so, either."  She hands the younger woman a bowl, takes her wet hand and dries them on her apron and steps back. " Now you do."

 Yavanna lifts a hand to scratch at her head as she tries to follow all the old woman's directions. Nervously, when it is her turn, she does as directed, washing the now already clean plates as instructed. Yes, she can see how that technique would work better. "I... I don't think I have done this before at alls" she confesses when at last she puts the last dish safely down, relieved had indeed not broken anything. "I will do better next time, I promise." She tries to give an apologetic smile, but the movement feels unfamiliar and unwilling. "What else might I do?" she offers instead.

"I.. I don't think I have done this before at all"

The old woman watches every movement, catches her breath as the younger woman picks up the cup and plate that, until now, has remained unused since the day "he" died.  Her right hand goes up and rests over her heart as the younger woman sets both down safely.  Surprised, she feels her eyes fill with tears and blinks furiously as the younger woman turns to her.  She clears her throat and gruffly reaches out to pat the other on the arm.  "Not bad for the first time," she says quickly.

..she feels her eyes fill with tears..

She keeps her hand on the other's arm and squeezes it a moment. "We all start somewhere," she says, and for a moment, her voice grow soft as she remembers who said the next words to her, a long time ago. "None so ignorant as those who won't admit they don't know a thing and who won't seek to learn it."

Her head fills with images of him...her man...teaching her to tend the vegetables, gleam the forest hard by the cottage to supplement their produce, to cure the rabbits, squirrels and deer he brought home to feed them.  Her heart tightens, even after all this time with remembrance and want for him, her man.  Then she shakes her head a little and answers the other woman. "Come on, girl. we'll see how you fare at a hard day's labor in the vegetable patch. I've a mind to check the peas and the squash should be fair ready."  She turns her head and slowly takes her hand away.

Her head fills with images of him...her man..

The smile that had struggled before wins a little more of its battle against unwillingness at the old woman's kind words.  She ducks her head, unexpectedly pleased at the small achievement.  She watches with curiosity as emotions flicker across Arianna's face and dark shadows of pain swim in those bright eyes just before she turns her head away.  Her heart suddenly light at the thought of being outdoors she turns to follow the crone outside.

The door opens upon a bright summer day, and the old woman blinks hard as her eyes adjust from the darkness of the cabin.  Raising a hand to shield her eyes, she breathes in the already warming air.  The smell of manure reaches here, and the smell of grasses.  The wind is alive with sounds, the rustle of leaves, the groan of trees as they bend and sway, the sound of birds, the lowing of  the milk cow, the creaking of the settling wood of the house. Grabbing the younger woman's wrist, she starts off around the house and to the side where stands a fenced in garden.  "I had me a time, turning up the ground this year," she babbles.

"I had me a time turning up the ground this year."

"Ground needs more manure and more tending, but it'll do, it'll do. I don't need much, just enough to et and enough to put up for the winter and to trade. Them elves, you know, they like my corn. Says it's the best they ever et. And then this old man come over, other side of the forest, in hard times. Seems they tend hard ground, when I growed whatever I want here." She stops at the gate of the fence, and looks over at the younger woman.  "Mind you don't trip as you step over. Ain't been fixed since he passed on. Tain't as young as I once was, and ain't got the back for the mending of it." Lifting her skirts, she totters a moment as she lifts her leg and steps over where the two planks of wood meet.

"...Tain't as young as I once was..."

Yavanna steps through the door after the old woman, careful to match her naturally long strides to the other's slower steps. She lifts her face to the morning's warmth, inhaling deeply. The smells of the small farm predominate; the musty scent of the straw in the stables, manure from the animals and the musty thatch all tickle at her nose, but behind it all, still there is the scent of the forest. Her eyes are drawn to it as she follows Arianna along the front of the house to the side of the stable. Majestic pines tower over the little farm, their branches swaying with familiar elegance in the morning breeze, the rustle of their boughs a sweet whisper of welcome from an old and well-loved friend.

 Yavanna ducks her head at her fanciful thoughts, trying to focus on the task at hand.  She comes to a sudden stop as Arianna pauses at the broken gate to the vegetable garden.  Before her lies a small tilled area, neatly kept and well tended.  The soil is turned and rich, the peaty aroma of it rises on the warm air, and Yavanna stands spellbound, hugging her arms around herself at the intensity of her reaction to the small garden.  In a daze she gracefully steps over the gate, barely seeing it.  Her hand reaches out to a nearby bush, heavy with fruit ready for harvest and she caresses the leaves gently and, not knowing whence the words come from, murmurs, "Hello, my little ones. I'm home."

Yavanna stands spellbound..