The water is wide, I cannot get o'er.
And neither have I wings to fly.
Give me a boat that can carry two,
and both shall row, my love and I.
Widmir sang the song quietly, barely audible outside the paddock. He leaned up against the stone wall and closed his eyes to everything except his thoughts and the dull chill of the rocks behind him. And the dull snorting of the mare lying before him. It was a little hard to ignore that, and he could not because he was waiting on her to give birth. But horses gave birth in their own time; nothing Widmir could do about it. So he scrunched up to the wall and sang the old songs, to keep her calm and to keep himself occupied. Just barely awake. Mares always knew how to give birth in the dead of night. It made sense in the wild, but it was such a pain in a paddock life.
It was the song Widmir knew the best, the calmest tune and the one he sang whenever a horse needed comfort. After all, it had comforted him before. Seven years old, he stayed out past nightfall, determined to catch a stray pup. He gave only a brief second thought to crossing the border of the family's land, and felt a rush of excitement the moment his feet landed in the grass on the other side of the stone pile fence. Now he was off on adventure, like his older brothers, like his heroes of yore, armed with his walking stick and on a gallant quest.
Running into the growing darkness, he was flying with excitement... until it started to rain.
With his clothing soaked and his flesh stinging with cold, he finally saw how far from home he was. And he had no idea where he was. The dark hills, not even lit by the moon, were hard to focus on, let alone recognize. In a sudden panic, he started to run in no clear direction, desperate to find a road, but finding nothing but long grass. He skidded down a sunken pit and tumbled into the mud. Sitting there, he gave into his fear and cried with the rain.
Then he heard the voice. A warm, warbling tone.
A ship there is and she sails the seas.
She's laden deep, as deep can be;
But not as deep as the love I'm in,
and I know not if I sink or swim.
Scrambling to his feet, young Widmir brushed the tears and rain from his face and squinted into the darkness. He couldn't see any light, but he began stumbling forward, following the voice.
Our love shines clearly against the storm,
Turns darkest night to brightest day.
Turns turbulent waters to perfect calm,
A blazing lamp to light our way.
Climbing a hill of brambles, he finally spotted the jostling light of a lantern hanging over a cottage door. He ran to it and the voice became clear, lofting from the shrouded, broken window. He stood before the door and finally found the courage to call out, sounding weaker than he ever intended.
"Ello? Is anyone there?"
The singing halted and there was a brief clatter of noises in the house before the door opened up. A bent, old woman stood before him, her eyes widened in alarm. She quickly beckoned him in and curled an arm around his shoulders.
"Oh you poor lad! Come in, son, come in out of the rain! Whatever were you doing out in this dreadful storm?"
Widmir stood shivering in the middle of the cottage, too exhausted to speak or move. She only shook her head and waddled off to the hearth.
"One moment, we will have you right as rain..." She paused and chuckled, the wrinkles around her face causing her eyes to close. "Oh what a thing to say! Right as rain... just sit there, lad, sit by the fire. You have a nasty chill, don't you?"
Managing a nod, the boy staggered the few steps across the room to the hearth and sunk down on the smooth stonework. As the heat seeped into him, he began to calm and look around him. The cottage was only one room, hardly enough space for one person, and only this one old woman seemed to live in it. She busied herself at a stewpot on the table, clattering utensils and pots in an uneven rhythm with her humming. Above her hung tufts of herbs and strands of dried vegetables. Along the window were lined pots of flowers and green. Some caught raindrops falling in through the crack in the window, whenever a gust of wind puffed open the cloth hanging there. Eventually, she turned back to him and now he could see her funny shape. More like a mythical creature than a woman of Rohan, bent like a cane and so round she had to jostle herself along in little steps. Her hair and her beard were white mixed with grey.
Her beard?
Young Widmir caught himself staring with his mouth hanging open, and the old woman paused at that.
"Now what's gotten into you..." She fell silent and scratched her braided beard in thought. Then her fingers stopped and she chuckled. "Oh, the beard isn't it? You have never seen a woman with a beard, have you?"
Widmir managed a faint, "No, milady?"
"Well at least someone taught you manners," she murmured as she waddled up to him. She set a bowl of hot stew in his pale hand and sat down in the chair beside the fire. She gave him a brief look, examining the boy while he ate. At this age, Widmir hadn't grown at all, and with his long white hair matted over his face, he could even be mistaken for a girl. But he just kept his head bowed over and quietly at his stew. "What's your name, lad?"
He gulped down a piece of potato and mumbled, "Widmir, son of Wideric, milady."
She raised her bushy eyebrows at that. "Wideric? You're one of Wideric's boys?"
"Yes, milady."
"Well, what are you doing way out here? I only see your family's land when I need to go to town. You are hardly nearby."
Embarrassed, Widmir hesitated to answer, but being stared at he finally sighed. "I was chasing a pup. But he got away from me."
The woman's beard upturned in a smile. "Ah well, that happens. And the pup's likely fine. Animals are usually clever enough to get in out of the rain, or strong enough to endure it. Unlike fragile people like us."
"I'm not fragile," Widmir snipped before realizing it. He quickly swallowed and waved his spoon-laden hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."
"To defend yourself?" she asked, then tilted her head to look down his left side. "Your arm's been like that a long time, hasn't it?"
He bowed his head over his bowl of stew. "All my life," he muttered low.
"No wonder you defend yourself then. Children are the cruelest things, aren't they?"
Widmir only nodded and tried to look preoccupied with a chunk of carrot.
The woman sat back in her chair and sighed. "Children used to mock me too, you know."
His eyes returned to her curiously.
"Yes, they did," she continued, smiling at his attention. "They never saw a bearded woman either, and they weren't polite like you, no... They pointed and laughed and ran away when I got near." She sighed and shook her head. "But really, the parents are partly to blame. If no one shows them how to be kind or what they should say and not say, how can they know better?" After a moment's pause, she smiled at Widmir and gestured at his bowl. "Want more to eat, lad?"
"Um... yes, please, milady?" he mumbled, lifting up his bowl.
She chuckled and rose, taking up the bowl and waddling off to the table again. "You know, it's good to have another soul in the house again. It's been a long time. Really, not many guests since my husband passed away, rest him. He was a ferrier, you know. Made horseshoes. And what better place to sell horseshoes but in Rohan, eh? He saw the opportunity and he ignored all the folks who didn't know what to make of a dwarf in the Riddermark."
"Oh you're a dwarf woman!" Widmir gasped, turning his head to stare up at her in amazement. "I didn't know they..."
"Didn't know they existed?" she asked, then laughed happily and waved a hand. "I hear that all the time. I've heard it all, so don't hold back from asking questions. Better you ask and learn than sit in ignorance."
Widmir ransacked his thoughts for questions, but he only laughed. "Sorry, I can't think of anything right now... Oh! What's your name?"
"My name? Well, that's as good a question as any." She returned and set another bowlful of stew in his hand, which was now gaining some color and warmth again. "I am Lomri, widow of Dolgrin, at your service." Returning to her chair, she took up some knitting that lay in a basket nearby.
"Honor to meet you," Widmir answered and breathed in the deep, savory scent of the stew. "Was that you I heard singing?"
"You heard me? Oh so that's how you found me. Yes, I'm always singing. It fills the silence when the birds go to sleep. Fills my heart too, I suppose. I was just singing a song I learned when I was young, when my Dolgrin and I used to travel."
"It was really pretty," said Widmir, with a mouth full of meat.
Lomri chuckled softly and fanned out the green scarf she was working on. "Well, I can sing some more if you like. It's been a long time since I had an audience."
Widmir nodded shyly, and Lomri drew in a long, calming breath.
Love is the center of all we see.
Love is the jewel that guides us true.
No matter what, you'll stay with me,
No matter what, I'll stay with you.
Older and far away from home, Widmir opened his eyes just as the sodden foal slid out onto the straw for the first time. He smiled warmly and gave the foal an examining gaze, allowing the mare to lick it clean and keep her protective watch.
"A new filly," Widmir murmured after a brief look. "Wil should be glad to hear it." He rose and stretched his sore legs, cramped after sitting crouched for so long. Turning his head, he looked out over the stone wall, into the Chetwood forest. He knew the neighborhoods of Bree lay beyond it, and under the starlight probably everyone in them were asleep. He thought of the waterfall and the little house with the odd blue walls. Rhianonn was hopefully asleep in her house there, at peace, at least for a time. He sang out through the sound of crickets in the quiet night.
As I look out across the sea,
a bright horizon beckons me,
and I am called to do my best
and be the most that I can be.
* Song quoted is "The Water is Wide", an Irish folk song.
