Mortals: A Case Study (A Full Retreat)
Torech Besruth, Falathlorn, Lindon
6 Quellë in the Reckoning of Imladris
I have taken extra time in composing this journal entry for a very specific reason: I wish to set down the exact details of this particular event for future reference. Even though my memory and recollection is formidable, as must needs be for a Lore-mistress, I find my thoughts... uncertain, where this subject is concerned.
It was past the dawn hour and into the morning when I entered the Prancing Pony in Bree and found my forced ride through the night was rewarded by the sight of the Mortal, Cutch, sitting alone in the common room absently picking at a plate of bread and cheese. He may have heard the sound of my boots across the floor as I approached him, for he looked up at that moment and his face transformed. A look of surprise mixed with joy, and maybe a little fear, danced in his eyes. He rose and actually bowed in greeting; I couldn’t help but reply with a perfect courtly curtsey, awkward as it was in my travel garb.
Cutch hurriedly secured for me a place at his table with a plate of traveler’s breakfast. As I sat across from him, stripping my gloves off and doffing my hat, I strangely became self-conscious as to what my appearance was like. My clothes were stained with the road. My hair was wild and unkempt; my customary copper hairpiece, which serves well for scholarly locales, is something I had been foregoing for my errantry, choosing instead a sturdy serviceable black hat. But seeing his eyes, taking in the full sight of me and never wavering, it seemed I was needlessly concerned. As I ate, Cutch peppered me with questions; where I had traveled, how I had fared and especially, what brought me to Bree.
“I received your letter, care of Teahesto,” I explained. “I met him only last night in the eastern marches of the Shire and rode through the night to arrive here. I guessed from the letter that, if you were working as a scullery aide, there were only a few places in Bree where that might place you; the balance of probability led me here.”
Cutch smiled at that, knowing my mind works in these ways. He then haltingly brought up the topic of why we both left the merchant company. He unfolded his mind, saying he did not agree with the decisions the leaders were making, and elected to part company on his terms. I explained that my departure was along near lines, as it was the deceptive nature of the Mortal leaders which caused me to leave.
The conversation moved on to other things, but then touched on the subject of why it seemed we each made the effort to contact the other. I simply told him (quite honestly) that I considered him different from the other members of that company, and worth the effort to keep in touch. Cutch explained, in quiet but serious tone, that he was compelled by something he hardly understood, that he needed to find me, or any news of me. I pressed him for a reason as to why this was so – the answer he gave was this:
“Because if I were an Elf-lord, I would ask for your hand in marriage.”
Even as I write those words, I still find my reaction to them astonishing. Because I said nothing. I gave no reply for what seemed an hour, though it of course wasn’t that long. For me to be shocked beyond words is a rare thing indeed. Now let the truth be known, I have heard those words before, or others like to them – but only from other Elves, and never a Mortal! I admit I only heard such a proposal one time, from an arrogant ellon who pressed his suit relentlessly despite my stating I had no such feelings for him. That suitor’s final words to me, spoken as a curse, were “You wouldn’t recognize your husband even if he walked up to you, shook your hand and introduced himself!”
But here, in this time and place, a Mortal has declared his heart to me. Out of the clear blue skies, unlooked for and utterly unexpected, this word has come, the greatest gift this Mortal’s heart has to give. The question at this point was, what to do with it? With my mind momentarily discomfited, I did the only thing I could: I retreated. I told Cutch I had no reply to give him (truthfully); that this revelation was so sudden (again, truthfully); that I needed time to consider these words and their meaning (an understatement); and, after seeing the look in his eyes, I assured him I was not dismissing him out of hand, and we would speak of this again, very soon (what was I thinking!?).
I made to depart, and Cutch rose and bowed again. I still do not know what prompted my next action. I told him, “That’s no longer good enough,” and I stepped toward him and embraced him. He returned my embrace, and for a minute or longer, we just stood there, in each other’s arms, before I walked out the door.
Later, as I rode west towards Falathlorn in full retreat, that was what I asked myself: what was I thinking? What possible reply could I make to this? How do I extricate myself from this situation?
Do I even want to?
Next Entry: Hour of the Wolf
