Meeting of Minds
Greenlake Cottage, Pemberth in the Bree-land
23 Yávië in the Reckoning of Imladris
I have been enjoying a delightful time in the Breeland with Cutch’s extended family – the Circle of Cutch, as they still call themselves, though that circle has expanded in recent years. Where before it was simply Cutch and his friends Caladna and Claywick, now it includes their new child, Calvin and of course, myself and my sweet Bainiel.
We have been loitering in the village of Pemberth once again, after our return from the Household’s expedition to the frozen lands of Forochel – of which journey I shall chronicle in full another time. But I write this evening of a most interesting encounter that took place upon our return to Breeland.
Caladna and Claywick welcomed us warmly upon our arrival in town, but none more so than Bainiel. I hadn’t the heart to explain how to my Mortal friends, but Bainiel and I reached out to each other through the gift of ósanwë we both share. I told her I was coming to her, and the delighted squeals that Caladna reported erupting from Bainiel now had an explanation.
After our reunion at Pemberth, I quickly saw that Bainiel had exhausted herself with her burst of activities; Caladna agreed to bed the children down while Cutch and I spent some time together. Knowing that several of the Household were quartering in Bree proper, we took our leave and visited the Prancing Pony, where the others were relaxing and taking in the atmosphere of the venerable tavern.
It was here, as we joined them, that I made acquaintance with several of the local patrons who were quite taken with my company. As the conversation flowed around the tables, my attention fell upon one of the staff of the tavern: a young woman, dressed as a scullery maid, nondescript in almost every way, except for the odd way she moved about the hall. Her head swung this way and that, her eyes constantly darting. When someone would hail her for service, she did not respond to voice, but rather only if someone waved or motioned to her. She never spoke, only motioned with her hands.
One of the patrons noticed my curious staring and shared a tale I did not expect. The young serving girl, Sicarra by name, was deaf! Apparently, this girl has been without hearing from birth, and makes her living as a maid by sight and touch alone!
Now, I confess that this thought struck me in a way I never would have expected. I thought about such an affliction, and what its greater meaning might be. I tried to imagine myself, never having heard music, or the sounds of wind and tree, or sea and foam, or never hearing Cutch’s voice – or Bainiel’s. The thought made me sorrowful and sympathetic to this young woman’s plight. And I decided to do something for her…
I excused myself from the company and crossed the common room to where the young woman stood; she was watching the room intently for anyone signaling to her. As I walked closer to her, she shrank away a little, but her eyes looking me over in amazement (I admit that as an Elf dressed all in scarlet, I do catch the eye). And as I met her gaze, I reached out and brushed her thought with mine:
Be of good cheer, maiden. Call me Seregrían, and call me a friend. I share this gift with you: you can hear me, and if you wish, I can hear you.
Good cheer? But you are a stranger. A stranger in my mind... this scares me!
I know... I know... Many know not the gift of my people, and it can be strange. But see, we are speaking to each other!
You will not hurt me? I am not accepted by many. My mother was ill with me in the womb. I was born without hearing. But my eyes are sharp, and my heart is strong!
I have heard some of your tale, young Sicarra; and your heart is indeed strong, as is your will to rise above your hurts. I admire you, young one. But I perceive you are not of Bree – from whence you hail?
I am from Dunland. My clan abandoned me; sold me to our rivals. I was a slave girl and ran away. Now I work here. I earn my keep. Butterbur is kind to me. But sometimes a little impatient.
You have a right to be proud of who you are. Unbowed, and undefeated. A remarkable young woman. I am told you can 'read' a person's face and lips, and know in part their speech, true?
Yes, this is true. If they speak normally and not too quickly. I have learned to use my eyesight, to watch the movements of others in order to understand them. I use my hands to speak to others. It is not my voice that is damaged, but my ears. I see no reason to try and speak, when I cannot hear my own voice.
This is remarkable! You have overcome your obstacle. I am moved by your tale, and your circumstance. Would that I might contrive a means to aid you...
At the moment, I just want to survive. Beyond that? I do not know. My whole life has been that way. Survival. Few have even bothered to try and converse with me and usually when they do, they lose interest after they find out I am deaf. It has become quite lonely. But I do not pity myself.
I am a Lore-mistress, and acquainted with those with the skills of healing. Perhaps they know of such affliction as yours, and maybe a remedy. I shall ask of them and learn what I may.
Perhaps. But I've learned to look at it as not a hindrance. But something that makes me unique.
Losing interest is unpardonable. How can I lose my admiration? You do not have my pity, but you have my sadness, that there is so much beauty denied you. I would ease my heart, by lifting yours! If your labors here allow, visit with my husband and I, and our friends. Take your ease a moment. You would be most welcome.
Speaking with Cutch and the others later, it seemed to all who watched that the young woman and I were engaged in a staring contest – and some of the patrons who looked on began making wagers as to whom might be the first to blink! I could see the hesitation in Sicarra’s eye, even though her mind showed her trust forming. I chose to gently break the connection:
I know this is new, and frightening. But know also that you have found a friend this night. I shall rejoin my companions, and trouble you no further; but should you wish to speak more, I shall be here.
I must admit. I still feel a little shy; but thank you for accepting my company for a time. I am going to go outside to collect my thoughts, but I shall return.
With that, Sicarra walked out the door, wearing an expression of someone who had just been handed an unlooked-for gift – which in a way, she had.
