The Diminishing of Gondor

The Diminishing of Gondor.

Beyond Decency.

Marilee was middle aged, somewhat plain in dress and face, but neat and tidy, and very respectable. She had spent years helping her two sisters keep the farm and raise children after their husbands had died in the ring wars. Plenty of women, few men, so the sisters didn’t remarry. Thus Marilee never had the chance to marry, or perhaps she never really wanted to: she had had twenty years to think about it. Looking back, she was not sure she had missed much, or perhaps she just had never experienced any wild thing to change her mind.

With only occasional exceptions farm life was cyclical and routine. Early on, Marilee used her personal time to raise grapes as a food and as a hobby, since on occasion the grapes fermented into a very fruity and mildly intoxicating drink. Certainly when mixed with water the children stayed healthier than many in the district. And spare grapes made money for the family.

Marilee had an imagination and made up stories to tell to the assembled families whenever she got the chance, and having little else to do in the evening, they were willing to listen.But she found that she was repeating herself. Lately her audience seemed less interested, and had dwindled. Had she reached the end of her imagination?

Rural Gondor did not inspire imagination. Few people had been outside her small district except for traders, and of course the men who had gone off to war. Only the few who returned had anything new to tell, when they chose to do so, and that faded long ago. The war had not come close to them. The only change since the war was the loss of so many of the young men.Peace, as was announced back when, had not brought any prosperity, except some lower taxes. Most people had neither the wit nor the energy to complain, and it was almost useless to do so anyway. So the life in the farms stayed the same. There was occasional talk of disgruntled folks, who believed the war had only benefitted the king and the capital city, but no one could point to any such complainer. Travel was still uncertain and unsafe. In the place of orcs, whom few had seen, there were now thieves, about whom everyone seemed to have a story, and which kept most from traveling. For all the pain the village had suffered, there was little to show for it. And little to look forward to.

Marilee stood one evening looking out across the farm. The village was next to them, and she recognized figures walking in the evening. She looked this time far out to the horizon, where hills began to form, and she could see no further. She had done this for years. As she looked, a phrase formed in her mind:“over the hills and far away” and she could not shake it, nor the feeling that it foretold something.

The next market day Marilee took her basket and went into the village. It was a very warm day, almost hot, and she sweated a bit under her clothing. She undid her head scarf and wiped her face. The stalls were up, including several traveling vendors who had new items for sale. She stopped to examine the new pots and cloths, tucking the new designs away in her mind. One vendor had brought wine, and two men, stripped to the waist, were unloading barrels and smaller jars, and lining them up for the wine seller. The men were in their thirty’s, thin, and she noticed they had marks at their waistlines. Very unusual for anyone to have a tattoo, and she had seen such only once before, years ago.

Marilee ran into a group of acquaintances who were disgusted by the marks on the men’s bodies: they certainly were not from around here. “Scandalous!” One man turned his head and gave them a piercing look. Marilee heard the women tell tale of a crime, a suspicious death, and a recalcitrant suspect: a woman who had been accused of wild living (obviously guilty) around an inn some miles down the track. The village women who were telling Marilee about this abruptly pointed this same woman out.She happened boldly into town on this market day with a look that dared anyone to confront her. The crowd moved aside a bit; some turned their backs. A few spat. The woman, alone, disappeared into the local ale house. “There” Marilee thought, “goes trouble.” She had never had any trouble in her life, nor anything that was ever out of the ordinary.But trouble, she noticed, got everyone’s attention, and it struck a chord with her. She had been plain, which is to say ordinary, all her life. “Over the hills and far away” came to mind. So she thought: “Well why not?” The hundred feet to the door was short but a world away. Marilee walked away from her acquaintances and entered.

Like most inns, the interior was dark, lit only by the door, small windows, and tiny candles. It stank of spilled beer and gag worthy food. The infamous woman was leaning alone on the bar, though a lot of heads were turned in her direction. The same faces turned to peer at Marilee. Hesitating only a second, she held her breath and walked slowly in. Marilee was dressed as many of the farming women; a light brown long sleeved blouse with a dark vest, a modest calf length skirt, a light yellow scarf around her head, and low, muddy boots. Her light brown hair was hacked to shoulder length, and she wore no necklace.

The wild woman, by contrast and most unusually, wore bright colors: a deep red skirt that was shamelessly almost to the top of her calf and appeared to be slit, showing her knee. She wore no vest, and her blouse, upon inspection, was more sheer than wool or linen usually were, and she wobbled underneath as she raised her mug. She had bright yellow earrings that glinted: gold? And a necklace of small silvery orbs. She wore no scarf and her hair flowed past her shoulders, restrained only by two combs. “Gee” Marilee thought. “How do I get the attention of someone like that?” Marilee took a place at the bar a few feet from her, but the other woman didn’t turn. The bar tender looked amused. “What’ll you have?” Marilee realized he was expecting some response, but never having been in an inn before, was momentarily unsure how to respond. “Wine” she said impulsively. The bar guy was more amused “not many ask for that” and he opened a dusty jug and poured a reddish looking liquid into a cup. Marilee reached for the cup but the bartender didn’t let it go. “Two coppers”. Marilee anted up. All or nothing.

She took a large gulp and her mouth burned and stank at the same time, rather like biting into a mud covered lemon. She exploded it all out into the bartender’s face, choking, and started swearing “Fucking shit covered lemon piss!” And with that she heaved the cup, remnants flying, at the bartender and tried to grab his head. “You did that on purpose!” She did grab his long hair, but instead of pulling him across the bar, he jerked his head back and pulled her over the bar and down behind it, feet flailing, face first. It was even dirtier down there behind the bar than the ‘wine’. But instead of kicking the crap out of her, he laughed, pulled her up by her feet, and sat her back, rumpled, on the other side of the bar. “Ha! Ok lady, you’ll do. Want a job? No? Well, how about a dark ale then, replace that stuff. No hard feelings?” He handed her a dank towel to wipe her face, along with a larger mug. Marilee took a tentative taste and at least this was palatable, so she took a longer slug. The clientele had had a good laugh at this, not the least of which was that Marilee, like everyone else, didn’t know what underwear was.

She had forgotten about the other woman.

“You got my attention. You’re not here for the men and you can’t drink. So what do you want?” the woman asked. “Let me guess. I think…you want my life story.”

Marilee gulped: was she that obvious? “No, no” she lied, then blurted, “I want to know what makes you different. Different from me. From everyone. I don’t mean your clothes” and she looked the woman up and down. Up close the fabrics were even nicer looking, the jewelry finer. “No, just you.”

“So you don’t want to be like me then?”

“I don’t know what or who you are, just that you’re different. And I want to know how you do it. You look …dangerous.”

The woman laughed and lifted her arms out. “Can you see any weapons on me?” Obviously not, as her blouse was sheer enough to make out all her curves and there was no way to hide a knife or such. She parted her skirt at the slit “See? Nothing strapped on down here either.” That last got additional looks from the patrons.

“Those combs” said Marilee, “look very strong and pointy, with a sturdy grip.”

“Very good” said the woman. There was a bit of silence.

“I am Marilee. Who are you?”

“Phryne. And what will you do with anything you learn, Marilee?” Her eyes examined Marilee’s face while her fingers pulled dirty straw from her hair.

“A really good story. That is, I need to tell a really good story that people will want to listen to. It is something I need to do.” That was not what Phryne was expecting and she leaned back a little.

“I am not sure what you mean. You want me to tell you a story?”

“No, how to explain? You know bards tell stories and at times people tell stories that they’ve memorized, and these stories are all the same, or the same ideas, comfortable, familiar, unchallenging. It is something in me that needs to tell new stories, new ideas, new people, challenges, new worlds. How long have I been in here, ten minutes? And already it’s as if I’ve left my old life behind.” Marilee turned her head to look at the door for a few seconds. “I’m not afraid..” she realized that she really wasn’t.. “..about all this. I really want to learn more about you and your world. It’s nothing I know anything about.”

“You’re telling me you want to do something stupid? That takes a lot of nerve. So you’re not like those crones across the square despite your um, looks.”

“I can’t get this from my world. The women, the men, like these, are all the same and won’t understand where I want to go with this” she made vague gestures with her hands “but I need to make them want to, from experience, like yours, to see that the world is nothing to fear.”

“Oh, sorry to tell you this but there is a lot to fear when you go into the unknown.”

“Has that stopped you?”

Phryne stared at Marilee for a moment. “No. The world is more than meager existence. Most people, those around us, only want to eat the same stuff of life for their entire lives. Life is a feast and these poor suckers are starving to death and don’t know it.”

“You see? That’s it exactly.” Marilee didn’t question where her new companion’s philosophy was coming from. “If I can get people to open their minds, we’ll get out of the rut everyone is in! Maybe our lives will get better, though I don’t know how.”

“That’s quite a lot of ideas coming from a contadina. What a mission!”

“Is that your mission, in life that is?”

“To experience life, certainly! To tell other people about it? Not at all. They can learn from my example, take it or leave it.”

“How will they know about it if no one tells them? Well, then, I can learn from you and tell stories about it.”

Phryne thought about this a moment. “Well why the hell not? I’ve run out of ideas here, and I was thinking of getting out of this village and this area anyway.” After another moment “life itself is an art form, so let’s go make some art.” She led the way out of the bar and stopped, Marilee almost bumping into her.

“Now what?” Asked Marilee.

“No where around here I think. Nowhere even near here. I think, far far away.” Phryne turned to Marilee. “Have you heard the rumors of a new place, a city, way off in the old Mordor?”

“Only a few words, here and there, from travelers.”

“That, and I have heard it is unlike anything we can imagine. Nothing we’ve ever seen. Sounds good, no?”

“It’s a long walk, farther than Osgiliath, and that I’ve only heard of.”

“Every journey begins with the first step. But we’ll need some money. I have some in my place. You?”

Marilee was a bit heady at the thought. “I do have a bit, and I need to tell my sisters that I’m going on an adventure.” They walked a short ways to her home and she explained things to her sisters, who seemed more envious than anything, though astonished as they thought it was the end of the known world. Or even beyond. Still, there isn’t any war on and the king keeps order pretty well. Should be safe enough. Except for the thieves. Marilee packed her few things in a knapsack.