The Heart Remembers

by

Ambyrhawke Shadowsinger

November 28, 2000

 

Disclaimers: The characters in this story are the property of Renaissance Pictures. This story is written for enjoyment only; no profits will be made from it.

Subtext: Yes, this story depicts a love between two women. I haven’t yet written a story that didn’t. If it bothers you...that’s your own issue.

Spoilers: This story takes place after The Ring. However, the only spoiler for Return of the Valkyrie happens to be a character name. Everything else is just my imagination because I’ve been good so far and haven’t read any spoilers for Return of the Valkyrie. Gods, it’s so hard to not look!

Any comments can be sent to Ambyrhawke@aol.com

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The voice whispered in the darkness, "I miss you...I need you........I love you...."

With a gasp, my body shot up into a sitting position as my eyes flew open. Little good that did me, for the darkness was deeper than death. Still, I tried to find the source of the voice...but all in vain for it was gone.

Gone....

Oh gods how that word hurts! I clutch my chest and curl my body up at the pain in my soul. I feel as if some giant hand has reached in an torn out my beating heart, leaving only a gaping, bleeding ruin of a hole in its place. Hot tears course down my face as sobs of despair wrack my shaking body.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting like this in the dark. I’m not sure when I pulled the pillow into my arms and began rocking back and forth slightly in an attempt to comfort myself. I only know I can bear the pain a little more easily than before. My left hand idly strokes the pillow as if I were playing with someone’s hair...someone shorter than me. Someone whom I sense should.....fit.....yes, fit in my arms just right.

I’ve gone through this same scene every night for the past six moons. Each night in my dreams, I hear that soft voice call out to me. Each night, it hurts worse than the last.

Oh yes, it’s just one more thing I can’t remember. I suppose I should be more worried about not knowing who I am. But for some reason, this particular emptiness distresses my soul more than any other.

I’ve told none of this to Hrothgar. I want to keep these dreams to myself...to have one thing that is mine alone. And is that not right? He alone holds all the knowledge of my past...a past of which I hold no memory. I need this dream to be mine.

Hrothgar has been so patient...recounting my life to me. I know he hopes that something he says will lift the veil clouding my mind. He tells me we’ve been in love for six years, though, for the longest time, we were too afraid to bare our hearts to one another. Then one night, in a fevered state, I ran out into a storm. He searched ceaselessly through the wilds; finally finding me in a bog, dazed and with no recollection of my past. That was six months ago.....the same night the dreams started.

I’ve tried so hard to remember the tales he tells me. I don’t know why they seem so foreign to me or why his arms and lips leave me cold. Gods I should remember! I want to remember. And why, when I turn to say something to him, do I find myself bending my head downward instead of looking up at him? It’s as if my body insists that I should be the taller one of us.

With a sigh, I lay back down on my bed. I turn my head in the dark and my chin brushes against the pillow I’ve instinctively pulled down onto my left shoulder. It’s strange....but as always, it just feels right, so I leave it there. My eyes close, and I drift off into sleep once again.

I’m walking in a bog grey with mist and fog. Everything looks vaguely familiar yet completely strange at the same time. There’s a glow up ahead that intrigues me. Cresting a small rise, I stare in awe.

In a glade stands a ring of fire. The flames leap high above my head, yet the fire does not advance. Nor does it burn the trees. Taking a step closer, my heart beats faster, pounding at the walls of my chest. Peering through the flames, I can see something within the ring.

It’s a woman sleeping upon a rock as if it were a bed. My hand goes to my mouth in surprise. By all that is sacred, she is absolutely beautiful! Like a bride, she is clothed in a gown of white and gold. A golden band of leaves rests on her hair of pure sunlight. I don’t know who she is, but my heart remembers. My lips yearn to touch hers.

Though the maiden does not move, in my mind, I hear the voice I now know is hers, "I miss you...I need you.......I love you."

My voice joins that of the golden vision before me as we whisper to each other, "Please....save me."

In my sleep, a tear slides from my eyes and down into my hair.

 

The end.


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