Tarot. High Priestess' Temple. Out of the Fountain.
Rhori came up out of the orange water of the fountain, gasping and sobbing. Paris moved quickly to where she could guide the young giant out of the fountain and over to the side of the temple. He crouched down, still crying uncontrollably while Paris held him. She looked up in gratitude as Alexis draped a cloak over the forlorn ranger. Hobbs pushed up against him. Then the others went back to questioning the High Priestess, trying to ignore the two warriors as Rhori worked to regain himself.
Quietly Paris patted his back, holding him, closer to him than she had ever been. The sobs were punctuated by an occasional "I'm sorry" which tore at her heart. She had known when she was pushing him towards this decision that he would, indeed, be sorry. There would be many times that he would regret no longer being able to retreat into stupidity, no longer being able to not understand. She had known that there would be times that he would, perhaps, hate her for having guided him to this point. She had known and, not really wanting to, she had done it anyway because it was Right. A part of her whispered, 'But you also wanted someone with whom to share the responsibility. Was that right as well?'
"I'm sorry too, Rhori," she whispered. "Why?" he gulped, working his way back to coherency. "What have you got to be sorry for." Paris simply hugged him. Gradually the big ranger quieted, Paris on one side, Hobbes pressed up against the other. Paris started listening with part of her mind to some of the conversations going on with the High Priestess.
Almost shyly, Rhori touched Paris' hand. She looked into his face, noticing as she did so that his eyes met hers with an intelligence she'd only dreamed might be there. "Thank you," he said. "I know you didn't want to. But thank you for making me make the right decision. It can't have been easy." Paris smiled a bit tremulously; she'd cry in a moment if she didn't take care. He continued, "I know that I've made life hard for you. I've made so many mistakes. Done and said so many of the wrong things." She couldn't stand it any more. "No, Rhori," she whispered. "Many times you did and said things that kept me from making mistakes. I've made plenty of wrong decisions on my own. Now I hope you'll continue to help me not make so many mistakes."
Rhori choked, "I don't believe you have made mistakes. And I do know that many things I've said that were meant to be helpful to you were probably taken as mean and not constructive. I am sorry."
Paris: "I have never thought you were being mean to me, Rhori. You always spoke from your heart."
Returning from the Fountain.
Rhori would not volunteer information about his experience. Paris knew that ever since Rhori had 'left the man to die with the zombies' he had had periods of sadness, but due to his simple nature he had never stayed sad or somber for long. During the trip to Westmore, other than the playfulness that was inherent in his relationship with Hobbes, Rhori was definitely morose and thoughtful.
Paris was tempted to spend a lot of time one-on-one with Rhori on that trip. Getting him to talk: about his link with Hobbes, about what he knew of the northern elves, about what he'd like to do within his Order -- and getting a better understanding of the special abilities he gained therein. All things that had interested Paris in the past but which were too complicated overall, such that she had always ended up deciding that she'd rather not get Rhori confused and upset than ask him to tell her about them.
Now it was clear that he needed to be brought outside himself, needed to look at some of the good and beautiful things in his life. The subjects could be deep -- out of respect for his new-found intelligence, but tending towards Good and Pleasant -- to offset the guilt and morose-ness that he had too little experience in handling. Truth to tell, Paris considered wryly, so many subjects were likely to take him back to some of the not so pleasant aspects of the past that working to keep to this sort of talk for his benefit might pull her somewhat out of her normal solemn groove.
Paris wondered if Rhori would let her draw him out. There were certainly plenty of natural beauties in the forest that she'd love to get him talking about. But if he really resisted such attempts, how could she force her attentions on him? It would depend on him, of course. But -- if he didn't shake the moroseness soon, she would quietly suggest that he "talk about it" to her
In the forests between the Elves and Westmore.
Paris, from her seat on the great roan horse, studied Rhori walking ahead of the overall group. His face held steady in an expression she'd seen rarely before on him -- a deep, thought-wrapped gloom. He still moved well, as natural in the wilderness environment as ever, but, clearly, unaware of the natural beauties of late Fall. She should have expected it. After all, what practise had he as yet in coming to terms with himself and the world in general? She'd taken away his belief that Someone would Make It Better. Heaven knew she had trouble enough coming to terms within her own head when dealing with things she'd done wrong or might do wrong or seemed to be doing wrong.... Paris smiled at herself wryly, recognizing the spiral starting.
But Rhori, she reminded herself, had a life-time of memories now to deal with, a lifetime of the sort of things one usually took to bed one night at a time, wrestled with, resolved. A lifetime yet to resolve. And little practise in yet. Practise in talking things out. She did a lot of that within herself. Maybe....
Paris patted the roan's neck, looped his reins loosely over her wrist, lifted herself over the saddle, and hit the ground at an easy lope. She moved forward and fell into step with the big ranger, her horse plodding behind them both. She walked alongside in silence for a space. Then Paris took a deep breath and said, conversationally, "I've not told other people, Rhori, but when I'm troubled I frequently hold really long conversations with myself. But I have found that I am able to get to the heart of a matter faster and more clearly when I can take those conversations to some one else. Use someone else as a sounding board."
She paused for a moment in her speech, savouring the thin sunlight streaming through the trees. Something that would grow rarer as Winter came on. She smiled. "Troubles shared are troubles lessened. Because other eyes can offer different insight and other hands can offer different ways to help. You showed me that yourself, Rhori." Paris looked at him, concern on her face. "Even when you couldn't understand all that troubled me -- or I couldn't find a way to describe what was wrong with me, you always tried to help me." Softly, "I'd like to help too, to be as good a friend to you as you've been to me. If you're willing to talk some? Maybe some about the things you'd like to make better now? Maybe some about what you and Hobbes experience? I've never known how to ask you about that before." She smiled again. Then, concern again evident, "And maybe some about what's troubling you now? I'd like to help."
"You always have helped, Parris. You always have." Rhori looked around for a bit before continuing. "Life was a bit easier when all my days were a blur. Now I will hopefully be more of a help in fixing the bad things that have happened here. If I am, it will be more than worth it. You can't even guess how different today is from yesterday for me. Yesterday I KNEW things. I didn't really always know what to do but I knew what was going on. Today I have nothing but questions that can't be answered. My clear and easy plans to fix things are revealed to be silly - to put it kindly, actually 'stupid' is much closer to the truth." He sighed heavily.
After a long period of walking in silence and watching his feet, Rhori spoke again. "As I said, you always have helped me, Parris. I have counted on that more than anything else in my life, I imagine. Today, for the first time, I realize that you won't always be there. I also can better see how I must have looked to all of you. All the snickering and casual laughter directed at me. I can now understand most of the insults that I had not even known were directed at me, let alone what they meant. I can even appreciate some of the humor, but not quite in the way intended, I imagine." There's a sad smile as he turned his eyes towards her for the first time and she saw the many emotions bubbling up in them.
Rhori could see tears in Paris' eyes, too.
"Oh no, Parris, I don't blame you ... or anyone really. I know you have defended me time and time again and I do trust you fully and know I can always call you my friend. Yet, I will need some time to sort all this out. I may just need some time alone, well, with Hobbes," He gave her a small but real smile. "Things have just gotten a bit harder for me but, hopefully, it will all work out for the best."
Paris' voice was warm and caring. "Take the time you need, my friend, but -- please remember -- I'm willing to listen any time. I suspect that you will need to talk sometime -- if only because it can help the healing process. Your words indicate that you now have a sore heart and that will take some healing. I know. So ... if I don't ask, it doesn't mean that I don't want to listen. When you're ready, let me know." [Yes, I know. You -- Michael -- have said that Rhori won't volunteer any information. But other than turning Paris into a nag -- which I will not do -- it seems like the ball _must_ fall back into Rhori's court.] Paris continued, a bit sadly. "There is one question that I must ask. Please forgive me." She paused for a moment. "Was there anything that you learned in your immersion in the orange waters that might help us in our search for the Orange Goddess, goddess of journeys, Temperance?"
Rhori looked pained, confused, and thoughtful all at once. Paris kept silent while he considered. "I -- saw -- I was little -- I," Rhori paused again, "I don't see how any of that relates to Temperance. What does 'temperance' really mean?"
[GM. I don't think 'moderation' is the only word here. 'Tolerance' may be better, or 'acceptance of change'. This was one of the hardest cards to turn into something. :)]
[SK: I agree -- as does Paris. But the meaning wasn't actually pertinent to the discussion so Paris hurried past a potentially fuller discussion.]
"Sometimes it means Moderation." Paris hastened on with, "But Rhori, I'm not sure; that is, "temperance" may not actually refer to the goddess. When we went looking for Strength we found that Strength was the name of the lion; Fortitude was the name of the person. There may be something like that here. What I am really asking about is the orange goddess, the goddess of journeys. Some clue -- any clue about her. It seems to me that when you entered the orange waters of the Fountain, you took a journey from the person..." Paris hesitated.
Rhori filled in the words. "From the person I was to the person I am. Yes, I see that. I don't know. I'm not sure how ..." The big ranger again looked pained and thoughtful. Gently Paris urged, "Can you tell me some of what you did see? Maybe we both can look for clues there."
With obvious pain and reluctance Rhori described, "My father hit me various times, both while I was still in my mother and -- when I was really little. The birthmark," as he lifted his hand towards his face, Paris suddenly realized that the lad was now very self-conscious about the disfigurement, about his appearance, "was, perhaps, from the time he hit my mother in the belly with a pot." Paris winced and looked away. "It is because of being hit in the head that I wasn't smart...?"
Paris nodded slightly, sympathetically. "That seemed to be what Justice was saying."
Rhori was silent for a long while. Slowly, "Do you think -- that Justice made it so those blows never happened? Or -- just erased the effects of those blows."
Paris bit her lip. "I -- remember your father. And -- I remember you as a little boy -- when we were both young. I -- I think that Justice erased the effects, Rhori."
Rhori sighed. "Then I suppose my father is still in that other place being tortured. I -- had hoped otherwise. That he never have hit me and so would be in heaven."
Another long silence. Then Paris reached out and gently touched the ranger's hand. "Rhori, you weren't the only one he hurt. You weren't the only one who suffered. Your mother did too. Anyone who paid attention would know that. Justice towards your father would not be based solely on you." Paris was fighting back tears. She'd had a sudden mental picture of Rhori before Justice, having chosen forgiveness -- and then seeing a vision of his father still in torment. One rarely 'sins' against one-and-only-one person, she thought. That was why she -- Paris -- could personally forgive Juda but could not speak for everyone who had been harmed by Juda's decision. Paris sighed softly.
"Rhori's Journey" copyright 2000 M.Kennedy & S.Knowles. The contents of this site are copyright 2004 Sheryl A. Knowles unless otherwise specified. All rights reserved.