John had made a great deal of progress in his first four months on Minbar. He spoke Adronato well enough to get by on his own in the city, now, and could purchase necessities without her at his side. He hardly ever insulted people accidentally anymore. And most of the time he even remembered to bow correctly.
But Delenn remembered the lonely months of her change, alone on the station after all of her people but Lennier turned their backs on her, and she recognized the wistful sadness that sometimes crept into her husband's expression. Tuzanor was not yet home to him - she suspected it would not be until the birth of their child - and he missed Earth, or at least a posting where he was mostly surrounded by other Humans, rather than alien strangers. Delenn sympathized. And she thought she knew what might help.
When John got home that night, Delenn had darkened the living room, and lit a number of her candles around. She sat on the floor, wearing a dark set of robes, and something in her expression reminded John of the first time he'd seen her. It took him a moment to realize that it was her 'serious and inscrutable' expression, which she hardly ever pulled out for him anymore.
"Delenn? Did I forget one of your holy days?" The 'again' went unspoken.
"No, John. Come here, sit with me. I wanted to tell you a story."
Once he'd sat, she began to speak in a low, careful voice. "Long ago, before he met my mother, my father served out his novitiate at a little temple far away from here, on the northeastern coast. The village was small, mostly Workers of the local fishing industry, and my father was very lonely. He took to walking late at night, after he had helped the head priest to close the temple. One winter afternoon, when only the last glimmers of light clung to the horizon, my father was walking along an old stone road down by the shore, and he saw a light. It was pale and yellow, bobbing gently above the rocks, and he thought it must be a crew of fishermen, delayed by the winds or the tide and disoriented by the weather, trying to pull their little boat ashore before night fell completely. He knew nothing of boats or the sea, but he could not think of leaving those people to face the cold and the water and the rocks alone, so he climbed over the little fence that guarded the side of the path, and clambered down the stones. He shouted to the people, but heard nothing, and he thought perhaps they were too far away still for him to be heard over the wind. So he kept climbing, down toward the water and the little yellow light that burned in the darkness.”
She paused to see how her story was being accepted. John looked perplexed, but fascinated. “Go on, Delenn. What happened?”
“Well, just as my father was nearing the level of the water, he heard a shout from above him. It was one of the fishers from the village - a man he had seen many times in temple, a hard worker and a... how do you say it? A pillar of the community?”
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no subject
Date: 2011-11-01 04:31 am (UTC)----
All right, you asked for it. ;)
---
John had made a great deal of progress in his first four months on Minbar. He spoke Adronato well enough to get by on his own in the city, now, and could purchase necessities without her at his side. He hardly ever insulted people accidentally anymore. And most of the time he even remembered to bow correctly.
But Delenn remembered the lonely months of her change, alone on the station after all of her people but Lennier turned their backs on her, and she recognized the wistful sadness that sometimes crept into her husband's expression. Tuzanor was not yet home to him - she suspected it would not be until the birth of their child - and he missed Earth, or at least a posting where he was mostly surrounded by other Humans, rather than alien strangers. Delenn sympathized. And she thought she knew what might help.
When John got home that night, Delenn had darkened the living room, and lit a number of her candles around. She sat on the floor, wearing a dark set of robes, and something in her expression reminded John of the first time he'd seen her. It took him a moment to realize that it was her 'serious and inscrutable' expression, which she hardly ever pulled out for him anymore.
"Delenn? Did I forget one of your holy days?" The 'again' went unspoken.
"No, John. Come here, sit with me. I wanted to tell you a story."
Once he'd sat, she began to speak in a low, careful voice. "Long ago, before he met my mother, my father served out his novitiate at a little temple far away from here, on the northeastern coast. The village was small, mostly Workers of the local fishing industry, and my father was very lonely. He took to walking late at night, after he had helped the head priest to close the temple. One winter afternoon, when only the last glimmers of light clung to the horizon, my father was walking along an old stone road down by the shore, and he saw a light. It was pale and yellow, bobbing gently above the rocks, and he thought it must be a crew of fishermen, delayed by the winds or the tide and disoriented by the weather, trying to pull their little boat ashore before night fell completely. He knew nothing of boats or the sea, but he could not think of leaving those people to face the cold and the water and the rocks alone, so he climbed over the little fence that guarded the side of the path, and clambered down the stones. He shouted to the people, but heard nothing, and he thought perhaps they were too far away still for him to be heard over the wind. So he kept climbing, down toward the water and the little yellow light that burned in the darkness.”
She paused to see how her story was being accepted. John looked perplexed, but fascinated. “Go on, Delenn. What happened?”
“Well, just as my father was nearing the level of the water, he heard a shout from above him. It was one of the fishers from the village - a man he had seen many times in temple, a hard worker and a... how do you say it? A pillar of the community?”
John nodded.