Through Ages of Weary Fulfillment: Ch. 5

Healing

Notes:

After, much, much longer than I intended when I set out to write this alternate AtE, they have finally reached the First Well :)

*****

Heal My land, had sounded in Janner’s dreams over and over again, to the point at which when his eyes opened and the vibrantly beautiful day met him, the words still echoed, a soothing, reassuring echo that told him their journey was founded not on whim but a command.

“If no one minds, our priority needs to be filling enough canteens with Water so we can bring life back to the actual land of Anniera,” he began when they were about half-way through a fairly quiet breakfast. 

“We don’t mind,” Nia said softly. “But thank you for the consideration.”

“There’s a good chance we’d need the entire Well for that, my dear boy,” Oskar pointed out, adjusting his spectacles. “And as Yiddon Mason once said, ‘that, I believe, is a bit too heavy. And cumbersome. And all-around impossible.’ The context of the quote was Yiddon the Stonemason's answer to a few customers who wanted a mountain moved so they could see the sea from their back porch.”

“Remember, Mister Reteep,” Leeli piped up, and Janner saw Sara lean in a bit closer, reminding him that she actually had yet to see the Water from the First Well working in any capacity. “It’ll only take a drop or two per thing we need to make alive. We might only need two canteens of it.”

Sara looked at her incredulously. “Wait, really?! That’s all you need?”

Leeli nodded. “And if you use too much, things get big. Like my dog, Nugget.”

“Or Oood the troll,” Janner noted, but his words were lost in Leeli’s rapid-fire version of what had happened to Nugget less than a year before. It was odd thinking of how grieved Leeli was when Nugget first died saving them compared to the pure joy and love with which she spoke of him now. Even odder was the thought that eventually they would remember Kalmar in the same way. Janner winced inwardly at notion. That way would be long in coming, if it ever came. General logic stated they would eventually, but current circumstances spoke otherwise. He wondered which one he should believe.

“Back to the point,” Artham interrupted, laughter in his voice. “Janner, what are we doing after that?”

Quickly slipping a smile onto his face, Janner turned around and glanced at the Well, sitting innocently among verdant bushes and trees. “You’ll see.”

They did indeed. After Artham, Janner, and Leeli had carefully filled and corked three canteens full of the First Well Water—-they felt heavenly to the touch—-came the second priority, the one Janner was most excited about.

After the Maker had told him again and again to heal Anniera, he had asked a question dear to his heart: “may we heal Leeli as well?”

The Maker had said, yes.

“Leeli, come here,” he said, beckoning her toward him and away from where she gone to stand with Sara and Nia again.

She cocked her head, puzzled, but limped forward anyway. “What is it?”

“The Maker said we can heal your leg, if you want it,” Janner told her softly, realizing as uncertainty flickered onto her face that her limp had connected her to Podo in a way she held dear. He had crafted her crutch by hand. Now he was gone. Would she be willing to accept healing and sever a physical bond such as that?

After a minute of careful thought, she looked up at him and nodded, tears in her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “And thank you. That was a ‘thank you’ for both you and the Maker, by the way.”

Janner laughed, and after Leeli had sat down on a rock and rolled the legging on her twisted, right leg up, Artham knelt and dipped his hand into the Well Water, then held his hand over her knee as one, two drops of it fell. The drops seemed suspended in the air for a moment and they turned every which way, glistening, shimmering, holding everyone’s undivided attention.

The Water landed, the drops trickling down and around, criss-crossing Leeli’s entire leg below the knee in a most intricate fashion, as if they had minds of their own and wove a wondrous tapestry.

Janner tore his gaze away from the droplets and focused instead on Leeli’s face, the very sight flooding his entire body with love and warmth. On her face was written an image of pure astonishment, in her eyes danced excitement and wonder, and her lips moved, as if ready to burst out in song of gratitude and joy.

As if in slow motion, she stood, and everyone held their breaths, their eyes fixed on her, on her leg, on the Well, back to her. Leeli took a step and lurched. Everyone gasped and Nia nearly rushed forward to hold her steady, but then there was another step, still unsteady but less so than before, then another, and another, each one straighter and more confident than the last, until the steps turned into walking, the walking turned to running, the running to skipping, then dancing, then whooping and leaping into the air for joy.

Janner didn’t realize tears ran down his cheek until Artham cleared his throat, pulling him out of his reverie.

“Yes?”

“Did the Maker give you any other instructions?” Artham asked solemnly, the cork of the canteen in his hand still off.

Janner shook his head. “No, nothing else.” He glanced in Nia’s direction, an odd mixture of sadness and gratitude in his heart. He had asked the Maker if there was any way for Nia to be healed of her grief, and the only response was, it will come in time, My son. Her heart will not ache forever. I will heal her in time.

“You asked Him about Leeli’s leg specifically and nothing else?” Artham raised an eyebrow, suspicious but still in good humor.

“I asked for Mama, but He said her healing would come through time, not the Well.”

Artham stared at him. “And you didn’t ask for anything else? At all? You didn’t ask if you could drink any? Janner, this was a one-time opportunity! You know this Water we have in the canteens is going to Anniera. This…this is it.”

Janner simply smiled as he recalled the conversation.

I already know you won’t ask Me for healing for yourself, the Maker had eventually said. That is your choice. But why do you make this choice?

He had paused at that. Why did he truly make that choice? You’ve already given me the gift of life, he repliede reverently after thinking. How can I ask for anything more than that? Wouldn’t it be selfish?

Light laughter had answered him. Some might say that, and others might not. You have made your decision because of how your heart has convicted you, but you must know that either choice is good. Neither is wrong.

Janner was silent for several moments after that before finally answering, I still choose to remain as I am. This is how You and Kalmar restored me. 

He had felt a warmth enveloping him as he said the words, as if the Maker’s presence had embraced him. Very well. As you have chosen, so it shall be. Even though both are safe choices, I want you to know the path I have laid before you and the legacy you will leave in My Name, now that you have made your decision.

Janner had nodded, then waited. 

My son, Davion, was stripped of his right to the Throne by wicked men with selfish, hateful intent, the Maker had begun, and though Janner did not know the full story, he knew the words were true. It is My desire for you to rule as he might have, weary, broken, uncertain, so that both you and Aerwiar will know My Power flows through all who follow Me, and I make the weak strong.

“I know this is it. And that's alright,” he replied quietly as he looked out into the clearing where the rest of the party danced and ran and leapt, even Nia coaxed into joining them. She smiled in what Janner knew was a genuine smile, and though the light in her eyes had yet to fully return, he saw a glimmer. 

Perhaps the Water from the First Well had healed her a bit after all.

*****

They began the trek back to the original camp not long later, now laden with three canteens full of precious Water and a number of winter cloaks. The former were strung together and carried by Leeli, while the rest of them wore cloaks that varied in weight and thickness based on the physical prowess of the wearer. This largely meant that Artham wore the thickest and heaviest while Janner, much to his chagrin, wore the thinnest and lightest. He protested briefly at the start of their three or four mile walk, saying that he could handle more, but Artham retorted saying, “We’ll allow you to handle more when you both feel and look like you can. As of this moment, only one of those is the case.”

Janner dropped it after that, figuring it wasn’t really worth arguing. Besides, he would probably manage to convince Leeli to let him carry the canteens of Water, considering how much she wanted to run ahead and run back to them, then run around them in circles and spin and cartwheel, now unhampered by a twisted leg.

He did succeed in that endeavor about twenty minutes into the walk. Five minutes after the transaction, Artham noticed and ruffled Janner’s hair in a teasing manner, to which Janner mock-glared up at him, ready to burst out laughing all the while.

The trip to the First Well had filled them all with lightness of heart, even Nia, who talked happily with both Sara and Oskar, the focus on everything ranging from libraries to gardening.

Yet even with all of it and the knowledge that he, too, felt such a wonderful thing, Janner’s heart and mind did not flutter with happiness as much as the rest of the family’s did. Something told him this moment was a fleeting thing, that while it was a step toward recovery, there would be many, many steps back, and perhaps not so many steps forward. 

He prayed the Maker would help them rejoice in both.

*****

Notes:

Apparently Peterson's reasoning for why the Water wouldn't heal Leeli's leg is because it already "healed," and that even though it healed wrong, it still healed. I suppose that's fairly logical. I would have gone with that line of reasoning, I really would have. But the thing is that the scene was already written by the time I was informed of AP's reasoning so 😅

Other than that...anything noncanonical? Please let me know :)