She walked slowly, her heart aching deep within her chest. He sat angrily, bitterness clenching his soul. Both knew not of the other's presence, for it was the snow that hid them both. It covered sight, the hardened earth, and the ice-crusted edge of the loch, a freezing blanket shrouding them from each other and insulating their anguish.
—
The white flakes kissed the Divinia everywhere as she glided upon the yuletide waters. She graced the surface, and it, in turn, parted to her coming. Serenity was the feeling of the air, the vision of the land, and the whisper spoken in the ear. Still, Alistair had no power to feel, no strength to see, nor the desire to listen. He had drifted to the middle of the loch without even knowing, for too deep were his thoughts and too paralyzing his memories. Thoughts of the dead lying deep within a trench or artillery-scarred land ripped apart the tranquility that otherwise would have been felt by any other. The cleansing smell of snow and pine which would have been sweet, was stolen away before the memory of yellow gas and decomposition. Though he had been home from that godforsaken land for a month now, the memories persisted. Even at present, the fight to get out of the paralysis was too great. The culmination of memory and scent came crashing down from his brain into his nostrils so quickly that the Divinia tipped at his rapid movement, and the loch rippled at his reaction. Exhaustion and grief overcame him as the boat finally settled, both at peace upon the loch.
—
Her hand clutched tightly and pressed hard against her chest the letter from him. It compelled Yvaine to hasten from home and instead embrace the loch, with its snow and cold black water. Taking refuge in the very place, her emotions parallelled. She felt like she had been thrown away, tossed aside as a plaything that had lost its influence. Yvaine loved him and that should have been what would bring him back to her. She had given that which was most precious - thinking maybe even too naively - that it would have been enough. Enough to share a love like all the stories she adored in her youth. Yvaine felt to some degree like she had been promised it, and now, it was all gone in an instant. Walking became difficult as both the tear and chill-filled trembling enveloped her. So much so that the nearest pine seemed a perfect comforter and much-needed friend for such a brokenhearted creature. Resting upon her knees, which she hugged intensely, her tears fell in significant drops from thick eyelashes, melting what little snow had fallen through the thick needled branches. Yvaine’s timber refuge soon assuaged her surmounting lamentation. Exhaustion and grief overcame her as her quivering finally settled, peace finally upon the shore.
—
Slight rapping came upon the Davinia. Not the kind from the surf rocking a boat on shoreline rocks. No, this was much too orderly. More like the kind of knock one might hear from a friend visiting you while in the comfort of a warm home. It sounded both soft and intentional. Alistair stirred at the sound, not truly understanding its meaning, nor understanding at all what had happened but moments ago. But then a voice was heard. Entirely muffled at first, it repeated again and again. Until what was once unintelligible was now heard most clear.
“Awake, Alistair,” came the voice. “I have spoken for some time now. It is high time you woke up and greeted an old friend.”
At that Alistair found it most difficult to not awake. Shaking himself from his slumber and stupor, he finally saw before him who had spoken. The appearance left him stunned.
Before he stood a very imposing gentleman, much more than 3 meters in height, he was dressed entirely in military fatigues, much to Alistair’s surprise. Not the kind worn by some lowly corporal, mind you. No, these were the adornments he had seen only once, and that was upon a brigadier general visiting the front. It could not possibly make sense to him why such an esteemed person would be here. No matter the confusion, Alistair simply could not seem to pull himself away from the man’s face. It was ever so kindly looking. He looked as if he could not be any older than a man of thirty years of age, for no wrinkles were shown upon his features, and he stood soundly resolute without any bend in posture whatsoever. His eyes were a piercing ocean blue and just as calming as the waves of it. A full mustache garnished his rubescent lips, all between a jawline seemingly sculpted from marble. It was quickly apparent that this gentleman was very much a friend and yet, at the same time, should never be crossed.
“I know your mother taught you better than to sit there gawking with your mouth hanging out. Come, get yourself up out of that little vessel and walk with me.” At that, the gentleman stepped back and motioned beside himself.
Stumbling rather embarrassingly from the boat, Alistair made his way to the man's side.
Grabbing at Alistair’s shoulders, the piercing blue eyes looked deep into his. “Now, my good friend, I do not mean to shock you in such attire. Looking into you I felt appearing in this fashion might make you more comfortable to some degree. I did not quite expect a reaction like what you gave me. I do not expect you to remember who I am, especially not when dressed like this. However, I must ask that you listen to what I have to say for I come at the beckoning of my friend, one much more highly ranked if you catch my meaning. Now, will you trust me?”
“Y-y-y-yes, sir, I give you my word, but I must ask sir. What is your name?” said Alistair.
“Awe, how ungracious of me. I come by many names, but as I recall, you and our mutual friend, whom we shall see soon, used to call me Nochy, was it? Yes, I think that was the nickname I was so lovingly given. My name, as I am called here, is Rannoch. But you may call me by either if you wish.” A smile crested the side of Rannoch’s lips, imparting this memory to Alistair. All the while, realization came to the young man.
“Yes! I remember now! You came to me and a friend as we sat here skipping stones when I was a lad. I regret not remembering her name. If I recall, unfortunate circumstances made my family move to Edinburgh.” Speaking with Rannoch came so easy for Alistair. It was more like talking to a beloved relative than a friend.
Rannoch winks, “Your memory serves you well, my boy, for that is correct. The name of your good friend was that of Yvaine. It is because of both of you for which I am here now. It is time I mend what was broken.”
“Broken? I don’t understand what you mean. If I may be honest, I do not understand much of any of this.” Alistair’s shoulders were depressed, and he looked down at the snow-covered turf.
Rannoch took him by his side, “My dear Alistair, I can not give you all the answers but heed me well. I am here to aid you. Give you support to a life that I am sure you thought after the war would be nothing but over. You came here after all, not back to Edinburgh to find something from nothing. What I am here for, I say again, is to mend what was broken. To help make two into one. Come, let’s take that walk I mentioned.”
Motioning forward, Rannoch and Alistair walked, but no marks were made upon the frozen shoreline.
—
They had walked in idle chatter for some time. Discussing Alistair’s time in the Great War, his family, and, more importantly, Rannoch sharing the memories of Alistair's time at the loch. Remembrance came slowly initially for Alistair, but he could at least remember her now. The smell of her hair was incredibly intoxicating, and the image of her eyes mesmerized him. He could not stop the scent of wildflowers from enveloping his senses, nor the emerald eyes from enchanting his every being. The recollection of his adolescent affections came swiftly. Giving flowers, writing letters, Christmas presents, and unexpected pecks on the cheek. It was a kindred setting that border lined on flowering love. Unfortunately, it ripped apart like shredded paper when Alistair’s family was forced to move. When boarding school fights, troublemaking, and the eventual Great War came, Yvaine and the time on the Loch was nothing more than a slowly dying ember of a memory. Having spent just a short while with Rannoch, I felt those memories and affections roar into a smoldering fire.
Pulling Alistair from his reverie, Rannoch grabbed him by his shoulders once again, cerulean eyes looking deep into his own, “My beloved Alistair, the time we have shared has been quite wonderful. However, here is where I leave you with the utmost important charge to do as I say.”
Alistair stood at attention, “I will do just as you ask Rannoch, and I will not deviate.”
“I do not doubt that my dear boy. For before you lies the love you lost and the beacon to your troubled soul. Go to her, save her from her physical and emotional pain, and in so doing, she shall do so to you.” Rannoch motioned to a creature lying upon the frozen earth.
She was the most beautiful woman Alistair had ever seen, for she was just as beautiful now as she was then. Aphrodite must have been made in her image, for none was like her, nor would there ever be one, not for Alistair. Yvaine was his life now, and nothing would stop that. The pale complexion and colorless cheeks frightened him and left him in a fit of worry.
Motioning to her, he was grabbed instantly.
“What are you doing, Rannoch? I must save her, for I know she is dying. I have seen this before!” A wildness filled his eyes.
“Son, I have but one last thing to tell you. I said in the beginning I am here to make two become one. Now, it is your turn to fulfill this. I love you both, and may you be blessed all the days of your lives.” With a kiss on the forehead, Rannoch gently pressed his hands upon Alistair, and he disappeared. The whole world went black.
—
Awoken as if by thunder, Alistair ran from the Davinia at a pace he had never known himself to run, nor had he ever seen. He was blinded most perfectly. For he loved, and it was love he was running to. In all his life, he had never known something like this. This feeling of excitement, passion, humility, bliss, and exhilaration. Yet he knew Yvaine needed him in the worst way, and he would care for her like no man had ever cared for another woman.
Reaching her exceptionally faster than he and Rannoch had, he forgot all exhaustion or propriety as he removed his coat and shirt to wrap the frigid maiden. Yvaine was scooped into his arms and rushed to the Davinia. She was weakened and yet stirred to see who was carrying her. Warmth rushed like a hurricane of fire in Alistair as the emerald eyes stared into his, and before he knew it, the Davinia was before them both. Gently placing her in the boat and stepping in himself, he wrapped her around his tempered body and rowed to the opposing shore and home.
“I-i-i can’t believe my eyes, Alistair. Is that you?” Spoke Yvaine
He smiled lovingly, “Yes, Yvaine, it is me, and I am here to take you home.”
Pink blush appeared on her cheeks as she replied, “Rannoch told me you would come, he told me you would come, and because of this, I am not willing to leave here just yet.”
“You are not allowed to leave, my dearest Yvaine, for we are to make two into one.”
