Oh, the memories...
     The innumerable times, and timeless, that a raven would land upon the sill of those great arched windows, delivering messages from the front, tidbits of trivia, and small sparkly gifts of tribute. Those things are remembered as the Herald wanders in, mirrored armor chiming -- just a couple of notes off tune now -- and violet wings held aloft and arched.
     Prepared to drop at his knees at any moment...
     But as he seems to be... alone... he starts to snoop. Wandering into the light that streams through the window, light born of no sun. A greater illumination. There are the usual pillows, blue silk, there is the great chair that no one sits in that frequently these days. There are... knick-knacks and remnants of a thousand-and-one journeys. And a gift he gave.
     Galadriel peers at the midnight blue painted box, bejeweled with crystals gathered here and there, and smiling with the memory of it and the knowing of it, he lifts it. And lifts its lid.
     Little tinkling music sounds, and the Herald's eyes sparkle, alive with constellations. Wear your love like heaven. He hums along with it, the song of an earthly troubadour he once loved.
     Lord kiss me one time...
     fill me with song... Allah...
     Kiss me one time...
     He cradles the box to his chest. And for the first time in... he knows not how long... there isn't a backlash of guilt, or pain, or insecurity, or darkness. Or dissonance. Galadriel leaves the lid up, but sets the box down.
     The rest of the things are just rocks and jewels and ...oh look!... there's the watch I found in America... tidbits. But they're all here. All the gifts he gave Blandine. It makes his being swell. And after wandering the circumference of the room, he ends at the chair. Eyes twinkle with mischief...
     ...Just for a moment...
     Hand on the arm of it, he hops right in, wings draping over the sides of the great chair. So this is what it's like to be on the big chair...

     The room fills with laughter, something rare. The noise comes with a shake of the universe, stars twinkling brighter, the firmament glinting of water and light. The crystal layers turn for an instant, and then all goes momentarily quiet.
     Next to you, Blandine smiles, dressed in his chamber not in robes of the universe, but in a silk shirt that shifts opaque to translucent and back again, and in a pair of black pants.
     My goodness. Has Blandine been out?
     "I did not expect to see you," he smiles, hair dark and at his shoulders. He pushes from the edge of his seat, moving out, barefoot, an arm away. "And here, I thought I would need to send Amuriel to fetch you one year from His Tether." Soldekai's. "I never know if we shall see you again," he teases.

     Caught! Curses! But my, don't you look....
     ... different?
     "You've been out and about, My Lord...oh," and he turns violet with a blush -- as the rest of his skin is dusky blue -- and he eases out of the Big Chair, chiming as his feet hit the floor. Well. The floor that is not really a floor at all but constructed out of Your Will For It To Be A Floor. And he straightens, and then he bows. And the blush remains for the talk of Soldekai, but he nonchalantly turns, as if He Meant To Do that, wandering away from you for a moment, but facing you again, past his shoulder and past a wink. Merry mirth and mischief. Brows waggling. "I have discovered a certain fondness for volcanoes, this is true. But!" And he spins about, hands out, "... never doubt that you shall see me, Love of Loves, or rather... perhaps you should doubt, for that is when I am sure to come." The twisting of his logic. "I like the shirt," his finger wiggles toward that outfit and his voice is low, conspiratorial. "And the sound of your laughter," and here he closes his eyes, smile wide, he tilts his head as if listening to music. Such it is. When he opens his eyes again, his blush is still there, but receding, and his eyes sparkle with the constellations hydra and pegasus. A likely pair for he who dances on the razor's edge.
     And still the box sings...
     Wear your love like heaven...
     "And... may I ask, Lord, or if not simply smile and tell me know, where you have been wandering? Those are the clothes of a Traveler true." And he winks. And you laugh. Perhaps ... no... well... has someone found a way to entertain you in my absence?
     "Oh," Galadriel offers in aside, "...Lord Sparkles," Soldekai, "... sends his greetings, as I'm sure you know. I've just arrived from Iceland."

     "So I see," Blandine grins, walking away from you still. He is noiseless, but his presence finds expression across the ethereal. The rest of the conversation is ignored for the moment, and the shirt flutters as Blandine sighs, back to you now. "Please give regards to the Archangel," he says respectfully.
     "You wear him well, Herald," Blandine confesses. Your match with him is a good thing. That he has never denied. He turns about to face you, standing somewhere on the other side of Jupiter. "There is something I wish to tell you, Herald..." he says softly, hands clasping in front of him. "I must find where to begin, and then, I shall make amends."

     You're making me go roseate again. Although, it's not really rose. It's more purple-ish, like a tropical flower or bird, or better still... fish...
     And so he does go purple-ish of face, not with rage but with a holy sort of ...what? Bashfulness? No, that's not it. Humility? No, that's not it. And it's not shame. Maybe discretion. Well... whatsoever births the blush of an angel lives on his expression. Wearing him well. Well, I do like to wear him...
     According to Dominic, I like it a little too much...
     Oh, now he's all ears -- even if his ears are a bit purple-ish too -- and he looks to you, follows your wanderings, pivoting as he must, his hands and wings folding in simultaneous symphony. Not unlike yours. Make amends? Something to tell me?
     My heart would sink for fear, but that it would cause a ghastly, ungodly sound. Besides, I'm not really afraid. No, not really. Nervous? Yes. I have earned a right to be nervous. But you are never the bringer of bad news. I take comfort in this...
     "Of course, Beautiful Dreamer," he says softly and he sits. To listen. Cross-legged in a lotus pose, arms resting on knees, fingers steepled together, wings laying out at his sides...

     "We owe you, sweet Galadriel," Blandine smiles, turning back to see you. "For you have helped to bring us the Beginning of the End. Ah..." Blandine's brows arch as if in some frustration. "How can I show you this? How can I explain what you have brought to the Symphony. You...and your Brilliant Lover?"
     "I should to it," Blandine murmurs to himself, arms bending upwards and hands clasping to make a steeple. "What greater Joy is there to dream, Herald. To dream and hope that dream becomes real. To even be able to dream...that is a gift unto itself. Many do not have it. Soldekai...did not have it. He knew it, Herald. And it pained him. There would be no dreams for him. That is what is said...there are no dreams for Malakim. They Are. They Do. They are but manifestations of His Instant Demand. They do not fall, they are not tempted, they do not know choice, they do not love. They are not Tested, Herald. Does that make sense?"
     "Maybe not," Blandine grins, looking downward. "There is no place for the Malakim to go...they cannot feel, know change, know anything beyond the instant duty. They are closest to Him in some ways. Unchanging. Yet, they are not Him, Herald. They walk a universe...where they are but a choir, yet they are as fixed..." word not used standardly, so Blandine's fingers wiggle at the finesse of it, "...as like God. Yet...they are so far. As far as any of are from Him. They walk and work with Us," the angelics, "...yet they are not like Us in many ways. And...they cannot be Something Else." Fallen.
     "And it was the Chamberlain of Gabriel, one who many of us had become dependent upon, who felt that the most. Trapped. Condemned...to be so. And we all benefitted, Herald," Blandine confesses, "...we benefit from the paradox and isolation of the Malakim. We have sent them ahead of Us, to make Our and Man's way in blood. We failed at the War with our own Host, we failed with the Purging. We make the Malakim suffer, while Dreams struggled on, to take root in Man, and to have Man craft Our and Their own victory."
     "But it was not enough, Herald. I think..." Blandine pauses, to cock his head in recollection, "...I finally saw that." While looking at The Infinite. "And after Time," after looking into his own Heart, "...I went to speak to Yves..."
     "The key," he murmurs, "...was different." As if he was stymied by this for eons. "And it took me a while to see it...to truly see..."

     He has seen the Malakim fight. He has seen his lover fight. They Exist To Do, therefore they Act. They Act as the divine, perhaps even the most divine, of God's Will. Most divine, because they are Infallable. But is metal stronger because it cannot bend? "You have described them very well," he says in a hush, not wanting to interrupt your story. "And their particular predicament, peculiar unto them," he gets A's for alliteration, does he not? Galadriel folds his hands, fingers interlacing and from his sit he leans forward.
     You... went to see... Yves? Is that not a peculiar pair: Dreams and Destiny. Midnight eyebrows cock up, and the expression is beauty bemused.
     "And when you saw this, O Master of Dreamscapes....?" And he is curious. This is ... quite a story...
     And am I that key?
     Is that what I have done?
     And ...not the things for which I was accused...

     Ah, but you are smart, Galadriel. Blandine sees the beginning of Understanding. He paces towards you, hands lowering. "I shall not bore you with details, my Herald."
     "My Sentinel..."
     You can hear it now. Voices calling near Alpha Centauri. Small stars being born...they talk...stars do. Maybe you had not noticed before. They say hello in glinting crackles like falling shards of ice and snow.
     Greetings, Sentinel! Here are our Names...
     "...who taught a Malakim that it can dream with the rest of Creation. Who became a friend to a Malakim. Who understood his Dreams and Wishes. His Aspirations. And helped him become what he was to Be.
     "Anyone can change, Galadriel. If they can Dream it, they can Wish it, they can Aspire to it."
     Do you understand what you have shown the Symphony? What last lesson We all had to learn?
     "...even Malakim." Even Lucifer.
     He goes not on the theology of it, or the painful practicals. If you ask, Blandine will tell. He smiles joyously, yet there is an apology in it. "Everyone must be allowed to Dream and Wish and Try." I had to be reminded. I had to give the Malakim their own chance. "And who else to help, but You, once Herald of Dreams of Aspiration, now...Sentinel."
     All at once, the Flames of the universe cheer. Welcome, Sentinel of Aspiration! We're all here! And you can hear us now, the stars where your dreams take everyone...
     "Now...everyone in the Symphony will benefit, Galadriel," not just the majority upon the struggling backs of a handful. "So Yves will write in the Book," the great book, where you will be remembered. You and Soldekai.

     There have been three instances -- grand holy number that is -- where Galadriel, Cherubim of Dreams, Herald of Aspirations has been struck speechless. Once in Love, Once in Interrogation, and Now. It is a good thing he was sitting, else he would have fallen. Well, just to his knees...
     The mouth is open. The silver eyes, silver as those stars, metallic, molten are on you with a kind of fantastic wonderment. He hears what you are saying, O Lord of The Night Fantastic, but when the stars sang, when you spoke of the...well, the ascension of a new honor, words and Thought and Comprehension began to tinkle around him like glass on glass.
     ...Everyone must be allowed to Dream and Wish and Try....
     Galadriel comes 'to', as it were, as you speak of the symphony and of Yves, but the look of Being Quite Stunned does not leave him. "Worthy," he says after a time, his eyes leaving you for a moment and searching the pillows and floor, skimming over his wings. "I... have certainly tried to do my best..." As if he still doesn't grasp the totality of it, or perhaps he is beginning to understand. It washes over him after a moment, and he peers up at you, and then he rises. He bows his head. "You honor me, and I most grateful for that honor will endeavor to be worthy of it." Galadriel looks up slowly from his bow, starting to straighten. "I... "
     I still do not understand the totality of it all... I hear you, Lord, I hear what you say. Meaning is slower...
     What were the lions in aid of, then? What, the show of fireworks and burning bushes and the rest of the Biblical theatrics...
     Galadriel looks up to the stars, lifts a hand and wiggles his fingers. "Hello, gang..."

     "You have done your best, Galadriel," Blandine says softly. "I have never said otherwise," his voice comes evenly, a steady waves reverberating across the universe.
     Hallo! Hey! He spoke to us! Ha. I told you he would. He is not like some of the others. Yes, that's true. Hallo! Oh, be quiet...he's talking to His Grace!
     Blandine's smile slants at the right time. Did you know he was in multiple conversations at once? "Sit," Blandine suggests, not in any rush. "Whatever you will want to know will come."

     "I am confused, My Lord..."
     Oh, this is going to be priceless...
     Galadriel returns to his ...your... pile of pillows and sits cross-legged, mirrored armor sparkling, chiming, reflecting the dreams of a multitude. "If what I did was Good, why was it destined," a quirk of an eyebrow, "...that I go through the Inquisition? Was that a rite of passage, or... to test the faith with which I practiced?" He goes a little purple-ish. "O, my Lord of Dreams, I do not want to seem... ungrateful. But it is a thing that puzzles me. Is it merely because Those Others," Jean and Dominic, "...did not want malakim to dream, or Heaven to win the war?"
     You can always depend upon Galadriel to push the heretical envelope...
     "And... how may I... as Sentinel... best serve you? Serve the Word of Aspiration and push ahead? Am I doing the right thing in your Venezia?" Teaching the children to sing. Am I close to the right path? Am I even in the ballpark?
     Galadriel smiles, his eyes on you most tenderly. "I am... so.... surprised," he whispers. "Honored," he murmurs after. "I did not.... expect... anything at all..."

     "You do ask too many questions, Galadriel," Blandine seems to sigh. Not that he is upset, just...he preferred not to get into explanations. Nor to speak of others too much. "Be assured that how things are...is how they are supposed to be. And how we shall proceed in Victory."
     "Instead," Blandine's brow lifts, "..I would rather hear about what you came here for...which...was to speak of things changed between you and Brilliance?" Well, things changed and not changed.

     So many more questions...
     What about the lions...
     What about the escort here and the escort there...
     What about the restrictions to the Celestial Realm...
     Ah, Herald...
     Sentinel...
     You should not ask such things. Rebellions have started for less. You sound like Him, to think that the universe owes you something...
     The questions are dropped. Galadriel nods with Acceptance. But you know the Questions remain. Well, you who Know Everything that is Galadriel. "O... yes... " he begins, and he looks at you with calm directness. "The attunement. Brilliance ... has learned to dream, and has become... as he Is. He... no longer has need of a guardian cherub. My energy is... best spent elsewhere. And so.... I am homeless again," so to speak. He has an apartment, but for a cherub, attunement is everything. "I could choose... any number of children at Fra Spero's orphanage. Perhaps I should choose all of them. I know not. I will... find my way, as You say. Fra Spero has been very kind. I think I have done good service so far. I enjoy La Pieta and her children..."

     "Good," Blandine offers coyly, turning away to glance somewhere past Arcturus. Someone talking...now you know where his mind can wander. "And I think Lemuriel has enjoyed having you there," he says in reply. "You make a good team there. I hear that two are soon to be adopted..." Dreams come true.
     "You will find another," he offers, moving now to sit in his seat, almost as if tired. "I trust in this. You have done so since your beginning. Nothing shall change now, Sentinel."
     And as if hearing your mind, he says, "The lions will remain with you indefinitely." Some things cannot be changed. "And you will remain, as required, upon corporeal and ethereal realms. I cannot change Decisions," Blandine notes. But some decisions do not change my path.
     "It took you long enough...to realize...that your energies were best spent elsewhere. And that...love needs no attunement." He is not much of a teacher, your Blandine, but blue eyes watch you for a moment, to see if any lights...as they are...come on. "Sometimes, you must let things go...as they go..."

     He's tempted to ask whether, O Lord, you have an aspirin... and how it is you have put up with his chattiness, in concert with the stars for the first forever of your acquaintence. He's tempted, but he does not ask. Hmm... perhaps someone else's dreams were also answered...
     Am I the first Almost Fallen angel to be promoted? Strange days and nights, these. Galadriel accepts the word on the lions and the other banishment with Quiet Resignation. It is what it is. Perhaps I should not fight it. But how... Lord... when I just really do not like it. But...it's not as if Father asked for my opinion, is it. See, this is the point at which Lucifer should have shut up. I bite my lip and nod. They know best who said It Should Be So...
     "Yes, My Lord, it did take a long time. I suppose I did it out of ..." what? Spite? "... selfishness. Out of... things other than what Should Have Been My Duty. I ask for your forgiveness," he whispers. A moment more and he looks to steepled fingers. "You have been kind to me, and more generous than perhaps I deserved at the time. And now, your Faith in me, I hope I prove that my metal is not such that it should crack before it... learns to bend?" A quirk of a midnight eyebrow and he glances up to you. "Or I should be the first cherub converted to a malakim." Ooh! A rhyme! How long has it been?
     Galadriel bows his head. "I see at last, and hope not too late, Your Grace of Nighttime Hours. Love needs not more than Itself. And Brilliance needs no other Light..."

     Blandine shakes his head, glancing up to the firmament. "Do not forget, Galadriel. Your Word is all. It Is, You Are. Let it lead you...not you lead it."
     The seat seems to cradle him. Blandine's hands come to rest on the arms of the chair, and the stars clap.
     Yikes! Time for you to go, Sentinel! But we shall see you again! Well, silly, we never leave. That's why we'll be with him. Hey! You are making way too much noise...
     "You will not speak of this with Yves," Blandine says, closing his eyes. Black hair folds around his face, wings closing in for the night. "Nor with Brilliance."

     "Of course not, Most Treasured," and Galadriel rises. He looks at you for a moment. Before you disappear. "Thank you," he whispers. He shimmers as he turns. He will see his lion companions -- maybe I should think of them as companions instead of guards. There is a way to know Truth, and a way to look at it, perhaps. Perhaps Lemuriel can help me with this. It is not something Jonathan understands. He thinks I should be grateful to be so protected...
     He pauses at the arch, looking back at the Big Chair, at The Dreamer, and then at the stars in multitude overhead. "Goodnight," he whispers to them, to You. And then the Herald...
     The Sentinel...
     ... takes his leave.
     But...
     If my name is in the Big Book, how could Yves not know....?

Posted by rowan at May 18, 2003 02:18 PM