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ONCE UPON A RING
I know you
I walked with you once upon a dream
I know you
That look in your eyes is so familiar, the gleam
(Once Upon a Dream - Lana Del Rey)
Looks can be deceiving.
And sometimes they deceive so much.
Once upon a time, in a land called Middle-earth, there is a green forest, the Green Forest, where lived silvan elves and a noble sindarin elven-king with his prince - so the place was called until a shadow began to emerge in its edges. As the shadow grows, the elven-king and his people become more and more isolated upon the north. The forest was renamed Mirkwood and strange and dark creatures now roam over there. But there is no absolute pitch – it always has a spark of light, even in the dark of the darkness. For surely, there is no shadow without light.
So one day finally the shadow was defeat by the White Council and then the light triumphed over the dark fortress of Dol Gudur. Now Mirkwood could get rid of all the terror that the evil creatures infringed there.
Or so it was thought.
But appearances can be deceiving, like I said.
The White Council at that time did not know that the shadow, only referred to as "necromancer" was actually Sauron, the Lord of Darkness.
And, while in the North the Battle of Five Armies takes place, while Thorin Oakenshield finally was striking the fatal blow against Azog, the defile, the Necromancer, has already confabulated a new plan in his wicked mind. And counting with that, within a few decades he could restore himself and ultimately dominate, with iron hand, all Middle-earth.
The Necromancer, not defeated, but absolutely weak, used his last efforts in a kind of dreaded magic and forbidden even to him, who represent all the evil itself. A spell able to modify the time and space.
And so he took the central characters of our story to a distant land, on the edge of the universe. So there they will stay, while he strengthened his body. But he would not remember anything, as others would not remember too. He would have no power or magic in the land, and the others would not too. Day after day he would see the same story passing through his eyes, retold several times in the same way, without any suspects about it. And so, days turn into years, and years in decades without anyone noticing, not even the Dark Lord. People with miserable lives, artificially forged by the hands of the Enemy, from which nothing good could arise. But to him, it worth. There he could recover and, when the right time comes, finally back to Arda. Strong again. Ready to take all that he wants.
This would worth all the efforts for sure.
Vanity.
Thranduil, the most well-told joke.
Thranduil did not exist anymore. Not in this land. Well, at least, not the Elven-King Thranduil. Beautiful, wise, terrible... and deadly. There was just Jimmy here - because no one would call Dr. James, PhD., the cleaner of the dinner. Or, as people liked to call down on his back, Jimmy "Creeper".
Jimmy woke up early as usual. It was 4:30 a.m..
_ Good morning, my dearest.
Giving a good morning kiss in the picture of his dead wife, he got out of bed, feeling the old pain again as greeting an old friend. He went to the bathroom, walking with difficulty, and take a shower to completely wake up. Then, leaving the bathroom in order to search his uniform, by milliseconds his peripheral vision caught him reflection in the glass of the old tube tv.
He sighed in defeat. Jimmy no longer felt anger on what happened to him. Only acceptance. Not everyone is born to shine. And his fate certainly was not bright and shine.
And you must be wondering about it, ain’t you? He should be, not just intelligent, but a beautiful man, admired by men and women for his grace and beauty. But no, he wasn't. With half of his body damaged by sulfuric acid, deaf in one ear and blind in one eye, the accident had shattered his beauty and his career. It had hurt. Very much. A pain that he thought not being able to feel. It still hurts. It hurts deeper in his chest, in his heart.
The physical pain was too small if compared to the pain he felt with the looks received of the others inhabitants of the city. This pain he may carry forever and everyday. It was there, always to be faced and exposed. It was not like he could avoid it.
Jimmy was known as the local freak, feared by children and despised by adults. Stories ran with his name. Urban legends saying he attacked people. That he was a lonely man and so he captured defenseless women leading them to the forest where he raped them before ripped their bodies. Or that he had burned himself thinking he was possessed by the devil. These legends, obviously, non of that were true. But even so, they hurt a lot.
Jimmy had suffered an accident in his previous job in an industry where he works as chemical engineer. With more than half of his body burned, the only beautiful thing that was left was a blue sky eye and a straight pale gold hair, only in one side of the head, which he had allowed to grow to cover his face when he felt so threatened by looks of fear and pity.
Madness.
Wearing the uniform, he was ready for another day of work.
On the street, almost no traffic. The only figure sighted this time of day was the old beggar, the Madman of Gray Clothes. An elderly bearded that only repeated disconnected words in a unknow language, whose mind was broken a long time ago, like an old clock beyond repair that someone forgotten somewhere. He glanced at the old man behindhis blond strands.
_ Mirkwood! Mirkwood !! The Elven-king...! - The old man shouted at him. But he didn't answer. He had absolutely no idea what those names means.
So he looked down again, entertained with the sidewalk patterns fearing be stalked by the beggar.
Time to time, the beggar wearing gray had his outbreaks, explosions of humor. Sometimes he really seemed ready to attack someone with his growing thunder voice. This comforted Jimmy a little bit, that he wasn't the only freak in town. Except that he had to work and face people. The beggar no, he was free. The madman never would understand people's aversion from the rags he wore, the nasty smell of urine or the filthy beard.
And, because of this, he was much more fortunate.
Ignorance is blessing.
Powerless.
_ You're early today. - The owner of the diner, Mary Ann, said in her usual cold tone, busy with the bills on the counter. - I need you to unclog that toilet in the men room. It seems that some idiot teenager filled that with much toilet paper or whatever. The smell is unbearable.
_ Yes, ma'am. - He said with his head down.
He noticed that she wore turtlenecks and flowing hair. Though wasn't cold or she used her hair loose. Except when her husband beat her.
Neither Jimmy, nor Mary Ann knew, that woman was one of the most powerful and feared elf of the entire Middle-Earth. Galadriel, the Lady of Lothlorien. But here, in this reality, she was only the wife of a very drunk guy who lived on the money she put at home, as he was lying down all day, doing nothing.
While his wife was alive, Jimmy never had been a bad husband. He was engineer, she, a high-school teacher. They lived in a big house on the hill, where they could see the whole city and the starry sky (and how they spent hours stargazing!). They had a harmonious life and were planning their first child. But the plans never became true. She was killed, stabbed in a robbery. He stayed at home for a while, until the accident with the acid destroyed him. So with this and the death of his wife, came depression. James had lost his job and, unable to pay for the place, had to move to the small studio where he lived.
But never, in all those years they lived together, he had raised his hand to her. Nor for any woman. Never he had acted as Mary Ann's husband did.
But that was not Jimmy's business. His only business now was the nasty bathroom that had to be clean.
The work though was interrupted. Outside, a voice caught his attention.
Power.
_ Where's my money, bitch?
_ Mr. Smith, we are beginning the month yet ...
_ 'Oh, really? So what? And who says I care?
Jimmy crept to the door to the diner hall. Clutching the broom in his hands, he watched as Smith, the most feared man in town, and three of his henchmen threatened Mary Ann with shotguns. Smith was a loan shark and liked to be payed on time. Or earlier, if he needed the money. In addition, he offered protection to small sellers, and in return extorted them, pretty much like he was doing now with Jimmy's boss.
_ What are you looking at, your bastard freak?!
_ Jimmy, this matter is none of your business. C-clean the bathroom as I ordered you.
Smith slowly approached him and he took two steps back.
_ Yes, Jimmy Creeper. Go back to your corner! - Smith laughed, teasing him and knowing, of course, the freak wouldn't contrary him.
And Jimmy knew that too. He obeyed trembling, fearing for his life and Mary Ann's. It was all he could do. Smith was much bigger than him. A strong man, strong like a monster, and that even without a shotgun in hand, could do a good damage only with his fists. Smith's pale blue eyes, craved on his pale skin, were scary and Jimmy decided he wasn't not the kind of guy who fits the role of a hero.
_ So... asking again. Where's my money, Mary Ann?
_ Please, sir! Give me more time ...
_ I'm not feeling very patient today, ma'am... - he answered, scratching his chin.
_ By the end of the week I'll have your money, Smith. I promise. - She said with pleading eyes. - Please.
The guy sighed and smirked, as if enjoying the panic reaction that he caused. Perhaps more than the money, this seemed to satisfy him.
_ By the end of the week! - Smith warned laughing and walking away in his red Impala.
Solitude.
The rest of the day passed quietly. The same yesterday script, staged once again. The same lines. But that Jimmy wouldn't notice. He wouldn’t notice when Leonard, the blond and young misfit entered the diner, asking for a cheeseburger and a coke and running away without having money to pay. And never notice when he himself, as every day the last thirty years, would pay for the food, because he knew this boy had been through many foster homes and never have a family to take care of him. Always returned, and becoming too old to stay in the orphanage. Leonard had no place. He was somewhat like Jimmy. He could well be the son he never had.
But if life had not given him any of this, family, friends, money... it was not time to dream. Dreams are for great men. And he, although tall, he was a little man. In his own littleness, all Jimmy could do was work. Work in order to eat. And eat in order to work.
And so day would past. The same rusty day everyday.
Oblivion.
At the end of the day, the streets were already fuller. He didn't like crowded streets. Nor the looks he received, while the eyes of the owners pretended they weren't looking.
Before going home, however, one last stop at the hospital. Jimmy was volunteer in the wing where coma patients were. They didn't see or hear him, of course, but according to Dr. Edward, a man with black hair and strong features, his voice calmed them. And so, he always came back.
In a way he was proud to do this. He felt even important in his littleness. It was something he could do without ever receive pity in return.
There was this particular patient who always called his attention. A man with long and thick dark hair, already a little gray, and a full beard. He had huge and deeper cuts in various parts of the body and was breathing with the help of many tubes. No one knew who he was. He had just appeared in the town, but never any family contacted the hospital asking for him. The hospital staff called him "John Doe".
Oblivion... should this be his punishment? Without a name and without anyone worried about him? No one looking for him? That was sad, very sad.
Jimmy left a small vase of flowers next to the bed and sat down on his chair with a book.
Without his own consent, John had gained a friend. A friend who, everyday, came to visit him, to read the same pages of the same book, bringing the same flowers. And with him, Jimmy could be himself without receive pity, without the ghosts of his past, without the subservient tone that he used for so long to talk people. He could be the brilliant and witty one he was.
Oh, it was just a pity that the only person he could be this way was in a deep coma and would never wake up to see it...
_ Good evening, John! - he greeted. - You wouldn't believe what happened to me today ... - and told him all his day routine, his moments of joy, sadness, pain and anger.
After that Jimmy started to read, patiently, the book that he brought. Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen.
_ "There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well"...
He looked at John's face. A calm face, serene, which gave no clue of his past. Like he was just sleeping the sleep of the just, or like he, indeed, didn't have a past. Where had he been? Somehow ... it was as like he knew this man. That face wasn't an unknown one. It was kind of familiar, although he was pretty sure had never seen him before. Maybe in another life. Then Jimmy shook his head. There were no other lives. He was never a religious man and, over the years, he had became even more skeptical.
But what a odd feeling he was feeling...!
_ "The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense."
He stopped and looked again.
Suddenly, and no more than suddenly, Jimmy approached the bed, forgetting reading and skepticism. His eyes contemplating the features of the other one.
Where did this man came from? Why did he make Jimmy so curious this way?
But before he could contain himself, with the delicacy of a butterfly land, his fingers also landed on the thick dark hair of the patient. Jimmy stroked it gently, enjoying the tactile sensation in the hand not corroded by acid.
Blushed with no one to witness his embarrassment, he didn't know why he had done it. Could he do this? Was he allowed to touch the patient? But there was no turning back. And the only thing he could do was continue, even if he regret this later. Thus, abandoning his own disbelief, he said:
_ Do we know each other in another life? - the question was asked in a whisper, more to himself than to the other one. - Who would you be, John Doe... Who would you mean to me? Were you my friend? Or... my foe? - the blonde closed his eyes, giving a light and chaste kiss on the forehead of the unnamed patient. - Wake up and we'll find out together, huh? Wake Up. Please.
But only silence answered back, on its complete darkness reality.
Then he put himself together, blushing immediately, embarrassed and inadvertently associating the scene to the tale of Sleeping Beauty. The difference is that it was man. Certainly a handsome man, but ... Not a princess or whatever. And, please, Jimmy as well was not a Prince Charming, able to awaken a person with a kiss! He laughed bitterly feeling ridiculous and pathetic. At most, he could be the Beast of the Beauty and the Beast. Or Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre Dame. So it was and so he felt.
The blond looked around and realized that the hospital had been emptier, many lights began to fade. It was time to go back to his lonely life.
Jimmy went away, speechless, leaving only a pale smile, unaware that the next day he would come back at the same time and ask the same question, only to feel ridiculous again. And so it would be ...
But ...
Even without darkness, there is always a spark of light.
Giving his back to the patient, Jimmy did never notice, of course. But a small gesture, a small spark was kindled. A minimal and insignificant variation in the same scene repeated tirelessly for thirty years. The reality trembled. Alone in his bed, John Doe moved his fingers.
A spark in the darkness.
Finally, time will run to these people.
- END -