Loss is a painful thing, and even harder when it comes out of nowhere. Ivy expected to feel sad, to feel alone, to feel the loss when she arrived in Evendim. But little did she know how hard it actually would hit. The sudden news of her husband's demise, the sadly lonely grave of her daughter. This pain she has felt before indeed, back in Umbar, but that was like a different life, a shorter but wilder life. However this felt more close, hitting to the heart. She both wanted to hide herself and also not.
Gotten out of her travelling gear while the party rested at Ost Forod, she decided to act the role bestowed upon her. Donning a black dress in her clear view of mourning, as well as spent time at the small graveside near the cottage at the lakeside. Talking to the grave as if someone was there. But it did nothing for her. Though a few companions that went with her from the Company gave her a shoulder to cry on, gave sympathy. Even with many of them knowing the pain of loss and reality of it just well enough. But she couldn't shake it. Even when she finally stopped drinking, the pain only grew.
So it was when she finally couldn't get out of bed, struck by a fever, born of sorrow. All while the warm midsummer sun shone brightly outside, she was inside, coughing, sniffing, whimpering. In a way the fever was a blessing, a distraction from the pain. She often fell asleep again during it, and while her dreams sometimes brought up her husband, the dreams were often of they always were, of travels, lands, mountains. Caramip, the party’s hobbit and care-mum however did not let her suffer the fever alone. She came around and made sure Ivy had good cooked vegetables to eat and warm chicken soup to drink. The food and the care helped her through her fever and back on her feet.
Her pain remained, but now she fought through the literal physical result of it, she wanted to give it a place. She wanted answers. So she went to Gondorian that previously gave her the news. At first she hesitated, was she doing the right thing, is knowing the details of your husband's demise really smart? But she chose it, she wanted to know, she needed to know.
She walked forward towards the Gondorian and on his question. “Mrs Lyffland?” she just answered simply;
“How?..”
Unable to find the right words to ask the question, she was however relieved when the soldier immediately understood the question. He took a bit of a breath, clearly also trying to find the right words to not break this woman in front of him more than she already is. But he replied.
“He was found after the battle, a ring of death orcs around him, catching his last breath, he gave the locket to me asking me to bring it here to you. His last thoughts were for you.”
Ivy looked down, a hand moving to her locket gently caressing it, then asked. “A ring of orcs? At Pelennor?” Oh which the Gondorian nodded. “He must’ve killed more than those orcs, and likely would’ve gotten more kills.”
Ivy stood still for a second and then nodded. “Thank you” she said to the Gondorian before turning. Her husband was brave to the very end, a brave strong foolish man, but her brave strong foolish man. Now she should be the brave strong foolish woman, as both they are.
A single tear rolls down her cheek from her eye corner, but it was met with the lifted up corner of her mouth, as a smile was on her face. A smile of realisation and a smile of knowing the reality, the reality of her husband, a smile of pride. A smile on the reality of pride.
