Is this speculation or has it actually been stated that Baelfire was named after Jordan's balefire?? does anyone know if this is actual word of god?? if anyone knows I really want to know because if it's true I will actually lose my shit.
As an aromantic person I am here to say: Lan and Morraine supremacy. But as someone who can see chemistry: Lan and Nynaeve supremacy. And also as an allosexual I am here to say: Lan and Me supremacy. In general one can say: Lan supremacy.
There was still some light out when Baelfire got back to the farm with Morraine and her parents. Morraine was going to help him with his chores, since he had spent all day shearing the Duke’s sheep and had little time for any other responsibilities. Yahn and Tabat were going to wait inside for Morraine to finish.
He probably should have gone into the cottage, just for a moment, to see if Papa was alright. When he’d taken sick at the shearing, Baelfire’s fear had swallowed up his resentment. His father was all he had. He couldn’t lose him. Not yet.
But then Papa had played it off like he wasn’t sick, couldn’t possibly be dying. Made him feel like a fool for caring. If Baelfire talked to him, he would only lie. He’d act like everything was fine, like he always did. For three days, Baelfire had wanted to ask his father if he was meeting the Dark One when he went out at night. He had put it off, because he couldn’t bear to have Papa lie to his face again.
In the yard between the barn and the cottage, Morraine placed her hand on his upper arm. It was only to get his attention, but he was so caught up in his thoughts that he jumped back.
Morraine looked surprised, then giggled. “Where should we start working?”
“The garden,” Baelfire said. “We can pull some weeds out before the night sets in.”
The garden was a row of three square plots, one for herbs and two for vegetables. There was room for another plot, but Papa never had the time or energy to do that much more work.
“Your mint is all picked over,” Morraine said casually when she looked at the herb plot.
Baelfire swallowed. The mint was almost gone because Papa needed tea two or three times a day to ease his stomach. He couldn’t say why, but he didn’t want to tell Morraine about that.
“Let’s work on the leeks,” he said instead. “The herbs can wait until morning.”
They worked separately on the two vegetable plots. His dog Baguette walked back and forth between the two of them, seeing if they needed help. Morraine hummed to herself as she worked. Baelfire liked that. The sound was pretty, and he liked the song, and it meant they didn’t have to talk. Not that he didn’t like talking to Morraine, but there was something soothing about not feeling like he had to talk. They could be quiet together, and still feel close to each other. It was nice.
By the time they were done, they both had a pile of weeds. Morraine picked all of them up and held them in her skirt.
“I’ll go feed these to your pigs.”
“We don’t have a pig right now,” Baelfire said. “We had your father take care of her before winter started.”
Morraine made a noise like she was confused. “You only have one pig at a time? We always have at least two, so we can slaughter the fat one and give the skinny ones another year to grow.”
Baelfire pushed himself off the ground to stand up. “We were lucky to get Bacon last year, after spending so much on the new lambs and chickens. She was the first pig I remember having.”
“You named your pig?” In the dark, Baelfire couldn’t see Morraine’s face. He could pretend it didn’t sound like she was trying not to laugh.
“Come on, I’ll show you where the sty is. We will get another pig soon and she’ll need something ready to eat.”
“What are you going to name that one? Sausage? Head Cheese?”
Baelfire nudged into her with his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“Sorry,” she said. And she sounded sorry. “It’s the sort of thing my little sisters would do, name an animal that’s only going to be slaughtered. It’s sweet, but kind of silly.”
Baelfire shrugged. “I was younger a year ago.”
They dumped the weeds into the empty sty. Then Baelfire lit a rushlight and asked Morraine to check on the chickens in the barn and make sure they were all in their coop. He would take care of his sheep.
It was too dark to see anything, but Baelfire and Baguette knew the path to the pasture in the soles of their feet. Baguette ran to the field to circle the sheep up, and Baelfire called for them. They knew his voice and ran to him.
He counted his flock as they trotted into the barn. Four ewes, five lambs. The lambs were only a few weeks old, already twice as big as they had been when they were born. This young, they needed to stay by their mothers, drinking milk more than grazing. But they were learning how to graze and run, how to be sheep. Dabbey’s lambs--the two boys he’d helped deliver--were never far from each other.
“You’re good brothers,” he told them as he closed the barn door. Baguette had to stay outside. The sheep worried too much if there was a dog near their pen.
Morraine had set the rushlight in a stand. Once the sheep were put away, Baelfire found her sitting on the ground petting a few of the barn cats. She looked up at him and smiled.
“Is there anything left to do?” she asked. “Or can we take a break while the grown-ups talk?”
“I would love to take a break.” He slid down the barn wall and sat down next to her. It felt like the first time he’d rested in months.
“Do the cats have names?”
Baelfire shook his head. “There are too many of them, and they all look the same. I guess you could say they all have one name: Cat.”
Morraine giggled and reached out to scratch one of the cats under its chin. “And you only have the two chickens, is that right? There are only two chickens in there, so if you have more, I haven’t been much help.”
“You helped.” He closed his eyes. “Just having you around helps.”
She made a noise that was almost lost among the purrs and meows of the barn cats.
Without looking, Baelfire knew she was blushing. What he said must have sounded like flirting, but it was the truth. Having anyone work with him made work easier, and having Morraine around him for anything made him feel better. Having Morraine work with him eased his burden and made him happy. There was nothing better than that. Nothing.
They were quiet together, then Morraine’s voice broke through the flickering darkness.
“Baelfire?”
“Yes?”
“Are--are you going to make a wish on the Blue Star tonight?”
Another time, he might have lied to her. But now he wanted to tell her how he really felt about things. “No, I probably won’t.”
“Why not?”
He sighed. “Because I’ve been wishing on stars my whole life, and my wishes have never come true.”
“But it’s your birthday.” She moved away from the wall so she was looking at him. “And the Blue Star is the most important star, the most powerful star in the sky.”
“The star for mothers and maidens and children, I know.” He clenched his fist in the dark. “But my mother is gone, I don’t know any maidens, and I’m not a child anymore.”
“You know maidens,” Morraine said sternly. “I’m a maiden.”
“That’s different. You’re my friend.”
“Yes, I am.”
Suddenly, Morraine was in front of him. She was up on her knees between his spread legs, practically sitting in his lap. They were so close he could feel the warmth of her body against his.
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.
“I wished on the Blue Star, for my birthday.” They were so close, she only had to whisper. “And my wishes always come true.”
Something happened at Baelfire’s mouth. Something warm and soft. Something that involved his head and Morraine’s head moving closer together. Meeting. Light as a feather. She was smart enough to tilt her head to the side, so their noses didn’t mash into each other.
The kiss was over before Baelfire realized it was a kiss. Morraine pulled back. For a second, she looked unsure. Her eyes darted over his face, looking to see how he felt.
Baelfire felt stunned, but in a good way. He tried to smile. Probably came off looking like a fool or a drunk, but he didn’t care.
Morraine’s smile was beautiful. The biggest triangle he had ever seen. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to kiss that smile. He wanted to make her smile even more. He wanted to make her laugh. Make her… happy. As happy as she made him.
“My parents are talking to your father.” Her voice was soft and low. “About us.”
“Us?”
She nodded.
Before he could ask more, the rushlight guttered out, leaving them in total darkness. Baelfire had to keep his hands on Morraine to know where she was. He gripped both of her arms, and it occurred to him how much he wanted to touch more of her. Like her waist, and her neck, and even her face. Maybe he would hold her face in his hands the next time she let him kiss her.
For now, it was time to leave the barn. Baelfire stood and held Morraine’s hand in his own. He was sure they’d held hands before, when they were children, but now it was different. Now it was more.
He led them out, into the slightly-better-lit yard. The moon had risen, it was a little more than half-full. With Morraine’s hand in his, Baelfire looked up at the stars. The Pink Star was on the horizon--brighter than he had ever seen it before. The Blue Star was in the center of the sky, shining like the jewels of a queen.
“You want me to wish on that?” Laughing, he pointed to the Blue Star with one hand and held onto Morraine with the other. “Alright, I will! Star light, star bright--”
“Shh!” Morraine put her free hand over his mouth. He wanted to kiss her fingers. “You have to do it alone, silly. And you can’t tell anyone what you wished for.”
“You told me.”
“Did I?” Smiling, she pulled away but kept their fingers linked together. Her eyes sparkled with starlight.
He wanted to tell her she was beautiful. He wanted to pull her back into his arms. He wanted to dance with her, and hug her, and kiss her again and again.
But before he could do any of that, the door to the cottage burst open and Tabat strode out into the yard. She was frowning. Yahn the butcher followed after her. Papa stayed in the door frame.
“Morraine!” Tabat bellowed. It was a harsher tone than Baelfire had ever heard from her.
“Here, Mama.” Obedient, she ran into the beam of light cast from the open door.
“Say good-night to Baelfire. It’s past time we’d be heading home.”
Since she was in the light, he could see Morraine’s expression. She wore the same shock and welling sadness that would happen if someone had slapped her across the face.
She stepped toward her mother. “But--”
“We can talk about it on the way home.”
Morraine’s lower lip began to wobble. Baelfire rushed over to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Bae.” That was Papa from the doorway. He sounded closer to angry than he had in a long time. “Don’t.”
Sniffling, Morraine went over to Yahn. The big man put his arm around his daughter and patted her on the back.
With a huff, Tabat marched to Baelfire. She held him by the shoulders and looked up into his face. “This is none of your doing, my boy. You’re a good soul and the world is better for having you in it. Come round to our house anytime you need anything.” She had him bend down so she could plant a kiss on his forehead. “Happy birthday.”
To Papa, Tabat gave only a nod and tight expression. Then they left.
He watched the family leave for as long as he could. They faded into the darkness, into the forest that separated his farm from the village. Slowly, Baelfire turned around. His father stayed in the doorway, leaning on his staff, looking at him.
Baelfire’s hands shook. His voice was rough as he asked, “What happened?”
“Come inside,” his father said. He left the door open when he went into the cottage.
Before he let himself move, he tried to swallow down his anger. He tried to breathe, but his breaths came out as shudders, like he was about to cry. Like he was a child.
He didn’t sit down when he got inside. His father was at the hearth, getting down a pan.
“Have you eaten?” He spoke as though nothing was wrong.
Baelfire’s fist clenched. He wouldn’t let him do this anymore. “What. Happened?”
Papa sighed, and looked at him. “We need to have a talk, you and I.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Maybe we can start by you telling me what the hell happened just now. Why is Tabat angry with you? What did they come here to talk about?” For just a moment, his anger left him. He almost had to whisper the most important part. “Morraine said her parents wanted to talk to you about her and me.”
Not even pretending to cook anymore, his father sank down to the table. He held his stomach like he was going to be sick again. “Will you sit?”
If he had ordered, Baelfire would have refused. If he had acted like nothing was wrong, Baelfire would have shouted at him. But because he asked, because he offered him that much respect, Baelfire sat down across the table from his father.
“What happened, Papa?” he asked. “What’s been happening?”
“Quite a lot,” he said. “I--I don’t quite know where to start.”
“Why is Tabat angry?” That was the most important thing, tracking down the list of events that had made Morraine look so sad.
“She--” Papa began and then stopped. “I--” He tried again. “Morraine was right, son. Yahn and Tabat came here to talk to me about the two of you.”
Despite the way he knew that conversation had ended, Baelfire’s heart lifted at that news. “Really? Was it--was it about us courting?”
His father’s mouth narrowed into a tight line. “More than that,” he said. “They wanted you two to get married.”
“Married?” Baelfire’s voice cracked on the word. Now his heart was buzzing like a beehive. Getting to marry Morraine would be the best thing in the world! She could live on the farm and help him with chores all the time. They could get so much more work done together, make enough money that they wouldn’t have to worry about how much money they made. They could go to Tabat’s house and eat meat for dinner every day. At night he could sleep next to her. He could make her laugh and smile all the time. They’d never have to be away from each other. They could kiss anytime they wanted to.
All that joy came crashing down at his feet when he remembered. He looked at his father.
“What did you do?”
To his credit, Papa held his head high. “I said you were too young. Which you are, both of you.”
“Why?” he whispered. Everyone knew that a betrothal wasn’t a marriage. A boy and a girl could be promised to each other for years before they started living together as man and wife.
“Bae, you need to know the truth.” Now his father looked down. He seemed focused on the hem of his shirt. “The real reason I don’t want you to be pledged to anyone is--is because of me.”
He shook his head. “They came to you,” he said. “It doesn’t matter anymore that you were a coward during the war. Yahn and Tabat know who you are and they still thought I was good enough for Morraine.”
“They don’t know everything.”
Baelfire put his hands on the table and leaned forward. “You mean, they don’t know about her.”
Papa looked up, shocked. “What do you know, son?”
“Morraine told me there are rumors going around,” he said. “Rumors that the Dark One haunts the forest near our village.”
“That’s--”
“But only,” Baelfire interrupted, “on nights when there is a full moon or a new moon.” He kept his gaze steady on his father. “That’s when you’ve been going out. For months.”
“For a year.” Papa said softly. “No, I’m wrong, it’s been a year and a day. It was the night before you turned fourteen. That was when I made my deal with her.”
He shook his head. “Deals with the Dark One are bad,” he said. “What did that monster promise you, to make you do something so--so--”
“She ended the war.” His father spoke before Baelfire could think of a word horrible enough to describe what he’d done. “That night, she went out to the battlefield and made it stop. You never had to go to war, Bae.” He leaned forward, put his hands over Baelfire’s on the table. His eyes were pleading. “You never had to die. No child, ever again, would be killed at the hands of the ogres. Because of her.”
Baelfire had a hard time believing that. No one ever said anything about how the war ended, only that it was over. If the Dark One had been responsible for saving the kingdom, why didn’t anyone know? He looked at his father. How could he ever have been brave enough to call on the Dark One? How could he have convinced the most evil creature in the world to do something so good?
“What did you pay her?” he breathed.
“I--” Papa licked his lips before he spoke. “I am her servant. I do whatever she asks me to.”
“Like what?”
He looked around the cottage like he was searching for words in the rafters. “I accompanied her on a journey. You remember when I left you here alone this past winter? I was going with her to a palace under the ocean.”
Baelfire just stared.
“I met the Sultan of Agrabah,” Papa went on. “And a sea witch who rules over the entire ocean. There was a mermaid! And a young man who--well, who had a very hard life. I saw eels floating through the air like it was water. There was a whole city of--”
“Stop,” Baelfire didn’t shout. “You’re not answering my question. What does the Dark One want with you?”
His father looked down. He was trying not to smile. “What does any woman want with a man?”
His stomach curdled. “Do you mean--”
“Yes.”
“And you do it?”
“Yes.” His father’s voice was warm. He was smiling now, a little.
Baelfire stood up. “You like it,” he accused. “You like her. The Dark One!”
“She’s… incredible, Bae.” Papa’s eyes shone as he spoke. “She’s beautiful and tender and… and I think she needs me.”
He threw his hands up. “And that’s why I’ll never marry Morraine? Because you… sold yourself to the Dark One?”
“No one said never, son.” Papa started to get up. He put most of his weight on his staff and held on to his stomach with his other hand.
“That’s why you’ve been sick, isn’t it? She--she’s poisoned you! Dark magic is deadly, everyone knows that. Gods, Papa, what have you done?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” he said. “I… don’t quite know how to explain this. There’s going to be a child, son. You’re going to be a brother.”
He stepped back. His lip curled up in disgust. “You--you got her pregnant?”
“Not quite.”
Baelfire gaped at his father, too stunned and horrified for questions. Papa also seemed to be out of words. Instead, he lifted up his shirt, and showed Baelfire his stomach.
He wanted to think it was a goiter. Or a tumor. Some kind of pus-infected swelling. Lots of people walked around with strange growths that might or might not kill them sooner or later. That was bad, but it was natural. It was normal. What Baelfire saw on his father’s body wasn’t any of that.
It was a small bump. He hadn’t noticed it under his father’s clothes. It was the same color as his skin, there wasn’t any redness or irritation like there would be if it was a regular ailment. The way Papa held it was exactly the way women held their bellies when they were going to have a baby.
He looked up, at his father’s face. He must have looked horrified.
“It happened,” he said. “This is why I couldn’t let you be promised to Morraine. Not yet, at least. Not until after the baby is born.”
“Will that make it better?” Baelfire spat out the words. “Do you think having a demon in the house will improve our lives?”
“Bae,” Papa chided him. “I know you’re angry, and you have a right to be--”
“You’re damn right, I do!” Now he was shouting. Now all the rage that he’d kept quiet all his life was finally pouring out. “How could you do this to me? I’ve done everything for you, Papa. For us! We worked so hard for so long just to not starve. Now I get a chance to have a better life, to be happy for once! Don’t you understand that? There’s a pretty girl who likes me, whose family likes me. They’re the first people I know who can look past you and see me for myself. I can have a future with her. And you just… ruined it.”
Somewhere in his rant, Baelfire had started crying. His father hadn’t said anything, but silent tears streamed down his face. He stood in the center of the cottage, leaning on his staff, looking like he was about to crumple.
He just took it, Baelfire realized. He didn’t stand up for himself. He didn’t fight or even shout back. That’s what he always did, with everyone who hated him. He just fucking took it.
In that moment, Baelfire had no pity for the crying man in front of him. In that moment, he understood every bully who had ever made their lives miserable, every whole person who had ever looked down on this pathetic shell of a man. In that moment, Baelfire understood how his mother had gotten to a point where she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
So he did what she had done. He ran away from Rumpelstiltskin.
****
He ran into the forest without direction, without a plan or a destination. Away was more important than to. He ran between trees and around brambles. The moon cast down a pale light, but Baelfire’s eyes were too full of tears to make any use of it. He ran on instinct up hills and over creeks. He ran as far and as fast as he could.
Papa wasn’t running after him. With his bad leg, he would never manage the forest in the dark. He wouldn’t even try. People called him a runner, but he wasn’t. His father was a barnacle on the side of a boat--picking one spot and clinging to it desperately. He didn’t fight or flee. He just stayed where he was and cried until people got bored with hurting him.
Baelfire stopped to catch his breath. His chest was burning. His eyes were burning. He shuddered and shook until he thought he was going to be sick. He took a few staggering steps. None of these trees looked familiar, not in the moon’s half-light. He didn’t know where he was.
He looked at the sky. The leaves on the trees were small and far apart. When Baelfire looked up, no stars looked back. He searched for the North Star, but didn’t find it. He couldn’t see the Pink Star anymore either. Not even the Dog Star, which was the first star anyone ever learned how to find. On this terrible night, there was only one star that he recognized, shining high and bright.
“Blue Star.” Lowering his gaze, he shook his head, covered his face with his hands. He fell back against a tree, then slid to the ground. He put his knees to his chin and wept like a child. Like his father. “I’m sorry, Morraine.”
Sorry they couldn’t be together always. Sorry he wasn’t good enough for her. Sorry his father had ruined both of their lives. Sorry they had kissed once if they would never kiss again. Sorry he had made her so happy, if it meant that she’d become so sad. Sorry her wish didn’t come true.
Sorry he didn’t believe in wishes.
From the ground, he looked up at the Blue Star. “If you’re real,” he whimpered. “Then tell me why. That’s all I wish. I wish to know why this is happening to me.”
He rested his head in his arms, closed his eyes, and let the tears fall down. He didn’t look up until he heard the fluttering of wings.
There was a light in the forest. A light as blue as the daytime sky. It wasn’t dawn, and it wasn’t the moon. He stood up, looking around for the source. The light seemed to be everywhere and nowhere, like a fog. Sometimes he thought it was moving, but sometimes he knew it wasn’t. Baelfire stayed where he was. Chasing lights in the forest was how you got kidnapped by elves, everyone knew that.
He stood his ground. With his shoulders back, Baelfire shouted into the trees: “Who is it? What do you want?”
“I want to help you, child.” A woman’s voice came from somewhere over his shoulder. It was a sweet voice, gentle but firm. The sound of wings came with it.
Slowly, Baelfire turned around. All the light had gathered into something small that floated a little above his head. He blinked and squinted, not believing his eyes. It was a woman. A tiny woman, dressed in blue, with blue wings and a magic wand. She smiled down at him. The blue light sparkled all around her, so she glowed and twinkled just as she had in the night sky.
And I know its not really in my blog theme BUT this is absolutely now my headcanon for the Aes Sedai stoles from wheel of time because look at it! Its awesome! It would match the rings!! And can you even imagine a rainbow version for the Amyrlin seat?!?! Oh no this is how I get into making fan art isn't it
If you want this (expensive) scarf or similar items, credit goes to PeacockFelt on Etsy
