I look into his face So well loved I can trace every line Every scar And know the time that caused it Know every tiny detail The familiarity A daily blessing For despite the dread-full past He still lives And knowing what I know of him The more beloved he is Age and time ….our life A strange unexpected dream To be here now…. To be his wife
He sees me smiling Knows my thinking Remembering another Wedding Day I was reluctant then to say The words that bound me to him He pauses, looks down Collecting his emotions Then turns, faces me With a look of such intensity Remembering his promises He’s kept them Every one
SO MANY LAYERS TO THIS POWERFUL FINALE…. I see more, feel more, hurt more with each viewing, but there is beauty within the terrible….and terrible beauty.
NEVER MY LOVE….Plays on endless repeat, as I watch again and again.
So many evocative, traumatic, fierce, passionate, murderous, human, loving moments….the deep connection of family, whoever they may be.
“There’s been an attack on the ridge”, Jamie says. “They’ve taken Claire. We’re gonna get her back.”
He’s cold and methodical, preparing himself for war. Dressed in Tartan, he leaves the homestead as clouds of black birds fly from their night roosts, filling the skies with their cries. Tears leak,and chills creep up and down my spine as he runs to the highest point on the ridge, to light the fiery cross. The young men and the old gather….to go to war for him, for their Healer, Mistress Claire.
All is cruel brutality, as she and we escape to a refuge far away, where Jamie wraps her in his Tartan Plaid, says those very familiar words…. “Y’re shakin so hard it’s making my teeth rattle.” Never My Love a soothing respite in the background.
His shocked face, seeing her….bound, gagged, brutally beaten. But he knows….he of all people knows how this feels…..he can’t break down, instead he cuts her ties, holds her by the shoulders, tells her “You are whole…..you are alive.” Then with the greatest care, he wraps her gently in his plaid, lifts her up, carries her….and those powerful words echo in my mind…..
“A Bloodsoaked Adam, A Battered Eve.” DG
I cannot let go of this season, this episode…..So loving in its final moments, So deeply steeped in the strength of Family…..Who would not wish for the Warriors of Old. For their Strength and Courage in Battle. For their Honour, their Loyalty.
He sat there, an expression of fierce intensity on his beautiful face…. Waiting, waiting for an answer, as cigar smoke filled the air. Surrounded by the scent of finest Whisky and Leather….he waited, YES,” I said…..Whatever the question, the answer is “YES.”
Surrendering himself to his new bride’s touch He stands, his entire body yearning Almost melting into her But giving in, allowing As she slowly explores His strong, beautiful young body…..
And she…..glides slender fingers Across his skin, so slowly Delaying, extending her pleasure And his…. Until she turns, faces him Looks down, then up into his face His slanted dark blue eyes Her wanting matching his Sees him quivering with desire
She loosens the ties of her shift And he moves quickly Wraps strong arms around and lifts Carries her willing To their marriage bed Enters her then, pleasures her Until their voices cry out together On that night when first they wed.
He stood before me At the old church door A vision of such splendour I forgot every promise I’d made before This moment
Strength, beauty, kindness, grace All made clear On his beautiful face In this moment….I forgot my fear My misgivings The husband I’d left only weeks before I forgot my past life Walked up to the door And as he took my arm As he led me inside All I wanted in this moment Was to be his bride
The cuts were deep The blood flowed free The ties that bound us Soaked and bloody I looked up into his clear blue eyes Down at the linen binding ties And cared not for what may come Or what was left behind In this moment I am his He is mine
In this moment Before the Altar Of the new Gods and the Auld I surrendered the past Knew In my soul I was bound to him This would be my last My one, my only love My kin
In this moment In this Sacred place In the eyes looking back at me In his beautiful face
Mine, His There is only this Unexpected Unwanted Unwilling Back then Yet, here, opening up to him There is only this This Holy tie that binds As the Priest intones You my kiss your bride In this moment
I give myself to you now As bloods drips from the ties That bind our vow He is my husband I his wife Bound body and soul Bound for life
Nothing exists Between us now But this This Endless Moment
Denial Recognition Heat Her thoughts of a frantic husband His memory of the warmth of her body On that long, long ride On that dark, wet night Forced back into some strange normality They are separate, yet linked The bindings of twin souls He knows it, and so does she They are children of the stars From now, for all Eternity
I FELL IN LOVE WITH JAMES FRASER through Claire’s eyes; as the main narrator she describes him in such fine detail, I know the essence of the man….through Diana’s descriptive prose and my very keen sense of smell, I too could pick him out of a crowded room of men, simply by his smell……a mixture of coffee, whisky, gunpowder, horses and manure, his sweat…..the deep male smell of him. His long graceful bones, the way his mane of copper russet bronze and auburn hair, lifts in stray wisps about his face, because he is either fiercely animated, or like a lions mane, falling around his shoulders in the frenzied passion of love making. The quirk of his mouth, his wry humour, courage, honour and accomplishments. A unique talent for absorbing both people, learning and languages into his life. A man of big passions, ferocious loyalties and all encompassing generosity.
I FELL IN LOVE WITH JAMIE through Claire’s eyes, until so deeply absorbed in the “more real than life” story, Claire fell away. I was Claire…..living, loving, breathing him in, waiting for him to return from battle, from hunting, from visits with neighbouring Cherokee or working alongside him, and healing him.
AND THEN I FELL IN LOVE AGAIN, through Roger’s eyes. Roger knows Jamie when he arrives at Frasers Ridge….Roger, the “dog with a bone” Historian, has been hearing Claire’s story, researching Jamie’s History…..Culloden, Ardsmuir, Helwater. He has already developed a relationship with Jamie, two hundred years before he meets him (Yes my mind gets tied in knots too)!!! Before Claire leaves Inverness for the second time, Roger finds her fast asleep in the Reverend Wakefield’s Study, clutching the Ardsmuir Prison Records to her breast, her heart….he has a deep affection for Claire, and says to her sleeping figure, and to the long dead Jamie, “I don’t know who you were mate”, he whispered to the unseen Scot, “but you must have been something, to deserve her.”
And then there follows the catastrophic mess, through Lizzie’s mistaking Roger for the monster who has violated Brianna…..we know what follows, and once the two men have come to terms with each other, something beautiful happens.
ROGER AS NARRATOR won me over in a completely new way. He sees Jamie from a very different perspective. There’s understandingly, in the beginning, lingering resentment, but that changes subtly to begin with, as the two men take the measure of each other. I’m often brought to unexpected tears, by Roger’s reference to Jamie as “the big Scot.” Why should that make me cry??? I think it’s the knowledge of how much suffering that big body has gone through….and, for some reason those words are a trigger for tears. Roger refers to Jamie’s “panther like grace”, he wants his approval, and can’t help the jealousy he experiences around Jamie. One vivid description is of Jamie standing back, eyeing Roger dispassionately, as though he were buying a bullock at the saleyards. This comes about when Roger asks him “Teach me to fight.” There’s some brilliantly witty dialogue that follows with Jamie telling Roger he had his first sword at five…..Roger had a toy train with a red engine at the same age. But Roger is equally stubborn, also a man of learning and finally a deal is made. He describes his first experience with “the art of the sword, with Jamie Fraser as his opponent, as like fighting a cloud.” But Jamie develops a strong affection and respect for Roger, and during the Ritualised Ceremony of The Fiery Cross, when Jamie calls out to him, “Come stand by me, Roger Jeremiah, son of my house”, there is a fierce pride and a belonging, a love for his Warrior Father-in-Law.
There is too much to include here. Roger as Narrator, brings James Fraser to life, in vivid detail that naturally is completely different to Claire’s. A man’s observation that also at times is unemotionally clinical in his Historian’s viewpoint of Jamie.
I LOVED JAMIE FRASER EVEN MORE, viewing him through Roger’s descriptive narration.
“Fighting gives y’ a terrible cockstand,” He’d once said when first we wed And now, he clutches me against his young body So full of all the things men feel When going off to war
I open my mouth to his kiss His tongue making love to me Hear the small urgent sounds in his throat Feel his need pressing hard against my belly And in this moment, I could lift his kilt Take him in….hold him, keep him safe From every thing that would take him away from me
But he pulls apart, eyes filled with regret Turns, and at the door, pauses Bows deep, turns again Walks through the door to join his men
And I stand, left bereft Still feeling his need, his heat Now hearing the sickening sounds of war And pray “Dear God above, protect this man I love For I am bound now, heart, soul and body I love hm more than words can say
Ashen faced, laboured breathing I watched him helplessly Beside his bed Saw his vital signs Receding Felt him leaving me watching him Helpless, helplessly And Gathering all the strength I had To offer up to him My mind reached into his Willing, willing him
”Come back my love, come back Stay with me For did you not say You’d never leave me? You would always be here by my side? Don’t go my love, don’t give in” Can barely bear to lay my trembling hands Upon him Afraid he’ll feel my fear So near death, now I hear the steady beating of dark wings Nothing to heal him with now And I the notorious White Lady Useless now, as I stand stricken upon this earth Feeling him….slowly…letting…..go Losing my courage, I am losing everything “Healer, heal thyself” From some place far away these words come to me And a tiny spark of hope and courage
“Jamie, my love, what can I do”? Did I think the words from my mind To his….or perhaps I simply whispered them But he turned his gaze upon me “Claire, I am so very cold…. Touch me.” Then I knew what was needed And tore my shift off hurriedly Lay full length upon his ice cold flesh Reached, reached down to find his heat Held him then, felt the faintest pulse Slowly beating Held him, moved with him My hand, his heart The pulse between us slowly beating My body melting into his One flesh No longer he, nor me One flesh, one huge heart’s pulse Beating, beating His body heat returning That distant inward look receding
He’s turned back from the stars That refuge he was seeking Beneath my body’s heat His great heart beats a steady rhythm Eyes return my gaze I kiss his pale beloved face And death drifts through the open door Leaving us alone once more “Not this time you bastard !!! He’s still mine, dear God Still mine.” And as he succumbs to healing sleep, Arms still wrapped around him, I can finally let go….and weep.”