Natasha Luepke - The Adventures of Luna

Islands of the Moon

“Let me sail, let me sail…From the deep Sea of Clouds to the Island of the Moon…”
--Enya, “Orinoco Flow”

When I was in high school, they made us take foreign language for at least two years. And it had to be the same language both years. My friends and I questioned the reasoning behind this; doesn’t everyone speak English? Nonetheless, at graduation I had completed my fourth year of German. (Oh, did I have to bite my tongue when we discussed fairy tales—maerchen—in third year!) My teacher, who was borderline psychotic, was very fond of having us memorize proverbs. One that I still remember said, “Only he who is alone can truly think.” Trouble is, people use their precious moments to think in cliches.

Excuse me.

All I need is time…
…Time will come and take my love away…
…Time waits for no man…
…No man is an island…
…Take me to the islands of the moon…
…Ill-met by moonlight…
… You might as well be howlin’ at the moon…
… Hungry like the wolf…
…The never-endin’ hunger…
…The hunger…

“Arrrroooooo!” Couldn’t help it.

“Pipe down!” someone calls from the other room.

I’m in for a long thinkin’ session…

When I was in first and second grade, my teachers were big on heritage. They would post a large world map on the board; we were to place pushpins in whatever region our foreparents came from. Most students didn’t know, other than Grandma and Grandpa lived in Rochester, Buffalo, or Syracuse (my school and my family were located in…Farmington).

“Luna,” my teachers would ask, “where does your mother’s family come from?”

That was easy enough; Virginia Lewis’ family comes from various real countries in Europe.

“Luna,” my teachers would ask, “where does your father’s family come from?”

That was a bit harder to answer.

“Oh, cripes,” I’d stammered the first time. “France. He’s French.”

My teachers would raise an eyebrow and walk away.

The first time Mom made me wear a dress in the Nine Kingdoms was when I was five. My parents said I was old enough to attend a ball, but I’d have to wear a dress, like a normal girl.

“But Mooom,” I whined, first as child, then as cub, “I don’t wanna’!”

At that point, Patricia, who was only a few months old, began to cry. Mom suggested I start dressing, for the benefit of everyone involved.

“Luna,” she said over her shoulder, “if you don’t have at least the beginnings of that dress on when I return, I will duct tape your tail to your leg.”

On the way downstairs, after I’d put the damned thing on, the sash caught on a loose nail. My tail was free the rest of the night.

When I was thirteen, I went through a rebellious phase. I was tired of being surrounded by blonde, blue-eyed classmates. I had to strike back: I dyed my hair the school colors: bright yellow and blue.

I bleached the ends of my long hair, and then placed the dye on. Unfortunately, I didn’t leave the dye in long enough; when I hopped in the shower to wash out the excess, I washed out most of it. Two walls and the shower curtain became drenched in yellow, blue, purple, and black. Mom was not amused and I was up until 1:00 A.M. scrubbing the tiles. I also had to go to school with colored streaks criss-crossing my neck and back.

Shortly after that incident, we took our bi-annual trip to the Nine Kingdoms. Mom made me cut my hair so that all the unnaturally colored bits were gone. Unfortunately, that was the majority of my hair. By this time, I was allowed to wear boys’ formal wear to the balls; my hair and other…accents ID’d me as a girl. But with the very short hair…I danced with more girls that night than boys. I was taller than Mom and thus unable to borrow one of her dresses, and I had none of my own that were kept at Wendell’s palace. I learned after that that sometimes Mom knew what she was talking about.

Mom and Dad’s life in New York was usually pretty sedate. No one’s really sure why Dad tried out for a part in “Into the Woods,” Rochester’s Summer Theater offering the year I was ten.

Dad was cast, totally against type, as the Big Bad Wolf. Mom would about die laughing whenever Dad would practice his song. (“There’s no possible way to describe what you feel/When you’re talking to your meal.”) Anyway, the director always inquired as to where Dad had bought his wonderful tail. Dad never really gave a straight answer…

I discovered, too, a love of the theater, the technical side. After my little adventure with Holle and Sanum, I returned to New York to study at the Rochester Conservatory. (Okay, it’s true; I didn’t make it into Julliard.)

Holle and Sanum never revealed how they found me on the Path of Thorns. Time ceased to exist for me while I was there; Holle and Sanum said it had only been two days, but I’m quite certain it was more like two weeks before they found me.

Only one person appeared on the Path while I was presiding over it. I still think of her sometimes; I wonder where she is, if her prophecy came true.

Her shoulders were hunched when she entered; green eyes darted nervously from flower to flower. Curly red hair fought with the leather thong it was tied with. A lute was slung over one shoulder. She wore a dark green, girdled tunic, brown hosen, and black boots. She clutched a capelet in her hands.

I was perched in a lotus position on Cordelia’s abandoned flower, feeling like the Caterpillar from “Alice in Wonderland.” My eyes were closed, but a vision of the Path’s interloper filled my mind. Like Cordelia, I instantly knew everything about the stranger.

“Leonida,” I said, eyes still closed; I wanted to make Cordelia proud. “You travel from path to trail, relating many heroic tales. Yet you fear to add yours to the list, for there was one battle you did not miss.” My eyes flew open, mind racing: Why was I speaking in rhyme? And such a laughably bad one?

“Who are you?” she asked, shifting her lute.

“I—uh, cripes; it’s complicated,” I sighed, unfolding my legs. “Let’s just say that for the time being, I’m a wee bit psychic.”

“So…what, then? Am I going to marry a handsome man? Have a lot of kids? Be rich?” She shifted from foot to foot.

“Leonida,” I said, hopping down from the flower, (“Ooh,” I muttered; it’d been awhile since I had stretched), “aren’t you tired of running?”

“Not yet,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“I can tell that easily as that lute is slung over your shoulder you once had a quiver and bow…and sword.” I raised my eyebrows; I couldn’t believe how incoherent I was becoming.

She stared at me, green eyes blazing. “Once. But never again.”

I flicked my ear. “You are destined to bear arms again.” Cripes, why so philosophical? Even Holle rarely spoke that way!

Leonida set her lute down and fumbled with the capelet, setting it around her shoulders. “I thought we created our own destinies.”

I looked down at my gown of rushes. “There are a few deeds we are destined to carry out, a few people we are destined to meet. No matter what path you take, you will be led to your ultimate destiny.” I could feel my eyes shifting, not believing that these words were coming from my own body. I flicked my ear again.

Leonida studied her nails. “I’m not tired of running.”

“What are you running from?”

She tossed her head. “Three years ago, my town, a little village far to the north, was attacked by bandits. I was proud to help defend it — not many girls could handle any kind of weapon. I helped lead the counterattack…But…I didn’t have the stomach for it.” She refused to return my gaze.

“Your people—“

“Let me guess: Will need me soon?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

“You will have to lead another battle.”

“I was afraid of that, too.” She picked up her lute. “For now, I am a wandering minstrel. May I go?”

“Yes,” I smiled and pointed the way.

She paused. “Your name?”

“Wolfsdaughter — ah, Luna.”

She continued on.

The heavy wooden door creaked open. A woman dressed in a long-sleeved tunic and long, slim pants, the dress of all the local women, entered. Her ensemble was red; it was her red hair covering that caught my eye in the dark room. She set down her basket and removed the long piece of cloth from her head. I then saw her clear irises.

“Wolfsdaughter!” Holle exclaimed as I tried to stand in manacles and chains. “What are you doing in this prison?”

“I wonder if the stars sign the life that is to be mine/And if they’ll let their light shine enough for me to follow…”
Enya, “Anywhere Is”