The Restless Sleeper and the Hedgetrimmer

When he climbed through the briers between the houses, her first thought was to panic, for who passes through a thorny hedge instead of the gate?

But when she looked around, she saw the yard was completely overgrown, and she had fallen asleep. There was no more gate.

And she wasn’t sure if it was her fault. Did she lose vigilance, and let the yard grow so full? Surely, she was a maiden without oil, who did not deserve the bridegroom? And now a thief in the night was stealing through her unguarded hedge, come to take what he could only steal…

She tried to stir, but the weight on her heart pressed so hard she burned. Surely she was already taken by the enemy, and he was devouring her… but no one said Hell would be this sweet. The weight pressed harder, and the air grew sweeter.

How her heart stirred in her chest, and beat in her veins, and she gasped for more - more, more, even as she mumbled in her sleep, and pulled away from the heat that would devour.

“Rest, my little one.” The voice, within her dream, was so quiet and reassuring, and she yearned to sink deep. But habitually, she doubted. Rest was not for her - she must trim the hedge. She had left her work undone. She must wakeup.

“But I have sent you a hedgetrimmer,” said the voice again. “Here he comes.”

“Who are you?” she muttered in her mind, and as soon as she did, peace descended like a dove.

“I am the one who grew the hedge, and put you to sleep.”

Surely that was wrong? “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I love you.”

“How can it be love to trap me here? I cannot protect myself.”

“You could never protect yourself. I did not make you for that. I have made you invisible.”

“You have left me vulnerable, unguarded!”

“I have sent you a protector. Here he comes.”

“But he is a thief! I must protect myself against him.” No matter how she tried, she could not move. Intractable and gentle, the voice went on.

“He is the only one allowed in. The hedge has kept them all back, but he has gotten through. And yes, he is dangerous. And yes, he is wet from the sweat of struggling through the branches - he has hewn them down to nothing with the strength of his arms. He was the only one with the strength to fight his way through, and this is why I chose him. Fear him, my daughter, and trust him. He will wake you.”

“Fear him? What kind of man have you sent me?”

“A formidable one. Feel his strength.” And in her sleep, her body lifted of itself, held in his strong arms. They were warm with exertion and taut with compassion, and she melted, her body supple to his touch as he bore her to a sunny patch of earth.

Still - though her body was won - her mind resisted: “What kind of man have you sent me?” she demanded again.

“A capable one. Hear his voice.”

She heard it calling to her, and the sound was like water, washing over rocks with a deep rumble. How she loved to feel that voice pour over her. And now her mind was won, but her heart reluctant, and she asked one last time: “What kind of man?”

“A vulnerable one. See his love.”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers… and as she realized she was awake, his lips slowly lifted in surprise.

“I thought you were dying,” he said to her, with wonderful voice, and he looked at her with the deepest, tenderest eyes.

She felt his arms still around her, and he too became aware. He started to pull away, but she asked him to stay. “Please,” she begged of him, “please don’t leave me. I- I don’t know, but…”

“Yes?” During a quiet pause, his arms adjusted and he sat her on his lap, her head against his chest, so she could take her time getting up. She lay like a patient child.

“I did nothing to help you,” she admitted at last. “I am vulnerable and weak, and I am not a modern woman. I don’t deserve you.”

He rested his chin calmly upon her head. “No more of that. Haven’t you ever heard that when you are lost, you must sit down exactly where you are, so that the searchers can find you?”

“Yes.”

“So there you go.”

“But I wasn’t lost. I knew where I was.”

“But I didn’t,” he said, and his voice shook with emotion, full of memories of trying to reach her - the long, hard years that kept him pushing on and on, building him every moment strong enough to face that hedge. “If you had left, then when I found this place at last, I would have passed on, never recognizing it for what it is.”

Together, they looked around, at the garden walls so high and mighty, at the plants so verdant and ripe, and they saw that the hedge had receded, and bloomed into a million roses.

“What is this place?” she asked breathlessly.

“You know what it is,” and as he whispered, he penetrated her with the eyes of a lover.

“Yes,” she whispered back. And then she stood peremptorily, and brushed the grass from off her skirt.

“Well, my dear,” she said, “travel is a hungry business, and I will make you some dinner.”