The Letter
Title: The Letter
Rating: G
Summary: A letter from Jahar to Jake.
A/N: I started out wanting to give Jake some props for his sacrifices and it became a character study of Jahar. Also, this is the first anific I've published in about 10 years and the first fic in anything I've published in about five. So, if it isn't any good, that's why. lol :)
Jahar-Selteen-Norath
Blue Scoop Northeast
New Semit South Grouping
Sub-region Cora
Region Sirin
Esgar Continent
Andalite Homeworld
War Prince Jacob “Jake” Daniel Berenson
1919 Hemdale Blvd
Santa Barbara, CA 93108
United States of America
North America
Earth
Dear War Prince Jake,
My name is Jahar-Selteen-Norath. My husband is Alloran-Semitur-Corass. I do not know much about your culture but I have read that humans engage in pair bonding and that husband and wife are the words in your language for a male-female, exclusive relationship for the purposes of intimacy and reproduction. That is my relationship to Alloran.
It has taken me so long to write this letter because it took me many months just to learn a basic vocabulary for your language and also proper grammar. (I do hope it is the right language. My apologies if it is not.) Only the military are given translator chips so I had to learn on my own. Also, I did not want Alloran to know I am writing so asking for his help was not advisable. In fact, Alloran would be appalled that I am writing. It is somewhat unseemly for the wife of a military officer to send correspondence to another military officer. However, I have long since learned that rules can be twisted and even broken, mostly for the worse but a lot of times for the better. I believe this is a time that is for the better.
It also took me a long while to find the proper format for this exchange. I poured through the education net’s files on human culture. I found that humans appreciate gifts that are “from the heart” and/or handmade. Humans feel appreciated when someone has taken the time to make something with their hands and not leave the task to a machine. I also found the related concept of the hand-written letter. So, here I am, hand writing a letter to the leader of the Earth Liberation Army, otherwise known as the Animorphs. Humans must have really strong hands. My hand started to hurt after the first paragraph. I hope my writing is legible.
It also took me a while to find this substance known as ‘paper’ and ‘ink’. Andalites used to have similar technologies in ancient times. Our ‘paper’ did not come from trees as our trees are very special to us. Our ‘paper’ came from… Well, I believe I am rambling. Obviously, I did manage to procure some paper and a device called a ‘ball-point pen’.
Lastly, I know War Prince is not your actual rank. I know that you are still an adolescent in the eyes of your people. I use it out of the highest respect. I could be disciplined for using that term for a civilian. Of course, you know what I think about rules. I know that you have no formal rank in your planet’s military, nor do you want one. I understand. Alloran resigned from the military upon setting foot on the homeworld. He wanted to return to his people the way he left: a War Prince. He was a disgraced War Prince but he was still a War Prince. So, once he was debriefed by the Andalite High Command, he laid down his rank and position. He is now working on designing luxury liners for Andalites to visit Earth.
He had designed a beautiful ship many years ago, named after me, that got destroyed around the time he became infested. I never got to fly in that ship. He has been working to make it up to me. Maybe one day we will visit Earth and acquire a human form to enjoy the sense of taste, what your people call a “honeymoon”. But I am not sure, the Escafil technology always made my hooves uneasy. Morphing does not sit well with Alloran either. He has so many destructive morphs. However, I think he would like to experience taste as a free Andalite. I have heard taste is well worth the discomfort of morphing.
Anyway, I believe there has been enough exposition. The purpose of my letter is to thank you. Thank you, Jacob Daniel Berenson. You have brought my family together again. Do not think that I am trying to hero worship you. My giving you the rank of War Prince is not based on how many battles you have won or how many enemies you have killed. It is based on what you have accomplished for my family. The warriors of old can keep their medals and prizes, I will keep my husband. My family had long given him up for dead. The children moved on as best they could, establishing careers in the arts and sciences. It is understandable that they want nothing to do with the military. They have children of their own now.
The death rituals were said long ago. The memorial tree has long been sagging. However, every time I heard some news of Sub-Visser Seven, then Visser Thirty-Two, then Visser Three, then Visser One, I was overjoyed. I was sickened at the destruction wrought by Esplin 9466 but overjoyed that my husband was alive, in some form, out in the universe.
Even now, it is not exactly a truly happy ending. He has nightmares. He can not sleep. He has fits of shaking and fainting. He sometimes forgets that he is in control, that he does not have to answer to Esplin. He has episodes of incontinence. It can take him hours to make personal choices for himself. Do we feed on the green grass on top of the hills or do we feed on the red grass by the stream? I asked him this on the first full day he was home. It took him until the next morning to make his decision. He was giddy at first, according to the Andalite physicians that I talked to. But he just gets overwhelmed. I realized that free people take for granted all the small choices we make day to day.
The children are wary to come to the home scoop. The grandchildren have associated his face with unconscionable evil. But they have come to visit. The general public is not always so understanding. We have guards posted at all hours and we have to feed in secret. But, we have hope and we have faith. We have freedom and we have time. We still have a few years left in our aging bodies. We hope to see our great-grandchildren grow up without fear.
I said many rituals for the human resistance fighters that were known to exist on Earth. I even said rituals to the gods of Earth. I do not know if they heard me or if they understand Andalite rituals, or if they even exist but I reached out to every power I could think of to bring Alloran home. Whatever god you believe in Jacob Daniel Berenson whether it be Yahweh, Allah, or Brahman, he used you for a mighty purpose. That seems hollow now, I know. After all the horrors that surely haunt your nightmares, just know that there was a lot of good done. You brought Alloran back from the dead.
You have a similar religious story on Earth, I am told. A story of a man named Jesus Christ who claimed to be the son of Yahweh. This Jesus called a man named Lazarus out of his grave and he came out. I realize that this is a fantastical story and probably not from your own belief system, if you have any. I don't scoff at these stories anymore because I am now willing to believe ANYTHING is possible now that Alloran is home and safe.
With that said, I know that you lost close family members in the war. It is so horribly unfair. It is unfair that you can bring so many families together again but not your own. It is unjust! My hearts break for your family. We have rituals for healing as well. I have been saying them for your family. To your Earth gods and my Andalite creator-spirits.
May the stagnant waters of a shattered life begin to flow again.
May this stream bring water from the high places to refresh your aching hooves.
May this stream water the bitterest grass
And make that grass become pure nectar as you run free.
I want to thank you for your sacrifices, for your hard decisions.
Whether you think your decisions were right or wrong…
Whether you think you could have saved your family members…
Whether you think you are a war criminal…
You have done a lot of good.
Please, I beg you, do not ever forget the good things you have done. At the end of your life, hopefully in old age, do not forget. Do not forget that you have made billions believe that anything is possible. Do not forget that you have ushered in an era of peace for four civilizations: Humans, Andalites, Hork-Bajir, and Taxxons. Do not forget that you brought Alloran home to me. Do not forget the ones that lived for the sake of the ones that did not.
You are brave. You are strong. You are good.
Thank you for making our family believe anything is possible,
Jahar-Selteen-Norath
Rating: G
Summary: A letter from Jahar to Jake.
A/N: I started out wanting to give Jake some props for his sacrifices and it became a character study of Jahar. Also, this is the first anific I've published in about 10 years and the first fic in anything I've published in about five. So, if it isn't any good, that's why. lol :)
Jahar-Selteen-Norath
Blue Scoop Northeast
New Semit South Grouping
Sub-region Cora
Region Sirin
Esgar Continent
Andalite Homeworld
War Prince Jacob “Jake” Daniel Berenson
1919 Hemdale Blvd
Santa Barbara, CA 93108
United States of America
North America
Earth
Dear War Prince Jake,
My name is Jahar-Selteen-Norath. My husband is Alloran-Semitur-Corass. I do not know much about your culture but I have read that humans engage in pair bonding and that husband and wife are the words in your language for a male-female, exclusive relationship for the purposes of intimacy and reproduction. That is my relationship to Alloran.
It has taken me so long to write this letter because it took me many months just to learn a basic vocabulary for your language and also proper grammar. (I do hope it is the right language. My apologies if it is not.) Only the military are given translator chips so I had to learn on my own. Also, I did not want Alloran to know I am writing so asking for his help was not advisable. In fact, Alloran would be appalled that I am writing. It is somewhat unseemly for the wife of a military officer to send correspondence to another military officer. However, I have long since learned that rules can be twisted and even broken, mostly for the worse but a lot of times for the better. I believe this is a time that is for the better.
It also took me a long while to find the proper format for this exchange. I poured through the education net’s files on human culture. I found that humans appreciate gifts that are “from the heart” and/or handmade. Humans feel appreciated when someone has taken the time to make something with their hands and not leave the task to a machine. I also found the related concept of the hand-written letter. So, here I am, hand writing a letter to the leader of the Earth Liberation Army, otherwise known as the Animorphs. Humans must have really strong hands. My hand started to hurt after the first paragraph. I hope my writing is legible.
It also took me a while to find this substance known as ‘paper’ and ‘ink’. Andalites used to have similar technologies in ancient times. Our ‘paper’ did not come from trees as our trees are very special to us. Our ‘paper’ came from… Well, I believe I am rambling. Obviously, I did manage to procure some paper and a device called a ‘ball-point pen’.
Lastly, I know War Prince is not your actual rank. I know that you are still an adolescent in the eyes of your people. I use it out of the highest respect. I could be disciplined for using that term for a civilian. Of course, you know what I think about rules. I know that you have no formal rank in your planet’s military, nor do you want one. I understand. Alloran resigned from the military upon setting foot on the homeworld. He wanted to return to his people the way he left: a War Prince. He was a disgraced War Prince but he was still a War Prince. So, once he was debriefed by the Andalite High Command, he laid down his rank and position. He is now working on designing luxury liners for Andalites to visit Earth.
He had designed a beautiful ship many years ago, named after me, that got destroyed around the time he became infested. I never got to fly in that ship. He has been working to make it up to me. Maybe one day we will visit Earth and acquire a human form to enjoy the sense of taste, what your people call a “honeymoon”. But I am not sure, the Escafil technology always made my hooves uneasy. Morphing does not sit well with Alloran either. He has so many destructive morphs. However, I think he would like to experience taste as a free Andalite. I have heard taste is well worth the discomfort of morphing.
Anyway, I believe there has been enough exposition. The purpose of my letter is to thank you. Thank you, Jacob Daniel Berenson. You have brought my family together again. Do not think that I am trying to hero worship you. My giving you the rank of War Prince is not based on how many battles you have won or how many enemies you have killed. It is based on what you have accomplished for my family. The warriors of old can keep their medals and prizes, I will keep my husband. My family had long given him up for dead. The children moved on as best they could, establishing careers in the arts and sciences. It is understandable that they want nothing to do with the military. They have children of their own now.
The death rituals were said long ago. The memorial tree has long been sagging. However, every time I heard some news of Sub-Visser Seven, then Visser Thirty-Two, then Visser Three, then Visser One, I was overjoyed. I was sickened at the destruction wrought by Esplin 9466 but overjoyed that my husband was alive, in some form, out in the universe.
Even now, it is not exactly a truly happy ending. He has nightmares. He can not sleep. He has fits of shaking and fainting. He sometimes forgets that he is in control, that he does not have to answer to Esplin. He has episodes of incontinence. It can take him hours to make personal choices for himself. Do we feed on the green grass on top of the hills or do we feed on the red grass by the stream? I asked him this on the first full day he was home. It took him until the next morning to make his decision. He was giddy at first, according to the Andalite physicians that I talked to. But he just gets overwhelmed. I realized that free people take for granted all the small choices we make day to day.
The children are wary to come to the home scoop. The grandchildren have associated his face with unconscionable evil. But they have come to visit. The general public is not always so understanding. We have guards posted at all hours and we have to feed in secret. But, we have hope and we have faith. We have freedom and we have time. We still have a few years left in our aging bodies. We hope to see our great-grandchildren grow up without fear.
I said many rituals for the human resistance fighters that were known to exist on Earth. I even said rituals to the gods of Earth. I do not know if they heard me or if they understand Andalite rituals, or if they even exist but I reached out to every power I could think of to bring Alloran home. Whatever god you believe in Jacob Daniel Berenson whether it be Yahweh, Allah, or Brahman, he used you for a mighty purpose. That seems hollow now, I know. After all the horrors that surely haunt your nightmares, just know that there was a lot of good done. You brought Alloran back from the dead.
You have a similar religious story on Earth, I am told. A story of a man named Jesus Christ who claimed to be the son of Yahweh. This Jesus called a man named Lazarus out of his grave and he came out. I realize that this is a fantastical story and probably not from your own belief system, if you have any. I don't scoff at these stories anymore because I am now willing to believe ANYTHING is possible now that Alloran is home and safe.
With that said, I know that you lost close family members in the war. It is so horribly unfair. It is unfair that you can bring so many families together again but not your own. It is unjust! My hearts break for your family. We have rituals for healing as well. I have been saying them for your family. To your Earth gods and my Andalite creator-spirits.
May the stagnant waters of a shattered life begin to flow again.
May this stream bring water from the high places to refresh your aching hooves.
May this stream water the bitterest grass
And make that grass become pure nectar as you run free.
I want to thank you for your sacrifices, for your hard decisions.
Whether you think your decisions were right or wrong…
Whether you think you could have saved your family members…
Whether you think you are a war criminal…
You have done a lot of good.
Please, I beg you, do not ever forget the good things you have done. At the end of your life, hopefully in old age, do not forget. Do not forget that you have made billions believe that anything is possible. Do not forget that you have ushered in an era of peace for four civilizations: Humans, Andalites, Hork-Bajir, and Taxxons. Do not forget that you brought Alloran home to me. Do not forget the ones that lived for the sake of the ones that did not.
You are brave. You are strong. You are good.
Thank you for making our family believe anything is possible,
Jahar-Selteen-Norath