[Annunfuiniel]

"Aravorn, come quickly. There's a child...." Gráin heard Lostlondwen's cry, faint and distant like coming from another world. He raised his head but everything was a blur in his eyes. The first rays of the rising sun peeked over the horizon.

Gráin turned back to his brother and with great caution took off his broken headpiece. Suddenly Vráin stirred and moaned, still in his sleep. Then slowly, very slowly he tried to open his eyes. Pale light illuminated his face, revealing a nasty bruise on his right temple. Gráin sighed with relief;

"Brother..."

"Gráin, why it's so dark in here? Are we in the caves again? Where are you?" Vráin spoke in a faint voice staring into the brightening morning.

Gráin felt the icy fist of horror tighten around his heart. With all strength he had left he managed to suppress the scream that swelled inside of him. For a while there was a dead silence. Vráin turned his head from side to side though it seemed to cause him great pains.

"Gráin? Why don’t you answer me?"

"Vráin..." someone began from behind Gráin’s back. Gráin startled but then hushed the speaker with a demanding gesture. Then he struggled to speak in a calm voice.

"Vráin, I’m here", Gráin almost whispered and took his brother’s hand, looking straight at his eyes. But Vráin’s wandering gaze found no hold in the darkness that veiled his sight.

"It’s so dark..." Gráin heard his brother’s tired voice and felt helpless like never before.

"I know." he trembled; "But now you need to rest. That was a heavy blow you took. Sleep, my brother." Vráin’s strained expression relaxed and he closed his eyes. Gráin sat on the ground and listened to Vráin’s steadying breath. All about him nature woke up to a bright, new day but no light penetrated the blackness of his thoughts. Seconds, minutes passed and still he sat there, clutching his brother’s hand. Then a weight on his shoulder roused him;

"Gráin..." There was a voice full of pity. Pity!? Gráin stood up and roughly pushed aside the helping hand.

"No!" was the only word he could form at the moment. Helplessness, grief, bitterness...the feelings intermingled - and from the mixture grew blind rage; "No!"

Gráin seized his axe and sprung forward, heedless of his companions around him. Laying dead on the ground he saw the rotten dog that had carried out the blow against his brother. Madness took him and red curtain fell over his eyes. His axe rose. One cruel stroke and the wretched head rolled aside. The watchers behind him gasped; some lowered their heads - and deep in their hearts they understood.

Gráin threw away the bloody axe and with unseeing eyes he rushed into the forest. Wind wailed in his ears and boughs hit him in the face. Suddenly he stumbled to a wry root and fell over. With one last effort Gráin tried to stood up but fell back on his knees. The strength of rage had passed from his limbs. He cried out loud and then veiled his face in his hands.

"It should have been me..." he whispered into the silence.

[ June 22, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]