[Child of the 7th Age]

Annunfuiniel's post:

"Don't give up hope, Gráin. And, if you ever need to talk, I am here."

Finally Gráin raised his head to look at the elf. Would he dare to hope? He saw his brother's face clearly in his mind and knew there was no other option; giving up would mean leaving Vráin all alone in the darkness.

Gráin took a deep breath, and then another. Anguish didn't go away but it turned bearable. Gráin took the bridle and prepared to mount his pony. Selvren had already turned his steed towards the camp when at last the Dwarf spoke;

"Selvren... Thank you, friend." The elf turned and rode back to Gráin as he mounted. Their eyes met for a moment and no more words were needed.

************************************

The two silent riders reached the old campsite before the third hour after dawn, though for Gráin each minute after the dreadful sunrise had felt as long as a year. He jumped off his saddle and ran to where his brother had been laid. Alcyávëiel kneeled beside Vráin and was just putting a bandage over his eyes. Gráin felt a stab of conscience; he should have been there, near his brother, and not running in the woods like a madman.

"Has he been awake?" he asked Alcyávëiel in a low but now clear voice.

"No, not so that he would remember it later," the she-elf answered; "I have done all I could. And later Elentari will tend to him. There's no better cure than time; but it is said that a dear, familiar voice can call some back, even from the gates of Mandos... I will leave you two alone now." Gráin felt the same hand on his shoulder that he had pushed away in the hour of despair. This time he let it be and silent strength flowed to his heart.

************************************

Slowly Vráin revived: from dark, shapeless dreams to even darker reality. Fumbling he reached for the cloth he could feel was covering his eyes. But before he managed this someone stopped him, gently but firmly.

"Gráin?"

"Yes, I'm here. Now let that bandage be though it might feel uncomfortable – - it's better that way."

"Why, what for?" Vráin questioned, starting to get irritated. But then he remembered something and tried to sit up; "The battle! I must..." His attempt ended in a smothered cry of pain and he sunk down to his mattress, without any requests from Gráin.

"The battle is over..... But brother, I need to tell you something..." Vráin heard the stammering voice of his big brother's and faintly, like from another time and place, he seemed to recall the same tone: Vráin...Trís, our sister...she's gone. Suddenly he felt Gráin's fingers touching his eyes –- and he knew. A long, desperate wail escaped his lips. But Gráin clutched his arms and held him still while tears rolled down his own cheeks and dropped on the white cloth over his brother's eyes.

"Vráin, listen to me – listen! I have received good counsel from our wise elf-friends and they say there is still hope: hope that you will get your sight back! So rest now, and I will be here when you wake up." Vráin wanted to fight against Gráin, against the whole world, but he was too tired to do that. Weariness, rather than the iron clasp of his brother's, held him down.

"I will find no rest in this darkness..." he whispered in a thick voice.

"I know... I would that this burden had been laid on me instead of you, my brave brother..." Vráin heard Gráin's muttered words before sleep took him. His answer was no louder than a breath of wind in the grass:

"I know you would..."

[ June 24, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]