[Durelin]

“So which way do we go? To the north, where we will find both safety and a longer road, or to the south, where we will either find ourselves beneath the eaves of the Golden Wood by morning, or a host of enemies intent upon our destruction?”

Calenvása sighed. Safety would be found in the longer road. They would be safe, at least. But what could they say for those in Lorien, if they took the longer road, seeking their own safety rather than that of the land of their kindred. So it seemed to come that Ambarturion’s wish for deeds and deaths worthy of a song would come true, or at least have it’s chance to. But this time the Lorien elf spoke nothing of songs, nor the glory of their deaths. He merely spoke of an enemy set to help them all find their deaths, and spoke of it without fear or a feverish focus on the end. All there realized, though, particularly at these words, that some kind of end had to come.

There was silence for a moment. A silence that was well justified, he knew, as he scanned the eyes of his companions. Their minds were struggling to come up with any words. There was much to consider, much which could be dwelt on for a lifetime. Calenvása laughed bitterly in his head. Death could be dwelt on for a lifetime…

“We go to the south, and we will find the safety of Lorien, in one way or another.” It was time to dwell on living with the time they had to live. And right now they should be concerned with time.

~

“We have faced attacks such as these before, and have yet to falter.”

Helkaur of Lorien frowned as he spoke, seeing sorrow in the eyes of Moraniel, his wife, and mirroring it. He waited for her to speak, to say that she knew this and that she knew that everything would be all right. His heart desired those words to eradicate his own heavy sorrow. He wanted to hear that everything would be all right, from the lips of his love, so that the dread they shared would be proved baseless. But then he closed his eyes, knowing the words would not come. He could not say them himself.

“But why must you face these attacks?”

Her voice was taut with emotion, ready to break at any moment. She barely held on to any calm, and Helkaur opened his eyes to watch the sadness in her eyes begin to cover her face in a veil of grief. Why did she still have to look so beautiful? His own face twisted in a painful feeling that did not know how to express itself. Moraniel asked a question that she knew the answer to, that she never would have asked had she been herself, and not behind that horrid veil. Helkaur did not answer, and he knew his wife did not truly expect him to. Then Moraniel dropped her eyes, hanging her head in sorrow, seeming embarrassed of the veil she wore, and Helkaur wanted so much to just lift that veil and kiss her.

“You always have a choice…” she said quietly, and he searched frantically for a way to lift that veil that separated him from her for the moment. He knew only to say what was in his heart, as he always had, to her.

“And I always choose, my love.”

She looked up, back into her husband’s eyes, her eyes brightened for a brief moment, something behind the grief, mixed with the grief, showing through and over-shadowing it. And her face…it was radiant, though it shown with a soft glow. Helkaur still felt that it should blind him. She had torn off the veil herself. Now he knew the elf before him, and he felt his heart unwind itself from being twisted in pain. His heart could not remain sad or afraid under that gaze. Then she kissed him, and he felt himself begin to glow. She almost smiled. And it almost hurt him, that she did not.

“I’ve always trusted you to make the right choices. I will not stop now, as I have no reason to. I have no reason to do anything but respect your decision. You amaze me. You have always been so strong.”

“It is you who gives me the strength to live at all on this earth.”

“Then do not leave this earth without me.”

“I have already promised you that you will never be without me, and I will uphold that promise.”

For a moment, Moraniel seemed to search his eyes for more, as if these words were not enough. In truth, they were not, but Helkaur could give her nothing more. He watched his wife give up the search after a moment. She knew she would not find anything. Helkaur turned away, knowing that it was time for him to hold his longbow, the bow he used for war. As soon as he had turned, he felt a sharp pain, and he felt the eyes on his back look upon him in a new way. When he turned again, bow in hand, he saw in his love’s eyes that she had found something after all. What it was, he did not know, but it brought to her beautiful eyes and her face hardness. It did not take away from her beauty, but she now shown with a sharp glow, rather than a soft warmth. She stood physically and mentally unwavering, as she had always been in his mind, though he had watched her fail, fall, and falter. She had always helped him find strength, and he had always tried to do the same for her. Now she had found it. But had he helped her in doing so?

“I wait for you, Helkaur.”

And so he departed, and she watched him walk away, with one last kiss, a loving embrace, and without any tears.