[Amanaduial the archer]

“No, Melost. Anwanelme..." the name no longer seemed as sour in his mouth. "Anwanelme...she loved you." Arthain's words were desperate as he tried to call back his friend. "She always loved you, more than you could ever know. She was always faithful to you in her heart, never attempted anything else.”

Melost held Arthain’s gaze skeptically, but
Arthain felt no shame in such a lie. Holding the dying elf’s gaze, he nodded. “ I swear it.”

Melost’s breath was coming in short gasps now as he struggled to speak, one hand clutching his side. "Arthain...I...know what you have hidden from me. I know that you got her with child. I...I want you to go to her. Tell her..." As Melost broke off, Arthain felt his heart racked with each cough. "Tell her that I love her...as I love you...Mandos calls to me, yet still I wish to remain. Here...with you..."

Arthain did not reply immediately, staring into his friend's eyes as they closed again, and another weak cough escaped the elf's lips. He clung to his friend almost desperately, trying to hold on to Melost's life... Tears flowed freely down his cheeks now, and he gave a small, silent sob.

For his heart was breaking.

“And you…you will see the one you love most in the world die in your arms…” Melost’s curse came back to Arthain and he let out a gasp of pain. Once more Melost raised a hand to quiet him and Arthain grasped it tightly, although the elf had now closed his eyes.

"I am sorry, Melost,” he whispered, the tears spilling over onto his scarred face. “I am so sorry...please...don't..."

But the elf was past replying. Silently, Arthain wept for his friend, isolated on the battlefield as he rocked backwards and forwards, holding in his arms the dead body of the elf who he had loved more dearly as a friend than any other. The curse was fulfilled. The rain that fell more heavily now, drenching Arthain, was unheeded as he rocked slowly, his mouth moving silently, his curly hair, now his helmet was off, plastered to his forehead, tears mixing with rainwater, the bitter taste of salt, despair and irony on his tongue.

Tenderly pushing the damp, stray strands of hair from Melost's eyes and forehead, he leant forward and kissed the elf's forehead. Then, with a shaking voice, he began to sing, a sorrowful, despairing Lay, a last goodbye to the elf he had loved more than life itself.

Saer nîr nîn, a saer guren nîn
Neithannen, awarthannen.
Onen galu si, themais vyrn o Námo
Be sedich.
Gurth, achas vornwain lîn le govad
A chuil nîn.
Na vedui, onech cuil lîn.
Erio! Dartho echui!
Gwend anveleg, cuil velleg
Únad anvell.
Nallad, le tirin
Ului.
Mudas rainc nîn gerir si
Gallen nâr chelch.
Faer nîn nalla o le
Úaglennen.
Anirnen gwend lîn
Lû erui vell
Le gweriannen, le dengin
Gurth anglenna
Cuil lîn, ras vrui
Tar a lim
Nîn esta, nîn bartha aphado
Gosto ului!
Pado erin Othlonn Annui
Mellon vuin
I arad vedui túliel ammen
Si, i vethed.