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Old 05-13-2006, 08:44 AM   #345
Hilde Bracegirdle
Relic of Wandering Days
 
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Menecin

All was quiet, as Menecin stared blankly at the utter stillness of Naiore. The light breeze, which had risen with the approach of dawn, descended from the mountains riffling the dead elf’s ragged hair with gentle playfulness, adding to the emptiness that gaped inside the bard’s chest. He harbored no doubts then, knowing from that very emptiness that she was no more among them.

But the stillness of the living was a fleeting thing, for as they each realized that this threat had been turned aside not only from them, but all they held dear, they quickly came to life again. Léspheria hurried to Amandur, as he knelt beside the elf’s body, and Vanwe, Vanwe turned and clung to her father, her thickly falling tears, a balm to his sorrow, effectively washing away his sense of isolation. He wrapped his arms about her, for truly she needed him.

Grateful he was to his daughter for this, yet not only this. For when he had stood with Naiore, grappling with his own heart as much as with the Ravenor, Vanwe had brought a measure of light and order to his darkened mind. He had realized that his place was neither that of Naiore’s intercessor nor executioner, as long as his heart was governed by guilt. No more then did Menecin seek Naiore’s life, but obediently he had held the Ravennor as fast as his unruly muscles would permit. And when Vanwe’s influence had so steadied him, his daughter did not leave him undefended. Despite Naiore’s claim that Menecin intended to kill them both, Vanwe had returned his dagger without fear, though her arm ran scarlet from it. Soon after that Menecin had felt Naiore’s body stiffen in her pride, as Vanwe sought for her own particular understanding of her mother, finding only dismay.

But now Naiore was dead, and in the security of his sheltering arms, Vanwe released a sadness of heart that pulled at Menecin, so that he could think of little else. After a moment he lifted his grieving daughter’s chin, speaking softly to her. “Don’t let her cast an enduring shadow across your life, my daughter. It is a cleansing wind comes from the west, and the morning speaks to me of a new beginning. Do you not see it?” Vanwe raised head at this, and her father with a trembling thumb, wiped the tears from her cheek. “The past must recede with her.”

“A beginning?” Vanwe asked cautiously, renewed apprehension creasing her brow. “But where will that new beginning take you?”

Her father looked toward the mountains as though he would look through them. “I will no longer follow her. It is clear that my place is with you now, on this side of the Sundering Seas.” Turning to her, his eyes where full of concern. “But you and I, we must find the strength to let our regret be your mother’s traveling companion. We must unravel these ties we are bound with, for they will cripple us if we hold them too tightly, thinking always of what should have been.” Menecin tried once more to pull his feet under him in order to stand. A frown a disappointment visited his face. “But see now, apparently it is too late for me,” he announced with a weak laugh. “Your father has become lame, and a burden for the healers!”

“No, no,” Vanwe said quickly, wiping the dampness from her face as she stood. “You mustn't think that! It is only the drug.” Placing her hand under her father’s arm, she explained as she assisted him, “Here I will help you, but do not move too suddenly. If Avanill's mixture is anything like the one whose effects I know, you must move slowly and without hurry if your legs are to obey you. After a few attempts, and under Vanwe’s direction, Menecin rose unsteadily to his feet. Greatly relieved, though his head swam from the effort, the bard smiled again at his daughter, admitting that Avanill had done his work well, and rueing the fact that he had not lived to see it or undo it.

Vanwe’s eyes drifted to where she knew the merchant’s body lay in the shadows, and Menecin seeing her, placed his hands on her shoulders “Oh my daughter, all my life has been spent looking for glimmers of light in the midst of darkness and composing verse telling of them. Such things I viewed as proof of the sovereignty of the father of us all, for they shone bright against this backdrop of dissonance. But never have I found such a jewel as you. Of those traits lacking in the Lady Dannan, you have been given a double portion, and you are all the proof I require. Your mother named you Vanwe, but Mírëasëa shall be your father name, for your kindness is to be treasured, always.

“Come, help me to your mother side, that I might bid her farewell.”

Last edited by Hilde Bracegirdle; 03-01-2007 at 05:44 PM.
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