A night, a day, a night, a day...Melost moved wearily up the rocky incline of the Redhorn Pass, under the watchful eyes of carefully concealed denizens of the mountains. His tormented mind had long ago torn itself to shuddering mangled bits. The faces of those he had loved, had fought beside, had admired, flowed together to form a single image which seemed to have embedded itself forever in his brain, like a dagger driven deep in a killing stroke.
He had long ago howled away his voice, he had no tears, no emotion left. Betrayal on such a deep level had slain him, all that remained was for him to realize that he was dead. Stubbornly, his body pressed on, determined to prolong the agony of existance. Melost's despair was slowly killing him and his mind had already sought refuge in Valinor.
Pain radiated through his starving, parched body, but he refused himself comfort of any kind. Voices and visions had filled every moment since he had stumbled out of Arthain's tent. He never even moved aside from the small rock-slide that claimed his consciousness and left him partially buried.
He was free...he was drifting...Melost had escaped the torture of life and was now able to do as he pleased. His first thought was of Anwenelme. Surely it had been a mistake, surely she still loved him. His spirit flew swiftly, seeking her out. It was dawn and there she was, her raven hair spread fan-like in her sleep. Her brow was furrowed....why? He went to her and brushed her lips with his own. She stirred, then sighed. He drew away from her, captured in this moment by her beauty. He loved her, she had not betrayed him, she was still his. He smiled and lay down beside her, his body telling her what his words never had. She writhed in her sleep, then gasped aloud..."Arthain!"
He screamed, the pressure of a hand on his shoulder had forced him back. Melost struggled against the hands that held him...then opened his eyes blindly. "Arthain, is that you?"
[ July 21, 2003: Message edited by: Cuthalion ]
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