The fire cracks as it burns next to him.
Leaves rustle in the breeze.
That, and the small slicing sound of his blade against his bow.
That’s three.
Breathe in, Breathe out
Strange how that feels like a lot.
Breathe in, breathe out
Unsure if the terrible cloud of numbness looming over him is from the grief wreaking his heart, or the blight coursing through his veins.
The next moment, his knife is buried in the grass, fingers now pressed firm against the bridge of his nose.
No, no this can’t work.
If he doesn’t deal with these emotions now he’s going to be far too vulnerable in the battles to come.
If he lives that far.
He has to live that far.
A deep breath, and his head turns up to the night sky.
There’s far too much at stake. Death a luxury he’s far from able to afford.
Think of it, deal with it now. While time is still on your side.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He knows Tamlen would not want him to wallow.
But how is he to think of that day with any lens other than sorrow?
It feels as though he aged a decade between the morning he set out to track him, and the moment Duncan told him that the cause was lost.
That he was gone.
How can fate be so cruel?
That a single day, one that starts out so mundane, can take a turn for the worse so sharp that it instantly, permanently severs all pretense of normalcy that had held this part of his life together for so long.
One moment they are bantering as they always did.
“I’ve never known anyone so eager to wander. I bet you’ll end up a flat-ear some day, living in the cities like a shem’’ Tamlen had said, met with a huff of laughter from him, and a flick to his ear. If only you knew.
“Ow!”
“I’ve told you before. Being better than the shemlen may not be a high bar to clear, but calling city elves by a phrase only a word away from what they use to degrade all of us?
Don’t make yourself a hypocrite. You’re better than that.”
And the moment following, he’s waking up in an aravel, barely breaking through a fever.
Alone.
Would you have listened? Would you have heeded my warnings, had I been more a friend to you than a brother? Did my worry, my instinct to protect you, feel like it was smothering you?
Was it the cause of your undoing?
Stop. Breathe again, don’t choke from the shock it brings since you forgot it.
No, no. That is your mind telling you these things. Tamlen wouldn’t want you to think this. He would never- Don’t taint his memory that way.
He was not the poison that you are.
Stop.
What had he said? He’d asked him hadn’t he? Why he wanted to stay in the cave.
“Aren’t you curious? We could be discovering our history. Minstrels would write songs about us!”
“Tamlen.”
“..If i were to bring some valuable ancestral artifact back to the keeper, she might forgive me for.. well, you know”
Ah.
Of course.
A long winded sigh, and he takes the blade back in his hand. Goes back to carving.
Two decades of resentment creeping back into the edges of his mind.
The futile, unending quest for the keeper’s approval.
Of course.
Blind trust in her. What she wants. Expects. She is right, she knows best. She is infallible.
Like walking into a fire.
Of course.
Do you you feel vindicated?
No.
That what you read between the lines of her behavior,
That what drove you away from them all in the first place, you were correct about?
No, no stop it.
Are you happy? knowing that what doomed him is something you predicted?
No. This was never what he wanted.
Not at his expense.
Never at his expense.
Stop, pause, breathe.
It is done. In the past. You cannot change it.
You failed him. The one person you wanted to protect more than anything.
The pain, the guilt will linger. That is the way of loss.
How can you expect to save anyone else?
But it will pass.
Worthless
It will pass.
He puts the knife down a final time, sheathes it.
Blows the dust and shavings off the finished carving, turns it in his hands.
A bear, for Dirthamen. The Creator he revered.
He stands up, walks closer to the fire.
Holds the bow from top to middle.
A longbow; his mother’s weapon of choice, as he’s been told.
One he was always expected to inherit.
A role he was meant to fulfill, since that of his father was not meant to be.
And he did.
A tighter grip, and the snap of wood.
Did.
But no longer.
His hands move lower, to the other end of it.
“You belong to more than just yourself” were Hahren Paivel’s words.
But did he ever even belong to himself?
The only choices he ever made that truly were his own, were when he was away.
All else was lies.
Placations.
A second snap. And he brings the two broken ends above the fire.
He’s done living for them.
It was only a matter of time.
They are swallowed by the flames as they fall, and all he’s left with is the middle piece. The carving.
He will not follow his parent’s footsteps.
He will not let his legacy be a tragedy.
He may never be able to bring Tamlen back, but he will avenge him.
He will see to it that the blight is ended.
“Falon'Din guide you safely brother. I will make it up to you”