All Who Wander Are Not Lost

Chapter 13

"Why do you stop me? I can save you!" she cried, face filled with torment.

"You cannot save me, ushmar," he rasped, his breathing deep and fast, almost like he was panting.

"I can!" she insisted, moving to move him again.

"Nay, lushr, not this time," his breathing became shallower, and slower.

"Miluiel is waiting for your return," she argued, eyes frantically scanning him over for other wounds as her hands went to the pouch of healing herbs she kept on her person.

"She can survive this," he chocked, fluid filling his lungs slowly even as his life blood drained from his battered body. A tear slipped down his face, and she knew that he knew what would likely happen to his beloved wife.

"She needs you desperately, she will fade," she wept.

"No, she has my little Mariam, my little princess," he whispered. And Tilrim, a man who was the most devoted husband and loving father, who had stood up under the censuring gazes of his people for the choice of his life mate, began to shudder, breath slowing.

"No. NO. NO!" she screamed, whispering words of healing as she pressed one of his wounds to stop the bleeding.

"You have done so much for my people," his voice burned with agony,"You have shielded them, and taught us that not all elves are evil, word twisting bastards- he clutched at her bloodied hand, his own trembling- will you watch over my darlings, my banno? Take them to your home."

"I-I-

"Promise me, ushmar!"

"I promise," she sobbed.

He closed his eyes, his head resting back against the dead body of an orc. She shuddered, and wiped the tears from her face. How could this be happening? Every time she got close to someone they ended up dying. Ever time.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," she gasped, holding his hand.

"You cannot protect everyone, Thennil, so don't blame yourself."

"I have to try, I've gotten close to so many people, and eventually they die, when I could have saved them."

"Letting go means that you have come to the realization that some people are part of your history, but not apart of your destiny," his voice had gotten softer, and he had had to pause to take a breath before continuing.

"It doesn't mean that I have to like it," she whispered, looking up over the rocks, seeing that the battle had slowly ebbed to and end. Pulling her eyes back to the dwarf in front of her she chocked. He wasn't breathing. Raising her voice, she cried, the sound of her sorrow carrying over the breeze, haunting and ethereal. Soon it was not only her voice that wept on the breeze, more joined as the count of dead grew and grew. They had won the battle, but the cost had been high.

Approaching the hut, she stopped. Her eyes trailed over the ornate door, the rounded windows, and the beautiful carvings that caressed the weathered wood. From within the house she could hear the sounds of silvery laughter and high giggles. Her heart clenched, knowing that she had to deliver her news. Lightly she walked over the wet grass, making nary a noise. After a moments hesitation she raised her hand hand knocked three times upon the door, plastering the cheeriest look she could on her face.

From within she heard the scrambling of feet, a chair scrapping across the floor, and then the door was wrenched open. The bright face of her foster niece beamed up at her as the child launched herself into the arms of her favorite, and only, aunt.

"Aunty Thennil, you're home! I thought that you were with addad?" she exclaimed, leaping away to look behind her aunt. She danced around the room, jumping up and down.