A/N: I've noticed a few other people have collections of Pellinor oneshots, and I can see why; it's such a vast world, and there's so much to write about. Basically, I'll write one of these (the length could vary greatly- between 300 and 2500 words) whenever I feel inspired by something or other. I'll give a warning at the beginning of each oneshot if it contains spoilers for The Riddle, The Crow, or The Singing, and tell what it was inspired by, too. This one has a character from The Riddle, though it isn't really a spoiler, per se.
This oneshot was inspired by: A couple sad songs: one soundtracky one from The Tudors (Farewell to a Queen/Katherine Dies), and the other Tears of an Angel by RyanDan.
The evening sun lit up a small patch of forest outside Gent School. A salty ocean wind danced through the green summer leaves of the trees, some of which were beginning to show spots of yellow. Those patches were especially visible because of the golden light illuminating the area, and despite the beauty of the scene the copse was devoid of people out for an evening stroll, save one.
Anhil of Gent took a deep breath. This was home. This was where he and his brother had so often played as children, and where they had continued to go when they needed time alone or in only each others' company. It had become the thinking spot of Anhil alone when Dernhil had moved away, to visit other Schools like Norloch, Innail, and Lirigon. But now, Dernhil returned, for the last time.
There was no stopping a tear as it ran down Anhil's face, then splashed onto the urn he was holding. He had always loved and looked up to his older brother; in fact, Dernhil was everything that Anhil had ever aspired to be. And now he had to fulfill those dreams not as a younger brother willingly following in his older brother's footsteps, but instead as a family member honouring their dead relative. It was wrong.
Biting his lip, Anhil cursed the Hulls that had killed his brother. Dernhil had done nothing, ever, to deserve the fate they had forced upon him. He was the kindest soul, the most loyal friend, and the only person that had completely understood Anhil. And now all that remained of that brave, friendly, self-sacrificing man were the ashes in Anhil's arms. Another tear made its way to the ground.
The least Anhil could do to thank his brother was scatter his ashes in the place he had so often walked in when he was younger. As far as Anhil knew, there was no other place in the world that he loved more. Perhaps there was, but it was too late to ask now. As if it had been summoned, the wind picked up, and Anhil removed the lid of the urn. His heart was struck by a pain so real that he nearly cried out. This was goodbye. As the ashes of one brother joined the wind, the other nearly fell to his feet in a spasm of grief. Dernhil's life had been so cruelly ripped away, and so soon; it was as quick as the felling of a beast with an arrow to the heart. One moment he was alive, jovial, and eagerly exchanging letters with his little brother, and the next, he was murdered by Hulls.
In a naïve fit of anger, Anhil blamed himself. When he had argued with Dernhil about going to live in Innail, he could have made a better argument. Then Dernhil would never have died, and perhaps he would be standing with Anhil right now instead of dancing through the woods around him. Or, if Anhil had also left for Innail, perhaps he would be the dead one and Dernhil would still be alive. He would give his life to bring his brother back in the blink of an eye, but he knew as well as any that there was no return from beyond the Gates.
Anhil took a shuddering breath. This was his last farewell, but really, there was nothing more to say. Exiting the woods and mounting his horse, he wordlessly began heading back to the School; he would not return to the forest again now. He had scattered his brother's ashes, and that was the end of it all. He told himself that Dernhil was at rest now, and attempted to leave it at that, but deeper within himself Anhil was terribly afraid that his brother would never truly have peace, since his life had been stolen away in such a brutal and untimely manner. It didn't matter that he had in fact killed himself; it was the fault of the Hulls either way.
On an impulse, Anhil scrambled off of his horse and ran back into the forest. He had thought that he had cried so many tears that there could not possibly be more, but as night fell, he was proven wrong. As the rest of Gent left to go to sleep, Anhil remained in the woods, all mature reasoning gone. He did not cry himself to sleep; that was a mercy granted to those who were merely grieving. Anhil found that he had pushed himself to the brink of madness, but he cared not, for Dernhil was dead.
A/N Again: ...except he isn't, according to Eleve Osirian/Kiaga. ;P
