Disclaimer: Characters, settings, and basic storylines do not belong to GoblinFae but to other authors. Concepts, characters, and plots belonging to GoblinFae are copyrighted and plagiarism will not be tolerated. Violation may result in being thrown into the fiery chasm from which you came. GoblinFae will gladly do this.

Author's Note: This follows The Left Behind's Lament but is not necessary to read in that order.

The Left Behind's Promise
By: GoblinFae

He was older now, tall enough to sit at the family table without needing anything to boost him up. Today however, he had more important things to focus on than his newer ability to reach things beyond his plate. Today was when a big celebration was held to remember the fallen Galadhrim. It also happened to be the first time he would be permitted to join the festivities.

His barely contained excitement though was quelled by the somber expression on his mother's face. She had spent the night standing on the balcony of their tallon, unmoving and unseeing. Even now she still stood there, staring out at the world. What she thought of no one knew, but her young son suspected that it was about his father.

The child barely remembered his father now. It had been so long since his passing. He remembered warmth and musk, a calming voice and a steady hand. But, it had not been his father that had taught him the things he knew. His father's brothers had stepped in to do that. He loved his uncles. They were always full of laughter and stories to tell, unlike mother whose jaw would clench and eyes become stone cold when something reminded her of him.

Today was always the worst day. Time did not change how deeply she had been cut by the loss of father or much she loved and mourned him. In the beginning, the boy had tried everything he could to clamor for her attention on this day. At first he would bring her things but when she neither saw them nor heard him he would grow irate. From there he turned to howling and throwing things just to receive some form of acknowledgement. Surely chastisement was better than being ignored. His uncles would always arrive soon enough though, wipe away his tears and distract him from her until the day was done.

There had only been one time when she had turned those red and swollen eyes towards him. It had horrified him to see how broken she looked. Her hand was like ice as she cupped his face and brushed a thumb against his cheek. To this day he did not know what he had done to finally gain her notice but he still wished he never had. To see the numbness and emptiness in this woman he had always looked up to and respected, was horrifying.

Another surprise out of that day though was yet to come. She pulled him into her lap and in a soft, raspy voice told him about father. It was the first and only time she ever did. His mother had not denied him knowledge of his father. She wanted him to know the elf. But, grief always claimed her so she left it to his uncles to tell the tales. He recognized now she never wanted her son to see her cry. But, on that special and mystical day she spoke. She told him everything she could remember, the good and the bad, how they first met as squabbling children and how they last parted as adults.

His uncles had come then and taken him away to entertain him but, he still remembered it all as if it had happened only an hour ago. Now older, he does the same for his little sister who has not yet fully come to understand the importance of today. Even now she is beginning to bring mother drawings and flowers. Their uncles have not arrived yet, so the boy takes it upon himself to entertain his sister. He wonders if his mother will ever pull the little girl into her lap and retell the tales as she had done for him. Part of him is jealous of the thought.

With a sigh he hoists the child, for she really is still quite young, into his arms and drags her outside. He ignores the kicking and screaming, keeping his head down to hide reddened cheeks as he passes by other elves. He can only imagine what they say about him and his family, his mother especially. Clutching her squirming body tighter, he quickens his steps until he has reached the burial grounds.

No one has gathered here yet, that is for later tonight. He too will return here later with his Uncle RĂºmil and his family, as Orophin will stay to watch over his mother and sister. He walks and walks until he reaches the marker he seeks. By now, she has grown quiet and still. All the tears have been cried out and now curiosity has taken over.

He sets her down and kneels beside the grave. For a moment he is seized by a burning sensation in his throat before remembering right now is not about him but for his sister. Sitting cross-legged, he tucks her into his lap, wrapping comforting arms around her, and resting his chin on her head. He holds her, rocking side to side gently in silence as he tries to think of something to say.

Then, as he comes to realize it is time, he begins to speak. His voice is not raspy like his mother's, but still very quiet. He talks of everything and anything. When he finally runs out of things to say he tells her of his one special moment with mother. He shares with her everything mother had told him about father, the good and the bad, the beginning and the end. She will not understand it all and even as he recounts it she falls asleep in his lap.

It is then that he comes to a conclusion. His sister is too young to understand and tonight will be the first night that she spends the memorial day without him. He realizes how upset she must be as he is reminded of his own hurt from previous years. As he cuddles her close he does not see his uncles watch them from a ways away. He does not know how they have been searching frantically for the pair only to find them both safe here. Nor does he know that they smile sadly as they see how grown up he is becoming. He especially does not realize that when he promises aloud to the sleeping babe to forever protect her and tell her about their father, they hear and feel their own hearts break. He has never known that they mourn just as hard as his mother, that they only hold it together on this day for the children who are too young to understand.

In the peace and quiet of the moment they too turn to each other and remember. They remember the same promise they made long ago to each other and to the children, as this young boy has just selflessly done for his sweet sister. They remember again why they spend this one day each year being so strong for their stubborn sister-in-law. For the promise they have made at the grave of a fallen soldier, is the promise of the left behind to each other.