His eyes were open and unfocused, but not in Elvish sleep. He turned to his
side so that his face was turned from the firelight and let his head tilt
until it laid limply on the ground. Drawing a deep breath, he clasped one
hand over his fist and brought it to his chest, closing his eyes and
exhaling slowly.
His eyes held the sorrow of the earth as they opened once more, glimmering with the wetness of unshed tears. He did not belong; this much he knew. His loved ones faded off to the sea, only he was left still. No ship would bear him across, no land of Valar or Eldar would accept him.
Loss and confusion stole his heart, and as a dying soul he cried out for life, something that he could grip, so he would feel enough hope to hold himself to the world. He felt himself falling, coming closer to the darkness of his mind. He fought no warrior's fight; he fought a battle that raged steadily on until every bit of his strength and will was sucked up and diminished.
There had been other such nights as this, rather many, but at each came something; some flower bathed in starlight or a sweet memory carefully tucked away but so covered in dust that it was hard to find. This nigh was deeper, thicker, harder to pull through, harder to pull from. He feared that every memory had fulfilled its purpose and each flower had lent its light to another. He feared the grief; he feared the darkness, but he feared life furthermore. No thing of the world could ease his suffering now. The stars were swallowed up, the sun had passed beyond the reach of the hills and the hope of his kind sailed opposite across the oceans to the east.
He was alone, darkened, tired...
His eyes closed wearily and his tense hands relaxed some. A few tears were allowed passage down his cheeks. He could no longer see. The darkness was choking, and sound was becoming lost. His breaths became short and his sobs no more than strangled gasps. It was almost here... he had waited long, avoiding it, but desiring it also, with every fiber of his heart wallowing in its midst. He was almost closed off, almost to the edge of all connections with life or hope' in his eyes, from the reach of fear... grief... pain...
It was here. Only a moment, and it would begin... and end. His ears were closing, but he heard one voice...
"Mellon?"
It took him moments to register the sound, to understand the words that were so far gone... to recognize the voice of his best friend. But it was there, somehow it penetrated a shard of the veil. His eyes halfway opened.
"Mellon?" He answered softly, bitterly letting the words part from his dry lips; he beleived this to be the last word that he would utter. His vision blurred, and the light that had broken through was pushed by the darkness.
A hand rested on his own, offering warmth to his body and soul; both chill with the ice of passing life. His body had been numb, but no death or amount of unfeeling could stay unyielding to such a loving touch.
"Mellon," came the voice again, "Strength cannot lie in one, and grief cannot contain itself in a single heart."
A kiss laid itself on his forehead; suddenly, shockingly, bringing him from the dark clutches, from the world of unfeeling.
"Both must be shared."
His eyes held the sorrow of the earth as they opened once more, glimmering with the wetness of unshed tears. He did not belong; this much he knew. His loved ones faded off to the sea, only he was left still. No ship would bear him across, no land of Valar or Eldar would accept him.
Loss and confusion stole his heart, and as a dying soul he cried out for life, something that he could grip, so he would feel enough hope to hold himself to the world. He felt himself falling, coming closer to the darkness of his mind. He fought no warrior's fight; he fought a battle that raged steadily on until every bit of his strength and will was sucked up and diminished.
There had been other such nights as this, rather many, but at each came something; some flower bathed in starlight or a sweet memory carefully tucked away but so covered in dust that it was hard to find. This nigh was deeper, thicker, harder to pull through, harder to pull from. He feared that every memory had fulfilled its purpose and each flower had lent its light to another. He feared the grief; he feared the darkness, but he feared life furthermore. No thing of the world could ease his suffering now. The stars were swallowed up, the sun had passed beyond the reach of the hills and the hope of his kind sailed opposite across the oceans to the east.
He was alone, darkened, tired...
His eyes closed wearily and his tense hands relaxed some. A few tears were allowed passage down his cheeks. He could no longer see. The darkness was choking, and sound was becoming lost. His breaths became short and his sobs no more than strangled gasps. It was almost here... he had waited long, avoiding it, but desiring it also, with every fiber of his heart wallowing in its midst. He was almost closed off, almost to the edge of all connections with life or hope' in his eyes, from the reach of fear... grief... pain...
It was here. Only a moment, and it would begin... and end. His ears were closing, but he heard one voice...
"Mellon?"
It took him moments to register the sound, to understand the words that were so far gone... to recognize the voice of his best friend. But it was there, somehow it penetrated a shard of the veil. His eyes halfway opened.
"Mellon?" He answered softly, bitterly letting the words part from his dry lips; he beleived this to be the last word that he would utter. His vision blurred, and the light that had broken through was pushed by the darkness.
A hand rested on his own, offering warmth to his body and soul; both chill with the ice of passing life. His body had been numb, but no death or amount of unfeeling could stay unyielding to such a loving touch.
"Mellon," came the voice again, "Strength cannot lie in one, and grief cannot contain itself in a single heart."
A kiss laid itself on his forehead; suddenly, shockingly, bringing him from the dark clutches, from the world of unfeeling.
"Both must be shared."