Part 7

The tide crept up as far as it could go, and began to fall back again to its murky depths. The sun fully rose, shining bright and making her presence known, and then began to disappear again beneath the sky. It only took a few minutes for my exuberance to fall from the prospect of talking about our future. My brother had left early in the morn, but as time passed there were no soft footsteps proclaiming his return.

I sat on the wind carven rocks, so still I imagined I was part of the ancient stones themselves. The sun had suck so far that the looming shadows had spread throughout the entire world. I sat, watching its last rays caress the water, desperately afraid what would happen if the night came and Malkemen didn't return. He'd said he'd be back soon; why hadn't he come back? At first I'd thought his long absence meant he'd found a job from a kindly villager and had to complete some task before he could return. But he wouldn't stay away this long, not if he knew I were here alone. He would be home, he should be home.

I didn't know if it was my imagination, or simply my curse showing its full might in my frightened state, or a nefarious combination of both, but in my mind I started seeing images. They were still faster then a human eye should be able to catch, but instead of them being at random, however, for the first time in my life they all showed the same thing. Each one was a different version of the same horrible story with the same horrible ending; my brother, laying dead on this very day, murdered by the villager, Talcum. Being cornered and flogged with the leg of a chair, being stoned on a cliff face, being thrown into a burning hearth, and falling, falling, falling into the merciless depths of the sea. They came and came, vision after vision, sight after sight, until I shook out of it, breathing heavily and sweating, but still almost unmoving.

I stood up, my legs cramped and shaking, and hobbled back to the cave. I didn't know what to do. I searched for Nima, but couldn't find her. Scrambling around the damp rocks, I hunted for the only toy I had, desperate but unable to find her. She was nowhere, and that broke me. Tears welted up in my eyes as I ripped through our few possessions. All I found was the long piece of twine my brother had found to tie back her hair, which I placed shakily in my pocket. I wanted to leave, to get out of the cave. I had to go find Malkemen.

My legs were stiff, and my feet silent. My mind was blessedly blank. I did not fear, nor hate, nor cry out in anguish and despair. I simply made the journey from the cave to the village of Nove.

Suddenly, I was standing in the back doorway of the tavern. I couldn't remember walking specifically there, although I knew I must have. Roaring laughter seeped through the kitchen into my ears. I stepped in.

The man who owned the place wasn't there, but his wife and daughter were busy cooking and scrubbing. Both looked up when I walked in, neither saying a word. I walked past them into the public area.

The fire seemed simply to burn and cast shadows, rather then contribute warmth and light to its surroundings. The entire pub was focused on one man, who seemed to be relating a transfixing tale. As he did so, my brother's knife was twirling in his fingers.

"And he never stopped fightin', lil bastard, kept tryin' ter get away! Floggin' soon got boring, so we heated up some iron and gave him a taste 'o that! Kept whisperin' things to him, trying to get him mad. But I ain't a horrible man, I didn't make it go on forever, only a few 'ours. Once I was sure he was close to death's door that we was beyond returning, I cast him inter the rocky shore. We're rid of that scum forever!"

I stood, transfixed, looking blankly at Talcum. He couldn't have done it, wouldn't have, there was no possible way he had done this…he couldn't be dead, wasn't dead…not like mother…

"Aye, we're rid of one of 'em, what about this un?" Another had obviously spotted me and was now pointing at me. That was the last thing I could hear clearly. They must have said some nasty, horrible things, but in that moment my ears were for once innocent. My whole body was going mad. I was so welled up with anger and grief that there was no room for listening to their petty fantasies and threats. My mind was being smashed in a million pieces, and I didn't have the slightest clue how to put it back together again. So I started crying. I'd cried many times before in my life, and it had always felt like a cleansing and renewing. Even when searching for my doll, I'd at least found part of her, so even then the tears rejuvenated me. This however, felt dark and forbidding, for I knew no matter how hard I cried the pain wouldn't go away. My screams vibrated over and under roaring and laughing, my panicked sobs interlacing with the gulps of ale and soft crackle of the fire. Tears strained down my face as fast as the drinks could seep down their shirts, and my whole body shook as much as their chests heaved with laughter.

Why were they laughing? This was only pain, not joy. My brother, my dear brother, was gone. He was all I had. I was completely alone. I felt cold, and trapped. I was truly worthless, they were right. I had nothing, was nothing. I couldn't go anywhere or do anything. I didn't have anywhere to go back to now that the day was done, didn't have warm arms to secure me in my bed. I was alone.

And they were laughing. Laughing about this! How could they? Anger began to well up again, and I began to shake harder, still sniffling, but my crying suddenly stopped as if I was too old to do such a childish thing. I hated crying, hated it for doing nothing, hated it for taking so much energy, hated it for making me poor and weak. What did tears do? Nothing, nothing, nothing…

I looked at Talcum, who was still playing with my brother's dagger. That's not his, I thought. It's my brother's. And he wouldn't want him to have it. He'd want me to have it.

Someone came up behind me, placed his hand on my frail shoulder, and said "Child-"

"No." I cast whoever said it off, my small voice echoing across the tavern. It had gone quiet, and he and everyone else seemed to be backing away from me, as though the anger radiating from me was too powerful to be close to. The whole place was shaking, although it was probably just my own senses gone haywire. Cups and paper windows were rattling, spoons and forks collapsing from tables and fires crackled as the tried to stay alight. My path to Talcum was miraculously clear, where he stood just staring at me with confusion. I didn't understand why, nor did I care. I took a step forward, my skeletal legs being moved by what meat was left on them. I couldn't see, hear, taste, or feel anything but my anger and rage for this man. Another step, then another, finally until I was standing right next to him.

I held out my hand. "That's mine," I said simply, nodding to the dagger, my whole body so tense that I was shaking with effort at keeping control. "It was my brother's and you killed him. It's mine now." I doubted if he put the dagger in my hand that it could hold it, my hands were shaking so.

He sneered. "You really think I'm going to give it to you, Ya? You're not worthy to kiss my feet, you strangled little-."

Without right mind, preparation, sanity, careful thought, or subtlety, I jumped on him. I put all of my meaningless weight and terrible anger into the jump, right at the dagger that was my dear brother's. The force knocked him down from his chair, as though he were so surprised I'd done such a thing that he'd laid himself open for it. But it didn't feel like that. It felt as though I'd pushed him down.

I realized he wasn't struggling, nor moving, for that matter. I was suddenly frozen, as though that jump had taken the very life out of me. I looked at my hands. They were red and sticky. I looked for my brothers dagger, and saw it resting in between Talcum's ribs. I just stared at it, not feeling any different because of it. People must've been yelling and screaming, but all I heard was a dull roar. Oddly, no one came near me. No one but one man.

His hands were old and wrinkled, his face covered by huge gray eyebrows and a larger gray beard. He pulled me off Talcum firmly, trying to settle me down. I panicked. Who was he? What did he want? I struggled, screaming, "No, no, no!" He was strong, so strong, the strongest man I'd ever encountered, despite his apparent age and frailty. Yet somehow I broke free, probably because of my alarmed adrenaline state. I pulled hard at my brother's dagger and wrenched it free, ran out the door, through the town, and into the wilderness toward the Ered Luins. I just wanted to run forever, get away from everything; what I'd done, what I'd lost, what I was going to do. I ran and ran and ran until I could no longer move, then ran beyond that. I ran so far and so fast that I doubt any creature could've caught me that night, until I fell and dreamed of my brothers death, and the death of the world.