Anyway, here you go – the final instalment of In Your Arms. I hope you enjoy it, and that you understand what I mean when I said it would be a happy ending!
Chapter Thirty-Three – Across the River
Ten Years Later
Tristran stood, swaying slightly as his legs debated whether to hold him, or give up and let him fall. He felt a pang of regret, not from knowing that the end had come, but from being bettered in a sword-match by a Saxon. A Saxon who had now stolen his own sword.
He looked up at the sky, and saw a hawk circling through the drifting smoke. His hawk. He smiled briefly at the sight: she had always been there for him, and it seems that she was not going to abandon him now. 'Sorry love,' he thought, 'it is I who must abandon you now.'
The Saxon suddenly spun around, slicing his great sword down across Tristran's chest, and Tristran felt himself falling backwards. He landed on the damp earth, still looking up at the sky. The pain ebbed and flowed through his body, but he gave little heed to it. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. He was dying.
This thought was strangely comforting. All of the others fought against death, as had Tristran, but now it was happening, he was glad of it. He supposed he should be glad that he was dying a free man, in a battle of his own choosing, but that concerned him little. Why should he want his freedom anyway? There was no reason for living with a broken heart.
Alennia, ah, Alennia. He saw her, for the first time in years, he saw her so clearly in his mind, sitting, hunched up in front of the fire in the cave, the blanket around her shoulders, and her wet hazel hair curling about her shoulders.
And suddenly, he knew he would be with her soon. In all the years since her death he had not been able to convince himself that there was an afterlife, but as the world around him faded and dimmed, Tristran was filled with a calm beyond anything he had know before, with the knowledge that soon, he would be with her.
Tristran found himself beside a dark, strong-flowing river. He tried to make out the shore as he crossed, and as he drew closer he could see a woman standing on the far bank, with her back to him. Hazel coloured hair curled down over a deep blue gown, and as he stepped onto the bank the woman turned, a soft smile on her face.
"I've been waiting for you," she told him softly, almost shyly. Her face was young, and as beautiful as the moment that Tristran had first beheld it.
Suddenly he moved forwards, covering the distance between them in two huge strides, and lifted her up, swinging her slender body around to the sound of her ringing laughter.
Slowly he set her down, studying her face, and a small smile began to creep onto his face, as he pushed a lock of hair back off her face, and bent his head down to kiss her. Alennia wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, curling her fingers into his hair as she always had done, and both were lost in a thousand memories that the kiss evoked.
When they parted, Alennia leant her head against Tristran's chest, and he rested his head on top of hers, wrapping his strong hands around her waist and holding her safe. They stood still, inhaling the other's scent as they drowned in a world of content. And then the light seemed to fade, and the image grew fainter, until all that was left was the sound of a flowing river.