The Balinor Chronicles: The Celestial Herd
Chapter Sixty-Three: To Err and To Forgive
This Chapter is dedicated to Parish Amry, who helped start a fashion trend at camp by joining me as an Orc bearing the White Hand of Saruman. Long story, don't ask. Let's just say she earned this.
AN: Moloth's series of taunts to Arkim are (partly) copyright of John Donne, from his poem 'An Anatomy of the World'. Any writings by him have been left in their original spelling, hence the archaic-ness.
When words fail, wars begin…
When wars finally end, we settle our disputes with words.
--Wilfred Funk
-/o
It was day. Officially. The Rainbow had greeted the sun – only the sun was not Solaris, it was Arkim, who paused on the outcropping of rock from which his father before him and now, he, had greeted the Herd. Arkim paused, wind blowing his mane and tail theatrically, admiring his Herd, when a mar appeared in its color.
Arkim stood on the outcrop, looking down as Moloth approached. The Twilight walked with his head high, the thick, intimidating, Mulciber-given scar the only indication of his former mishap with Elementals. His words were addressed to Arkim, but were loud enough for those nearby to hear. He spoke with a certain smugness in his voice, "And new Philosophy calls in all doubt, The Element of fire is quite put out."
Arkim eyed the Twilight, uncertain of his intentions. "And what need would the shadows have for fire, dare I ask?"
Moloth replied with a cocky grin. "The Sun is lost, and th' earth, and no mans wit Can well direct him where to looke for it."
"You fool no one, Moloth. They are dead, not hostages to be bartered for. State your wishes, or suffer the Sentinels." At those words, what was left of the Sentinels all shifted their weight for charging.
Moloth continued unperturbed. "And freely men confesse that this world's spent… I ask only to leave. That is all we ever wanted, after all."
To err is human; to forgive, divine.
Arkim was only mortal after all. And even Solaris had been tempted in his time. So the Sun need not reply to Moloth's query, for the latter knows what the answer is. He walks off proudly, talking to no one all the while, "They seeke so many new; then see that this Is crumbles out againe to his Atomies. 'Tis all in peeces, all cohaerance gone; All just supply, and all Relation." His last words floated back on the wind to Arkim's ears.
"And in these Constellations arise New starres, and old doe vanish from our eyes…"