Hello!

Kyubak: thanks for the review :) Though I apologize in advance for not writing more about Coreen and Samir. I've got other plans (separate texts) planned for them, maybe later ;)

Finduilas: thanks for the review (you know I don't mind if I get it late, but I'm always happy when I get one). I'm glad you liked my Mikal, he was funny to write. As always, I thank you for your useful suggestions about style. Do you want to open a pool of bets to know who of Calandra and Matteo will be making the move? Eheh. Faites vos jeux!

Arabellaesque: thanks for the review :) It made me smile at my computer to hear your good words.

Always awaiting comments and suggestions :)

Chapter VI. The end nears

Anomen could remember innumerable days waking up next to her. His first and only love, the fair elf who had become his wife. He could remember their youth, when he would wake up after a complete night holding her in his arms, her head on his shoulder. When he had still been in his twenties and with all the strength of his youth, he could sleep with her like that through the night. But as he aged, his arm and back started to stiffen from holding still all this time. But then, she would sense his heaviness when she entangled herself from his arms, and would massage his shoulder and back to compensate for the discomfort she brought him. But now, she slept carefully on her side of the bed; even her slim body was a weight his chest could no longer hold for the night.

He looked at her this morning. He whispered in his mind one of his numerous prayers of thanksgiving to Helm to wake up next to her, to have found her, and that she loved him. She was beautiful as ever, a young elf still, with her seventy-eight years-old, sleeping peacefully next to him. He prayed to Helm for the strength of aging next to her who was keeping young, and not let this ruin the joy of his lifelong happiness by her side.

He knew the call of his god was becoming stronger. His time was drawing nearer. He was old enough and wise enough to be at peace with this for a few years already, but still he felt sadness to be soon leaving her, and a definite longing to stay with her forever. But there was no use in fighting the inevitable, and age had been merciful on him.

He slowly stroked her hair. She wore it in a single tress to sleep, and a few strands were free on her face. As the years passed, he had felt her change to accommodate his age; he was not sure if she was aware of it herself. The elf had started to sleep more, like a human. The maternal responsibilities and fading forces of her aging husband had gradually forced her youthful exuberance to be dulled into a calm beyond that of her people. Anomen hoped he did not remove too much of her dignity with this change she lived reflexively, as though answering to him in ways she could not consciously choose.

She stirred and woke; she opened her eyes to look at him, and a smile played on her lips. He felt the need, then, to hold her against him, and rolled on the side to hold her against his chest. She gently slid her arms around his torso, and let her head rest on his chest. He held her a long moment.

"I love you, Anomen," she said then, apparently sensing with her keen mind that there was something troubling him.

"I love you too, Amousca."

He held her a while longer and finally let her go. She stood and went to her mirror. Anomen could also remember the mornings when he combed her hair in the yellow light of the early sun, how it was to thread the rich golden silk of her hair. But again, age had come and made his fingers awkward, and he did not comb her hair anymore.

But his old age was not an indignity, despite its inconveniences. He had had many missions for the Order in his young age, then a teaching charge with weapon mastery, then an administrative role within the Order. He had not suffered in his service of Helm because of his age. He had not suffered either in his family, as his children grew up to be people he could be proud of, and his wife was not one to pain him because of their difference of race.

She had, after all, decreed long ago that she was "cursed" with a long lifespan, and that she would see everyone die around her, if her Bhaalspawn blood didn't see to it first. She was not so bitter about this anymore. With time, this concern for her loved ones had faded somewhat as there were no more assassins sent after them and that the battle among the siblings of Bhaal was definitively over.

ooooo

Samir arrived just after the breakfast to pay his weekly visit to his mother and father. He played the harp for them in the living room, discussing lightly what had been happening at the inn and what he heard of who had met who at the De'Arnisse lands last tenday. Anomen smiled wryly to hear his son serving them the worst of the district gossip on his own brother. But as Matteo had been a most prized match by the noble young women of Athkatla – a chivalrous member of the Order, less volatile and flighty then Samir, he was deemed a good catch by the mothers of young ladies – and so it was doomed to make talk that he was taking obvious interest in a young nameless priestess.

ooooo

Three tendays later, no more, Matteo was bringing Calandra home to have dinner with his family. She was slightly timid, but for once Samir resisted the urge to have fun at his brother's expanse and simply animated the evening rather nicely. Calandra eventually relaxed and, when Matteo stepped outside with her to accompany her to the carriage that would take her back to her inn, she was unanimously declared a charming young lady by the rest of the family.

Matteo was more secretive of his "affairs" in the following weeks, and even gossip-monger Samir did not manage to get many details about what had been going on besides that they were exchanging letters, the frequency of which he did not manage to learn. And, one day of early Mirtul, Matteo came home with a powerful energy in his step, sparkles in his eyes and a definitely happy smile on his face to announce his parents that he would marry the woman he loved, a kind and devoted priestess of Lathander by the name of Calandra.

"Not too soon, Matteo," Amousca said wryly as she hugged him to congratulate him.

Anomen chuckled lightly, knowing this jab was at least as much for him as it was for his son.

"Hey, what does that funny look mean?", Matteo asked, seeing the look his parents were exchanging.

"Well, you certainly got your 'delay' behaviour from one of us," Amousca teased, "and it wasn't me. But I trust you found a better place than Hell to ask your ladylove."

Matteo stared at his father for a while.

"No! Father, you didn't…"

Anomen sighed and was about to defend himself when Amousca apparently took pity on him.

"Don't think it so, Matteo. It was a very… chaotic time in my life and, strange as it may sound, the Pocket Plane was among the less bad places we could be at the time."

"That is rather a polite way to put it, my love. That very day, we had been battling scores of minions in Sendai's enclave."

"Do you think I forgot?", Amousca whispered. "I remember you, with Keldorn and Sarevok, walking into the traps of that despicable lich…"

Her face darkened with the memory, and Anomen put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Matteo suddenly had an insight of what it was that worried so his mother in the knowledge that he was a warrior, and a soldier of the Order. He did not move or make a sound, because his parents were suddenly intimate, sharing a look that spoke of the years of life they had spent together, and the deep understanding and trust they had.

Anomen spoke low, "I almost cannot believe now that I needed to see the look in your eyes, the guilt for my injuries because I took the first line, the fear for my life, the… uncertainty for your destiny… I should not have needed that to give me the courage to offer you my hand."

In that moment, he had known he did not want to die her lover; he had realized that he wanted to live or die her husband, if she would have him.

Time, years and age were forgotten for the moment, as Amousca smiled tenderly upon Anomen, and caressed his cheek slowly, lovingly. The knight took her hand on his cheek and kissed it slowly.

The moment was passed, and Matteo allowed himself to chuckle, reminding them that he was still standing next to them.

"And you wonder why Samir became a bard? With such a romantic love story right under his nose… Bah!"

Both his parents laughed.

"Such a romantic love story?", Amousca repeated with a beaming smile. "Being asked for my hand in Hell, in the middle of the chaos sowed by the Bhaalspawn and their hunt? With my brother, who was little more than my foster father's murderer at the time, snorting at us? With my sister who stole my ring two seconds after it was put on my hand? That hardly qualifies."

Anomen laughed heartily at the memory.

"Oh, I had almost forgotten Sarevok's reaction."

"Uncle Sar's reaction?", Matteo inquired.

"Well," Amousca sighed. "He was much of the… tyrannical conqueror that terrified the Sword Coast still, you know. I had just revived him from a year in Hell, also, which certainly did not help his temper, I am sure. So… he seemed to take objection that 'Delryn-knightling' had asked for my hand in Hell."

Matteo wrinkled his forehead in thought, trying to picture Sarevok another way than how he had known him.

"And," Anomen added, "in turn, your mother took objection to his grumpiness. She stated that everyone of the party was happy in Hell, and she even accused him of being jealous."

"Fortunately Imoen was there to mock him with me, otherwise I think I could not have survived his ire at being accused of something so… un-evil," Amousca chuckled.

"Speaking of Imoen, did you know that your 'Aunt Imoen' was a thief in her youth?", Anomen asked Matteo.

"Well, she said so but, compared to her archmage magic, it seemed… well… less important."

"Well, she was my thief more than my archmage, as a party leader," Amousca stated.

"And quite an insolent young lady," Anomen accused. "She was spying on us as I was trying to make my demand with dignity and a little privacy."

"Even with elven boots, she could never quite hide into shadows when anything important was at stake," her sister remembered with a fond smile.

"She was not supposed to be a good pickpocket either," Anomen remarked. "Maybe I shall begin to believe her when she says that you were not caring much for my ring…"

Amousca reddened. "I shall still maintain the pledge of dangerous, careless exuberance, but not lack of appreciation of your ring."

Matteo shook his head.

"By Helm, it seems I will never hear the whole of your adventures, no matter how many you re-tell us."

"Some are better left untold," Amousca said softly, even if there was a serious expression on her face now.

Anomen put his arm around her shoulders, and suddenly she smiled, forgetting any darkness from her past as she smiled at him. Then, she turned to her son.

"We are happy for you, Matteo. But I do hope, for your sake, that you asked her in a better place than the Pocket plane, and did not wait to have her on the path to destiny to goddesshood before you decided yourself."

"My love, this is really unfair," Anomen complained.

Matteo laughed.

"Will you discuss the details of the ceremony with us?", Amousca went on after a wry look at her husband. "Or do you keep it for Calandra and yourself to decide?"

"Well, we thought of being married at the city's temple of Lathander, since she is one of His worshippers…"