Hello again!

I've been under serious attack by a KotOR-playing rage recently. Hopefully that will be over now, and I'm back to fanfiction.

Arabellaesque, Kyubak and Finduilas, thank you very much for your reviews :) Not that I'm a cruel person, but I'm glad to know you cried ;) (at least two of you). I'm very proud that I managed to put emotion into Anomen's death at last. But I'm not one to abandon broken-hearted characters in their most difficult moments (well…. err… not in their most difficult moment), so here is a sort of epilogue to smoothen things a bit…

That will be the end! I hope you enjoyed my story…

Chapter VIII. Life goes on

Nalia, Valygar, Imoen and Kelsey, the only remaining companions of the adventuring days of Anomen and Amousca, came to visit to be there for Amousca, Samir, Coreen and Matteo. There are never too many close friends to give affection in those situations, and they stayed for a few days; Amousca felt a lot better facing this loss with the presence of her sister.

Matteo sang the prayers for his father's quiet journey to Helm's side, while Samir accompanied him on the harp. After the three days of prayers, Matteo felt that he needed to return to his wife and daughter, and it was again Coreen that took him there. As soon as they emerged from the teleport, Calandra got out of the house, and she stopped dead when she saw Matteo. But then, she put on her priestess's face, and walked forward. Matteo just collapsed in her arms and started crying, telling her in a thousand disorganized phrases that he had loved him, that he missed him, that he was gone, that he had tried to pray, that he had sung the prayers, as she guided him towards the nearby barn, where they probably would be alone. Coreen, before she started to weep too and lost her mastery of sorcery, teleported back to Athkatla.

She, unlike her brother, collapsed alone in her private room in the Cowled Wizards' building. She remained weeping for much the same reasons as Matteo, making a side mental note to visit Calandra's family again when she would be able to be more polite. But another reflection also started to make its way through her foggy brain, and this one was about the strength of her mother, and her own cowardice facing the difference of lifespan between elves, half-elves, and humans. It was no easy thing to admit to herself, and the actions it seemed to demand were no more easier or more certain. And this made her cry even more.

ooooo

Samir dragged himself miserably for a week. He knew he was just moping around, and he knew he must be terrible company for any who had the bad luck of being at the same table, but he could not help himself. He tried, but he could not. He would wake in the middle of the night crying, still singing in his dreams the prayer to Helm he had sung for his father. He would stop in the day, after he heard a rumour, and think: "Father would want the Order to know…" and remember that it was not so anymore. And he also thought of his mother a lot, alone now in the manor with only her memories, and he wanted to do something for her. But he did not dare to go visit her, because he felt so miserable himself that he was not convinced he could do much to help her.

But after a week, Rhizoperth showed up at the Five Flagons, and they shared a beer together. The knight asked for Matteo's news, and Samir tried to re-tell him the contents of the last letter without sounding too miserable. But as the knight left after an hour of uncomfortable silences and short sentences, Samir found he felt better.

The next day, he was not moping so pathetically anymore. He was not feeling good, but at least he felt like he was functioning. He was not in the mood to create anything or to interpret a lovely lively sonnet, but somehow the worst darkness seemed behind.

And he thought that maybe his father was still looking over him from a more distant place. He went to the Order to thank Rhizoperth for his visit, and apologize for being such awkward company – he was still awkward company that day. And when he came back to the Five Flagons, he met an elven bard from Evereska. The bard was curious about him when he saw that he was a half-elf, and after he heard of Samir's recent loss, he agreed to tell him many tales of his city, which would distract Samir and make him think of better things.

The bard was a good one. Another day after that, Samir went to the manor; it was the first time he went since Matteo was gone, and he felt guiltier now to think that his mother had probably been alone with the servants all this time.

Amousca was not there, it seemed. Guillaume told him that she was at the Sphere, and the servants were holding the house and sending her meals that the cook was making, and the maid went each afternoon to take care of the "household" of the Sphere. Samir nodded and left, before more memories started to shake his resolution. Surely his mother needed company, and he would be good company, at least to her for a moment, even if it meant breaking up crying for half an hour later on.

He found the sorceress blasting summoned creatures to dust with Fireballs, Cloudkills, Wiltings and Breaths. He looked at the practice chamber from the outside, peering by the small window in the door, until she was done.

She exited the room slowly, and when she saw him something changed in her attitude. She seemed to hesitate.

"I train, I take care of paperwork, I eat, I assign tasks to the golem, but I… I don't seem to have a goal anymore," she stated. "Life doesn't seem to have a goal anymore."

But then she looked away. "I'm sorry, Samir, this is not… I should not be saying this to you."

"To whom else, Mother?", he asked, and he walked forward to take her in his arms.

She relaxed in his arms, and then she said: "I don't know, Samir. To someone who doesn't bear his own grief."

Samir held her more tightly against him. "Maybe someone who doesn't bear grief would not understand. But I do, even if I have nothing to answer. I… I do not have my father's wisdom."

With that, he felt that she stiffened, and she slowly drew back. She sighed. "Your father…" Her eyes filled with tears, and she paused for a while. "Your father told me not to regret him. And if I… let life lose its goal, then I will regret him. But I do not know how, Samir… I just don't know how…"

"Maybe… maybe just time?"

Amousca sighed. "Yes, maybe time." And she cried again, together with Samir.

ooooo

Coreen walked into the Headquarters of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart hesitantly. There were some uncomfortable stares at her Senior Cowled Wizard robe, but she was hesitant mostly because of her own motives rather than the others' stares.

In front of the door to the knights' rooms, she paused and took a breath. She knocked. A young novice answered her, but before she could say anything, Rhizoperth appeared in the doorway.

"Milady," he said. "Good day to you. Are you looking for Matteo? I believe he left for the De'Arnisse lands two days ago."

"I know, I'm the one who took him there. It's you I… oh maybe I should just go to a priest, but I… wanted to speak to someone."

She blushed; she was not being honest, but only saying this much was already costing her all her courage.

"Very well, Coreen," Rhizoperth said, with a curious expression on his face. He gestured her to one of the small rooms that served as antechamber. He closed gently the door behind him, and he turned to look at her.

She was leaning back against the table, her eyes down on her hands gripping tightly her staff. Her knuckles were white and he could not see her face, as her hood was falling low on her forehead.

"I," she started, before she fell silent. Rhizoperth listened to the silence for a while, then he gently prompted:

"Yes, Coreen?"

"I don't know," she said thickly.

He walked in a metallic clicking of armour to go to lean on the table next to her. Her hand slowly came up, as though it was a terrible effort, to lower her hood, and she pushed her heavy, auburn hair away from her neck. She was crying silently.

"Are you my friend?", she asked then.

"I would be your best friend if you would have allowed me, my lady," he answered. He had not felt like she was wishing for them to become close. But she obviously needed a friend in this instant, and it was true: if she let him be her friend, he would be her friend.

She lifted her eyes to look at him, her green eyes filling with more tears as she considered his answer. He removed his gauntlet – he was preparing to go training with his squire when she had come – and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Rhizoperth, I want you to be my friend. And I don't know how I could ever let you think that I didn't."

"Then a good friend you have, my lady."

She nodded in silence, looking down once more. He began to wonder why she was there. At first, he had thought it must have had something to do with Anomen's passing, but now he was confused, and so was she, apparently.

"Is this… is this what it means to be human?", she asked finally, feebly. "The short lifespan, is this what it means? That there is no time… no time to live with the ones close to you?"

Then he understood. He sighed, and put an armoured arm around her shoulders.

"No, Coreen. Maybe it seems this way to a half-elf, but it is not a short time."

She began to sob.

"How can you say that. You're human, Rye. You're the one that's going to die in a few years."

"In many years, if Torm allows it," he corrected gently. "Is it what you think, Coreen, that the years are all that count, but not what is in it?"

"But what is in it?", she cried. "My mother will live centuries yet, and what awaits her now? She will no longer raise her children, no longer adventure with her fellow team-mates, no longer live with her husband. But why is it so empty for her now that Father is gone? Why couldn't Father have all these years too?"

Rhizoperth sighed. "It is who we are; we are human. And I think… I think your mother knew this, when she chose to love a human, and I think she understood. She is a very wise lady, and I believe she knew that what matters is how the years with sir Anomen were, not how many there were."

There was a pause, Coreen still holding back her sobs, Rhizoperth's arm around her shoulder.

"Coreen… I understand this is not easy. And if you do not want to be faced with this, repeatedly, then… perhaps you should go to the elves. Maybe… they would understand you better than I can."

"No, Rye, that's not why I am here," she said, lifting her head to look at him. "I have already thought much about this, but I could not resist asking you, because… I hoped you would have an easy solution." She shrugged. "I know it is how and not how long that matters, and… I don't know why but I… I needed to come here, today, and to tell it to you. That, and-and that, because the how long is uncertain, Torm knows it, I-I needed to come here and… I don't know how to say it. Just… start? Be your friend now, and… appreciate each minute of how I am your friend, trying not to worry for the how long you'll be around."

At the beginning, Rhizoperth was a little shocked, because he had never expected anything of the sort. But as she went on, painfully searching for words, it gave him time to absorb and understand what she was saying. So, when she finished, he drew her into a hug, remembering at the last moment that she was not wearing any armour, and that he had to check his strength.

"Coreen. Of course, I will be your friend… each passing moment from now on. No matter how long."

"Alright," she said with a little voice, and he felt she was weak in his embrace. "Can I cry a bit because my father is gone, and will my new friend comfort me now?"

"I've been the same as if I had been your friend for a long time, Coreen. And I will comfort you as best I can."

She wanted to say that she was sorry that she had not "allowed" him to be her friend. She wanted to thank him for being her friend. She wanted to say how grateful she was to have someone to talk to. She wanted to tell him how much his comfort meant to her.

But she could not hold tears and grief and pain and loss any longer. She started to cry and clung to his armour in an awkward move, entangling them both in her cape. She felt Rhizoperth removing his second glove, starting to slowly pat her back with his naked hands with gentle and comforting moves. It served only to make her cry more, and she heard his low voice from very far, saying many soothing things to her, but somehow she could not hear his words, only the tone of his friendship in his voice.

Maybe she did not need to say all these things. Maybe he would understand, or maybe not. But they were friends, and maybe friends did not need to apologize or thank each other for such things. Maybe she need not talk at all. She just cried.

THE END