A/N: Hi. OK, so it's been a few weeks, but I've been really busy and the point is, it's here now. This is a reasonably short and pointless chapter, but it really was needed because of the cliffhanger last chapter. This takes the focus completely off that, so you can figure out for yourself what's happened in the last 100 years or so. =P enjoy!

Epilogue:

A Reminiscence

It was like that day again. The day when he had truly reached the limits of despair, and when the sun had shone as it did now – a fierce, strengthening blaze – and when he had been sitting here, on this wall overlooking the vineyards. It was so similar, and yet so different. Perhaps, thought Hem, it was fate reminding him of how much he had changed since then, and how lucky he was to even be alive amongst all the beauty that was life. But then, Hem had never held much with fate, and ever since those events (aeons ago, it seemed to him) he had never held much with contemplating the past, either. The past could be troublesome, and if it was sweet to the mind to remember good times, it was a cloying sweetness, telling him to be joyful for what he had now, all these people who inexplicably loved him. And yet the urge to forget his principles overtook Hem, and he looked to the figure at his side.

"Ela, remember when we first met each other?"

The dark, lank hair shifted slightly, and he caught a glimpse of Ela's deep brown eyes. It was not completely clear what she was thinking, an unusual occurrence between two who had grown so close.

"Yes...why do you ask? It was an unremarkable occasion involving a self-pitying, collapsed you and a philosophical, startling me. Although now that I think about it, that sudden bout of perceptiveness was probably an early sign of what was to come...?" Her voice turned questioning.

"Perhaps...I still can't understand why you didn't accept Saliman's offer, though."

Ela moved her head slightly, and her eyebrows tensed almost imperceptibly. "I was disturbed by their frequency and didn't want to raise more fuss. My foster parents were angry enough at me for my choice to work in the Healing Houses, and as long as Saliman helped me to keep the sight under control, I didn't wish to become a Bard and risk their wrath further. They were so good to me, and it would be a poor repayment if I went against all their wishes. Anyway, it would have felt like a farce, for I am not a Bard – I just have a slight touch of the Gift. I can't do anything other than occasionally see, and that is limited. I don't mind being ordinary." A hint of petulance and a challenge appeared in her tones.

"I suppose. But then..." Hem's eyes clouded with unpleasant memories, and with a growing sense of trepidation he said what he knew he shouldn't say. "Maerad...I miss her."

"Oh, Hem! Stop blaming yourself for it! She lived for a very long time considering how bad her injuries were!" The fire in her eyes softened. "But I understand. She recovered almost perfectly, and then that was taken away from you. Still, you did share some amazing experiences before she died. Just remember those...You can be proud of yourself. The only reason she kept on living was you. You nursed her incredibly well, and Cadvan died before her, at her bedside. She died happy, Hem, and it was down to you."

Hem stared at her in wordless thanks, showing her his gratitude for coping with him all these years, putting up with his nonsense. She would die soon, he knew, for she had already lived for longer than could be expected of someone who had only a touch of Bardic blood. And so he put all the things he could never say for fear of sounding ridiculous, for fear of giving her false hope, into that look. I'm sorry, he added as an afterthought in mindspeech, and ridiculously happy that you've stayed with me so long.

Ela raised her head and looked back at him almost defiantly, seeming to ignore the gathering, girlish bloom which looked so out of place on her withered cheeks. You know why that is. And my original intentions still stand. I beg you, Hem, will you honour them?

"You know I cannot," he said carefully, measuring his words and the extent of the pain they would cause her. "When we tried, for that brief time a while ago, it didn't work. I just haven't been able to forget Zelika. I'm so sorry for this. I know that I could have loved you once, it's just that I am a different person. I really do appreciate all that you've done for me, and I almost can't bear the thought of you suffering so patiently. But I just can't. I hate myself for it, but it's the truth."

Instead of the small tantrums which had become common in their relationship, Hem heard a high, clear laugh, exuding contentment and satisfaction.

"You know, I'm happy. If you had accepted me, I would feel like a substitute, a replacement for Zelika. We're casual partners in all but name. We share a bed every night, and I know that you do feel for me. So...I'm happy, and I really do understand your feelings, Hem. I would do anything to make you feel happy."

Hem nodded, comprehending now Ela's simple devotion. He did not deserve it, he knew that; for one who had caused so much pain, he really was inordinately fortunate. In a way, it did not matter how long Ela lived, nor how much he missed Zelika. This was him. This was his own matter. He had lived a good life, tending to the ill of Turbansk, to make up for everything he had done, and while he still truly felt that it was never even going to begin to erase the total damage, it did help him to fall into the delusion that it would.

And so Hem, of the Circle of Turbansk, the Chosen One, looked up into an endless future, in which he could be free of suffering, free of inhibitions. That future would never be granted to him, but at that moment, the promise of the sky was too overwhelming, too majestic to deny. And so he sat there, on the boundaries of the greatest city that had ever been and, to his mind, ever would be, as the new day beckoned once again, invading the world with its splendour even as other parts of it were thrown into darkness, and as the life of the woman beside him ebbed away.

Perhaps it was finality that he craved. And perhaps, with this new day, he had achieved it.

A/N: Hehe. Sorry to have such an exposition-based chapter, but I kind of enjoyed the way it ties up the story. Despite the fact that's it's only an 8 chapter story, and those chapters are short, I enjoyed writing this and I feel I'm a much better writer than when I started. The pacing in this fic is horrible, and I'm sorry for everything. Post with final reviews, everyone! ~NSTaN