Chapter 10: Death Lingereth at the Door
"Where is Dírhael? He should be back by now." Cadoresa asked as she peered out the window for the umpteenth time.
Galad opened the door and peered out, concern wrinkles creasing his forehead. A whinny broke the still night. Blaze trotted up, still being used to the old family stable despite his three months at his new home. Cadoresa watched as Galad grabbed the horse's reins and quickly examined the beast.
"Do you think they were attacked?" Her voice became more frantic.
Galad buckled his sword around his waist and kissed his wife on the forehead. "I am going to make sure they were not," he whispered.
"Be careful!" she begged, pulling him close to press her lips against his.
It was thirty minutes before Galad came back, grim and silent. He made no mention of his return to the family and quietly hitched the plow horse to the wagon.
Cadoresa rushed out when she heard Galad coming up the road, nigh unto an hour and a half since he left. She let out a horrified scream, full of agony, pain and sorrow. Nearly fainting, she beheld and registered the contents of the wagon. Husband and wife embraced, Cadoresa's sobs racking her strong body. "No, no!" she moaned, aching all over.
"Courage Cadoresa," Galad choked. "Dírhael still draws breath, but barely. Help me get him into the house."
"Erumeldir, Astiwen, are they…" She couldn't bring herself to say the word, knowing the truth.
Galad nodded and hugged her again before turning to their remaining son.
Hopeful saw her father and mother come in carrying Dírhael. A frightened squeak escaped her lips and she rushed to the bed where they had laid her brother.
The young man's eyes were rolled back into his head and blood stained his nose and lips, smearing across his chin. His side contained a large gash; Galad had wrapped a hasty bandage around it when he had discovered his son's still breathing body. Already Dírhael's left eye was swollen and a nasty jagged cut, caked in mud and black blood, ran down his left temple.
Cadoresa worked hurriedly as her skilled fingers cleaned and wrapped her son's wounds. Hopeful hovered over Dírhael and Galad took two black coverlets out of the family chest; they had lain at the bottom for a long time, where they should have deteriorated rather than been used.
Cadoresa put on the last bandage and left the battered Dírhael in Hopeful's charge, returning outside to help and support Galad. He stood by the wagon, staring with tear-brimmed eyes. "It is hard, to bury one's own children," he murmured.
Words stuck in Cadoresa's throat and she laid a hand on his shoulder.
Hopeful came streaking out of the house to tell her mother that Dírhael had developed a fever but she stopped, shocked at the wagon. A cry, more animal like than human, escaped her lips as she crawled into the wagon and collapsed on her dead brother's body, crying. Cadoresa's lip quivered and she buried her head into Galad's shoulder. Then, remembering Dírhael, she raced back into the house.
The next morning, Glycin knocked on the door. Time and again the family told him just to come on in so he could share breakfast, yet he still had trouble bringing himself to doing that.
A pale Cadoresa opened the door, her eyes red-rimmed and nose red, looking as though she had not slept for a week.
"What is wrong?" he asked, for he had never seen her in such a state.
"Come and sit down. I shall try to tell you." She started sobbing again and embraced him in a hug, needing someone to help support her.
Confused, he wrapped his arms around her as he would his own mother.
Sniffing, she stepped back and sat down, with Glycin following suit. "I…I am not sure how to tell you this, Glycin."
"It is alright. Take your time and go slowly."
Choking, she began the gruesome tale of the night before, frequently taking breaks to blow her nose and compose herself for the umpteenth time.
Glycin's eyes widened as she explained about the deaths and that Dírhael was gravely injured. He got up and hugged her again, tears shining in his own eyes. "Do you have any idea who did this?"
"We identified the body as Tarcil, the Chieftain's younger son."
"What? I do not understand…"
"He wished for Astiwen's hand in marriage, but Erumeldir," she choked on her beloved son's name and paused for a minute. "My son won her heart long ago. If I could only have gotten my hands on that foul Tarcil while he was alive! I hate him so much! How could he do this? He took away two precious young lives who had a whole future before them! Now they will never live to see another day, and I might lose my other son as well!" The old anger she tried so hard to conceal came back and she desperately wished she could go out and beat Tarcil's lifeless body.
"May I see Dírhael? And how is sweet Hopeful? They were so close," he mused, wishing he could take the pain from his friends.
"Yes, please do. He would like that." She started to get up, but Glycin motioned for her to stay.
"I know the way to his room. It is fine."
"Hopeful is probably there now. She wanted to stay with him all night and I did not have the heart to make her go to bed. See if you can persuade her to at least take a nap?"
"That is the least I can do." He made his way to the room he had oft visited, sharing some male bonding time with the twins. Knowing Hopeful could not hear anyway, he stepped in without knocking. He found Hopeful beside the bed, holding Dírhael's motionless hand. He tiptoed over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder, unable to look at the injured man just yet. "Hopeful, sweet Hopeful, are you alright?" he asked, his voice tender and gentle, choked with emotion as the tears welled in his eyes.
Hopeful sprang up and buried her face in Glycin's shoulder, sobbing until her heart ached.
Glycin wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back, resting his head against hers. Tears formed in his own eyes and streamed into her soft hair as he tried to give his friend the only comfort he knew how to give. His heart ached especially for Hopeful. He knew Erumeldir was slightly closer to her simply by watching them together, even though nothing was ever said about it. He wished it had been him to die instead of his friend, since he had no family to speak of, no real home, and no wife. Why did Eru allow such things to happen to such good, kind people?
Hopeful relinquished her hold quickly as Dírhael moaned and bent worriedly over his prone figure. She rubbed her eyes sleepily after trying to give the wounded man a drink.
Noticing her fatigue, Glycin once more turned her to face him. "Hopeful, you have had a long enough turn. I will stay with your brother while you get some rest. It will not do him any good if you strain yourself too much and end up ill as well." He spoke slowly so she could read his lips, his eyes giving off a sad and concerned expression.
She nodded and walked heavily towards her room, too tired to argue.
Once Hopeful had retired, Glycin finally allowed himself to look at his friend. He gasped as he realized the extent of Dírhael's injuries. Half his head was swathed in a large bandage and the rest of his face would sport some nasty bruises for several days. The wounded man switched from sweating profusely to shivering in his fevered state. Spotting a glass of water on the bedside table, Glycin carefully lifted his friend and tried to pour some water in his mouth, sensing his thirst. He succeeded in getting his own arm wet. Then he noticed the spoon which sat next to the cup and attempted to use that instead. After three spoonfuls, Dírhael thrashed around, moaning and mumbling, and Glycin barely got the water back on the table in time to keep it from being spilled everywhere.
"Shh, Dírhael, it is me, Glycin. I sent Hopeful to bed…She will come back to see you later." He placed a hand on his friend's arm, hoping the touch would calm him along with his voice. What could he say? It would be a lie to say everything was alright, that everything would be fine when he got well. "Dírhael, please stay still. You cannot get well if you keep thrashing around like this." Hopeful had showed him the nasty wound in his side before taking her leave, so Glycin checked to make sure he hadn't torn the stitching.
Although he had duties at his own small cabin, he knew staying with Dírhael was more important. His tasks could wait while the hurting family could not. If only it were he that had died in Erumeldir's place! He had learned about Galad's deceased parents, and Cadoresa's late father and brother. Now they had lost their dear son and daughter-in-law. They were such a close-knit group, unlike his own family.
Shaking himself, Glycin focused on the present. Dírhael still sweated and moaned, so he offered him more water. This would be a long day, but he would not fail anyone else.
Swirling darkness and fire, an everlasting devouring fire that encircled him. Voices crowded his heated mind. Blood pooled about his ankles sucking the life out of his soul. He could not get out!
Glycin sat with Dírhael several hours, checking his wounds and changing his blood-soaked bandages from time to time. Then Cadoresa knocked and entered. "Thank you for staying with him, Glycin. I needed the rest. How is he?"
The young man looked up at the grieving mother, her eyes still rimmed with red and the deep pain reflecting within their blue depths. "There has been no change. I am sorry. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No. Just giving me some time was more than enough. However, I would ask that you take special care of Hopeful in these coming days. She and Erumeldir were extremely close, as you know, and I am afraid for her." Tears once again streamed down her cheeks, and she made no effort to hold them back. Glycin got up and embraced her; she made him think of his own mother. "Glycin, Hopeful has never really had friends until you came along. Her brothers, Galad and I were all she had, and somewhat Astiwen. But now, two of them are gone."
Rubbing her back, the young man sighed as a mist formed in his own eyes. "I will. She is a dear friend to me. I need to check on some things at home, but I will return later. Send someone for me if you need me, alright?" He stepped back and looked her in the eye.
"I will. Thank you, Glycin." He left the room, his heart weighted down within him and his steps dragging.
A/N: I promise there is a purpose behind this! We did not kill people off just to give you an emotional overhaul. I begged and pleaded with my coauthor to figure out some other way, but this is how it has to be. So please stick with us!