Chapter 11: Broken

Back in Dírhael's room, his mother took her place beside him and covered his hand with hers. "Dírhael, my sweet son, I love you. Please, get well for my sake, and Hopeful's. We need you!"

"Any change?" Galad asked, stepping in. His eyes seemed ancient, filled with the hard blow that had smote the family. He laid a comforting hand on Cadoresa's shoulder.

A cruel blade sped towards him, no escape! As Dírhael's hand clenched the bed, his knuckles grew white with straining. His eyes popped open but they did not see what was before them. Pain contorted his features and a strangled cry escaped his lips.

"Dírhael, sweetie!" Cadoresa cried. "Mother is here." She checked his wounds for the umpteenth time before turning to her husband, her eyes glazed over with grief. "No, my love. He is the same." She turned and buried herself in his chest and snuggled there a moment, needing his warm strength. Even losing her father and brother hadn't been this hard, a time when she thought she wanted to give up life itself. Her brother, Thandraug, had always been close to her and died in her arms. He left her on an island, alone – that is, until she met Galad.

At last, she composed herself. "Will you stay with him? Perhaps some feverfew tea will help. It should at least calm his pain."

"Yes, darling," Galad murmured. He took a seat by his son, rubbing the white hand still gripping the bedside.

Dírhael panted for breath as it grew worse. "Nooo!" he screamed feverishly. He twisted violently and Galad jumped up to hold him down. Dírhael's eyes rolled back into his head and groaned loudly.

Cadoresa returned with the tea and set it down as soon as she saw the scene. "Galad! What is happening? We need to send for a healer soon!" She rushed over to the bed and grasped their son's hand.

"Erumeldir!"

Galad struggled with his delirious son, his crazed fury making it hard to hold him.

"Don't leave me!"

"It is getting worse." Galad confirmed.

"Murderer!"

Cadoresa tightly held Dírhael's hand. "I promise we will not leave you, sweetie. No one is going to murder you! You are safe. Tarcil is dead. He cannot hurt anyone ever again." She gently stroked his sweaty head.

Glycin walked in the house once again, not bothering to knock since he did not want to disturb anyone. His gait slowed as he reached the bedroom and heard Galad and Cadoresa; if both were in there, things must be worse. "Galad? Cadoresa?" he asked, stepping in the doorway. "Is Dírhael worse?"

Looking at him with a tear-stained face, the heartbroken mother choked out her reply. "Yes. We need a healer or else I am afraid he may not make it."

Glycin's eyes widened. "I will go. Just give me some names and directions."

Cadoresa let her husband care for that bit and Glycin practically raced back to his home and saddled Crispin in record time. He pushed his steed onward for half a day and finally arrived in the specified village. It took longer than he liked to locate the home and he finally knocked on the door.

Tossing aside a stained parchment, the healer shuffled to the door, whereupon he saw a young man in evident haste.

Dírhael thrashed again, sweat pouring from his forehead. Gritting his teeth he tried to escape the wave of darkness behind him. "Dead," he moaned, "the dark, dying." The blackness churned at his feet. His fierce struggles abated, replaced by unintelligible rantings.

His mother squeezed his hand again, unwilling to let him go. "Dírhael! You are not going to die! You cannot die!" she sobbed. "We need you!"

"What is wrong?" the healer asked, knowing all too well the usual response.

Glycin looked at the man. "Please, I need you to come to Evendim at once." He quickly explained the situation while the healer gathered his things. The healer's wife and daughter, Cylliel, came up as Glycin explained.

"Papa, please, may I come with you?" Cylliel begged.

"No, dearest daughter. I need you to stay here in case someone has need of my services while I am away. You have learned quickly and I know you will take good care of our village."

"Yes, Papa, I will."

He kissed her on the forehead, then turned to his wife and caressed her, bidding both farewell.

Soon the healer and Glycin were off. The young man knew poor Crispin should rest, but he needed to get back to the farm, to Hopeful and Dírhael. Before it was too late. Even now it would be well past dark before he made it back.

"Here, take my horse!" the old man exclaimed when he saw Glycin about to mount his own steed, who looked rather worse for the wear. "Yours would never make it back. We would have to shoot it. It can rest here and you can come back for yours."

The men didn't bother to saddle either horse and raced off.

They galloped incessantly into the night until they came upon the cabin. The healer worked unremittingly through the night and even into the next day, grinding herbs, ordering boiling water, waving pungent salts under the young man's nose. Finally, about midday, the healer sighed and turned to the grieving family, who huddled in a corner watching him work ceaselessly on their son.

"I cannot do anything more for him," he apologized. "He likely will not survive the night. If the fever breaks and he wakes before dawn, he will survive. But that would take a miracle." He wrapped his cloak around him and shortly afterward the horse's hooves could be heard fading into the distance.

Galad held Cadoresa close as she wept and Glycin sat down by Hopeful, his heart too heavy to explain the doctor's message.

Dírhael lay on the bed, his face pale and drawn, the ceaseless murmurings silenced, perhaps forever. The four took turns sitting by the sick bed; watching, hoping, waiting. The afternoon passed into evening, evening into night. Around midnight, Glycin took up his post after refilling the glass of water. A low moan startled him from his thoughts and practically nonexistent hope.

"Dírhael," he called softly, "come on, come out of it! Come back. We need you." He looked expectantly at the still face, his visible eye still closed in deadly slumber.

Words faint and seemingly from a distance formed on Dírhael's lips. "I can't."

"Yes you can!" Glycin encouraged.

"The darkness…pulling me in."

"Fight it!"

"I was too late. I could have saved them. Let me go."

Glycin jumped up, his words growing stern. "But we need you! Think of your parents! Your sister! Fight!"

Galad and Cadoresa were woken by Glycin's shouts and they quickly rushed over to the bed.

"So…so dark…"

"Come on son," Galad urged.

Cadoresa squeezed her husband's arm tightly, watching her son struggle with death.

"Can't…"

"Dírhael," Cadoresa begged.

"Fight!"

"The dark…"

Glycin ran up to Hopeful's bed and brought her to the sick bed. He traced the words quickly on her hand and she knelt by Dírhael, taking his hand.

"Dírhael," she breathed.

Silence followed; Dírhael took a shuddering breath, then another, and another. His eye flickered open, the other veiled by the bandage. "Where am I?" he moaned.

Cadoresa ran to her son's other side. "Dírhael! My son! You are home, in your room, with us." She tenderly kissed his forehead, just as she had when he was but a wee little tyke. Brushing the hair from his good eye, she spoke again as her tears dripped onto the blankets surrounding her son. "I love you. I was so afraid we were going to lose you!" Her eyes now flooded with relief yet retained the sharp sting of grief in their deep blue depths. She covered his hand with both of hers, reluctant to let her remaining son go.

"I lost them." he sighed weakly. "If I had gotten there sooner…"

"No, sweetie, no!" Cadoresa cried. "If Astiwen had not left her sewing you would not have been there at all, and that evil Tarcil would still be running around murdering more people. At least I am guessing you killed him?"

"I do not know…all muddled." He closed his eye and tried to focus, but all was stained in blood and darkness. He shivered and opened his eye. "We talked...before," he choked a bit and coughed, unable to form his dear twin's name, "he died."

"Oh Dírhael, honey!" His mother sobbed full force. Finally she choked out, "What did he say?"

Glycin stepped over to Hopeful and silently told her what was going on, knowing she needed some semblance of closure.

"To protect the family," Dírhael sobbed, "that he had failed. I was the one to fail; they might still be here if I had come sooner."

Throwing her arms around him, Cadoresa embraced her son. "No, Dírhael, do not say that! Neither of you failed. Just think, he would have died alone had you not been there, and none of us could deal with that. You did all you could. I do not know why he and Astiwen had to die, when they had their whole lives ahead of them. But I do know it was not your fault, and you did the best you could. Sweetie, I blamed myself when my brother died. But your father, over the years, helped me see he made his own choices. He did and I cannot change that no matter what I do."

Tears shone in Glycin's eyes as he watched, listened, and signed everything that went on to Hopeful. He couldn't think of anything to tell Dírhael, except nod his head in agreement with Cadoresa.

"Son, it is not your fault! You cannot foresee the bad in this world. You cannot stop everything," Galad assured.

"Then why did I not die in their place? They had a future, a life ahead of them," Dírhael wheezed. "Surely I have naught ahead of me now."

Tears streamed down Cadoresa's cheeks. "Look at me, Dírhael." Her tone was firm yet full of her love for her remaining son. "We need you! I honestly do not know what you are feeling right now, since I never had a twin. I cannot even imagine what it is like. Think of your sister if no one else. If she feels anything like I did when my brother died, she needs you now more than ever. She has already lost one brother, and Astiwen. You, me, your father, and Glycin are the only people left for her. When Thandraug passed away and I finally found Gwerraent, I needed him. I would not have admitted it then, but having him there for me helped tremendously and we grew closer because of it. I know it is different since there are seven years between my oldest brother and I and we were never close like you and Hopeful are, at least not until we were shipwrecked." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Sweetie, it takes such a long time to heal from these things, and we never fully get better. But you can learn to live with the pain. We all will have to do this. You do have a future ahead of you! You just have to find it."

Glycin quickly told Hopeful to go and tell her brother she needed him.

Hopeful crossed over to the bed and knelt by Dírhael, laying her head on his hand. He smiled faintly and took a deep breath, grimacing as his side protested. Sleep overtook him, a deep sleep without dark dreams.

Galad stood up and grabbed his cloak. "I will be back in a few days with the chieftain."

Leaving her son's side, Cadoresa slipped her arms around her husband. "Be careful, sweetheart." She laid a long kiss on his lips before letting him go.

Glycin spoke up; Cadoresa had forgotten he was there. "I will help care for things around here while you are gone."

"Thank you, lad," Galad smiled wearily. He kissed Cadoresa one last time and left the house.