Dear Caladwen, Thank you so much for your reviews! Both of us appreciate it! Dírhael thanks you for the well-wishes. :)
Chapter 12: Learning to live again
A week later Galad returned, the chieftain, his wife, and eldest son riding with him. Galad invited them into the house.
Cadoresa prepared lunch, Glycin sharped the slicing knives, and Dírhael lay restlessly on the bed with Hopeful sitting beside him. The Chieftain bowed to Cadoresa.
"I grieve your loss, ma'am," he said softly. "Here is a sufficient sum for a wergild.*" He offered a bag of gold to her, his wife and son standing solemnly behind him.
A stern glare on her face and pain flashing in her eyes, Cadoresa took a deep breath to compose herself before shoving the offering back at him. "Chieftain Argonui, no amount of gold can ever replace my lost son and daughter-in-law. Tell me one thing: why did your son do this to us? Erumeldir and Astiwen had their whole lives ahead of them!" Her eyes flashed with grief and anger, even though she knew in her heart the chieftain grieved his own son and had nothing to do with the gruesome murders.
"I do not know, ma'am," the chieftain said, straightening.
"I do," young Arador stated, despite the sharp glance from his mother. "Tarcil vowed to kill the man who stole his bride. Later he began to plot your whole family's deaths. 'One at a time' he would laugh. 'You too, brother, if you do not keep your mouth shut.' In my fear, I let him bully me into silence. I am sorry."
Cadoresa's hand snaked out as she backhanded the startled young man on his right cheek. "Your silence cost us the lives of our son and daughter-in-law. Dírhael came close to death because of you. Get out of my house before I hurt you worse. You do not deserve to live either. May their bloodguilt ever be on your hands!" She glared at him, daring him to defy her.
Arador bowed and left the house, his mother following close behind. The chieftain sat the bag down on the table and turned out of the home. Galad hugged Cadoresa and Hopeful stared, confused. Dírhael was quiet and the darkness whirled in the back of his mind.
Emotionally exhausted, Cadoresa sobbed against Galad's chest.
Glycin, rather shocked at the display of passionate anger, made his way to Hopeful's side to try to explain things, although he himself didn't have words.
"Courage, sweetheart!" Galad whispered, kissing the top of her head.
Hopeful grabbed her paper and quill and wrote: Dírhael is not well. Ask him what is wrong.
She handed the note to Glycin and he read it silently. Then he made his way to the bed. "Dírhael? What is the matter?"
"Nothing," Dírhael lied. "Just…my head."
Concerned, Glycin looked into the broken man's good eye. "Hopeful is concerned about you. I will get you some willow bark tea, but I know your pain is not just in your head and is something tea will not fix. I miss him too. Both of you, and Hopeful, have been the best friends I have had in a long time. Will you not tell me about it?"
"I am broken, Glycin, and I do not know how to put the pieces back together."
The man from Rohan sighed. "Will talking about it help? I am here to listen. Do you want that tea first?"
"Yes, thank you," Dírhael murmured.
Glycin returned shortly with the tea and the injured man drank it halfheartedly.
"It is like a piece of me is lost. Everything he ever said to me keeps playing over and over in my mind; and every time I feel less like myself."
"Dírhael, I honestly do not think you will be the same man you were before. But you can overcome this. I would gladly have died in both their steads, but here both of us are, alive."
Dírhael nodded. "Just tell Hopeful that I am fine."
His friend sighed again. "Dírhael, I cannot lie to her like that. She is hurting as much as you are." Pausing a minute, he wondered just what to say. "You know, sometimes people have to accept that something is not alright, but that fact is fine. It is a terrible thing that three people died, but if we just went on with life like normal that would not be right. Everyone needs their time to grieve, to process the events and accept them as something they cannot change."
"But I need to be strong for the others," Dírhael protested.
"Dírhael, you are being strong! Being strong does not mean you cannot feel sad or grieve. In fact, I think some of the strongest people are those who grieve the hardest. You did all you could do. Quit beating yourself up! This is not your fault and never will be. You can show your strength by letting your family know yes, something bad did happen, but you are not going to let it ruin your whole life. You have a future before you once you heal. You cannot find it if you refuse to forgive yourself. I know it is hard. I will always be haunted by the look in my mother's eyes as she breathed her last after making me promise to escape my brutal, abusive father." He paused and took a deep breath, letting out a small sigh. "I had to leave her lifeless body in our house. I have no idea if my father or someone else even gave her a proper burial! I blamed myself for not protecting her better." A small tear rolled down his cheek, and he made no effort to wipe it away. "But then I realized that I had done all I could do. She never blamed me for what happened; I was not the one who beat her senseless in a drunken rage. Just like you did not kill Erumeldir and Astiwen. You were there for him in the end, and I know he appreciated that." He could go no further, his voice too choked with emotion as his own memories rushed back and piled grief upon grief.
"Glycin, Glycin!" his mother had moaned as he stepped in the door, returning from farm work.
"I'm here, Mother!" he cried as he rushed to her side. Blood poured from her mouth where her broken ribs had punctured both her lungs. Her left arm hung at an awkward angle, broken in several places. Her right leg looked even worse, a bone poking up and through her skirt along her shin. "Mother, what happened?" He assessed her injuries as she spoke, her breathing labored.
"Your…father," she panted. "I...used my egg money for fabric. He...beat it...out of me."
Leaving her side, he searched for some bandages, all the while keeping a lookout for his father. When he came back, his mother admonished him.
"Glycin, dear one," she reached her good arm up to lay her hand on his cheek. "You have to get away from here. It's too late for me."
"Mother, no!"
"Son, listen to me. My body is broken beyond repair." She coughed, wincing in her pain as she couldn't avoid the blood that came out and stained her bodice. "Leave word with the Rohirrim about Cyrith. They can keep her from coming back here, although I doubt she will, since she loved that man. Now promise me you will leave tonight!" His sister had been 16 when she ran away last year and they had not heard from her since then.
"Mother, I cannot leave you!"
"Glycin, I'm dying! Your father has no mercy. You must leave. Please, promise me!"
"Alright, Mother, I will." He took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his mother's bruised face. "I love you, Mother. I am so sorry I was not here to protect you!" Tears formed in his eyes as he blamed himself for the tragedy.
"Glycin, look at me!" Her voice was surprisingly strong. "It is not your fault. You cannot be by my side all the time. It would have happened sooner or later, with or without you here." She laid back and closed her eyes, exhausted from the effort of talking. Her breathing slowed as Glycin held her hand, the pressure against him rapidly decreasing. "Mother? Mother?" he asked, knowing full well she was dead when she let out a last, strangled cough. A loud crash sounded at the front door as his drunken father blundered his way inside. After a quick glance at his mother, he rushed out the back door and into the barn, where he saddled Crispin and rode like the wind, nothing with him but the clothes on his back. He wandered about until he arrived in Evendim. His journeying proved a necessary time to process the events and he learned not to blame himself for his mother's death.
Dírhael was silent as his friend reminisced, his gaze flickering on the ground. "I'm sorry," he rasped. "I did not mean to make it worse."
"No, I should not have brought it up. I am sorry. You did not need that, not now."
Dírhael smiled faintly. "Ask Hopeful when I can get up."
Glycin smiled as well and patted his friend's hand. "Now that I can do!"
He left the room and found Hopeful in the kitchen. "Dírhael needs some time. But he is rather anxious to get out of that bed. How long does he have to stay there?"
Hopeful's eyes widened and she marched over to the sick bed and placed a gentle, but restraining hand on Dírhael's chest. Her eyes spoke volumes. "Move and I will kill you."
Dírhael managed a choky laugh and she smiled.
Glycin chuckled as well. "I guess that means you have to stay in bed a while longer!" His eyes turned serious again after that flash of mirth. "Is there anything I can get you?" He understood the longing hidden in his eyes, missing the fresh outdoors both men loved so well.
"Nay," Dírhael said. "I need nothing else."
Glycin gave a sad smile to his friend and exited the room to be replaced by Cadoresa. She had excused herself and gone to the room she shared with her husband. There she gathered her writing implements and sat down to compose a letter for her sweet daughter.
My dearest, precious daughter Hopeful,
In our time of grief, I feel writing you is a better way to express my feelings on our great tragedy. I too grieve over Erumeldir and Astiwen; as I dwell on your relationship with him, I have been plagued with memories of my brother Thandraug. I know I have not told you much about him, only Gwerraent. Thandraug was two years older than I and we were very close, so much like you and Erumeldir. However, when we were captured by the corsairs to be sold as slaves and later shipwrecked, he died in my arms. I was completely devastated. The one person who had always been there for me, through all my best and worst times, was no longer with me. Not to mention that I was now alone on a strange island with no way to get back home. It seemed as though life could not go on, especially in those first few hours. Yet you know that is how I met your precious father. While nothing could ever replace my relationship with Thandraug, when I finally located Gwerraent the two of us became close through our shared grief. However, I know it is different with you since you have been close to both your sweet brothers, whereas Gwerraent always treated Thandraug and I as annoying little children. I dearly hope your relationship with Dírhael will become even better through our trial, and you have Glycin here for you, as well as your father and I.
What you cannot do is let your grief consume you like I did. I let myself become an angry, bitter person, taking out my anger on anyone who refused to conform to my ways. While I know you could never be like that, I do want to warn you it is possible. What I had to do was let go of my brother, accept the fact that he had left this world and would not come back. There was nothing I could have done to change things, as much as I wished I could and that I had died in his place. It was so hard to face that, and I needed several days, weeks even, to process his death before I could even think about recovering from it. But through Gwerraent and Galad's tender love and care for me, I slowly overcame my grief and realized I could go through life without him, even though it has never been the same. Honestly, it was quite painful for those weeks in Dol Amroth before my wedding. Everywhere I looked I was reminded of my dearly departed father and brother. As much as I missed Mother and Gwerraent, moving here with your father came as a welcome change and I have never regretted it.
Sweetheart, I am honestly still struggling with anger towards the chieftain's family. While I know they did not do anything, that it was only Tarcil, I cannot help but blame Arador for not speaking up. Please, find it in your heart to forgive them, because I cannot just yet. I believe over time I will calm down. Do not be like me, whatever you do. Your mother is such a failure. I am sorry, my sweet one.
I love you, Hopeful. Stay true to your name and keep up your hope. You know that all of us would do anything to take away your pain, yet that is something you must work through yourself, with our help, of course. Dear one, we will get through this together!
From your loving,
Mother
Folding the paper, she got up and went back to Dírhael's room. She presented it to her daughter. "Hopeful, this is for you to read when you feel ready," she spoke slowly so Hopeful could read her lips, then embraced her as the all-too-common tears formed in her eyes.
*In case you are unfamiliar with the term, it refers to a sum of money given to a family by the members of the killer's family.