La Memoria
"These mist-covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be.
Someday you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn to be
Brothers in arms.
Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I witnessed your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though it had hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My Brothers in arms
There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
We have just one world
But we live in different ones
Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the starlight
And in the lines on your palm
We're fools to make war on our
Brothers in arms."
~Brothers in Arms; Dire Straits
Night had long since fallen on the Rhy'Din continent by the time he'd made it here.
It was as it should be.
Renne had by now been in Rhy'Din for some weeks, finding himself either alone at the Docks and a barren patch of land where a wooden legend once stood or in a hidden place with one of his last living heroes. It wasn't anywhere close to what he was before but 'Nathan, Cinder and Archie in their various ways, both nearby and distant, had kept him alive, kept him going for another year.
Now it was time to keep company with the dead.
He left before dawn this morning and fetched Ty'Rekh.
When he reached the Glen's edge, Renne allowed his little pony to remain close by. No one, however, was permitted beyond the borders of this green little place.
When the sun had set and he crossed into the Glen's interior, Renne stopped short.
His breath stopped short.
And tears fell from his eyes.
Where is Pendrell?
It was hard to believe so much time had passed since then.
Dead.
He let the tears fall from hardened, jaded eyes. He let his eyes turn that rare shade of green that reflected emerald life no longer in existence.
The night was as quiet as it was eight years prior -- for which, Renne was glad. He couldn't deal with another thunderstorm. Not tonight. In this quiet, he listened to the wind and for a moment, fancied he could hear the voices of lost heroes on the night air. Progressing further into the living sanctuary for a dead man, he found his Relic just as it was last year, and the years preceding.
The stone was smooth and cool, undisturbed by spider's webs or animal markings.
The name plate was readable.
The date was marked in plain script.
But the roses had died and turned to dust.
The dead roses weren't touched.
Removing new, living roses that stuck out of his pocket, Renne placed them at the statue's feet. Yes, these were a vast improvement over brown and ashen dust. These were bold, vibrant and alive.
Alive.
Renne knelt at his place in front of his Relic and leaned forward. Beneath the name plate, he felt the little slot and from this slot, he pulled out the fragile, folded paper. His fingers unfolded the message gingerly as his ears twitched at the crisp sound of moving paper.
The ink was faded and lacked any raised properties but he didn't need raised ink to know what the message said.
Two years after Kyra had told him, he had met Eladimyr and had this in his possession. Eladimyr had spoken of a curse and disappeared when the sun rose over the horizon.
The curse was broken.
Eladimyr was never seen again.
"You know me?"
"I do."
"What shade are your eyes?"
"Green."
"I bet they shine like emeralds."
"They do, Reanne. They do."
Lost. I am lost.
No one said his name like that except he. It was what proved who Eladimyr was but the sunrise was not a herald for another golden age.
Kyra had long since vanished.
Odin had visited the Relic once, never setting foot in Rhy'Din again.
The others had been for years, gone into the mists of who-knows-where.
Only Renne remained now and this night, he sat like he always did in the years before. It was painful, the silence of this place. It was painful, the feel of aged paper in his hands.
It was just a statue.
It was just a piece of paper.
He was just another among Rhy'Din's dead.
As the night drew slowly on and seemed to grow longer, Renne didn't move. He held that old letter. He wore his silver medallion. He sat naked from the belt up.
He sat there, naked on the outside.
And just as naked on the inside.
Renne lapsed between long silences and moments of softly whispered song. He had sung the NightRunner anthem to Pendrell once. Days after, they sang it together and they had become T'hy'la.
Months after, Pendrell was dead.
Years after, Renne sang and remembered his promise.
Thinking and not thinking, he placed the letter onto his lap and pulled out a small silver blade, holding its point lightly against his chest. He remained frozen like that as the old promise echoed in his mind.
The letter was then folded and put away.
The thin blade was placed atop the blooming red roses.
Green.
Renne whispered an old promise to the dead.
I bet they shine like emeralds.
~<>~
(( This is a single moment meant only for this single day. It takes place in current time. Subsequent chapters in Long Night and the upcoming Sticks and Stones will be marked with appropriate dates to keep the timeline going smoothly. ))
"These mist-covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be.
Someday you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn to be
Brothers in arms.
Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I witnessed your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though it had hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My Brothers in arms
There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
We have just one world
But we live in different ones
Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the starlight
And in the lines on your palm
We're fools to make war on our
Brothers in arms."
~Brothers in Arms; Dire Straits
Night had long since fallen on the Rhy'Din continent by the time he'd made it here.
It was as it should be.
Renne had by now been in Rhy'Din for some weeks, finding himself either alone at the Docks and a barren patch of land where a wooden legend once stood or in a hidden place with one of his last living heroes. It wasn't anywhere close to what he was before but 'Nathan, Cinder and Archie in their various ways, both nearby and distant, had kept him alive, kept him going for another year.
Now it was time to keep company with the dead.
He left before dawn this morning and fetched Ty'Rekh.
When he reached the Glen's edge, Renne allowed his little pony to remain close by. No one, however, was permitted beyond the borders of this green little place.
When the sun had set and he crossed into the Glen's interior, Renne stopped short.
His breath stopped short.
And tears fell from his eyes.
Where is Pendrell?
It was hard to believe so much time had passed since then.
Dead.
He let the tears fall from hardened, jaded eyes. He let his eyes turn that rare shade of green that reflected emerald life no longer in existence.
The night was as quiet as it was eight years prior -- for which, Renne was glad. He couldn't deal with another thunderstorm. Not tonight. In this quiet, he listened to the wind and for a moment, fancied he could hear the voices of lost heroes on the night air. Progressing further into the living sanctuary for a dead man, he found his Relic just as it was last year, and the years preceding.
The stone was smooth and cool, undisturbed by spider's webs or animal markings.
The name plate was readable.
The date was marked in plain script.
But the roses had died and turned to dust.
The dead roses weren't touched.
Removing new, living roses that stuck out of his pocket, Renne placed them at the statue's feet. Yes, these were a vast improvement over brown and ashen dust. These were bold, vibrant and alive.
Alive.
Renne knelt at his place in front of his Relic and leaned forward. Beneath the name plate, he felt the little slot and from this slot, he pulled out the fragile, folded paper. His fingers unfolded the message gingerly as his ears twitched at the crisp sound of moving paper.
The ink was faded and lacked any raised properties but he didn't need raised ink to know what the message said.
Two years after Kyra had told him, he had met Eladimyr and had this in his possession. Eladimyr had spoken of a curse and disappeared when the sun rose over the horizon.
The curse was broken.
Eladimyr was never seen again.
"You know me?"
"I do."
"What shade are your eyes?"
"Green."
"I bet they shine like emeralds."
"They do, Reanne. They do."
Lost. I am lost.
No one said his name like that except he. It was what proved who Eladimyr was but the sunrise was not a herald for another golden age.
Kyra had long since vanished.
Odin had visited the Relic once, never setting foot in Rhy'Din again.
The others had been for years, gone into the mists of who-knows-where.
Only Renne remained now and this night, he sat like he always did in the years before. It was painful, the silence of this place. It was painful, the feel of aged paper in his hands.
It was just a statue.
It was just a piece of paper.
He was just another among Rhy'Din's dead.
As the night drew slowly on and seemed to grow longer, Renne didn't move. He held that old letter. He wore his silver medallion. He sat naked from the belt up.
He sat there, naked on the outside.
And just as naked on the inside.
Renne lapsed between long silences and moments of softly whispered song. He had sung the NightRunner anthem to Pendrell once. Days after, they sang it together and they had become T'hy'la.
Months after, Pendrell was dead.
Years after, Renne sang and remembered his promise.
Thinking and not thinking, he placed the letter onto his lap and pulled out a small silver blade, holding its point lightly against his chest. He remained frozen like that as the old promise echoed in his mind.
The letter was then folded and put away.
The thin blade was placed atop the blooming red roses.
Green.
Renne whispered an old promise to the dead.
I bet they shine like emeralds.
~<>~
(( This is a single moment meant only for this single day. It takes place in current time. Subsequent chapters in Long Night and the upcoming Sticks and Stones will be marked with appropriate dates to keep the timeline going smoothly. ))