Movement III: Requiem (I)

    “We have lost many loved ones today,” Haldad said gravely as his people gathered in the hall, cups of wine in their hands. All were dressed in mourning colors of black and dark gray, although a few wore white. Some, mostly those who had lost family, had cut their hair as well, as had Haleth, even though she had lost no one in this battle. Haldar and Haldad had not done so, and though Haldar had tried to discourage her from this act, Haleth had been adamant.
    “They are my people,” she had said. “I, too, mourn their loss.” Haldad had curtly told his son to leave Haleth alone, and he had fallen silent.
    Haldar and Janya wore deep gray where they stood together towards the back of the crowd. Haldad wore black in respect of his people, as did his daughter, who stood behind him and slightly to the right, where Haldar should have been standing, but Haldad had asked his daughter to stand in that position. She wondered at that, for that position in her father’s shadow should have been his son and heir’s, but decided that Haldad had chosen her because his son was newly wed.
    Her chin-length hair felt light, as she had always had a long, heavy braid, but she ignored it as she took Haldad’s goblet and handed it to her father. “We shall always remember them and their sacrifice for us. Hail the courageous fallen,” he intoned as he lifted his cup and drank. The entire hall rumbled and echoed him, lifting their own cups of beer and wine.
    Haleth drank only well-watered wine at her own choice, remembering what had happened the last time she had gotten drunk.
    Others followed his salute, some toasting comrades, others loved ones, but everyone hushed when Cullan, his eyes red with tears, strode inside and took a cup from one of the serving women.
    “I would salute one who has not yet been acknowledged this day.” He paused, and thoughts flitted through the crowd’s minds. Would he salute his son? Haldar? Haldad?
    No one, however, came near the truth. “I would salute the Lady Haleth, daughter of Haldad, healer and warrior.” Everyone was silent as he finished drinking, and then the hall burst into chatter. Haldad did not try to stop them, for he knew that they needed to speak their minds to one another in this.
    As Haleth watched Cullan, the warrior approached her. His bearing was not friendly, but neither was it his usual antagonism towards her.
    “I thank you, Haleth, for saving my son’s life.” He drew in a shuddering breath, and she realized how much he loved his son. “He will live, whole and unmaimed because of your actions today.” He bowed and left before she could form a response.
    Malron appeared at her side like a wraith, and she started when his hand descended upon her shoulder. “He is not you friend, but neither is he your enemy. You have done well, Haleth,” he said.
    Haldar might have been indignant that a mere armsmaster dared to speak to Haldad’s heir thus, but Haleth smiled as if she were a small child and someone had told her that she was a good girl. She had grown to value Malron’s opinion more than her blood-brother’s and they who had been once inseparable had drifted apart, Haldar to Janya and Haleth to Malron.
    “I had best leave,” he excused himself when he saw Arion approaching them. He disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, and Arion smiled to see Haleth alone.
    “May I speak with you, Haleth?” he asked. She nodded, and he led her outside. Although it was cold, for winter was barely over, Arion did not seem to notice the weather. “Haleth, surely you know that I love you,” he began.
    Haleth blinked. She hadn’t known that, and said as much.
    “Well, now you do,” he said with irrepressible mirth. “Your father gave me permission to seek your hand, but I want to know how you feel about wedding me.”
    She blinked again. In all of her daydreams, warrior women did not wed. “Arion, we might die the next day,” she said in reply.
    “Janya and Haldar wed.”
    “But they had reached an understanding years ago.” Arion made her feel very clumsy and confused, so she reached for any excuse. “And I won’t give up fighting.”
    “I’m not asking you to. All I ask is that we be partners, and if you wish to fight at my side, I will not gainsay you.”
    “What about children?”
    “What about them?”
    “Do you want them? I do not. I dare not, if I go forth into battle.”
    “Whatever you want, Haleth,” Arion answered blithely, and she groaned to herself. Arion was infatuated and would do anything she asked, and she did not want that kind of a husband, if she even wanted one at all. She did not want to be tied to an adoring puppy for the rest of her life. But she did consider his proposal though. If she was to be wed, she would have chosen him.
    Or perhaps Gelvar, but never Malron. They worked together seamlessly as brother and sister, and as leader and follower. Marriage would only destroy the close relationship they had, and she doubted that marriage could even form a closer bond than the one they had.
    “Only after the war is over,” she said at last. “I will not consider your proposal until our people are safe.”
    He nodded, disappointment painted upon his face, but he said graciously, “As you wish.” He bowed with a touch of stiffness and then left, leaving Haleth alone.
    “In-ter-es-ting,” Malron drawled from the shadows, stretching out each syllable as if it were a magical incantation.
    She whirled around to find him lounging against a tree, and snapped, “You eavesdropped on me!”
    “No eaves here, but yes, I spied on you.”
    “Why?”
    “I have my reasons.” When he refused to answer her indignant questions, she flung out, “Why, do you want to wed me?”
    He stared at her with shocked blue-gray eyes for one moment before bursting into laughter. “No, Haleth. You are my sister, and that is all I ever wished.”
    She subsided, but anger rankled inside her that although she had given all of her secrets into his care, Malron always withheld something from her.
    “Eventually you will learn everything,” he promised her, reading her emotions on her face. Haleth let down her masks only with him, and he appreciated that, but that would not be enough to give her all of his secrets quite yet.
    “Haleth?” she heard and recognized Haldar’s voice. “Haleth? Father wants to speak with you and Malron.”
    “All right,” she called back, and walked back inside, Malron trailing her. When she had seated herself on the floor before him, looking up with expectant eyes, he did not disappoint her.
    “Arion proposed to you,” Haldad said. “And I sincerely hope you refused him.”
    “Father!”
    “Haleth, I need you, and not as his wife but at my side. I am no longer young as I once was, and Haldar will wish to spend time with his new wife. Malron, I need you to take the field, and I want you directing the defense,” he said to Haleth.
    Her mouth dropped open and Haldad shut it with a chuckle, but there was a faint kernel of sorrow and bitterness in his mirth.
    “I wish that I did not have to burden you with this work, Haleth,” he said. “Command is not a game, Haleth. Neither is war, but I expect you knew that already. Run along now, dear.”
    She obeyed without a thought, and it was only when she was at the door to Malron’s hall that she reflected that although Haldad might have promoted her, she would still always be his daughter first and foremost.
    She was still smiling at the thought when she drifted into sleep.

    “You cannot do this to her,” Malron said angrily.
    “You urged me before to let her rule the Haladin. Better she begin now than later.”
    “What of Haldar? He will be jealous. And do you intend to let her command the archers and the injured? How many will you insult? Think of Haleth, my friend. You should be leading them, not your daughter, or at least your heir!”
    “You know as well as I do that Haldar cannot lead,” Haldad said evenly. “He is too caught up in his new marriage, and he cannot command respect. Do you truly think that if I had a choice I would force this burden upon my daughter’s too-willing shoulders?” For the first time, emotion crossed his still mask and Malron heard the same bitterness and sorrow Haleth had. “I am old, Malron. Look at me!” He gestured in futile frustration at himself and Malron caught his breath in surprise. Six moons ago, Haldad’s hair had been as golden as his children’s were. Now, thick streaks of gray ran through it. He had never noticed, for he had not examined Haldad closely, and tonight the hall had been shadowed. His hands, too, were swollen with aching joints, and Malron felt a sharp pang of guilt for never noticing his lord’s ill health.
    “Do Haldar and Haleth know?”
    He sighed and shook his head. “Don’t be a fool, Malron. I would not take their joy in life from them for a while yet.”
    “Haleth will know eventually. Not much escapes her.”
    Haldad simply shrugged.
    “Fine. But I’ll stay with her.”
    “I need you in the field.”
    “Gelvar can command, or Cullan. It will go a long way to mending your quarrel with the latter.”
    “I wish for you to go.”
    “And I am telling you that someone must stay here. Someone with experience, and yet someone who will not take her authority from her.”
    “I shall stay behind.”
    “And if you do, then what? We need you or Haldar to at least appear to lead the warriors, and they had best get accustomed to seeing Haleth in command of the defense. Should you stay, they will see you in place of Haleth.”
    “Warmer weather should be here soon,” Haldad allowed. “I can fight then. But you shall and will go.”
    “No.” Malron, for the first time in his life, defied his lord for his lady. He thrust his hand into Haldad’s face—the hand that had mixed blood with Haleth’s—and repeated, “No. I will remain with my sister.”
    Haldad blinked when he saw the scar, then said, “So that is why Haleth spends so much of her time with you.”
    “Both yes and no. I accept her as she is, and I am willing to let my lady lead. I will follow her over her brother.”
    “Well.” That was all he said in a neutral tone, with neither overt disapproval nor approval but a bit of both. It was also tacit permission for Malron to stay behind, and Haldad confirmed it by saying, “Well, tell Gelvar to come here later.” He drained the cup in his hand and handed it to one of the serving women. “I should grant you a gift.”
    “No, my lord. There is no gift I need other than to be with my sister.” Seeing the hurt in his friend’s eyes, he hastened to explain, “Haldad, I cannot explain this to you, but it seemed to me that when we mixed blood, it felt like two halves of a whole coming and forging together. I do not know how Haleth feels, but for me, there is no closer bond I can have. And nor do I think that I will ever find someone to wed. I will stay with my sister for always.” Haldad nodded, but it was clear that he did not understand, so he tried again. “When you met your Mareth, how did you feel?”
    Haldad stiffened at the mention of his dead wife’s name. They had loved each other with a passion akin to Haldar and Janya’s, and he had been heartbroken when Mareth had fallen to the orcs shortly after the twins’ birth. No one had dared mention Mareth to his face for long years, not even Malron… until now.
    He finally answered, “I don’t know. All I knew was that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, whatever the cost. She was my partner, and we worked well together. Our souls matched.”
    “And that is how it is on my part. We match. It is as if a sword blade broken in half was forged together, but all weaknesses and failings disappeared under the forging, and our strength was more than doubled.”
    At last Haldad understood. Though Malron and Haleth might never wed, theirs would be an enduring partnership, and he could accept that. So he nodded and said, “Are you sure you do not want a gift?”
    “A skin of wine would be appreciated,” Malron said.
    Haldad pulled a new wineskin from under his chair. “The best we have. I’d been saving it until after the supper.”
    Malron drank deeply, and said, “To my lady Haleth. May she live long and rule well.” He handed the wine to Haldad, and when their hands brushed together, Malron was shocked. Haldad’s once-leathery skin was now papery and swollen red. They also trembled badly, and Malron wondered if he had done ill in urging Haldad to take up his sword once more.
    “To our lady Haleth,” Haleth’s father said as he drank as well, his hands firmly clasped about the skin to hide their trembling. “My friend and my son,” he said with tears in his eyes. “Will you stand the vigil for our fallen with me?”
    Malron nodded, and together both fell to their knees in honor of the dead and prayed to Mandos and Eru.

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