Movement V: Elegy

    “Malron,” she said suddenly with uncertainty and doubt, “Did I do right?”
    “You did, sister,” he said, gazing at the night sky brilliant with stars.
    “Then why does doubt remain?” Malron was silent, and she answered her own question. “I am so very alone. Only you remain. Arion is dead. I gave him the stroke of mercy with my own hands. Gelvar will be devoted to Janya now, and Haldad and Haldar are dead.” She faltered, and then said in a trembling voice, “I still cannot believe that they will never come back, my father and my twin.”
    “You will eventually. The shock is too near now.”
    “I should have remembered the last five rules you taught me,” she whispered as she wept. This time, it was not the wild sobbing that had racked her right after the battle—both battles—nor the cold, self-accusatory grief that had consumed her a week later, but the gentle sorrow that heals. She squeezed her eyes shut against tears and her voice caught against her throat. She coughed then said, “I am a fool.”
    “No, Haleth. You cannot understand the rules until you have experienced them.”
    “But I should have known what would have happened. I should have been able to predict and prevent it. So many shadows,” she said. When a chill wind washed over her, she shivered and hugged herself tightly.
    But surely it was only her imagination that something in the air whispered, Be at peace, Haleth. You have done well. Now you must learn to love and live. Be at peace.
    She repeated, “So many shadows. They grow and blot out the light and then they slither closer to me. There are too many shadows inside me, and too many new-healed scars. Do they ever go away?”
    “Only you have the power to dispel the shadows. But the scars—no, they never fade. They can only heal.”
    I am so very sorry, my father, my brother, she said silently to her haunting ghosts before saying to Malron, “I should have known. And I never told them how much I loved them both before they died.”
    In an uncanny echo of what only she had heard, Malron said, “Be at peace, Haleth. You could not have done more than you did. Because of your actions your people live. Because of you Haldad and Haldar’s bodies did not lie to be desecrated by the orcs. Because of you Janya and her child live. Because of you a new hope for the Haladin has been planted and thrives. Send your shadows scattering. The scars will remain, but do not let your shadows eat at you. Remember how you loved them and how they lived, not how they died. And they knew that you loved them; you did not need to tell them. Be at peace.”
    Be at peace, the wind whispered back.
    She gazed into the West, where the Valar were. In the West lay the Hall of Mandos, but her loved ones would not bide there, for they left Eä as she one day would. The prospect of her dying unremembered seemed foolish and trivial, and Haleth did not even comprehend the emotions she had felt nearly a year ago. Yet it seemed as long as a lifetime.
    Eru, watch over them, she prayed silently.
    “I will be at peace some day. I will heal,” she said aloud, and with a start, she realized that it was true. Her heart would never be the same again, but it would heal. They sat there for an hour in companionable silence until they saw a shooting star, and Malron said that they should go inside. She said only, “Malron,” but that word was filled with such love that Malron embraced her before taking her hand like a child. She leaned against him, taking comfort in that Malron would always be there for her whenever she needed him.
    Be at peace.
    The words echoed in both their minds as brother and sister took one last look at the brilliant stars, and then walked slowly back to where the people of Haleth waited.

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