Movement IV: Lament

    Tears poured down her face as she savagely flung herself at the orcs, almost hoping that someone would cut her down and end her unbearable grief. Everyone stared at her with a mixture of pity, amazement, and revulsion: pity for her sorrow, amazement at her skill, and revulsion for her mindless hewing at the orcs. But even as she carelessly attacked every orc in sight, it was as if she were Valar-touched, for none landed a blow upon her, much less kill her and take away her anguish.
    You trained me too well, Malron, curse you into the Void, she thought dully, her heart a chaotic maelstrom of emotions but her mind covered with a gray fog. You trained me so well that I cannot die when I want to. For one instant, she thought about turning her deadly sword upon herself, but her instincts clamored at her to live—as well as her own nagging sense of responsibility. Once, she had told Haldar that she served her people before all else. Which included her own needs and desires.
    Curse you sevenfold, Malron, for you’ve made this sense of responsibility part of me. She knew that it was not her blood-brother’s fault, but she longed to wallow in self-pity and anger for it took away her own sense of guilt. Why had she not acted sooner? If she had, Haldad might yet be alive. Her thoughts ran thus as she reveled in the spilling of orcs’ blood, taking an unwholesome glee as dozens of orcs fell to her blade. Yet somehow, she pulled herself together and fought with control, even if she slaughtered her enemies with a little more savagery than necessary.
    Then the next thought struck her.
    Oh Eru… was Haldar armored? Her mind raced back to when she had first spoken with Haldar, and her heart sank with foreboding. He had been wearing his sword and dagger, but not any armor, and she didn’t think that he had stopped to put some on when their father had fallen.
    “Haldar!” she cried. “Haldar!”
    She saw him standing over Haldad’s body, beating away the orcs as they tried to desecrate it. Her own blood boiled at the thought; Haldad deserved honorable burial rather than mutilation at the hands of the orcs.
    “Haleth!” someone called, and she felt a flash of anger and joy to hear Malron. At least he was not yet dead. He had been separated from Haldar in the chaos that followed his shout.
    But father is dead, why couldn’t he have fallen in place of father, then father would still live—
    She shook herself from those thoughts. To wish her blood-brother ill was despicable, but she could not help herself.
    She gestured with her sword at the unarmored Haldar, and he nodded before beginning to fight his way towards Haldar. But the orcs recognized Haldar as another leader of the Haladin, and they descended down upon him in a wave, shrieking curses in their foul tongue.
    She opened her mouth to scream again when he was bowled over by the sheer numbers, but she saw him fighting and standing up again, although he was bloodied. His left arm was hanging limp at his side, and he was wielding his sword with his right hand alone. Haldar looked like some demon, streaked with blood and howling like a madman, and the orcs fell back at the very sight of him.
    By then, almost everyone had noticed the women on the field, and husbands and brothers were making their way towards wives and sisters. No one had heard Haldar’s shout; it seemed as if that when he had shouted his news, only Haleth had heard. It was Kellan who first noticed that Haldad had fallen, and he cried, “Haldad has fallen!” Everyone heard, and everyone faltered, save for Haldar, Malron, and Haleth.
    As Haleth cursed Kellan under her breath, Cullan roared, “Haldar Haldad’s son stands with us this day! Do not falter, Haladin! Fight against the orcs and avenge his death!” The Haladin shouted warcries once more, deep male mingling with the higher tones of women, but all fought with the same ferocity if not skill.
    Both Haleth and Malron fought their way to Haldar’s side about the same time, and the three of them stood together against the orcs. Yet they were separated when another wave rushed into them. Haleth had only one glimpse of Haldar as a hulking orc assaulted him and then she was engulfed in her own desperate battle for survival.
    The orcs were wary enough of her—and interested in their own survival—that they did not swamp her in sheer numbers. If they had, she would have died. But most valued their own skin enough that they hung back, letting smaller, weaker orcs wear her down before trying to kill her.
    Another might have been horrified that these thinking beings needed, hungered to kill to sate their unwholesome appetites, and frozen at a critical moment. Although Haleth felt the first touch of fear when she saw flickers of intelligence in hateful eyes, she thrust it aside. The battle calm that fell on her in practice came to her aid now, and she drove the orcs back, step by step.
    Malron, too, was holding his own, but Haldar was in serious trouble. The orcs had recognized him for the leader’s successor, and twice the number that had attacked Haleth were streaming towards him.
    As she cut down the last few orcs in front of her, she ran towards Haldar, hoping she could make it before he was overwhelmed. The orcs saw her attempted rescue and others jumped in front of her, slowing her progress even more. She screamed in frustration and dread as Haldar was ringed.
    And then she saw it, knew what would happen as two orcs attacked Haldar at once and two more, unnoticed, crept behind him.
    “Haldar!” she shrieked as he dealt with the first two and moved on. “Behind you!”
    She broke free at last of her own enemies and raced towards Haldar as he turned to face the orcs behind him and yet more circled around.
    And then his death came from the back as an orc behind him drove his sword into Haldar and she dashed away tears.
    Haldar!
    It was an ignoble death for a warrior, but more than that, Haldad’s line had ended just like that. No one remained—
    I remain! she reminded herself fiercely as she reached Haldar at last. I remain to take up Haldad’s sword!
    Father and son lay close together, but Haldar was just alive. She dropped her sword heedlessly, ignoring the sounds of battle about her to provide comfort in her brother’s last moments. She fell to her knees and cradled her brother’s body in her arms.
    “Take care of our people, Haleth,” he whispered. “Take care of Janya.” He grasped her hand, and she ignored the blood that stained it as she leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.    
    “I will, brother,” she said softly, but he was not yet done.
    “Love you, Haleth… always have.”

    “I love you, Haldar, dearest brother.” Her eyes filled with tears as his breathing grew shallower and shallower, then stopped at last.
    “Farewell, Haldar,” she whispered as his spirit fled his body to some new existence.
    Then she rose, sword in hand and the orcs backed away immediately at the cold rage in her eyes. There was no hint of the tears that had covered her face a moment before, only hatred and the desire for vengeance.
    She fought, killing all emotion in herself until there was nothing but the singing of her sword and the presence of death.
    Orcs die as easily as men do.

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