[Mithadan]

As the new day dawned, Mithadan sat in his cabin alone. Piosenniel had not returned to the cabin the night before -- and part of him had not expected her to. When he had waked from unconsciousness just days before and reached out to Piosenniel and touched her hand, he had sensed a flood of emotions. Relief and gladness were among them; gladness that he had roused himself and relief that he lived.

Yet he had also sensed anger, and she had displayed anger that he had concealed his injuries, but this was not the limit of that emotion. For deep within her he had sensed a hint of disappointment with that anger and they were interwoven. She had been ill at ease with him even before the assault on the caverns and had at times even avoided him. At first he had believed, or convinced himself, that she had been preparing herself mentally for the battle, even as he had done himself. But that was not it, and during breakfast, the morning of the assault, when he had seized her hand he felt it --the fear-- it was fear that he might die in the assault but it was tinged just faintly with fear also that he might live. And he understood at last that perhaps he had asked more of her than she could give.

And so, when she had asked him why he had not told of the extent of his injuries while the battle raged in the caverns, he had not answered. He was glad that she had not asked again. But after their first happy embrace upon Ulmo's healing of his wounds, they had been togther rarely -- and he had not been surprised by this nor spoken to her of it on those times when they had seen one another.

The day before, he had spoken with Ancalimon after the choosing of little matters and laughed at simple joys. At that time Ancalimon had returned to him his mother's ring which he had entrusted to the Grey Peddler to give to Pio if he did not survive the battle. He held it now for a moment, then put it down on his desk. Then he drew forth another package from his things. It was the knife Piosenniel had left to him after her "death". He buckled the knife to his belt and lifted the ring, placing it in his pouch.

Then he left his cabin and climbed to the deck. With no further thought, he leaped into the water and swam to shore. Up the beach he walked even unto the slopes of the remainder of Meneltarma. And he began to climb...

[ November 18, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]