Shadow of the West

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Even upon his deathbed, Jarult remained guarded. Many had gathered about him in these last hours to wish him well on the journey, but he spoke little. Daliyeh was there, naturally, who had tended to him so carefully in this last illness. She could not save him, nobody could cure age, but she had given him much comfort. The King was there too with his wife, as was the High Priestess. He tried to smile at them all, to give them the comfort that they sought, but his mouth – so unused to the gesture in life – refused to soften to a smile now as he approached death. His sight failed.

There was a light then, and the presence of another there in the room with him, and yet not in the room.

Rhais? he asked.

Yes.

Did I live well?

That is not for me to say. Your life is your own to do with as you will. You have done what you felt to be good, and avoided doing ill – does that comfort you?

Yes.

Then let us say that you have died well. Come.

No, wait, please, I have questions. What will happen to Pashtia?

Oh, things will go on now as they have for time immemorial. The darkness that threatened your people has been held at bay, for a time…

For a time? Will it return? I fear for my people, for my land. Please, tell me what will happen to them.

The shadow always returns, as surely as night follows day. But do not worry, your people have passed the test. They will never fall under the sway of the Darkness, though there will be terrible times ahead. A terrible story.

But will it end well?

The story never ends, Jarult. Your part in it, however, is now complete. Come, now, you cannot stay here forever. It is just a short step to the other side.

Rhais?

Yes, Jarult?

Is it allowed for me to hear the end of the story? At least, the end of the story about the Shadow?

The voice sighed before answering, but when it spoke again, Jarult could feel her amusement. Very well. “In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit…”

[Bêthberry]

* * * * To Elvenhome* * * *