Prayer for a Warrior

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Khaela Mensha Khaine
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Joined: Tue Oct 04, 2016 9:41 pm

Prayer for a Warrior

Postby Khaela Mensha Khaine » Fri Dec 02, 2016 6:15 pm

I pushed past the nettles and the weeds - brushed aside tall flowers carefully, as my feet cautiously navigated the harshly uneven, hilly plains that led away from the sleepy town of Filur. My fingers fidgeted anxiously around the grip of my bow, thumb silently tapping along the side of it while my teeth nibbled at my lower lip. My nostrils were flared as wide as they could stretch, but still the grief was making it difficult to breathe. I could feel the air catching in my chest, as the unseen force that was sorrow blocked its passage and I had to struggle past it.

It's almost as if I'd felt the coming of this tragedy - or perhaps he had, for when I looked in his intelligent, brown eyes I saw there a panic and a restlessness. If I knew him as well as I believe, that fear was not for his own demise, but for the love of his master and how it would grieve him. And he was right; for the short time I had known the human Merney Valroc, I had seen him deeply troubled more than once.

Never had I seen him so deeply wounded, by word or deed, than on that night. It was a difficult thing to deal with of its own accord. I hadn't known him to be a great talker outside of necessity or in the most relaxed of settings, but something about that moment, as we made our way back to the gardens, that made his lack of words almost unbearable to me.

We trudged past the ominous silhouette of the estate that I had not learned the name of, its lush - if somewhat overgrown - gardens our ultimate destination. The snow continued to fall, as ever it did, but the wind was mercifully nonexistent. No howling gusts to drown out the sound of his heavy footsteps following after me, nothing to mask the clatter and clank of his heavy armour as he was forced to heave himself over great mounds of soil and grass. Most importantly, nothing to impede the flight of my arrow.

I had to hope this sentiment would be worth it to him.

Finally the earth evened out, the wooden arbor heralding the path into the gardens. I stepped towards the four pillars, one broken and toppled, that marks the very center of the garden. Then I stopped, half-turning to him.

I told Merney I was sorry that I was not there, in the final moments of his beloved steed. I could not think of what else to say, even in a few words there were a thousand thoughts and feelings. I did not have the heart to tell him that his mount was one of the most fearless and loyal creatures I had ever seen so faithfully serve a human. I did not know if it was fitting to say such things. My experience with his people was limited - I had shied away from them and theirs for my entire life, which was well over a century.

Then I bade him join me in saying farewell to a warrior, for Archibald had been nothing short of that. A prince among his kind; regal and strong, noble and true. At last I took the bow from my shoulder, my grip on it tight as could be, to stop the trembling of my arm. I pursed my mouth, to stop the trembling of my lips. Then, heaving a deep breath, I judged the trajectory of my arrow. It took more than a moment to look past the sorrow for this man that had become my friend.

That done, I nocked an arrow to my bow, aimed it to the skies, and fired. It streaked up into the air in an instant, soared high and unwavering and then disappeared into the darkness beyond even my sight. But I knew it would find its mark that night. In my head, I called to the Daughter of the Night Skies to listen to my prayer. Without looking to Merney, I spoke in my native tongue these words:

In the sky they twinkle bright,
their souls now passing through the night,
they glitter above the bough and branch,
whilst we pray, with song and dance.
Our voices drift from tree to tree,
with laments that echo endlessly;

The leaves are falling as before,
from then 'til now, and evermore.
New princes have been laid to rest,
now starlight drifts into the West,
passing thru to a lasting serenity,
borne on wings of a final reverie.


My solemn song recited, I reached a hand out to touch Merney's shoulder. Unrelenting steel hid away his skin; a fitting analogy of this warrior who fought back his sorrow with a stoic face. There was silence, save for the soft footfalls of a young woman behind us that had accompanied Merney and his companions that night. I paid her no heed then, for I was there for Merney and Archibald. The silence continued a few moments longer, and then, at last, my arrow finally whistled down to strike the ground between the four pillars, half-buried in the dirt.

This was tradition, and now Merney had to break off the arrow. Instructing him thus, I let my hand fall away from his shoulder and waited for him to move forward. Snapping it in two, he held his half in his hand as he rose up to stand once again, looking at me with the bemusement I expected. Then I told him the purpose; that Sehanine would hear my prayer and see my arrow into the sky. She would know what had come to pass, and would seal away all the great deeds of Archibald in the arrow. Part of him was now amidst the earth, as was part of the arrow, but all that he had done would never be lost - and what Merney held onto was all of that.

I saw a smile on the man's face and knew that I had comforted him, at least in some small way. That would have to be enough, as my own sorrow still threatened to overtake me. As the warrior then silently lumbered away from the simple shrine, I looked back to what was now lost.

"Goodbye, my friend," I simply said in a language only he and I would know.

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