Old Graves & Cold Regrets - Abridged

Ardûnn was much the same as it had been five hundred years earlier. All of the wooden buildings were new of course, but the roads wound through the lanes the same way they always had, and the stone keep was little changed, save for it looked more weathered and flew a new coat of arms descended from the one known to Ealdian. Beyond the town limits, the land rolled away into the west with hills and meadows, and in the north loomed the eaves of the great forest that spanned to the realm of the astral fae in the mountain valleys many distant miles away. Their rich leaves were buried in the snow below them, as winter stripped the trees of their raiment.

Folk hurried about the town as Ealdian and Yrsa passed through the town gate. Chimneys puffed smoke into the hazy sky, and flute music could be heard drifting up from a lane to the south, busking for a few coppers from generous listeners. Children laughed and played in the streets, chasing each other with pinwheels, dancing in the cold wind for warmth and fun, and sending snowballs soaring against their foes and innocent passerby alike. One struck Ealdian, mistaken for one of the older kids due to his short, slender stature.

“I can see why ye spent a lifetime here,” Yrsa said, amused. “It’s no Tolm, but it’s homelike enough.”

“We aren’t staying,” Ea said, a frown at the corners of his mouth. He had not wanted to come here, but the desire for knowledge he sought was too great to deter him from this place he long avoided.

“Alright, alright,” Yrsa said. “One thing I don’ get though. Why would any of the fae settle here of all places? They usually keep to their own.”

“She is an exile,” Ealdian said. “I suppose that’s why she gave me notice back then, despite me being human. I won’t say more, as it is not my place to do so, and I do not advise asking her.”

Turning north, Ealdian picked a road that led out of the main village and past the stone keep. It loomed up on his right, glittering with the frost of the season, a small tower compared to the Palace of the Pale Dawn, which lay further west and south of this settlement in Ardûnn’s capitol.

He did not look to his left, where stones rose from the earth in neat rows with graven names upon them.

< * >

After half an hour of trudging, Ealdian and Yrsa stood under the eaves of the forest at the very brink of the town’s borders. Clouds churned overhead, and there was a quiet beauty about the place. They still stood within the bounds of Ardûnn, or Ealdian would have avoided the kingdom entirely, but here things grew wild and were rarely visited by the townsfolk, save to find firewood or hunt.

They walked for a few minutes more, before Ealdian stopped and gestured to a large tree with a crown of woven branches. Within the branches was a crystal dome. In some places, the branches swirled to form an opening from which one could see through the glass. This tree was not humbled by winter, and silver leaves fluttered in its branches while garlands blossoms shaped as bells hung in clusters like banners of night and gold. They smelled sweet, like honey, but also of silver mist from a cascade falling into a pool of moonlight. A winding handrail spiraled about the trunk and seemed to have grown from the tree itself, thin but sturdy. Yet there was no stair.

Ealdian stepped to the base of the missing stair and rang a silver bell hanging from the trunk.

A voice came from somewhere indiscernible. It was low, but feminine, with a music in it despite the words being spoken only. Rich was its tone and strength lay within it, and yet it was soothing, waves on sand under a sunrise of gold morning.

“Who stands beneath my home? Speak your name, make thyself known.”

“You know me already, old friend,” Ealdian said, “though our paths haven’t crossed in many long years.”

“I know your voice, Ealdian Randír. Who have you brought with you here?”

“Yrsa,” Yrsa said, stepping forward.

“Yrsa, a name of the cold north beyond the mountains,” the voice replied, musing over the word. “I will let you climb, for you are here with Ealdian.”

Runes appeared along the trunk, parallel to the handrail but some feet lower, and a stair appeared. Unlike a normal stair, built to last, this one was of the blossoms growing from the branches weaving themselves and gleaming against the polished wood. They bloomed into a plethora of steps for them to take to the crown of the tree.

“Ye go first Ea,” Yrsa said, eyeing the stair with distrust.

Ealdian nodded, patting Yrsa’s arm in an encouraging gesture, stepping on the blossoms. They did not crush or wilt, but were springy, like the young grass of a meadow in the springtime. The tree rose above the canopy of the skeletons around it, and looked out upon the forest and the town, ancient and grand, for its sire had watched the sun and stars since before the first Spring of the world.

Yrsa followed behind him, and the blossoms withdrew after each of her steps left them, their glow fading and drifting once more in the wind. At the crown, there was a door of woven wood set in the glass like a frame, and it was opened ere he stepped on its threshold.

“I thought ye said she was a fae,” Yrsa whispered to Ealdian.

Standing before them was a tall woman, perhaps six feet in height, with flowing hair in braided waves of gold, violet and silver. Her right eye gleamed gold, her left was purple, and her skin was like white gold blended with silver. Graceful horns of gold and silver crowned her, larger than those of the fae ought to be. One wing, like that of a gossamer star or leaf, was golden on her back, but the other was feathered and like that of an eagle, with purple and gray. Her tail resembled a unicorn’s, with gold, silver and purple fur, flowing and glimmering like stardust.

“I was,” the woman said, and it was known that she was the voice they had heard below, though now it carried the sharpness of one offended, “and I am still. If not in body, then in will.”

“I meant no offense,” Yrsa said. “There’s no need for that tone.”

Stepping between the two women, Ealdian strove to keep the peace.

“Thank you for your welcome of me and my friend Yrsa, Ma’alornë,” Ealdian said, bowing politely to the fae. “It is good to see you again.”

Ma’alornë looked him up and down. “Have you trusted your friend with details about yourself?”

“Yes, I have. She knows of my curse.”

“I see. So you still do not stay dead, and return from it?”

Ealdian sighed. “Yes. I am still immortal. That has not changed, but, I'm fine."

Ma’alornë studied him with a knowing eye but didn’t say anything else about the matter. She stepped to the side and invited them in.

It was a simple home, with a floor of polished wood and minimal furniture. Along one side was a hammock, a small area that seemed to be a kitchen, and an apothecary setup in the back. Many strange and whimsical herbs were shelved there, along with crystals, bottles of mysterious elixirs, and other things that were largely unidentifiable. A staff of silver and gold wood rested against the wall beside the shelves, wrapped with purple and pale leather with a few hanging beads and feathers. The walls were crystal shrouded in blossom, and from the top of the dome hung crystals that shone gold and silver, casting a soft, warm light.

“The hanging crystals are new,” Ealdian commented with a smile that did not reach his eyes, for those were sorrowful.

“They are not a new addition to my home. I obtained them over two centuries ago,” Ma’alornë said.

She led them to a small sofa near the hammock. It curved like a crescent moon and the back flared up like the rays of the sun. It wasn’t clear what material it was made of, for it shone like satin yet was as soft as cashmere.

"You are here for a reason, of that I am sure," Ma’alornë said, sitting in the hammock. “Polite, idle conversation, do not feign. So, tell me, Everwander, what of mine has thou’s allure?”

Settling on the sofa, Ealdian folded his hands in his lap.

“I was told you know where the Monastery of the Prophet is. As a follower of Turi’Fëa, they are said to be able to descry the ultimate fate of anyone and anything.”

Ma’alornë regarded him with a steady eye, her expression unfathomable.

“That is true, the location I could tell you.”

“Then why did you never speak of it before?" Ealdian asked. "Back when I lived here."

“I did not speak of it, for I doubt you will find there what you seek,” Ma’alornë said, sitting across from Ealdian and Yrsa in the hammock. “The future is better left unknown to the present. Worry not for next week.”

“Except immortality does not end next week Ma’alornë. Those rules might work for mortals, but not for me. My days are endless, and I am weary. Humankind are not meant to endure for centuries as the fae do. You are meant to live many long years, and carry less burdens on your hearts. Over eight centuries I have walked this world, and I seek rest more than life. If this prophet can see the death, the true death, of all who enter in, maybe they could see mine. And how I may come to it.”

The eyes of Ma’alornë did not leave the young-seeming man for a long while. At a glance, one would not think him so ancient, for he looked to be quite young. There were no marks of hardship, for those vanished each time he returned from death to be nineteen again. Only his eyes stood out as unnatural, shimmering lilac in his freckled face framed by dark hair. They were deep, thoughtful, and somber, having seen many lives of men and the world’s slow changes between the seasons of history.

“There are reasons many, and so here I will start,” Ma’alornë said. “I see thy burden of grief, I see thy heavy heart. This is about more than the three you lost in Ardûnn long ago. There is another with whom you wish to reunite and with Death go. I know not the love that you had found, or the joy they brought you, but if they were mortal, then from the start you were doomed. If you go and see this prophet, an answer you may get, but whether it is one to your liking, I would not take that bet.”

“That’s his choice to make, Miss,” Yrsa said. “Ye might think yer protectin’ him but if ye knew about this, you should’ve told ‘im.”

Ealdian said nothing. If he did not receive the answer he longed for, learning only that his existence would be eternal, what hope would be left within his heart?

Weighing her words, he considered them against the reasons he had for coming here today. He looked at the ring upon his finger, remembering the gentle hand that set it there long ago. How he longed for the touch of it again.

“I do grieve,” Ealdian said, his words deliberate. “The pain may dull in time, but the toll of loss never fully heals, and humans are not meant to live so long that their grief outweighs their love. My grief has grown heavy. This prophet may know when I can see my Gwendolyn again. It sets a frenzy in my mind and my heart can no longer rest in what I have. I must know, for good or ill, whether it breaks my spirit, or lets me see light at the end of a long tunnel."

“I deny it not,” Ma’alornë said. “I see you gave this thought. Five centuries past, you did not need to know, but you have changed, and perhaps you must go. However, I advise you to seek your peace a different way. If you learn there is no end, your spirit may shatter and fade.”

“Then that will be my fate,” Ealdian said. “If I am to keep going forever, then I at least must know, and accept it. If I am to someday end, it would give me hope to again see everyone I loved and love even though they are gone. I cannot carry this grief without knowing if is to be my doom or if there is some hope of freedom.”

Ma’alornë nodded. “I will tell thee where to seek. Wait a day, then return to me.”

“Very well,” Ealdian said. “May I remain here for the night?”

“No, you may not,” Ma’alornë said. “For you, I have no cot. The inn in town is fair priced and clean, there I recommend you take your sleep.”

“I would prefer to not go back, and to stay here.”

Ma’alornë looked at him with stern eyes.

“That is exactly why you must face the past. Until you deal with this, the pain will last. You carry regret and remorse for days long ago. Feel the anguish, then let it go.”

Ealdian hesitated. Did he not move on five centuries ago? The thought of returning to Ardûnn's village was frightful.

“If ye don’t want to go back,” Yrsa said, her tone softer and gentle as she faced her friend, “We don’ have to. I don’ mind sleeping in the wilderness, as we have been.”

Ealdian said. “Thank you for the offer, but I can sleep by myself out here. You go to the inn.”

“Nay. I will go where you go. If it means sleepin’ in the snow, so be it.”

There was such fire in her eyes that Ealdian had to concede.

“Then… there is something else I must do of more importance, and closure.”

“Are ye sure?”

“I am.”

< * >

The snow glittered in the moonlight upon the granite stones set in the dirt. So old were they that the crisp letters that once were etched into their surface were little more than shallow, faded grooves in the slabs, illegible and lost to time. But Ealdian didn’t need to read them. He remembered every letter of the words the gravers had set.

Calder.

Sudie.

Lochlan.

Kneeling, Ealdian brushed snow away from the faded names, and then laid a flower upon each grave. The quiet was a blanket, stifling sound and joy, and his hands curled into fists. Tears glistened at the corner of his eyes, which were squeezed shut and unable to bear the sight, and he choked back a sob. It rebelled, and slipped out anyway, and the gates could no longer restrain the flood.

Something settled on Ealdian’s shoulder as he wept. He glanced and saw Yrsa’s hand there. It steadied him, and gave him the strength to say the words he should have said centuries ago.

“… I know I hurt you, keeping what I was a secret from you three. You were my closest friends in so many centuries, and you told me that you would have accepted me had I been honest. It makes me wonder why you shut me out when you learned, knowing that I was terrified of losing you. I lost my home, my family, and many others because of this curse on me, but I should have trusted you, when I was on my deathbed. I wish I could ask if that is why you left; not because of my secret, but because I put you through the pain of grief. Was it easier to break ties and continue to mourn, even though I came back?

“I wish I could tell you I understand. I wish there was time still to mend what broke between us. I miss you all. Wherever your souls walk now, I hope you find peace, for I will not see you again. Farewell, my friends. I’ll not forget you.”

Tears froze on his cheeks, and he brushed them away as flakes of ice. He hadn’t noticed them falling, but now they failed to stop, and the sobs he’d held in for all his long years since he last stood at this spot shook him. Yrsa knelt beside him and he leaned on her, accepting the silent offer of comfort. They did not move even as flakes of snow drifted down again to rest with those who slept below the earth for eternity.

Did Ealdian’s pain rest with them, even as he walked in the living world?

He could not say.