Chapter 41 - A hero.
Selma was unhurriedly placing bottles on the shelves behind the tavern counter, moving each one with a soft dull thud into its place, then put her palms on her hips and breathed out with a gentle smirk.
"Seems like there's a bottle of Aeris-Lund wine missing." A warm male voice sounded from behind her.
She lifted the corners of her mouth slightly, dropped her gaze to the floor, then began to answer as she turned, finding her husband on the other side of the counter.
"Exactly. Except someone drank every last drop with his buddies, without leaving so much as a sip for his, as he always says, 'most beloved and beautiful wife in the world.'" She crossed her arms.
The man sat with his elbows resting on the counter, broad-shouldered and solid, with a thick short beard and closely cropped blond hair, watching Selma with a satisfied squint.
"Oh? I don't recall that." He answered, looked up at the ceiling with a sly grin and scratching behind his ear with one finger.
A split second later, a wet rag flew into his face, covering his head entirely.
"Of course you don't recall, Elmond, because you drank yourself into a stupor and fell asleep right at the table. And your loving son, wanting to be near his father, ended up asleep in the exact same position at that same table."
He laughed softly, pulled the rag from his face, then looked at her.
"Our son, Selma." He corrected her.
"Of course, our son, but sometimes it seems to me that he loves you more, because I saw your little copy lying with his face and hands on that table, in the exact same position as you. And he slept just as soundly, though unlike you he wasn't drunk." Selma answered, making no effort to hide the warmth in her voice.
"Oh come on, you're just still upset that I drank all the wine."
Selma slowly moved her hands to her hips, raising one eyebrow.
"Me? Upset?" She said with exaggerated indignation.
Elmond immediately raised his eyebrows and shot up from his chair.
"Uh-oh, time for me to go."
He had only taken one step before his wife's voice caught up with him.
"ELMOND STARKWOOD."
He froze, feeling a thin drop of sweat slowly slide down his temple.
"Turn around." she commanded.
He obeyed, and Selma silently came around the counter, stepping right up to him, tilting her head back to look up at his face.
"Seems like you left something unsaid... in your opinion, I'm upset?..." She whispered.
Elmond squinted slightly with a guilty smile, looking to the side.
"Well..."
"And what does a loving husband do when his loving wife is upset?.." Selma pressed.
"He apologizes... and..." He answered.
"And?.." She added.
The charged warmth between them began to slowly build, the air thickening to a barely perceptible closeness, until the wooden staircase thundered with quick little footsteps and a bright boyish voice rang through the rafters of the tavern.
"MOM, DAD! LOOK!"
Selma immediately stepped back, and both of them turned toward the staircase.
Little Elen was coming down the steps, dressed in cut-down leather trousers and his father's worn breastplate with the sleeves trimmed off, and a long adult cloak from his father's chest, its hem trailing behind him across the wooden boards.
"NOW I'M A WARRIOR TOO! JUST LIKE FATHER!... ELEN STARKWOOD — THE GREATEST WARRIOR OF WALDRUHM!" The boy announced, stopping halfway down the staircase with his shoulders thrown back and his chin raised high.
Elmond stood frozen with wide eyes and his mouth hanging slightly open, then slowly raised one finger toward the trimmed armor on his son.
"Uh... those are my..." He said.
Selma covered her mouth with her palm, barely holding back the satisfied laughter pressing up from inside her.
"Well well, looks like the Mother Goddess decided not to waste any time teaching you a lesson for upsetting your wife."
Elmond let out a heavy breath and dropped his shoulders, and a single reluctant tear traced down his cheek.
"That was my armor, the armor I wore in my youth... so many battles we went through together..."
Selma gently poked him in the shoulder and caught his gaze.
"You're still young, you dummy. And this armor... I think it looks wonderful on him. Look."
The father raised his eyes to his son, squinting with a growing warmth in his gaze.
"Doesn't your son look like a true warrior?" She added.
Elen posed before his parents with a confident, radiant smile, shoulders squared under the heavy armor.
Warmth spread through Elmond's chest, and he slowly walked over and crouched down in front of the boy, and little Elen went still, meeting his father's gaze directly.
After a brief pause, the father straightened the cloak on the child's shoulders with both hands, then placed his broad palm on the helmet, which sat twice the size of the boy's head and covered half his field of vision.
"You are more than a great warrior, my son. You, Elen Starkwood — a Hero of Waldruhm." Elmond said, not taking his eyes off his son's face.
Elen's eyes opened wide, a few white flickers crossing them.
"Do you know the difference between a warrior and a hero?"
Elen thoughtfully bit his lip, looking at his father for a few seconds with furrowed brows.
"Everyone knows a hero? They tell legends about him?"
Elmond laughed quietly, slowly shaking his head with warm approval.
"More than that. Legends are made about heroes because, unlike an ordinary warrior who fights in battles, a hero fights for the good of the people and saves those in need."
Elen went still, not taking his eyes off his father, listening to every word with focused attention.
"A hero never retreats when someone's life is at stake. A hero always moves forward, no matter what, and is always ready to give his life for the greater good. That is why heroes are so great, because they are the light of this world... just like you, my son. You are your mother's and my light... the purest... the smartest... the strongest and best boy in the whole wide world... and I know that one day you will show everyone just what a great hero you are." Elmond said, looking straight into his son's eyes.
Elen looked at his father's smiling face with wide-open eyes, filled with quiet understanding and unspoken warmth, while Selma stood a little apart, her palm pressed to her chest, her gaze fixed on them both.
That moment was etched in her memory forever as one of the most important.
And she was remembering it now, looking at the body of her only child, lying lifeless on wooden logs among dozens of other fallen warriors, knights, fathers, sons, and brothers.
The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, filling the main square of Ockhaven with a heavy orange light, as the entire city gathered here, shoulder to shoulder, sharing in the public mourning.
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Selma stood with her mouth barely open and her eyelids red, motionless, looking at her son's body, alongside Elara, Bernard, Leo, Eric, Aris, Edith, Alistair, Arswald, Armund, Askir, Ray, and Aren.
Guards formed a wide ring around the square, separating the townspeople from the rows of the fallen, holding torches whose flames barely flickered in the almost motionless air.
The Archiater walked out into the center of the square at an unhurried pace, stopped before the logs, then slowly swept his gaze across the faces of all those gathered before speaking.
"We stand today on the earth that nourished each of them from their first day and received them back on their last." He spoke quietly, yet his voice in the full silence of the square reached even the farthest rows.
A barely audible, stifled exhale swept across the square, coming from thousands of people at once.
"They went forward with faith and courage in their hearts, toward an evil that came from two sides at once. Against forces before which anyone could have retreated and lived. Yet they chose otherwise, for so the earth and blood command them... Their deeds, their courage, and their strength will not leave this world with them. Every name will remain in the memory of Waldruhm's earth, in the hearts of all who live and will live upon it, in the legends mothers will pass down to their children by the night fire, and in the chronicles that their descendants will write." He spoke, then fell silent for a long moment.
The Archiater took one step forward, stopping right at the edge of the first row of logs, not taking his gaze from the faces of the fallen.
"This day will enter the chronicles forever. It will enter as a day of universal mourning for brothers, fathers, and sons who did not return to their homes. Yet this same day will also enter them as the day of two victories, won by their hands and paid for with their lives." The Archiater spoke.
The Archiater raised his gaze to the thousands of faces turned toward him in complete silence.
"Grieve for them. Grieve openly and at length, for they deserve every tear shed on this square. But remember, alongside your grief, what they accomplished. The Code of Earth and Blood holds that a fallen warrior continues to live in the earth for which he gave his life. Waldruhm stands. And so they stand with it."
"The earth does not forget its sons." He added, lowering his gaze to the bodies of the fallen.
The words rolled across the square in a wave, repeated by hundreds of voices at varying volumes, some aloud, others barely audibly, until a quiet, uneven chorus settled in the air, slowly fading into shared silence.
"The earth does not forget its sons." Edith whispered, almost soundlessly.
Beside her, Selma spoke the same words even more quietly, then squeezed her eyes shut tight, lowering her head slightly, as a heavy tear rolled down her cheek.
The Archiater glanced to one side of the square and gave a brief nod to the knights standing there with torches, then turned his head to the other side and did the same.
The knights moved slowly toward the logs, each to his own body, stopping before it with bowed heads.
"May the warmth of the Mother Goddess envelop you. May her love console you. May her voice praise you... and may the heavens receive you as heroes." They spoke in quiet unison, voice after voice merging into one.
Then each of them slowly brought their torch to the wood beneath the body, letting the flame pass to the logs, then stepped back three paces, keeping their gaze on the rising fire.
The fire gathered strength, filling Ockhaven's square with a living, dancing glow.
Selma opened her eyes, drawing a sharp, trembling breath, before her gaze found something that made her go still, as she watched Aren stop a knight before the logs bearing Elen's body and silently take the torch from his hand.
Aren walked up to the logs, lowering his gaze to Elen's face.
"You did it... you came home... you came home more than a man... a hero... just like your father..." He said quietly.
After a pause of several seconds, he slowly brought the torch to the wood, letting the flame pass to the logs, then handed it back to the knight, not taking his gaze from Elen's face, already hidden by the rising fire.
The fire crept over the body, while Aren continued to stand motionless.
Elara, standing beside Selma, pressed both palms to her chest, not holding back the tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.
Aren turned and walked a few steps with his head slightly lowered, then stood beside Selma, not taking his gaze from the fire.
In those minutes breathing grew heavier, thoughts came with difficulty, and all attention was drawn to one thing, to the way the flame danced and to the way Elen's body disappeared behind it.
Several minutes of silence left only emptiness in the chest, an emptiness felt deeper than any words about victory.
And this silence was broken by Aren's voice, as he continued to look at the flame.
"His dream came true."
Selma turned her head toward him, confusion in her eyes.
He did not turn his head, his gaze fixed on the fire where orange reflections danced.
"He dreamed of becoming like his father... of becoming a hero." He continued.
Selma's eyes went wide, her breath going still in her chest.
"He told me... about who his father was... and about who Elen wanted to become... and he became that... because he saved me twice already... even though... he didn't even have magic... only an old sword..." Aren said.
"Me too." Aris's voice came from behind, quiet and fractured.
Selma slowly turned, meeting the gaze of Aris, who stood behind her.
Aris was in no hurry to raise her gaze, keeping it lowered for several long seconds.
"He, like all the other knights in that forest... saw that I was a stranger... and still, he put me on his horse first and sent me away from the danger... without knowing who I was or why I was there... he just... saved me..."
Selma was silent, standing with her mouth barely open, while the wind gently stirred the strands at her face.
Edith slowly turned her head toward her, silent for a few moments.
"He saved all of us."
Everyone around, including the townspeople standing nearby, turned toward the queen as she continued, looking directly at Selma.
"If Elen had not saved Aren... we would all be among the fallen now... and it is only thanks to the courage of your son... that we all stand here."
Then she stepped toward Selma, Alistair following, and both knelt on one knee, bowing their heads.
After them, one by one, all the knights standing in a ring around the square went to their knees, and then the entire crowd followed in a chain, until the whole square knelt before Selma on one knee.
Selma slowly looked around, taking in the thousands of figures bowed before her, then clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, letting the tears pour again.
She pressed both palms to her mouth, barely holding her breath.
"Do you really think... I need any of this? All I want... is for my son... just my son... to be here" She said through her palms, not letting Edith begin her words of gratitude.
Kneeling, Aren felt something inexplicable coming from the direction of the pyre, and slowly turned toward it.
Multicolored streams of energy rose from the fire upward, shimmering in every hue of the night sky, before curving downward toward the earth, slowly gathering into the outline of a human figure.
Aren's eyes went wide, unable to believe what he was seeing.
A translucent silhouette, woven from shimmering streams of energy, slowly moved toward Selma and embraced her from behind.
Aren did not move, understanding that Selma felt nothing and that only he could see what was happening, then smiled quietly.
"And so he is here." He said.
Selma turned her head toward him, confusion readable in her gaze, and then everyone else turned as well.
"I still don't fully understand my own abilities... but I can see what you cannot... and so... know this... I see him... he is right behind you."
Selma turned toward the fire, peering into the space behind her, but saw only the shifting flame.
Aren looked at Selma, and a thought came to him about the sensations he had felt when Bjorg-Var had given him new abilities and taught him to channel energy, and he decided to try and test his theory.
He breathed in deeply, slowly rose from his knee, then carefully placed his palm on Selma's shoulder and closed his eyes.
He channeled concentrated energy through his tattoos, and blue light slowly spread across them, suffusing the patterns with a living radiance, until Selma's pupils slowly filled with the same glow.
Selma spun sharply toward the pyre and went still, not moving a muscle.
Everyone around slowly rose from their knees, watching her in silent amazement.
Selma stood with her mouth open, drawing short, broken breaths, both palms pressed to her mouth.
"ELEN...." She said through her palms.
Bernard, Leo, and Elara exchanged glances, then shifted their gazes to Selma, who was speaking with someone none of them could see.
Selma stepped closer to the silhouette, not believing her own eyes.
"My boy..." She said, choking on tears.
The silhouette slowly raised its hand and pressed it to the mother's cheek, and she felt a gentle inner warmth spreading from within.
She reached toward him with her hand, but her fingers passed through the shimmering outline, meeting nothing solid.
The silhouette lifted its face toward the sky, and Selma followed its gaze upward.
The entire sunset sky above the square was covered in a dense aurora, gathered from the energy of dozens of fallen warriors, shot through with bands of green, blue, and white.
Their gazes met once more, and then Elen's silhouette slowly stepped aside, revealing to Selma's eyes another figure standing with a smile on its face.
Selma stopped breathing, unable to take her eyes from the figure of her late husband, standing before her.
Elen's silhouette slowly moved toward his father, and then both turned toward her.
"They will always be near." Aren said quietly.
Selma did not turn her head, listening to his words and keeping her gaze fixed on the two silhouettes.
"They will wait for you... and when your time comes... you will be together again."
Selma stepped toward them, but Aren gently held her back by the shoulder with his other hand.
"But for now... they want you to keep living..." He said.
Selma slowly turned to him, meeting his gaze directly.
"To live?... What meaning does such a life have?... Without them... this life has no—" She began, before Aren's voice stopped her.
"That is not true."
Selma fell silent mid-sentence, watching him in expectation.
"I too have lived without a clear meaning to my life... and yet... I can feel what they want to tell you..." Aren said.
Selma looked into his eyes, listening to every word without moving.
"They want you, until your time comes... to keep living in order to bring light into this world... to give people warmth... support... love and care... to those who need it... to those for whose sake they gave their lives."
Aren turned toward the two silhouettes, and Selma followed his gaze.
The silhouettes of father and son were smiling, silently confirming every spoken word.
"I understand... this will not be easy... and you will grieve... but you must understand that even if you cannot see or feel them in the physical sense... in truth, they are always with you. They always watch over you. And you can always feel their presence and their voice in your heart... and I believe that this will help you to continue living a full and good life, one they will be proud of."
After a few moments, the silhouettes of Elen and Elmond looked up at the glow in the sky, then gently dissolved into the same stream of energy, merging with the aurora.
Selma felt her lips trembling, then pressed herself against Aren, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.
He slowly embraced her in return, holding her tight, then raised his gaze to Elara, who stood across from him.
Elara could not hold back, broke from her spot and wrapped her arms tightly around them both, with Leo following immediately.
Bernard and Eric held for a moment, but did not last long, and wiping away solitary tears, embraced them from the open sides.
Across the entire square, people thinking of their own loved ones and believing them somewhere close began to embrace one another, some of them not holding back their own tears.
Edith slowly lowered her gaze, then shifted it to the burning pyres, holding her eyes on the flame.
"Do you think... he is here too?..." She asked quietly, without turning to Alistair.
Alistair was silent for a few moments, looking at the fire before answering.
"I think... yes."
She smiled warmly, holding the image of Edmund Born in her mind.
Then Edith shifted her gaze to Aren, surrounded by the embraces of several people at once, and said nothing, then turned with an expression of quiet peace on her face and left the square.