Sins of the Father

Thibauld walked slowly behind the small procession that bore his
son's body he ruts in the road seemed like gaping chasms as he
forced his legs to move. He had supervised the child's cleansing and
final preparation as was his duty, but it was not until he held the
small lifeless hands within his own for the last time that the full
crush of his grief surfaced, leaving the large man feeling small and
vulnerable. Hanath was his only son, and now he had none. Death was
not unfamiliar to the people of this village, many died before their
time from illness and the such, but this. This seemed to be so
senseless and sudden.

Too soon the somber parade came to a halt and the grieving Man looked
up from his shuffling feet to where his child's final rest would
commence. As was the custom of his people, a raised hollow platform
had been constructed out of timber, just large enough to place the
bier upon, and beneath it a pyre of tightly bundled wood had been
stacked. In the paling dawn Thibauld could just make out the one
addition to the scene that was not at all customary. At the head of
the platform, bound hand and foot to a sturdy pole, stood the accused
Elf. The Man flinched at the site of the tall stranger, whose bearing
now seem less regal and pristine. It was obvious that his fellow
villagers had seen fit to take out their frustrations upon the
creature leaving it barely conscious and almost unrecognizable.

Thibauld let his eyes roam the battered form, finally coming to lock
upon the swollen blue orbs that had just hours before glittered
nervously at his threshold. The Man had expected to find defiance
reflected in the gaze that tried to focus upon his in the dim light,
but he saw only pain and resignation.

Orophin struggled weakly against his restraints in an attempt to
support his body. He would not fight, but neither would he accept his
obvious fate with anything less than Elven pride. He was Galadrhim
and had lived his long life in the honorable service of the Lord and
Lady, he would meet his death with the same honor. Grimacing against
the discomfort, the archer managed to put his feet beneath him, and
despite the numbness of his extremities, remain somewhat upright.

With little ceremony, Hannaths white shrouded body was upo upon the
platform, the pungent fumes of the oils used to prepare the child's
corpse for cremation stinging Orophins already swollen eyes. Salted
trails of moisture ran down the Elf's lacerated cheeks, wicking pink
into the dry fabric of the gag. Orophin winced and tried to move his
head away from the overwhelming vapors.

"What say you Thibauld?" One of the attendants voiced what surely
all were awaiting.

"Yes, friend," replied another, his tongue loosed by the growing
unease of the atmosphere and the rising of the sun.

"I say let him burn," came a rather blunt suggestion from the guard
as he rubbed his forehead by the small fire. A swift elbow to the
ribs sent smugsmug soldier to the ground doubled over for his effort.
Silence filled the clearing as all awaited the Man's decision.

Rumil tensed visibly as the dawn afforded him an unobstructed view of
his brother's predicament. The Galadrhim's condition was far worse
than even he had first imagined and it took all his self control, and
warning looks form Haldir, to keep him form rushing headlong into the
clearing and leaving nothing but Orophin standing.

"And what would that accomplish?" whispered Haldir, as his hand ones
again staid Rumil's' bow arm.

"How long must we wait.....? How long must our brother endure
this ?" Rumil had tried to temper his frustration, but both his
youth and affection for his sibling betrayed him.

Haldir closed his eyes as much to block out Rumil's pleading gaze as
to formulate an answer that would calm the young archer.

"Leave us......" Thibauld's words were barley audible as he stood
staring at Orophin.

"I don't understand..." blurted one of the guards as he came to take
the grieving Man's arm.

Thibauld shook off the pawing attendant and turn top face the
questioning throng.

"You said that the Elf's fate was mine to decide did you not?" The
large man pushed up his sleeves and pulled out a knife from his
belt, wiel it it in an arc around him.

"Well, yes. It is your right, " replied the guard backing away from
the drawn weapon.

"Then leave........This is between myself and this creature. "
Replied Thibauld.

"But Thin....." began the guard holding up his palms....

"No buts!" bellowed the Man, agitated by the lack of obedience. "
Leave us NOW!"

Begrudgingly the guard ordered the remaining villagers to their
homes, and with a backward glance at Thibauld, followed suit.

Orophins heart beat heavy in his chest as the Men retreated. His
thought previously had been scattered as he drifted in a haze of
semiconsciousness, but as Thibauld approached him he became very
aware that the Man held him accountable for his son's death.

Haldir's ears pricked at the raised voices from the clearing and spun
around just in time to see the flash of a knife. Instinctively his
weapon came to the ready as he and Rumil crouched from their vantage
point.

Orophin let a shuddering breathe release as Thibauld bent low to the
fire and lit a torch that been dropped by one of tillaillagers. He
squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm the rising chill of
apprehension that built in him at the prospect of his demise.

Haldir notched an arrow and knew without even having to look that
Rumil had done the same. No words were spoken between the brothers as
they silently awaited the moment of action. Rumil followed the Man's
movement, ready to strike at Haldir's command, but the elder
Galadrhim had another target. There was no way that they could reach
Orophin before the flames, even with their swift feet, he would no
doubt be burnt beyond aid. With a steady arm Haldir aimed his weapon
directly at his brother's heart.


TBC