Unending Love

Lendes stood outside the door of her manor, the sun setting casting an orange glow over the small homesteads of Heampdean. Windows reflected the sun brilliantly, winking and flicking from dozens of houses, the air hot and clammy, making Lendes sweat in her long golden dress. Standing on the doormat, she saw a small group of knights walking slowly down the road towards her, two men pulling a cart behind that she could hear even from the distance she was standing from. A banner tore and covered in dirt was lazily hanging from its poll, the wind blowing though the holes punched stabbed into it. They came closer, and Lendes could see that one man carried something under a long cloth of white in both his hands. Their faces were hidden behind their helmets, but it was clear that there’s men had fought a bloody battle, and had come out the worst. Dread whispered in Lendes’ ear as she crossed her arms and watched the knights come closer to her house. Isilorbor had left only six days ago with men he called, The Sons of Calth, the surviving men who had fought with him thought the Sack of Calth and made it into Rohan with him. Only fifty men had crossed into Eriador, out of a number, Lendes guessed, was around three hundred or four hundred men. She knew many of the Sons of Calth by name, Zelderan, Borermor, Rafen, Loken, Tarkin to name but a few. They saw her husband more then just a leader of men, more then just a captain, they looked to him as something more. The Sons had all lost so much, so much that it broke Lendes’ heart just to think about it. Isilorbor had kept them together, gave them a reason to keep fighting and to live. They all owed him their lives and their unquestioning loyalty. Why then, did Lendes feel something was terribly wrong? The Sons of Calth entered the yard, and that was when Lendes noticed. They were not fifty men as Isilorbor had said they were, they numbered only fourteen. Gorro and Rafen grunted as they pulled the cart up the hill, exchanging a worried look as Lendes walked slowly down the hill towards them. As if someone had sent an order into their mind, the Sons removed their helmets at the same time, holding them under their arms neatly. Rafen pulled back his hood, his eyes low to the ground while he and Gorro stood away from the cart. In the cart, there was something under it, a white sheet was covering what ever was inside, making Lendes feel even more uneasy. Zelderan walked forward, it was he who was holding the item under the cloth and something else Lendes could not see in his hand. He passed the item to Borermor with a respectful nod to his battle-brother. The two men walked forward to Lendes, the Sons of Calth backed away some distance, their faces low and full of great sorrow. Borermor nodded to Rafen and Gorro, they bowed their heads and retreated their remaining brothers. Where was Isilorbor? That question was eating Lendes like a beast. No one was speaking, not even she could bring power to her voice. Zelderan and Borermor stood before her, their armour torn and their bodies bruised and bloody from the battle. Stepping forward with her knee’s shaking, Lendes reached with a quivering hand to the item. Her hand grasped the cloth and with a tug, it fell away. Fireblade was in Borermor’s hands, the glow that she normally saw with the blade lost within the cracks of its steel and with hastily dried blood in the hilt and semi broken blade. Lendes’ chest rose and fell more and more quickly now, her eyes clouding with tears as she saw the blade, but not the wielder. Where was Isilorbor? Zelderan and Borermor walked to either side of the cart, they unwrapped the ends of the sheet and slowly pulled the sheet back from the cart. Lendes could have screamed, had her heart not been tore from her chest. Isilorbor lay on the ground with his hands folded on his chest, his armour was ripped and torn in so many places, blood stained his white armour to rust, but how much was his and how much was orc, Lendes could not tell. She saw in his body holes were arrows had stuck him; his throat was covered with a bolt of cloth taken from his torn cloak. Lendes reached her hand and cupped Isilorbor’s cheek. His flesh was cold, his green eyes closed, his lips shut, her husband gone. Isilorbor Ventris was dead. Lendes ran a hand to his neck, and she felt the silver chain of his necklace. She worked her fingers to find the catch and removed it from him. It was caked in his dried blood, yet Lendes did not care. The white eagle holding three emerald branches in his talons, each branch of their children while the eagle was her and his family. She held the necklace in her hands, her eyes unable to leave Isilorbor’s body. She felt so empty, so hollow. Lendes had thought to feel a crushing sorrow, an overwhelming anger, something that would bring her pain on a scale that no one should ever face. Yet, all she found was ash and dust in her broken heart. Her Ventris pride told her not to given into grief while Isilorbor’s men were around her, not while she had their children to tell, then she could be vulnerable. The Sons of Calth looked up and lowered their heads at three figures leaving the house; Lendes saw the Sons actions and turned to see who was leaving the house. Lenwenn and Lessel were both holding Lendil’s hands between them, the little boy was now three years old, and at that age, he would learn of death. They walked down the stone steps and towards her mother. Lendil looked so confused, looking at the tall armoured men and wondered why none of them could look him in the eye. Lessel and Lenwenn walked with their little brother in tow, and stopped in their tracks at their father’s body. Lessel gasped and let go of Lendil’s hand, both of hers shaking and covering her mouth to hold back a cry. Lenwenn lips quivered, tears filling her eyes almost at once as she held onto Lendil. The little boy let go of his sisters’ hand and slowly walked towards the cart, the confusion still in his eyes and face. Lendil climbed into the cart, his family and the Sons watching his every move. Reaching his father, Lendil put his hands on Isilorbor’s chest and shook him gently. Lendil paused, wondering why his father was not waking up. He tried again, no respond. He looked to his mother; his green eyes so much like his fathers asked just a simple question. What is happening, they spoke? Zelderan and Borermor turned away from the cart; they both gave subtle nods of their heads to the Sons of Calth. They slowly turned and all fourteen men walked away from the Ventris family. They would not show their pain openly to them, they owed much to the House of Ventris, and least they could do is to let them mourn a father and lover. Walking into the fading orange sunlight, each man wept silently. They too were holding in their emotion. Zelderan’s tears flowed down his cheeks, making clean paths from the dirt and blood. He had lost his wife, his son, his city and home, Isilorbor was as good a brother to him, and he had died in front of him. It smacked of failure to him. Borermor cupped his mouth, his thump wiping a tear from his eye as yet another brother was taken from this world. The other men wept openly, silent glitters of light trickling down their cheeks and onto the stone laid ground. The orange sun cast its gaze over the Sons of Calth, hiding their greatest moment of weakness from the rest of the world, and that of the House of Ventris as it set behind the hills and shadow set on a world without Isilorbor Ventris. Within House Ventris, the atmosphere was tense and full of thunder. Isilorbor had left no will, nor had he spoken to anyone about what would happen when he died. It was common acceptance that Lendil would inherit when he became older; Fireblade would be remade for the new Ventris, the deeds to the lands of Gondor past to him. But for the mean time, lawyers and bankers were demanding to the widow of Isilorbor that she name a successor of legal age. Lendes’ temper was always quick to enflame, now her fuse was preciously little. More then once, had Lendes stormed over to a terror stricken man wielding a roiling pin for dare assuming that he knew what her husband would want. Her daughters were also enraged by anything that was aimed at their late father. Lenwenn’s dancing teacher was knocked out cold when she barked at how Isilorbor would frown at her lack of concentration. Lessel had almost been arrested by the Bree Guard on numerous occasions due to people around Bree who had disrespected her father. Even Lendil was in a foul mood. Lendes had no choose but to remove him from his school after he had pushed his thumps into a teachers eyes after he had barked at the little boy for crying over Isilorbor. Lendes knew she should beat Lendil for that, but she could not bring herself to do it, she knew should would have done the same in his place. All it took was a single wrong word to enflame the Ventris’ of late. His body was kept wrapped tightly and held in a coffin as to not let his body fall apart before they decided what to do with him. Lendes had called Zelderan over to dinner, again. He accepted without a seconds delay, even if the invitation said that he did not need to if he was busy and was fully understood. He brought his son and daughter, Ferabor and Athenna. Ferabor had brought his new wife Dolethrian. The two families, both Shadowbane and Ventris were united by their fathers. Dinner with the Shadowbane’s was the only way the House of Ventris could relax and not become angered. Lendes had befriended another widow who had known Isilorbor, her name was Gwenbur Tinumir. They had been friends for years now, as Gwenbur had lost her husband, she was there to help Lendes with the loss of her own. They sat around a large dinner table, picking at food in silence and ate with little to talk about. The chair at the far end of the table was empty, as the head of the House sat there. Isilorbor had never liked the idea of being placed above his family, and only sat there on formal meetings. Lendes knew his favourite place was by her, on her right. Now at her right was Gwenbur. Every now and again, which was her habit with Isilorbor; she would reach down and take his hand. Gwenbur replaced Isilorbor’s hand, for that Lendes was grateful. No one spoke during this dinner; they all knew what they must speak of that night. ‘What are we going to do with the…His body?’ Dolethrian said in a half whisper to the table. It was a good question, it had been six days after his death and they still had no idea what to do with him. Ferabor finished his wine and licked his lips clean, he was careful not to show his love for Dolethrian in front of the Ventris’, he did not want to remind Lendes of what she had lost. ‘What would he have wanted?’ Gwenbur asked, taking hold of Lendes’ had as a precaution. ‘Isilorbor would not have wanted a tomb; it is too grand for his…’ Zelderan never finished his words as a fist slammed onto the table with a loud bang, making everyone jump in their seats. ‘Too grand? Too grand for him?!’ Lessel exploded without warning, her hand still balled in a fist on the table. ‘No, that’s not what I meant…’ Zelderan tried to reassure gently, but Lessel would not have it. ‘My father is a great hero, damn you! He deserves nothing less then the greatest honour we can give him!’ Lessel fumed, her eyes set deep into Zelderan’s. Zelderan remained calm and finished his wine before looking into Lessel’s eyes as he spoke. ‘Isilorbor had told me when we were in Evendim a few years ago that he would not have wanted a tomb when he died. He said that should grand shows of wealth and honour were for kings and high lords only.’ Lessel kept Zelderan’s eye line, until she lowered her eyes to her food; shame was burning in her eyes for doubting her father’s best friend. ‘Then what?’ Lenwenn asked after passing Lendil a piece of chicken. Zelderan noticed that she was asking him the question. ‘Erm…’ ‘I think you really know, father.’ Athenna spoke next to him. ‘I do, but it can’t happen.’ Zelderan confessed, and only when did he release he made a mistake. ‘Can’t happen?’ Lenwenn growled between clenched teeth. ‘Lenwenn…’ Once again, Zelderan was interrupted by harsh words. ‘I don’t care! I’ll do what ever it takes to give father what last thing he wanted in life!” Lenwenn barked loudly. Inwardly, Zelderan noticed the faint trace of command in her voice. Clearly the daughters of Isilorbor were more then just pretty faces, he thought to himself. ‘Isilorbor would have wanted to be put to rest at Calth.’ Zelderan said after a pause from Lenwenn. ‘Fine.’ Lenwenn and Lessel answered at the same time, they wiped their lips on napkins near their plates and began to stand up. ‘Sit down’ Lendes spoke for the first time in the evening. The two woman slowly sat back down, looking at their mother as if they had been caught doing something wrong. Lendes had latten go of Gwenbur’s; she cleared her throat gently and looked up at the table. ‘What Zelderan says it true. Isilorbor would have wanted to be at Calth, but that cannot happen, and if he were…alive, to hear of it, he would agree. I know this in my heart and soul that Isilorbor would blame himself to see us like this, girls. He would want us to get on with our lives, and not drawn into darkness.’ She looked at Lendil for a few moments. She felt pain in her heart that her son looked so much like the man who had blessed her. The table fell silent again, they had to do something with Isilorbor’s body, least they bring him dishonour. They answer came from the most unlikely person. “Why do we not burn daddy and send his ashes on the wind to Calth?” Lendil questioned with innocence. Lessel leaned into explain the foolishness of her little brother, when she paused. ‘That’s not a bad idea, Lendil.’ For the first time in days, Lessel smiled and kissed her brothers forehead. He giggled and wiped away where she had kissed, thinking he was going to fall ill. Mutters of agreement and smiles started to show on faces again, they all turned to Lendil and praised him. Lendes smiled warmly at her son, feeling tears run down her cheeks. The son of Isilorbor Ventris indeed, Lendes thought. The pyre was set in the fields of Bree; a large wooden tower rose from the ground with the body of Isilorbor resting with his hands crossed his chest in a nest of hay. He was wearing his white armour and a golden laurel around his head. The tower was covered in oil to help the flames travel, before the base was set. People from all over Bree had come to pay their respects to the fallen knight. At the base of the pyre were flowers, small trinkets of offering, hand written letters and poems, even some walked to the base, kissed their hands and touched the wood. Isilorbor was known in Bree as a hero, it was only right that the people who swore to protect showed their gratitude to him. The Bree Guard stood with the ground, as much to keep the peace then to pay respects. The Defenders of the Free People and the Sons of Calth, along with the House of Ventris, Shadowbane and all other families and friends Isilorbor had held close were at the pyre with torches in hand. The music had stopped, the touches were alight, all was set to send Isilorbor away. Lendes, Lessel, Lenwenn and Lendil all walked towards the pyre, their torches held away as they spoke their goodbyes by their age, Lendes first, Lendil last. ‘My love…I swear to you that I shall not marry another man, I became yours the moment I saw you. I will join you when my time comes, I will think of you every day until we can make again.’ With tears in her eyes, Lendes placed her torch on the pyre. ‘Thank you, father. Thank you for being my father and for the life you gave me, and the joy. My children will grow up to know what their grand father had done, I’m proud to call myself your daughter, now and always.’ Lessel’s torch followed Lendes’. ‘I will not say goodbye, for I know you’re with me now. I know you’re looking over me, watching what I do and protecting me from afar, as you have been doing for so long. I’ll always love you, father.’ Lenwenn lowered her torch. ‘I will grow up to be big and strong like you, daddy. I promise I will be a good boy and then I will be a knight like you one day, slaying dragons and being you. Can you help me with that, please? I love you, father.’ Lendil did not want to lower his torch, his tears were clouding his vision until his mother and sisters helped him to lower it. The people looked on as the flames rose and engulfed the pyre, turning it into a tower of flame that could be seen all over Bree-Land. Rangers who had known Isilorbor had said their goodbye to him in their own way, before turning back to their duty. The Sons of Calth each said their goodbyes to Isilorbor as the pyre burned. Each man thanking him for what he had done for them, and for what he did. For being a friend, a battle-brother and a great captain. The pyre burnt itself out, and the people left the site silently as the last of the wood cracked and snapped. Tomorrow would be a day without Captain Ventris to protect them; the world was a darker place without such a star in the sky. Those who remained last were the Defenders and his family. The Elves had said they goodbye in their own way before coming. Elianiour had watched over the family of Ventris since she had met Calgar himself and followed his line all the way to Isilorbor. She felt the lose for Isilorbor as a failing of duty, and cursed herself for not being their to save him, or watch his last moments. The other Elves, such as Irmiel, Rasheke and Imrial were saddened that another captain had been lost, but it was by Irmiel’s order that the Isilorbor had died. Somehow, she could not help but place the blame on her. Hallborn placed his hands on her shoulders from behind, sensing her mood and thoughts and lead her away gently. The very last to leave was the House of Ventris. They all held hands and walked back home with Zelderan escorting them. With one last look over her shoulders, Lendes had wished Isilorbor was alive. ‘A drink?’ Lendes asked Zelderan as the girls and Lendil had gone to bed. ‘Perhaps just a glass of wine.’ Zelderan answered. Lendes reached for a bottle of white wine and popped the cork, taking two glasses and pouring wine into them both, filling them quickly. They both took a deep sip to remove the dryness that the pyre had caused them. Silence was once again deafening, until Lendes found her voice, as quite as it was. ‘Is this how you felt when you lost Sabrial?’ She asked in a low voice. Zelderan was surprised that Lendes had asked him the question, but he sighed and nodded, gulping down the wine. ‘I did…I watched her die and there was nothing I could do to stop it.’ He said bitterly, remembering the battle at the vine yard so many years ago. ‘How did…’ Lendes was unable to finish her question, her voice and heart refused to let her. Zelderan placed a hand on Lendes’, he nodded and smiled sadly. ‘To each of us fell a task, to defeat the orcs and bring peace to the land that they made suffer under their heels and whips. All Isilorbor wanted from us was that we stand the line, and we die standing. That is what he did…He died standing.’ Zelderan’s voice spoke of awe and pride, Lendes could picture Isilorbor fighting his last battle without fear. Lendes moved closer to Zelderan, sitting on the table next to him and lowered her head on his shoulder, tears were once again running down her cheeks as she wept. ‘I miss him, Zelderan. I miss him so much!’ Lendes wept. Zelderan placed an arm around Lendes, holding her as she let her grief out in one rush. ‘So do I, Lendes.’ He whispered. Lendes unleashed her tears freely, crying opening in Zelderan’s shoulder for almost five minutes without stop. Zelderan made no move to stop her; he sat with her and let her cry. Sniffing, Lendes looked up at Zelderan. Her eyes were deep into his, and her arms were around his large chest. She was breathing deeply, trying to catch her breath as Zelderan’s glaze bore into her like a drill. The two looked at one another, both had lost their spouse and both knew that this pain would not go away. In the one moment, both Zelderan and Lendes gave up. Their lips joint into a deep kiss, Lendes’ hand ran down Zelderan’s cheek as she pulled him into the kiss, she felt his arms around her back tightly as they embraced. She could feel his strong heart beating wildly against her own, her hands on his shoulders. The two kissed again and again, the table was turning over with plates and glasses as Lendes and Zelderan unleashed their lust. The kiss came to a stop; Lendes stood up and pushed Zelderan back. She looked him in the eye as she began to undo her dress…. Lendes slowly flickered her eyes open; she was lying in bed with the sun beaming into the master bedroom of the house. She was naked under the silk sheets, curling up and lying with her body to one side. Did she sleep with Zelderan? Horror and regret flooded her as she recalled last night. She had slept with Zelderan! She had betrayed Isilorbor! Lendes remained frozen in place, she remembered everything. The pyre, the promise, the drink, the kiss…Oh Gondor the kiss! What would she tell the girls and Lendil? What if…What if Zelderan had seeded her? She dearly hoped not, she would lose her children. An arm wrapped around Lendes, and she flinched. The arm was strong and full of mussel, it was holding her and pulling her closer to its owner out of habit, it seemed. Lendes took a deep breath, she was fully awake and Zelderan was not. She would have to make him promise that it would never happen again and to tell him it cannot happen. Turning over in that bed was the hardest thing Lendes could do, it seemed that roll took an Age. She had her eyes closed, she could not bring herself to open them yet. Once her body was pressed against Zelderan’s, she thought about what she was going to say. Nodding to herself, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Lendes’ eyes and mouth widen in disbelief. Isilorbor was lying next to her in a deep sleep, his twin scars running down his face and his breathing was deep and peaceful. He was naked also, the scars over his body, the eagle brand on his heart, the necklace that never left his side, everything was there. Lendes looked over her husband, there were no fresh arrow wounds, his throat was not swore or opened wide. But…How? He was dead. The Sons of Calth had brought his body to… It was a dream. It was a dream. It was a dream, you silly bitch, Lendes thought! Isilorbor groaned as he woke up, his eyes flickered open and his smile as warm as a summer sun shone warmth and love into Lendes’ heart. ‘Morning, love.’ Isilorbor groaned. Lendes wasted no time. She leapt on top of Isilorbor and kissed him with great passion, her body wrapped around his tightly while her hands pressed against his chest. The joy that it was just a bad dream filled Lendes with a need to be close to Isilorbor, her tongue slide into his mouth like a wet snake and travelled over his chest. Isilorbor was clearly surprised at his morning treated, but did not complain as he and Lendes made passionate love. Isilorbor wrapped his arms around Lendes from behind and kissed her shoulder gently, his smile was loving and his eyes beaming. Lendes looked over her shoulder and returned the smile, along with a soft kiss to his lips. ‘I love you, Isilorbor.’ Lendes whispered. Isilorbor kissed Lendes’ lips with the same softness, his emerald eyes a flame of love. ‘I love you too, my love.’ Lendes rolled to embrace Isilorbor, after the dream, she could not simply say how happy she was just being around him. The safest place for Lendes was his arms, nothing would harm her, nothing could. Isilorbor raised Lendes’ chin and looked deeply into her eyes, with those beautiful green eyes. ‘You must forgive me, my love.’ He whispered. Lendes felt the pain of the dream slowly coming back, she had heard there’s words when he had to leave for battle. ‘You see, I have forgotten if they are green or blue.’ His soft was so soft and full of love, but his words made Lendes frown in confusion. But before she could ask what he meant, Isilorbor had answered. ‘Your eyes are the sweetest I have ever seen, my love.’ Lendes kissed her husband again and again, each kiss soft and could only be given by how much she loved this man. Isilorbor returned the kisses, his armed held Lendes lovingly. Isilorbor and Lendes lay in bed for the whole morning, speaking in whispering tones of their love, memories, but Lendes never spoke to him of the dream. For Lendes Ventris, at this moment in time, she felt the most loved woman in all of Middle-Earth.