Xanderian lay on the soft grass, an evening's breeze making it's rambling way along the swiftly flowing brook beside her, sweet and heavy with the scent of lilac's in bloom. The moon had just risen, full and luminous, giving everything a silvery edge as it bathed the scene in soft, pure light as if it were Telparion itself.
The huntress sighed softly and rose. She had seen this landscape before and looked out upon it unafraid. Along the brook were a scattering of campfires, each burning without warmth or light, for the soldiers who huddled around them in pairs and trios had no further need of such things. Walking through their midst, the Elleth heard many voices hailing her by many names...Xanderian, Nightwind, Longtracker, H'rath Karcun, Monk of Osgiliath. To each she spared a smile or nod, for she remembered each face and every name. None the less she moved around them, careful not to take any hand offered by the dead.
Finally standing apart from the campfires and looking out upon a rocky coastline stood a gaunt man, of burning eyes and long, jet black hair. His dark robe was once white, long ago dyed by blood into a red as deep as the grave. On his cheek and forehead were branding the sigils of the Guild of the Unsealed and in his eyes were branded the fires of madness. At his feet sat two hooded women, straining under heavy chains. "Hail, Xanderian, Daughter of Anerial. Is there not a name your friends beyond had forgotten, that was the name you answered to as you went from girl to women? What was it again? Ahhhhh yes, I remember now...Kinslayer's Whelp."
"I knew I would see you before I faced you, Urech, Dog of Angmar. Is this the best you can do? Your taunts frighten me not, nor do I shy away from the eyes of the fallen." Xanderian squared her shoulders, impatient.
The Necromancer smiled. "I am not here to taunt you, Huntress of Imladris, self-style Princess of Slayers, I am here to offer you a courtesy. Even now matters reach the point of no return and I offer you the choice of who shall live and and who shall die before the walls of Kheledul in just a few hours time. Shall it be the cowardly daughter of Linhir, or the oh so trusting silver-haired filly, or the thieving son with a stolen name? What of the ancient fool of Laicamiril, shall she go West on the axes of the Dourhand? The thwarted lover of Rohan, surely he will be ready to meet his end in a 'good' cause, or perhaps the melancholy son of a dead forest? The hated refugee of the Southern sun, or the misguided daughter of her deluded mothers? Why not the orphaned waif of the forge, or that besotted shieldmaiden you can't seem to keep track of? Choose two of these to come join my conclave, and all the rest may live to see the next sunrise, else ALL will be lost to you, one by one. Do you really think you will be able to strive in vain against the plans of the Stained Queen and walk away unscathed, even in failure?"
Xanderian shook her head, gathering her nerve despite the horrible visions that filled her head. "I will not slay and dress your prey for you, Filth of the Unsealed. If you have the strength to bring any of those you have named down, then do your best...but I think you are overreaching."
Urech shrugged, and looked back out at the coast, a ship just drawing up close to the gleaming shore. "As you wish, but you will never be able to claim I did not give you all due courtesy, one Kinslayer to another. Perhaps in the end, the one you would choose is the foolish stallion's daughter, the poisoner of kings? After all, she wishes to die does she not? Did she not make that clear to you..."Sister"?" The necromancer's voice dripped in sarcasm and scorn as he said Sister, like a poisoned blade dripped venom.
Shuddering, the huntress turned away, retreating from that last jibe like a little girl despite her resolve, his laughter following her down to the shore, where she stopped dead.
Moored on the white sand before her was a graceful boat of swan like design, festooned with glowing lanterns and draped in shimmering, silver light. In the prow stood a willowy figure, hooded and veiled, dressed in flowing lavender robes and facing the distant black horizon. The ship and the shore and the woman were exactly as they had been when Xanderian had seen them as a child, and ever after in dreams.
Xanderian sighed in resignation. "Mother, Emig....why do you come again? Urech has no power to drag you from the grace of Mandos."
The figure spoke, her voice cold and distant, as if speaking from a great height. "I am not dragged or summoned, I have come of my own will and not at the whim of any petty sorcerer. I come to tell you that your path will lead only to death and failure, Lethril. They will all betray you, one by one, each in their way...and those few who do not, you will fail. After all, they are only mortal...as now are you, fool of a girl. Only mortal. You think too much of them...and of yourself."
Xanderian shook her head violently. "NO...I have faith in each of them, faith in their love. and in my love for them...they will stand strong against shadow, they will stand together, true to one another and true to me. We shall be victorious against the monsters that have long chased me, chased Xandilif."
The veiled figure turned to face Xanderian, who sank to one knee before her. "You are wrong, Xanderian...you will not be victorious, and they will not stand beside you...they will fall away, for they are weak and not deserving of your love, Lethril. You have chosen a mortal life just as they depart it so eagerly, leaving you alone after all."
The huntress lifted her tearstained eyes to the figure. "Emig...no...it is not so..." Even to herself, her response sounded weak..uncertain..shaken.
"It IS true, Lethril. You know deep inside that I speak truth." Slowly the figure drew aside the veil, the gossamer hood dropping gracefully to the deck of the ship, revealing Addiela's blonde hair and blue eyes. "After all, I know of what I speak, do I not? Sisssttter?" As she said sister, Addie's voice was with filled with the contempt and mockery that Urech had imperfectly mimicked....and Xanderian finally screamed.
She stood transfixed there on the shore, screaming, breaking, Addie's laughter scourging her for what seemed like an eternity until Xanderian felt soft, strong hands dragging her up, as if rescuing her from icy depths.
Xanderian of Belfalas lay beneath the spreading boughs of Tuile, a Guardian tree of Tol Lochul. Scattered fragments of moonlight cascaded down from the skylight of leaded glass as she lay against Hawke's chest. His slow, even breathing showing he was sound asleep, despite the Elleth's tears still gleaming on his skin. With a cry, she started awake staring into Cyndwin's concerned eyes, the Shieldmaiden still dressed for riding. "Rian? My love?"
Cyndwin's sudden arrival had awoken Hawke as well and Xanderian embraced them both with pure desperation....and wept until the trumpets of dawn called her to arm herself for battle.
