The Lastborn: A Middle Earth Story(Book 1)(EDITING)

Chapter 32: The Ceremony

   They returned in silence. There were no crowds to welcome them back, no celebration. The Rangers had lost much in the battle of Fornost, and merely looked up grimly from their work of repairing the city to acknowledge the heroes' return.
   Caledorn, who had recently returned from his journey to the east, met them at the gateway as they entered the city. The elf, still clad in black, nodded to Gerithor and began to walk at the Ranger's side, not saying a word. They finally arrived at the keep and Kalan jumped from the wagon, disappearing inside the large building.
   Caledorn turned and spoke to Gerithor.
   "Arnakhor is dead then?"
   "Yes." Gerithor said simply and without emotion.
   "As joyless as this victory seems now, you have saved your people. Do not forget that." Caledorn put a comforting hand on Gerithor's shoulder, then turned and walked silently away.
   Kalan approached several moments later, walking slowly and wearing a solemn expression.
   "A ceremony has been arranged for tonight. They waited to bury your father until you returned, so it will honor him as well." The dwarf looked up at the Ranger with sad eyes. "I'm sorry for your losses, lad."
   Gerithor didn't respond, but nodded at Kalan in appreciation. The dwarf turned and walked back into the keep to help with preparation for the ceremony.
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   The funeral ceremony began that evening. Torches lined the walls of the main hall, and the light from them played upon the bodies of Eldahir, Raldis, and Gerimond, who lay on stone slabs in the middle of the large room.
   The surviving Dunedain stood around them, mourning the loss of Gerimond, who had been a great captain among them, and Eldahir, one of the youngest among their ranks. Few recognized Raldis, who was laying a short distance away from the other two.
   Gerithor solemnly approached the body of his father. He knelt next to it for a moment in silence, honoring his memory. He remembered when Gerimond had first taught him to shoot a bow. Gerithor had been a terrible shot at first, but his father had patiently worked with him until Gerithor was among the best of the Dunedain archers. He remembered how the other Rangers had treated Gerimond with respect... Like a leader. Gerithor grasped his father's hand and sighed.
   "I miss you father," he whispered.
   After a while he stood and moved on to Eldahir. Seeing his childhood friend's pale, lifeless face was nearly too much for him to bear. But there was a peace there... A happiness, like he had died a fulfilled man. This gave Gerithor some comfort. He was reminded of fond memories of him and Eldahir fighting with wooden swords in the woods around Esteldin. Of them fishing, Gerithor always trying to catch a bigger fish. He smiled sadly at the thought.
   "Rest in peace brother. May your journey in the next life be long and full of joy." Then he was filled with overwhelming sadness. "I'm... I'm sorry I could not save you." He choked on the words, and took a moment to recover.
When he did, he went over to Raldis last. Raldis, the Black Numenorean who had honor. Who had only fought because he had no other choice. Gerithor felt sick, knowing that it was by his own hand that the man died. But then he remembered Raldis' family. He would make sure that a group was sent to Carn Dum to release them. That way Raldis' death wasn't in vain.
He looked up and saw that Sarina was now kneeling next to Eldahir, crying softly. Kalan stood at the foot of the slab, eyes closed and murmuring a silent prayer under his breath.
Caledorn had taken a place at Gerimond's side. The elf wore a sorrowful expression as he looked down at the ranger captain.
   Halbarad stood nearby, and slowly walked to the middle of the three stone slabs. He waited until everyone was silent, then began to speak.
   "These men were all warriors. Brave of heart and strong of will, they gave their all to defend the free people of this land from darkness. Gerimond, a great captain among us and a shining example of a true warrior; Eldahir, who was cut down on the rise to greatness and who gave his life to defend his friends; and Raldis, who showed that even among the darkest armies of evil a light of hope can shine. These men will be remembered through all time. Their names will be spoken of in honor by future generations to come, who will look upon these men and see that it was in part because of their sacrifices that they can live in peace." Halbarad finished his eulogy, then stepped back, motioning to Gerithor. The young ranger took a few steps forward, and with tears in his eyes began to sing softly:

Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You've come to journey's end
Sleep now
And dream of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across the distant shore

Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping

What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
All souls pass

Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time
Don't say: We have come now to the end
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again

And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the West

By the time he was done, tears were falling freely down his face. Sarina softly cried as well, and even Caledorn didn't seem unaffected by the emotion of the moment. Gerithor went and knelt down next to Sarina, and put an arm around her. She buried her head in his shoulder and cried. They both sat next to Eldahir's body for a long while, until the hall grew dark and all of the Rangers had left.
   Kalan sat with his back propped against a wall, his head in his hands. Caledorn stood on the opposite side of the hall, sorrowfully looking out a window. Sarina hadn't moved from Gerithor's shoulder. She had fallen asleep after crying until she couldn't cry anymore.
   Gerithor's eyes were red from tears as well, and he stared ahead with a broken expression. He had lost everything. No... Not everything. He still had Kalan, and Caledorn. And even Sarina. But she had never forgiven him.
   Pain gnawed at him. Pain of loss. Pain of failure to save his friends. Pain of heartbreak. He couldn't cry any more so he rested his head on top of Sarina's and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the pain. He eventually fell into a fitful sleep.