In the throne room, the boys eye turned to Xandilif, who would seem to almost shy back from his expression. “Xandilif of Dol Amroth, the Maiden of Madness, you with so much blood on your hands, of friends and foe both. None of those around you bear regret as deep and vast as your own, regret like the sea itself. The deaths of comrades you could not save, innocents you could not protect are but the froth on the tops of the wave of your self-loathing. The true heart of it, the unexplored depth of your anguish, are those companions and friends you slew for your own advantage and protection, and before all of those…the only brother that you murdered. Maiden of Madness, indeed.”
The elleth bit her lip, then glared with renewed hatred at the boy. “My sins are my own, and to say I am not proud of them is a fecking understatement, but they are MINE and I bled for them and from them honest. My dead are not for some pipsqueak bastard to judge me over.”
“I am not doing the judging, Champion…” the boy laughed again. “You are, and you always have. The good you do is forever lumbered by the weight of your regrets, and though the dragon may spare one fawn in hopes of redemption, that does not restore the multitudes the beast…or the damned sword it bears…has destroyed.”
Finchley stepped suddenly between the two, eyes alight again with anger. “Stop it…leave her alone! Lif does the best she can and you have no right to speak that way to her! She didn’t murder her brother…the Masked did!”
Xandilif put a hand on Finchley shoulder, her voice weak now but filled with emotion. “Babygirl…don’t talk wild about stuff you don’t know..there are….parts to this story you ain’t heard yet, that I hoped you’d never hear….”
The girl stopped, looking back at the elf, her eyes wide. “Lif…what…”
Whatever question she was going to ask had to wait as the boy began to speak again. "Finchly of Angmar...." but before he could continue Finch removed her hood and mask. she looked horrified for a moment and then shook her head. She refused to play his game. "Aye, I'm Finchley," she said softly to the boy. "Finchley of Breeland, of Tol Lochul, and... yeah, I guess Angmar once. Tell me, what's your name?"
The voice inside her head shouted. “Don't talk to him....you have a knife, use it. FOOL of a peasant girl!'
The boy would look confused as the tables were turned, but staring at Finchley, answered slowly. 'I am the Lord of Never Weres....I am every sorrow you have ever known, that any of those here have ever known...I am the regret of the living soul of Arnor, of every light in this timelost chamber, left to die on an altar of could have been and might have seen. I am as she made me...Azarkhan.'
Finchley shook her head. "Okay, so she gave you the names Azarkhan and Lord of Never Weres. My friend Xandilif here taught me that giving something a name is a way to understand it, but could also be a way to control it….and they don’t have to be accepted. Are those the names YOU wanted?"
The boy looked even more confused. "The name I choose?” He seemed to suddenly see Finchley for the first time. “I....remember you...you were the nice man who gave me the toy bird...he..I named him Galvra..I...I used to know why...or maybe the bird does...'
Finchley paused mid-amused-nose-twitch to stare at the boy. "You-... You named him Galvra?" She blinked a few times and then smiled. "It's a nice name, innit. I was told once it means somethin' like 'chatty' in elf-tongue." She moved closer to the boy and looked for a spot near him that wasn’t occupied by creepy bones. After finding a spot next to him, she carefully pushed a few bones out of the way as respectfully as she could, wincing a bit. "'Scuse me. Sorry" she murmured to the bones, or who the bones once had been. She then seated herself and rested her hands in her lap, daggers untouched despite the voice’s admonitions. "Can you tell me what she did to make you Azarkhan? You don't have to say the scary bits. Oh..and I’ve never been a man. A girl, since I was born, but people get confused."
The boy nodded softly, showing the tactlessness of youth. “But you don’t have…”
Finch raised a hand to stop him. “I know, I KNOW…you aren’t the first to tell me that, believe me, and what would a 12 year old know about it anyway…but tell me what she did. Fayna…Aganalu.”
The boy nodded softly, blushing for a moment before regaining himself. 'I was doomed to go north and face my end, but nanny and her sister broke the future and made me two. One of me went to the warm waters of the first born, the other went to the snows...or should have gone to the snows.... nanny broke that road, so the me that should have froze was sent here by Aganalu…and she named me Arazakan.'
The boy sat up straighter in his chair, one hand resting on the long sword between his knees. “And all that was said or thought or felt on that last day...came into me. I am Azarakan...I am the Lord of Regrets.'
Finchley nodded. "Your nanny, huh? Seems like she helped, even if it wasn't in full. At least, that's what I'd like to believe of her." She glanced about the room a bit, amazed by the sheer number of bones. "Regrets... Whose regrets? Everyone's?"
The boy nodded. 'Yours...theirs…” as she gestured to Nethrida and Lif, “…even the catspaws” gesturing at Sable. “And all of Arnor that died on that day...the last grim wish is what created me.'
The boy looked at Sable again. "Her regrets are powerful...but bitter. They are not of her making...born to be a puppet on a string, to live and kill and die at the behest of others, or those who should have loved her...yet to them she was born to be a tool to an end.'
Sablelinna turned still holding the bow. She wiped the blood from her face and tears roll down her cheeks. Resolution appeared on her countenance as she watched the boy.
Azarakan met the woman’s half-mad eyes. 'Have you not seen now who told you of your mother's death and your sister's guilt...have you not seen yet who set in motion the torments that crushed what little soul you had?'
Sable stopped…as a realization began to pour through her, her bow falling with a clatter to the stone floor.
The voice inside Finchley’s head grew agitated the brand on her side more flaring more painfully, 'STOP TALKING TO HIM! We are running out of time!'
Finchley grit her teeth and ignored the voice, looking at the boy. 'What about yours?'
“Mine…?” The boy would freeze, struggling with that concept.
-
Meanwhile elsewhere, Cat glanced over to Moyna defiantly, but then returned her gaze to her mother, Rohina. 'Hm...So I can do anything with this witchfire my ancestors could do, eh? Can I make stout with this witchfire?''
Rohina laughed. "If one of us knows how to make this Stout, then you will know it too....'
Nodding, Cat called out to the room. 'Any of you know how to make stout?''
Several of the women speaking to one another stopped and looked at Catalinna. One said “FINALLY a daughter of my line is PRACTICAL...child I brew a stout that will uncurl your hair….all of it.'
Cat grinned and started towards the woman as Moyna bustled over. “Time for brewing later...you haven’t much more time until you are needed elsewhere. Fayna won’t stand for what is going on much longer. Lord but my Finchley is a ornery little thing.”
Cat attempted to wave Moyna off. 'Bah...enough about that tomboy. If I had to die for this, then, you can at least teach me how to use this witchfire stuff for an endless supply of stout...''
The woman smiled and patted Cat's hand. “Moyna you are such a bitch. Let the girl have a moment, it isn’t easy to come and go as we do...I can’t help ya brew it girl, or let ya snap your fingers for it...but I can teach ya secrets no one has known for centuries...I am Harla, by the way, once I healed the sick on the banks of the Anduin when Rivendell was new.”
Cat gave Moyna a smug grin before returning her attention back to Harla. 'I was hopin' for the whole 'snap your fingers' thing, but... I'll take what secrets you've got.' She let out a small sigh. 'Can you at least explain to me what it is that you're all wantin' me to do?''
Rovina stepped around Moyna to speak. “When you return you will reforge the connection between the Witchfire and the world, the one my mother broke in her arrogance and folly, and the one the powers that be reminded her was required.'
Cat frowned. “Mmhmm.. ok... and how am I supposed to do that?''
Rovina patted her shoulder. 'That will happen soon, as you are not meant to be here yet....your death was carefully prepared and planned for, in ways that...well...I do not always agree with your Grandmother's choices, but as the last, it was hers to decide. None of the rest of us can travel back as she does.'
Cat turned and glared at Moyna. 'You?!... You planned my death?' Wrath burned in her eyes as she starts to walk toward the old woman.'
Moyna shrugged. "There was no other way for you to enter the Witchfire and then return...we all die and return at first...there is no other way. Due to my folly, in the deal I struck with Angmar, drastic measures were needed and I wished our foes and that bastard Desad to believe the deed was true...and his plots had slain you.
Moyna looked down, in something that seemed almost like shame. 'So I prepared your sister Sabelinna to be the weapon...and gave her to them.'
Cat's fingers spread to ready her sharp nails, and with a snarl of rage her hands wrapped around Moyna's neck.
-
In the throne room, Finchley smiled gently at the boy. "Yes…you can have regrets too. Do you remember the day I gave you the toy bird?"
The boy would nod...uncertainly as the voice in her head howled. 'NOOOOO...that day is MEANINGLESS, fool of a child.' The brand suddenly ached so badly she could barely keep from crying, but Finch didn’t want to scare the boy.
Finchley smiled and sat back on her hands a bit, willing the pain to ease. "I asked after you that day. You said you were sad and scared. But, I think maybe Aganalu had already made you feel that way... But, I thought, maybe if I could make a difference for you, then at least, no matter what happened, you wouldn't be without any hope. I have regrets too. I regret that it weren't enough. But I'm not givin' up." She crawled closer to the boy, staying at eye level with him. “What about you…what regrets do you have?”
The boy would look suddenly very small and very lost. 'My regrets.....mine? I....I regret she took my bird away......the bird you gave me.'
Finchley nods, 'And she was very mean and wrong to do so. Aganalu gave you the name Azarakan. But I think maybe you forgot that you had another name before that. She likes to take things away from folks, doesn't she?'
His voice filled with something that was almost fear, the boy asked quietly, 'My other name?'
Finchley nodded. "Mmhm!" She looked over her shoulder at Neth. "Umm, Neth, you must know it too. The name Queen Firiel gave her son? The first Chieftain of the Ranger-folk I think...Aranarth…."
A warm wind seemed to blow through the throne room, the lights flickering, slowly forming into larger and larger lights, no longer isolated, no longer alone. The boy stood...and seemed to grow as they watched him into a man, a ranger, dark haired and firey eyed, the shade of a ruler of men. "Yes...I am Aranarth, Chieftain of the Men of the West, son of kings and father of Kings....and Azarakan no longer.'
Nethrida nodded a little. Her voice wasn’t quite as sharp and pointy as it had been as she dropped to one knee before the regal figure, laying her sword before him. "First captain of the Dunedain. Heir of Numenor."
Finchley nearly fell over in shock and apologized profusely to the bones she disturbed. "Sorry!" She pushed herself into a standing position before Aranarth and just sort of stared for a moment then made an awkward, quick bow and immediately felt like a fool for it.
He nodded to Finch, eyes filled with tenderness and gratitude. “And I am restored....I accept what never was...and look towards what shall be.'
Suddenly Finchley groaned, then screamed, clutching her side. The voice in her head shrieked “ENOUGH..it must be NOW”. Finchley tried to speak, to say something to the others, to Xandilif. To apologize for failing, to say goodbye…but all she knew was pain and was lost in the sense that she was losing touch with the world, that she was dying.'
-
Elswhere Catalinna tried to throttle Moyna but found her grandmother no longer has a physical form to strangle, her hands passing harmlessly through the old woman’s slender throat.
Moyna sighed. 'I am not proud of it...but things had to be done to correct my errors...as Rovina said, I was a fool....'
As Cat's hands swiped through Moyna's form, she let out a low growl. 'Yeah, I agree...but fool is just the start, you blackhearted old hag. You have had us all jumping through your hoops for ages now, maybe our entire lives. Me, the Emisarry, my so called sister…all of us.''
Moyna would seem to ignore her 'Simply returning will set in motion the repair...and stop what should not be, restoring the world to the proper course.'
Cat glared at Monya for a moment longer before turning to speak to Rohina, her gaze softer. 'How do I go between here and there, hm? How do I get back?''
Before Cat’s mother could speak Moyna looked up. "It appears the moment has arrived...we will guide you as best we can from now on...just...don’t be surprised by anything....and I am sorry.'
Cat shook her head. 'I've had enough surprises for one day... and I don't want your apology.'' Suddenly she felt cold and light headed, and she was in the throne room, her world confused and spinning as she returned to life, will she or no.
-
Xandilif called out. “Babygirl!” As Nethrida knelt, she saw that Finchley had fallen but was rising again, however she was changed...she seemed older and from the look in her eye, she was no longer Finch at all. This was now Aganalu, the plan that was first hatched when Finchley was born, so strangely resistant to evil, had finally come to fruition. The greatest Sorceress Angmar had ever known was born anew.
Aganalu rose, now fully in control of Finch’s body. "Now you fools we will end this once and for all." She stepped forward and scooped up Sable's fallen bow and nocked an arrow expertly...aiming down the throne room.
From the back of the throne room they all heard a voice, singing. "Follow sweet children I'll show thee the way...through all the pain and the sorrows." Cat was standing and was slowly walking toward 'Finch', now Aganalu, High Priestess of the Tribute Infernus. "Weep not poor children for life is this way...murdering beauty and passions." Cat's hand reached out towards Aganalu.
Aganalu snarled as she aimed. "This time, Catalinna daughter of Rovina, you will die properly and stay dead and the Witchfire with you.'
Aganalu set her aim perfectly on Cat's left eye, the arrow head lighting brightly with a vile green flame. Both Nethrida and Xandilif were forced back by a wave of green energy. The sorceress would not risk their interference.
Catalinna appeared to be undeterred as she continued to walk toward the one that was aiming the bow at her. She continued singing, "Rest now my children for soon we'll away... Into the calm and the quiet."
Aganalu whispered one last spell and the arrow was away. The shot was flawless, Xanderian with heartbreaker could not have done better, a trail of green fire behind the shaft...'
Forgotten, off to one side, Sablelinna smiled and gave a slight wave as strength rushed into her. She threw herself in the path of the missile streaking towards her sister. With a wet thud, the arrow sank deep into Sable’s chest bathing her in green fire. She arched, looked back to her sister, and fell.
Aganalu dropped to the floor as well... screaming again in Finchley’s voice, this time in anger more than pain. "Stop... it... I belong to me! Not you! I told you no!" Her fingers dug into her scalp and she shook her head around, as if trying to force something away. "I TOLD YOU NO!"
Looking down, in grief and understanding, Catalinna stepped over Sable and neared Finch, her hand reaching out to touch her; she was now humming as she continued along and her gaze seemed to be singularly focused.
On the ground, Finchley was writhing in furious battle with someone, or something. The green force now gone, Xandilif rushed forward, pulling the girl's pink fur lined armor open, the brand on her hip blazing like a torch.
Catalinna the Drunken Witch, the last remaining Witch of Aughaire and newest wielder of the Witchfire knelt and her hand closed tightly on Finchley's. For a moment there seemed to be a throbbing echo through the room....the bones faded, the shade of Aranarth faded...and the brand on Finch’s bare side went dark and disappeared. The lights all around them seemed to flare, and rocketed into the suddenly exposed sky, luminous as stars in the heavens in one final salute, the souls they represented released. As the shadows darkened once again, standing over Finchley looking stunned and somehow, small was Aganalu, still similar to Finchley but somehow, not...separated from her host and vulnerable.
Stepping up to her, Xandilif drew SilverWand. “Aganalu of Angmar, Fayna of Aughaire, by the powers of High, Middle and Low Justice bestowed unto me by the Princess Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, Blood Royal, and wielded in her name, I declare you guilty of treason and unspeakable crimes against the Kingdom of Arnor and the Host of the West and hereby sentence you to DEATH.”
Aganalu met the elleth’s eyes, looking somehow lost, defeated, and afraid and she was suddenly Aganalu no longer, but Fayna, daughter of Aughaire again. She closed her eyes and whispered. “Let it be over….”
SilverWand slashed forward and back in a wide, gleaming arc, shingshing, as Fayna’s head flew from her shoulders, her slight form already disappearing in green flame.
Xandilif intoned. "So be it, and so passes Aganalu the High Priestess of the Tribute Infernus, Sorceress of the Guild of the Unsealed, Daughter of Angmar and foe of the West. May she find the mercy she gave to no man."
Catalinna grinned and then her eyes closed as her form slumped to the ground- breathing but comatose, simply overwhelmed.
Xandilif lowered SilverWand....and looked down at Finchley. For the first time in ages, the girl felt no pressure inside herself, the Brand gone for good and in her haze she could see three people standing over her. In the middle was clearly Xandilif, SilverWand blazing as she reached down with her other hand...the other two were a man and a woman, smiling at her. Finchley knew deep in her soul these were the spirits of your parents, finally at peace.
Nethrida looked over to Sable and seeing as Finch was in good hands made her way over, cringing at the arrow in her chest. The sight all too familiar to something in her past, as such she knew there wasn’t much left to be done. Instead she knelt down by Sable and smiled at her, placing a hand on her forehead.
Sable coughed as blood ran from her mouth. Her green eyes opened to the sky, the new stars reflected in her irises as she stared without seeing. 'Mother' she coughed, 'M-m-mother always said to take care of my-my big sister.' her words trailed off and she smiled as the light in her eyes went dark.
Finchley blinked and squinted, staring at the same stars as Sable but seeing them in all their beauty and the faces above her. Bursting into tears, she whispered "I want to go home... Ma, I want to go home. I don't wanna be in this place anymore... Get me out of here, please. I want to go home."
Xandilif nodded, picking her up. “Don’t worry babygirl…we are going home.
