Finchley stepped into the Hall of Journeys within the House of Three Graces where everyone had assembled, making plans for their upcoming journey and talking in hushed whispers. In her hands was a small burlap bag weighted down by the contents within. She leaned against the side of the doorway and set the bag on the floor in front of her quietly, not wanting to interrupt anyone just yet.
But, soon enough, Xanderian noticed her presence and rose from where she was sitting. She stepped over to the Woman and gently placed one hand against her cheek. Finchley smiled softly and sadly as she leaned in to embrace the elf. "... It's about time,” she whispered, though her voice was loud enough to catch the attention of everyone else in the room. They all knew what she meant.
Eduwiges took a quick pull from her flask as she moved to stand beside Xan. The warrior felt absolutely heartbroken for her Xanderian and even felt pain for her mentor, Xandilif. Hawk was standing nearby, keeping quiet company with his own inner thoughts. Calidis lingered in another doorway nearby, silently observing and suitably somber.
Addiela entered the house and held the heavy door open for none other than Rathvald as he followed in after her, his armor cleaned, the mail shining, while his usual blade hung against his hip with a feint glimmer to it. While the two of them had walked toward the house, Addie had informed him a bit about the funeral that Finchley had planned for today and had let him know that it was for Xan and Lif's brother, whose head had been delivered to the island in a small wooden box as a warning message to the two sisters. Nethrida arrived soon after with a somber, sorrowful look on her face. She inclined her head at the two by the door whilst making her way across the hall.
Just then, Xandilif stalked into the hall, carrying several maps. “The more I look at this garbage, the less it makes sense-- … What is Slick doing here?” The champion looked around at those assembled in the hall. “What's going on?”
“I said I'd take care of your brother and I meant it,” replied Finchley. “It's time to say goodbye to him.”
Xanderian glared at her sister when she started to open her mouth, causing Lif to shut it again, looking uncomfortable.
“Aye - now is a time for grieving and memories,” intoned Rathvald.
Xandilif spat. “Memories my lily white ass. We hardly knew him and that was HIS fecking choice.”
“The choice does not matter, Banshee,” said Xanderian. “The Child has his reasons. We--… We each found our own path. And, in truth, we still do not know how this occurred or why.”
Addiela raised a brow at Lif's harsh words and then glanced at all of the maps in the elf's hands. "I'd… be careful around her for now, Rath,” she whispered to her companion. “'And perhaps behind me if she draws that sword of hers.”
“I usually stay out of the way others, Addie,” he repied, glancing over to the Banshee briefly, the grey of his eyes fading in the light. “Though I will stick to your side.”
Finchley looked to Xandilif and shook her head resolutely. “If you want to come, then, please do. If you don't--… Well, I think you should. He's your brother, whether you knew him well or not.” The slight woman looked to the bag at her feet. “I just want to give him a proper send off. It's what I know is right.”
Xanderian reached over to grip Eduwiges’ hand tightly as the warrior gestured faintly at Xandilif, as if to say, ‘Let us just get through this.’
“I'll need some help though,” said Finchley as she gestured to the burlap sack at her feet. “I can't carry this bag and Xanir. Unless... Xan or Lif wants to carry him...”
Xandilif sighed dramatically in response. “Give it here. I carried him enough; might as well finish the job.”
Finchley nodded and turned to go retrieve the box that contained what was left of Xanir from under one of the house’s guardian trees, Tuile. Xandilif dropped the maps she had been carrying onto the table unceremoniously. “…He always figured he'd be the one to bury US. Funny how that worked out.” She turned when Finchley returned, holding the box which was now wrapped in vines entwined with dried flowers that still emitted a floral scent. Over the box was draped a sheer black cloth. She stepped up to the champion and held out the box for her to take.
Nethrida attempted to place her hand on Xandilif’s shoulder as the elf merely looked at the box for several long minutes… until, at last, she took it in hand. “Half expect to hear the little pisspot still whinging from in there,” she snorted softly. Xanderian gave her sister a look and then turned away from her.
Finchley gave Lif a soft smile as she leaned over to heft the burlap sack int her arms again. Calidis stepped further into the room, an ornate pitcher of silver that contained pure water in her hands. "Ready?” she asked, reaching up with one hand to secure her hat on her head. “Got a spot all ready for him. I think you'll like it.”
Xandilif shrugged. “This is your show Babygirl.”
Finchley merely shook her head at Lif. “He's YOUR brother, Lif... C'mon, I was already out there this morning to dig. So, you don't have to worry about a thing.” She then headed for the door, which Addiela kindly opened for her. Calidis followed after her, silent and somber. Xandilif followed behind, carrying the box with Xanderian and Hawk close behind. And, finally, Addiela, Rathvald, Nethrida, and Eduwiges came after, the latter of which snuck a another pull from her flask as she passed through the door.
Finchley held the burlap bag securely to her chest as she walked quietly down the path and then veered off into the grass towards the northern part of the island.
“Half tempted to just leave it on a spear somewhere,” remarked Lif as she followed behind. Finchley shakes her head sadly, but said nothing, knowing that, despite what the Banshee would have others believe, she was not at all alright or uncaring. Still, Finchley would keep what she called the champion’s ‘secret’ for now.
Meanwhile, Nethrida frowned and murmured a quiet, disapproving, “Lif... Show a bit of respect, at least.”
“Respect?” Lif snorted. “What respect? This is just choosing where the meat rots.”
After a bit of walking, the group came upon a ring of trees, though which the northern part of the bay could be seen. It was a quiet place with not too much sun and not too much shade. In the middle of the ring of trees was a hole, already dug, shovels placed nearby. Like most graves, it was dug reasonably deep but was quite small to accommodate the proportions of the box that contained all that was left of Xanir.
Seeing the carefully dug grave mades this all too real for Addie and a fresh expression of guilt, shame, and sorrow washed over her as she kept to the back of the group with Rathvald, who let his mind drift off in to a tune: One of battles past and skirmishes fought - the man couldn't feel all too much of the grim situation. Rathvald had, several times, seen such a 'burial'.
Xanderian stood quietly with Hawk, looking to her sister occasionally. Eduwiges stood next to Nethrida, trying not to think of mortality too much, and surreptitiously offered the guardswoman her flask. Neth stood at attention like a soldier, though she gave the warrior a polite shake of her head to decline the offer.
Finchley stepped up to the grave and set the burlap sack down nearby it. She turned and looked to Xandilif, gesturing to the hole she had dug earlier that morning. “Right here when you are ready. There's no rush, Lif.”
Lif merely shrugged, setting the box down next to the grave. “Now or later; don’t make no difference to the Child now.”
“It makes a difference to you,” Finchley replied as she removed her hat and knelt down by the hole, resting a hand on the box. It's clear she has done this sort of thing before.
“The truth is, his death seems to have been much as his birth was,” said Xanderian. “Unexpected, undesired, and overwhelmed by circumstance. He was not even free of his mother’s breast before--… That which occurred, occurred. And he was left with two woefully ill-equipped parents. I was just a child myself. And the Banshee—"
“The Banshee should have known not to make stupid promises she couldn’t keep,” Lif interrupted harshly, drawing a sympathetic look from Addiela, who knew the feeling all too well. “Damn Adar, damn Amil… AND DAMN YANCA!" She then pushed the box into the grave with small kick of her foot.
Addiela’s mouth dropped and Nethrida’s blue eyes went wide with shock. Calidis fixed her dark gaze upon Xandilif as her expression tightened. Finchley merely placed a firm hand on the champion’s boot, effectively holding it in place as she looked up at the elf with a compassionate expression. With her free hand, she calmly reached into the grave and adjusted the box so that it sat at the bottom neatly.
“He tried, in his way, to find peace, to be free of the miasma he was born into that we are drowning in— “
“Yeah, and look where it got him,” Lif spat angrily. “Adar might just as well have slit his throat with all the others. Ours too while he was at it.”
Eduwiges cringed a little as she tried to keep it together. Solemn occasions tended to make her see the humorous side of life far easier than she wanted to in this moment. Rathvald focused upon the sound of the waves and gulls. As Addie had before stated, he would not bring himself closer, nor did he desire to.
Xandilif squatted down near the grave and looked down into it. “Our bitch of a mother barely even noticed he was born, cold hearted harpy that she was, until he was a few years old he called ME Emig. Can you believe that? Me?”
Eduwiges reached for her flask again and tried not to laugh inappropriately. Addiela almost stepped forward but stopped when she saw Finchley take one of Lif's hands in her own and rested her free hand upon her shoulder. She looked the Banshee in the eye for a moment and then stood to firmly pull her away from the grave. Surprisingly, the champion followed with no resistance. “If anyone would like to say somethin',” she spoke quietly, “Anythin' at all - memories, thoughts, whatever you'd like - please do so now, one at a time. Lif… You can go last.”
Xanderian stepped forward, holding Hawk’s hand as he watched on, lending her silent support. “What can be said? None here knew him well, including his sisters. As he requested, we barely even spoke of him. He closed himself off from us. He was dedicated to his own path... And I tried to respect that. He was born to prove that our parents were worthy of mercy. He died to prove that his sisters are worthy of nothing at all...”
The huntress paused for a moment to glance over at her sister before continuing. “The Banshee speaks in rage, but she speaks rightly. Xanir died more than 200 years ago in Mirkwood. This is simply a long-delayed conclusion to a tragic tale. Perhaps all three of us died that day.” Xanderian looked to the grave and then turned away from it, stepped back to where she previously stood. “I am done. May his voyage be gentle.”
Nethrida continued to stand at attention, though she looked sad. She did not know the deceased and thus could come up with nothing to say. The others were of a similar mind, perhaps also still stunned by the tragic turn of events in recent days. Finchley, however, stepped up to the open grave herself and sat next to it, as if she were sitting down to have a talk with a friend. Xandilif hesitated and then stepped forward to stand behind her, putting one hand on the top of her head.
“Hello, Xanir. My name is Finchley. Just Finchley,” the woman started, kindness and sorrow coloring her voice. “And I'm sorry we had to meet like this... I hope I've done right by you. I've only buried one person myself before and I know nothin' about elvish things. But Calidis here helped a little bit... If you ever once felt like you were alone or distant from people who cared, you aren't now. I didn't know you, but you were and are Xan and Lif's brother, so you have my love where you are now – the place where elves go. I hope that place is beautiful and that you enjoy any fancy cakes they've got… Goodbye.” She then stood and brushed the dirt from the knees of her trousers before looking up to Xandilif again. "Now, you may say what you want, Lif. Whatever you want. I'll not stop you this time. Just... don't mess up the grave, aye?" She gave the Banshee a wry smile as she stepped back. The sound of Eduwiges coughing into her fist echoed through the air.
Xandilif sighed and stared down into the grave with an unreadable expression. “…You were screwed from the start, and ya never made it any better. Maybe we weren’t much help but there it is: We'll get revenge for ya that we can. But the people who really deserve ta get gutted over this are likely beyond us. But you can manage it yourself. Just slap them both once you are where you’re going. And please, give them this message: … ‘Feck yourselves. Love, Gawad.’” With a last hard look, Xandilif stepped back and turned away from everyone.
Addiela took in a deep breath, knowing that everyone grieved in their own way. Eduwiges, however, lost control and began coughing and guffawing at the same time as she tried to keep quiet and get herself in check. Nethrida took a deep breath as well and, for a moment, a small trace of a smile formed on her lips.
Finchley nodded once she was sure Lif was done. "Could I have someone help me with--..." She gestured to the shovels laying nearby. Eduwiges and Nethrida both stepped forward in unison, each taking up a shovel. As they began to shovel dirt back into the grave, Finchley knelt down beside it again, making sure the dirt made it into the grave and that it was properly mounded about the top, like a gardener attending plants.
Just then, Rathvald’s singing voice could be heard amidst the soft sounds of sifting dirt. “When Mandos calls, their soul will soar. Within his halls, on Valinor. When Mandos calls, say not goodbye. For a reunion in time is nigh. When Mandos calls, song ends.”
Xanderian sighed softly and squeezed Hawk’s hand. "He deserved better than we…”
Lif turned about again and looked to her sister. “So does everybody, but they got no feckin’ choice… We are what we are.”
Addiela nods at his words and takes in a deep breath, letting it back out in a long sigh.
When the grave was filled and a mound of dirt formed over the top, Finchley stood again and dusted off her hands a bit. “Thank you. Mister Rathvald, Neth, and Edu.” There was no stone marker lying nearby to make the grave. She had something else in mind. Once more, she took up the burlap bag and then opened it up wide, revealing the large quantity of various flower seeds contained therein. She reached into the bag and ran her fingers through the seeds, allowing them to tumble back into the pile. “Well, everyone grab a handful and scatter them on there. Calidis told me there was a hero once who died and flowers bloomed atop the mound of his grave until those lands sunk beneath the Sea.”
Eduwiges stepped forward to take a handful of seeds and sprinkled them over the mound of earth before walking back to stand beside Xanderian. Nethrida also scattered a few seeds upon the grave and murmured what sounded like an old Númenórean mariner's farewell before moving back to stand with the rest.
Addiela almost stepped forward but found herself suddenly afraid that whatever might leave her hand would turn into weeds or, worse, some type of poison flower. She took a few steps back, even as Rathvald urged her to go froward with a reassuring smile. Finchley looked over to the woman and held out the bag encouragingly. “Addie... Whatever you're worried about; it'll be fine, promise.”
Addie had hoped that Finch wouldn't actually call on her and that she could avoid this part. Now that she had been, she slowly walked forward, catching Xandilif by the collar to bring her along as she nears the grave, causing the champion to stagger a bit. She then reached for the entire bag of seeds, wanting to be careful to not actually touch them. She resolutely held the bag out to Xandilif and Finchley watched them with slight concern. “Everyone deserves to be honored, whether in life or in death. They're only forgotten if we let them be.”
The Banshee looked at Addie and seemed to be on the verge of saying something especially cutting… And then doesn't. Reaching into the bag, she dumped a handful on the grave, after which Addie tipped the bag to let some of the flower seeds spill out for her part and Rathvald’s before handing it back to Finchley. She let go of Lif’s collar and walked back to where she previously stood.
Xanderian smiled to herself at the gesture while her sister turned away again. Calidis silently stepped foward and took a handful of seeds. She scattered them methodically over the grave so that any bare patches were covered. Finchley reached into the bag herself and paused, looking down at the mound. “... I really hope I did right by you. It was on short notice and we're leavin' soon for--...” She looked out through the trees and to the water for a moment as tears fill her eyes. Fear and something else seem to rule her expression for a moment or two before she shakes herself of it and lets the seeds drop onto the grave. Hawke finally stepped forward after Finchley did her part, and took the last few handfuls of seeds from the nearly empty bag and scatters them over the grave for both himself and Xanderian.
Finally, Calidis stepped forward again with the silver pitcher she had brought and whispered a barely audible word over it. The silver seemed to shimmer in her hands for a moment, though it could be dismissed as a trick of the eye. The ringmage, poured the clear water over grave mound as methodically as she spread the seeds there. Once done she looked to Finchley and nodded. "Come spring, they will bloom."
Finchley nodded gratefully to Calidis and raised a slightly shaky hand to wipe a tear from her eye before it could fall. She looks to both of the sisters and bowed her head. “I hope that was okay. I only knew what we do for burials in Bree. And it's different since elves know where they go... Thank you for lettin' me bury him.”
Eduwiges smiled. “You did just fine Finchley. Just fine.”
Nethrida’s smile matched Edu’s. “It was very similiar to Therion's funeral. You did well.”
“We are certainly in your debt, Small Finchley,” replied Xanderian.
Finchley smiled wryly. “No debt. I wanted to do this... I've had practice.”
Xandilif moved towards the woman and put a hand on her head. “Ya feel better now, babygirl?”
Finchley reached up and wiped another tear away. “Better, aye. Not good, but better.” Just then her stomach growled and her cheeks turned pink. “And hungry.”
“Well, sure. I'm surprised ya didn’t start eatin’ the seeds.”
“They're not sunflower seeds, Lif! I think the seller said gladdens, bluebottles, rockroses…”
Eduwiges giggled. “C’mon, Finch. We will find you some food.”
Finchley took one of Hawk’s and Xanderian’s hands in each of hers and began to walk back towards the House of Three Graces, the rest of the group following behind with Addie and Rathvald lingering behind.
“This is only the third funeral I have attended,” remarked Addiela quietly. “It's... different from those in the Mark, but still similar enough.”
Rathvald nodded. “Most of what I have witnessed were shallow graves with only a helm atop a sword.”
Addiela looked over to him and frowned “Those you travelled with?” Rathvald gave Addie a nod as a reply as she looked down toward the ground. “Whether placed in a tomb of stone or buried with a mound of flowers, it seems we all await the same fate. I have now seen men, dwarves, and elves buried.”
Rathvald nodded again. “In the end - we are all indeed equal.”
