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Prompt: Gift

Summary: From the dead to the living, a gift...


The Khan's men wouldn't stay, even for the bodies. They're traitors, their captain said. Do as you will with your own.

So the day rang with shovels, and as Celbaran and his fellows turned the last little earth, evening, spreading like a bruise, brought visitation.

Cel, Gilion warned softly, nodding toward the barrow door toward the woman, with her children and husband.

Dusty with death, they descended, and, clinging wide-eyed to each other, passed among the silent gravemen. Celbaran, breathless, watched. But none opposed them: they forded Poros, and disappeared.

For love and honor. Knees buckling, Celbaran sat and wept.


One day, I will write the backstory to the higher level politicking that results in this catastrophe. But it is not this day that I shall write it... Thanks, T_W crew, for the prompts!


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