The land was covered in murky shadows and the wind blew like a lonely whistle over the land. Calmar stared over the expanse and watched as breath turned into vapor and whirled around his head. A shadow began to pass into his head. Nothing was changing and he knew soon his land would become nothing more than a darkness of the past.
He replayed the past years in his mind.
His one love was gone into the Hills, perhaps never to return to life again. Maethorion and his band of men along with Nieriel had left to go to the King of the West and help there was not even guaranteed. Perhaps a respite from the wrath of the Evil One was not going to happen. And Rainion and Meltoriel had left for the Isles of Doom. Glandur had died and they had a traitor in their midst. And here he was destined to a life of desolation. Was there nothing he could do to fight the growing darkness? And what of father? He pondered. His hands rested on the intricate pattern of the balcony. The hands which had once held beauty and had shaken as he killed the Wolf. Now they laid there, strong and firm and yet seemingly useless. He turned and ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. Someone moved in the courtyard and emerged from the shadows.
“It’s your father,” he said hurriedly. Calmar ran quickly to his father’s room.
“What is it father?” He asked, though he was certain of the answer.
“It is time son for me to leave. My breath is leaving and the life which once filled my breast is certain to leave soon. This darkness has taken me sooner than I expected, but son, there are many things I wanted to tell you.” He held out his hand for Calmar to take. “I have been a poor father. For too long have I left you on your own. You carried a weight on your shoulders that no human should have had to bear. And yet you took the responsibility and worked well under it. Never has a father been more proud of his son. You have held up under great odds and come though a victor. There is nothing more that I can say my son. Please accept this verbal gratitude, for I have already given you my kingdom, though it is a small gift. I hope that someday you will be a father far better than I.” He smiled up into his son’s eyes, sparkling with tears.
“Father, you have been a friend though my life and I could never have been happier. You taught me how to be brave and how to see beauty in the unlovely. And though the Spell has taken many years that should have been spent together, I will never forget the time we did have together.” His tear splashed upon his father’s hand.
His father’s breath became more labored and a darkness settled behind his eyes. Calmar II reached around his neck and pulled off a necklace which had been hidden by his tunic for years, yet it sparkled in beauty. Calmar gasped in exclamation.
“Son, this was your mother’s necklace. I have little use for it now. Take it and treasure it until you pass.” He kissed it and then fastened it around his son’s neck. For a moment his memory traveled back to the day his wife had given it to him. It was a beautiful day and their love for each other was burning more than the sun that shone upon them. It was shortly before Calmar III was born. She had held his hand and said softly to him, “I couldn’t be happier if I was the richest woman on Earth. The best day of my life was when I first kissed you.” She laughed then in a beautiful and flowing way.
He jerked back to present. He heard Calmar asking him questions. “Are you alright Father?” he asked.
“Yes son, I’m perfect. I am leaving this world behind and will spend eternity in a far better place. Do not ask me that question. It is you that I am worried about, but I know better than anyone that you will make it through and will join me one day far more deserving of the place that we are going than I am. I have one last thing to say.” He stared up into the sad brown eyes. “Live with courage, love in fervent, and remember your God. These are the rules for every warrior great and small. Live by these and life will bless you. Now go and rule wisely over your kingdom.”
Calmar bent over and kissed him on the cheek. He watched as his father slowly let go of life and became a part of history. Calmar II was gone but would be remembered by his descendants.
Carefully Calmar laid the blanket over his father’s dead body with tears cascading down his cheeks. He had held back these tears too long and now he could not stop them. They were the tears of sorrow, revenge, love.
He turned slowly from the bed and willfully walked from the room. He must rule his kingdom as his father had said. These were a people who needed a ruler and he was the one who would guide them.
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The hours passed and went and still no one knew what should be done with the traitor in their midst. Calmar and Calanon both spent their days in grief of their own, but they could not mourn forever. Urúvion continued on acting as if he lamented over his father’s death. But they knew it was he that slay his father in his sleep, a sin worth nothing short of death. But Calanon could not bring himself to accuse Urúvion and so he sought help and advice from Calmar. How could a brother fight against his brother, his own blood and flesh?
Calmar and Calanon stood upon the turret of the Fortress speaking softly. Calanon seemed different and had lost his charm of the past. Being forced to make choices such as stood before him it required a great strength from him.
“I do not understand why he would have done this evil,” Calanon murmured. “Glandur the Great never overlooks his descendants and if Urúvion had simply talked to him he would have found a remedy for his ill feelings.” The sky filled over with darkness and rain began to fall. But neither of them moved, for they had become a part of the storm that raged.
“Calanon, there are many things in life which cannot be explained and which we will never understand. Sometimes we must fight with what we have and leave the rest up to the Maker. For not all evils are directed to us and we simply witness them. You must face Urúvion knowing that he is your brother. There is nothing you can do to change that.” He touched Calanon on the shoulder. “We can only remain strong in the storm and let it not push you over.”
Calanon looked at Calmar in the eyes, watching the rage and sorrow in them meld and create a hurricane of emotions.
“Glandur was a great man of stature and more than that he was my father and my friend. Never was anyone more close than him to me. We shared heartache and sorrow and joy together. To think that Urúvion valued that for nothing makes me angry beyond knowledge. No one realizes that Elves get angry. Everyone thinks we see this torture and murder and we think calmly of a way to overcome it, but sometimes that does not work and we must come out of it and become one with the revenge we are feeling. Is there nothing I can do now?”
Calmar’s lips trembled with grief, “I too seek revenge, but we must wait for Maethorion to return or else it will add the already violent storm awaiting us.”
They turned and were lost to darkness of the Fortress walls.
The Spell of the Winterwolf 