[mark12_30]

Phura's head snapped up, and all heads turned, following his gaze. Marching could now be heard from the far tunnel, and five heavily armed soldiers strode purposefully into the main cave, blades drawn. Everyone held their breath and nobody moved a muscle.

Phura's heart was in his mouth. Gamba berated himself silently. "You blew it. You gave her away after all, you fool, and now she'll die, and who knows how many more will die with her, and you've ruined everything."

But the five soldiers ignored the hobbits and marched straight to one of the guards. The young guard's face went white, and for a moment his hand went to his sword hilt, but there were other guards present too, and he froze, and then surrendered, and Phura was surprised to see relief mixed with peace spread across his face.

They took his sword and dagger, and tied his hands, and marched him back the way that they came. But as he passed the hobbits, he paused, and his mild grey eyes met Gamba's. Gamba's eyes widened and his heart sank like a stone.

The guard spoke with a slight tremor in his voice. "Well, Gamba, the grave you dug today will be mine tomorrow. I trust you dug well, little one. You always do." And then the soldiers pushed him forward, and they marched out.

The other guards left in the main hall all stared resolutely forward, but more than one of them was tight-lipped with fear. Nobody dared to move, even after the six men were gone. But Phura tensed as his brother's composure slowly, slowly crumbled, and his eyes slowly grew wild and desperate. For the first time, Gamba knew in advance who would fill one of his graves. The young guard's words and his strangely peaceful eyes would haunt Gamba for a long, long time.

Tears formed in his eyes and he began to shake; row on row of filled hobbit graves hovered like a spectre in his mind, and now he also saw the man-sized graves beyond, and knew that they too were filled with pain. His pent-up grief, finally released, verged on panic, and now Phura hurried to his side, and clutched him to his chest. Gamba stifled his sobbing against his brother's ragged shirt. Their five children gathered gently around, expressing concern with their soft voices and little hands. Gamba gasped and shook, and Phura whispered to him and held him tighter still. Tuka, Esta and Azraph slowly came over and sat with them.

None of the adults dared to weep out loud, but between pity for Gamba, and protracted grief and mourning for so many lost hobbits and the plight of so many orphaned children, there weren't many dry eyes. Daisy glanced down at her collar, and met the Neekerbreeker's eyes, and shed some tears of her own.

Loremaster, keeping half an eye on the remaining guards, said a few more comforting and encouraging words, and then slowly walked away, dropping a firm hand on Phura's shoulder as he passed. The meeting slowly broke up. But snatches of lullaby were heard off and on for the rest of the night all through the caves.

Esta and Azraph went to find their families, but Tuka stayed, and Phura, Kesha, and Tuka took turns singing over Gamba. Wave after wave of released grief battered Gamba until, too exhausted to grieve any further, he gathered little Maura, cradled him close, and finally surrendered to sleep.

[ October 07, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]