The fog that obscured his thinking had begun to clear away. Through the haze that still remained Endamir sent out a questing thought. There was no answer . . . no trace, even, of a presence.
Ghosts of words rumbled at the back of his memory. His brow furrowed as he tried to recall them . . .
Take care of Endamir especially, Lindir my boy. Keep the wine flowing, pass it round, keep Endamir in a...sound, sedate mood. I need to attend to his brother. He has been hurt slightly. Only a little. He will get better...
Hurt? Hurt . . . Then he would be here, somewhere. Endamir’s legs felt weak; his knees nearly buckled as he struggled forward from the workroom. The need to find his brother propelled him on; just as the fear of what he would find made his muscles turn to jelly.
It was in one of the rooms that led off from the workroom that Endamir found Orëmir’s body. His brother’s face was in repose, peaceful. Endamir recalled that look, one which would grace Orëmir’s features at a task done to his satisfaction.
Bits and pieces of what had happened surfaced in Endamir’s thoughts. He saw his brother, blade in hand, fighting . . . but who opposed him he could not say. Thin silvered fetters had crept about his brother’s legs. He saw them inch up Orëmir’s legs, tightening about them, hampering his movements.
A painful look passed over his brother’s face as he parried his opponent’s blows. There was a moment of hesitation, and then one of acceptance as a resolution was decided on. A hand plunged forward, the blade it gripped pushing deep and then deeper into his brother’s chest. There on the killing blade all but faded from the crosspiece were faint traceries of words in a fine and fading script . . .
* Ever may you defend one another *
Their mother's words, put there when she’d designed the twin swords, etching them on her sons’ hearts as much as upon the metal.
Endamir moaned low, his heart breaking at the knowledge of what his hands had done. He dropped down to his knees, leaning over to cradle his brother’s head and shoulders in his arms. Tears crowded at the corners of his eyes. And such great sorrow there was that o’er came him that there was naught that could comfort him.