Faörie did not attend the funeral, though she should have. She did not speak the words she wished to, but there is no one to speak them to now but Themodir who is gone.
Before the cairn she stands, fixing her gaze on a memory of her own loss. She did not know Themodir, but to lose one's own kin returns the sorrow she felt from long ago.
Kneeling over the cairn, she pulls out a small nut from her pouch gifted to her by Ancalasse. She grips it and lowers her head onto her fist, closing her eyes.
Her thoughts return her to a time of peace and beauty as her life brought her for so long in Lothlórien. She cherishes the life she had been met with and the purpose she now upholds as a warrior.
At the edge of the cairn she digs a small, deep hole and plants the nut. "May your leaves grow and fly into the winds of fate." Having planted the nut, she stands straight, raising her chin and stares straight into the sky - a tranquil night full of stars.
She inhales deeply, closing her eyes, feeling the calm breezes brush against her cheeks as they once did long ago.
