How do you say farewell to an adversary? How do you come to terms with the fact that an enemy has journeyed on to the next life? Sadness and sorrow for the loss of a life? Rejoicing that your own life is now safe and free from further ache and torment? Would you feel nothing? For me, it has been a little bit of everything as the news of Daegond’s death reached my ears.
For many years he hounded me in deep contempt over things and happenings in the past where our roads converged, both with him and others of our kin. I remember Daelith’s death all too well, and with it my subsequent departure from Vanimar where once my brother was slain in their service not long before, and perhaps it is all connected in a way. The branching roads have many ends and beginnings, and you never know which one will lead you forward to the best outcome. There were too many deaths, too much heartache, too much pain. I decided long ago to not stay in their midst for many reasons, but I would still have friends in their House, sometimes strained though it was.
But we were never, ever friends, the Hound and I, even though it was not for a total lack of trying, from my part at least. When the Hound set his mind to something, he would see it done. With nearly every journey I took to Imladris, with every foot I set in the valley, he’d be there watching and waiting, and the echoes in my mind grew ever heavier as time progressed, and the valley itself could hold no comfort for me. Even if he wasn’t there in person, he was always there in spirit. As strange though it may seem, Imladris felt… calmer, now. There was a silent wind blowing, mourning the loss of one of Imladris’ most (in)famous inhabitants, and the echoes at the back of my head were not present. It felt like everything had gone into a deep, comfortable sleep, and yet could stir and wake up at any moment.
I wore a gown of black, red and gold to honor his memory. The old gloves I also wore today were a painful reminder of times past, and perhaps of things yet to come. They are stained by the blood of Daelith, even though it was not I that caused it. He did that to himself, to end his long and excruciating pain that consumed him and save another bound to his fate - and in doing so he transferred some of that pain to me, as it was my own knife he used and I tried to stop him, as he plunged himself into the blade. His blood that poured out on my hands in that moment would never wash off, and just feeling that old, stained leather on my skin gives me a badly itching rash. Much like my memories of the Hound.
For Daegond never forgot, nor would he let things go. He knew what happened that day, and he would always remind me of it, and of many, many other things he disliked me for - things I didn’t even understand. He was extremely consistent, at least. I often got the feeling that he would much rather have seen me dead and buried, and perhaps by his own hands. It is a strange feeling, knowing that someone carries such strong emotions towards you for things you couldn’t control, while you try your best to remain civil and avoiding further conflict. And here I am now, having laid my sea-stone upon his cairn as a token of respect, thinking that our quarrels have at last come to a finale and ended on a deaf note. But it hasn’t. His shadows still linger with me, and I believe it always will.
Is this what happens when a true adversary dies? I never had many enemies to begin with, and I had made my peace with plenty of things, yet he was one of the few that kept sticking out like a sore thumb. Would it finally be over now? No… it is never truly over. He remains a shadow to me, one that I will have to continue living with. And is that really so bad? A shadow is a part of you, and in a way he was too. For all our quarrels and word-wrenching, heart-aching moments that followed, I had a form of deep respect for him, hidden well behind my veil of fear and anguish of being in his presence.
I know not how to say farewell at this point. We might meet again at the end of time to settle our final score, and as Veryacano, Anglachelm and everyone else of Vanimar grieves the loss of their Sergeant and brother, so do I grieve the loss of an enemy. Rest well, Daegond the Hound, until we meet again. Rest well.
(OOC note: While our characters have a long-running history as adversaries in RP, I also have a very deep respect and love for the player behind the many faces. You always went out of your way to create excitement and grand turns in the stories, and have so given me countless hours of fantastic roleplaying moments and character building that I will never ever forget. Thank you so much Daegond/Daelith, truly, for everything you did and for being the fantastic person you were. I will miss you dearly, and I hope that you will rest in peace now, free from all the world’s burdens. Fare thee well, friend and kin.)
