Anneth has long clung to her dreams, though sorrow has threatened to murder them again and again. There was a time when sorrow made her hopes only sweeter, but as Sauron grows yet stronger in the East, she feels everything she has ever held dear fal...
Whosoever shall seek to save his life shall lose it; and whosoever shall lose his life shall preserve it.
- Luke 17:33
My future, my song
Your hope is the anthem
Your hope is the anthem of my soul.
- "Hope is the Anthem," Switchfoot
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"No, Voronen, no!" came the piercing scream of a grieving elleth as she clung to her motionless brother.
"You are alive, I know that you hear me, you live, and you shall open your eyes once more!"
"Cease this joke of yours! Stop, open your eyes, brother!"
Her screams became hoarser and yet hoarser, the hope and resolve draining from her.
"Voronen, you must awake. I do not bear any love for this game you play with me." A whisper was her voice now, and she could not speak any louder.
She was sure her very heart was being torn from her chest and dashed to pieces by a sword on the stone floor of the Healing Halls. That is how it felt to her, the grief, the knowledge that there was naught she could do for her brother, for he was beyond the care of any, even the Lord Elrond himself.
"Brother, my brother, awake! I command you. If you do not awake, I will–I will–I'll–"
She was unable to continue speaking to him, no longing believing that he might hear her yet, and then collapsed onto the floor, weeping into her arms, shaking without control. Her resolve had left, and it dawned upon her that Voronen was dead and would not return to her or her mother or her sisters.
A healer passing by offered the elleth a hand to assist her in standing once more, but she spurned it, partly because she had become too weak to move, and also because she had not the desire to move.
As her body shook with her sobs, the stone floor seemed to grow harder and more unmerciful as she lay on it.
He was gone.
Her brother, one of her dearest friends.
She had not known what brought about his death, nor did she see him die. All she had seen was several soldiers return, bearing a body.
With curiosity, she had peered at the dead elf, unexpecting of the recognition she faced, for as her eyes fell upon him, she knew that it was her brother.
Voronen had already passed on by the time Anneth saw his body, yet still she believed that he lived and might be revived.
But that belief had disappeared now, vanished in the winds of grief and fate.
All the memories Anneth bore of her and her only brother ran through her mind, a smidgen of a smile crossing her face through her tears, though as quickly as it appeared, it faded. Voronen had taught her to shoot an arrow, patiently showing her the steps even as she failed miserably. He had listened to her whine about silly ellyn who brought irritation to her, assuring her that he would deal violently with all who brought his sister anger or pain. They argued often, though more often than not, they had been jesting. From their childhoods they had been inseparable, the dearest of friends, always willing to stand up for the other and defend them also.
