The Ending. Perhaps a beginning?

For all those who have asked, encouraged, prayed for, or otherwise supported my battle in the previous tale of the Paladin and Angel..(http://dwarventhoughts.blogspot.com/2012/05/beginning-is-it-also-ending.html)

Here is the next stage in the story, who can say if it is the last?

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The skies fade to black, night beckons into a sweet embrace. A single figure stands defiant against the cold wind sweeping down into the valley. Weariness causes strong shoulders to sag, and a ragged cough erupts from his throat. Huddling closer into his armor, the Paladin moves towards the warmth of the small campfire set before him.

His companion shuffles slightly in impatience, the tall and lanky youth has not yet learned the graceful and sure movement that his master desires to teach him. Time passes without communication as the wind howls in breathy rage and the cold seeps into the every bone. Hooded eyes peer out from under the cowl of the Paladin and search the darkness, but they appear dead to this world.

As the silence wears on, the impatience of youth defeats the fear of reprisals and soon the Squire clears his throat and breaks into the Paladins fierce contemplation. The same tired question floats in the night air, though this time the Paladin shivers against the chill of reality and decides to answer. Turning towards the Squire, the old Knight is illuminated by the flickering flames as he begins to recount an old tale of heartbreak and sorrow.

The gruff voice slowly and painstakingly describes the night that the Paladin met an Angel.  With stammering lips and forced explanations, he slowly describes the wild beating of his heart with her every kiss. Losing himself into memory, the Paladin recalls the brush of her fingers down his chest and how she gently kissed his ear to tease an excited groan from him. Remembering the rushed breathing as hands caressed, lips closed upon each other, as passion light the night sky with flames.

The crackle of the campfire lends a melody to the low tenor tones as the tale of the Angel continues on into the night. The Squire listens in rapt attention as a door opens in the heart of his master and new revelations pour forth.  Surprise shows on his face, as the story reveals emotions that the guarded knight has never before let be seen.  Yearning crosses the worn face of the Paladin as he tells his protégé about the laughter and joy he felt every single moment spent in the arms of the Angel; how resting with her cuddled tight in his arms made the world stand still and every worry vanish.

Such deep and powerful feelings stir within the breast of the youth that he nearly asks for the story to stop so that he can process what is happening. But he is entranced now and dare not break the spell that this recounting seems to have placed upon his master. Even as each description of the Angel and her beauty or love is graced upon the Squire, the Paladin seems to grow younger and the light in his eyes almost outshines the very stars themselves.

Then suddenly there is a hitch in the Paladin’s voice and it grows even gruffer. Now he tells the young companion that the Angel lived in two worlds. He tells of the nights laying on his back and watching the skies, forlornly hoping to see her grace his world and float down to join him. Softly now, the knight recounts searching for the Angel everywhere and finding a mystical portal that let him see into the other world. There he saw the Angel frolicking with another man who appeared only as a vague shape in the murky depths. He heard the twinkling of laughter in her voice and saw the radiance of her smile as she responded to a joke.

The wind no longer rages against the camp but instead slows to a quiet whisper, as if straining to hear the next words from the Paladin. Coarsely, he continues with the tale and explains how the Angel returned again in a few days and acted like nothing was different. Conversations from that fateful day seem to linger in the air; the melodic tones of the Angel as she admits to loving two worlds and not knowing what to do mingle with the broken queries of the armored knight trying to find his place in the universe. Confusion, anger, heartbreak, and sadness linger in the air as the two struggle to understand the twisting of Fate and decipher all possible futures.

A gentle whisper escapes the lips of the knight as he closes his eyes and empties out his heart in the telling of this story and recalls that fateful conversation. Passion still lights the very air between the Paladin and the Angel, as they mournfully gaze into each other’s eyes. Desire and longing make speaking difficult, and for a time they just meld together and try to forget what decisions must be faced in the morning.

A single tear tracks down the face of the Paladin as he reaches this part of his story; the Squire feels an answering tear begin to form in his own eye. Pushing himself forward, the Paladin stirs the campfire in silence for a while before again resuming his tale. Speaking of the last time that he saw the Angel, he calls to mind the memory of her radiant beauty. The luscious face now pale and hidden in shadow, streaked with the broken paths of tears that have cascaded down once rosy cheeks. The sparkle in her eyes has faded now, replaced only with a sad resolve. And thus the Paladin knows her decision before she even opens her mouth. Steeling his face to be as stiff and solid as he can be, the knight turns towards his forbidden Angel and gently traces a strong hand down her side while he looks straight into her shimmering eyes.  Only one question is asked, just to make sure that he was not misreading the situation. But she answers in the positive, giving a small nod of her head before turning away in tears once more. And then she was gone. 

Silence stretches out as time passes by with neither knight nor protégé noticing any change. Not even the impatience of youth can prompt the Squire to interrupt his master at this point, and so they both stare into the flickering light of the dying campfire. Shock still reverberates within the heart of the young man, as he could sense the depth of the love that the Paladin had felt and then lost. A low cough gets his attention and he turns back to his master and listens as the elderly knight tells him of the things that were attempted to capture the attention of the Angel again. The stories of the lonely nights staring into the sky and the words that alternated by softly whispered and fiercely screamed into the air. And while the Angel sometimes answered with words of sadness and understanding, they still echoed from another world and never from the world of the Paladin.

Dawn begins to break, as the sun slowly peeks over the horizon. Still the two companions sat besides the ashen remains of the campfire and stare into the distance, each one contemplating the matters of the heart. Slowly the Squire turns towards the older knight and forlornly asks just how the Paladin could handle such loss, and what he would do now. The Paladin lets loose a wry chuckle, tilting his head back to gaze up at the vanishing stars as he ponders how to respond. Then he lays a heavy hand upon the back of his young charge and gives him the lesson of life.

Cherish each moment, treasure every heartbeat. Bask in every bit of love you find, store it against the winter of desolation. Live life, enjoy life.  If the fear of pain stops you from looking, then you will never find peace or joy.

(Perhaps there is more than one Angel in this universe).