Northstar Vale Namárië

Agana confessed her true feelings about
what tormented her to her dead cousin.

Not long after the silver’s death, Agana began the search for her grave. Her cousin, the one that welcomed the argent in her home, that advised her, was now laying on her bed, speechless and breathless, like a dead flower on the cold surface of the earth. And she searched the vale for hours, before she stopped all of a sudden. She was not sure if this was her grave, at the bottom of a tree, but she stopped nonetheless. Golden gaze focused on the branch as she sat down in front of it.
 
“I cannot believe you are dead,” her voice was shaking now; a deep sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head. “I will miss you, dear cousin. I will miss hearing your lovely voice, seeing your pale scarred face. You left so early, I did not even have time to tell you —” silence; her heart dropped, her face turned pale, as if she saw a ghost. It made sense now; the dizziness, the constant need for food, her unusual sensitivity. It clicked; she did not experience any other symptom that was related to any sickness. Because she was not sick;
 
“— I am with child.” The first time she stated it; it was clear Agana was with child; she could no longer hide her true destiny. The argent was to be a mother; a mother, something she did not even dream of. “I will have children; heirs of Rhaesuial.” The corners of her lips tugged into a smile. Children; a taboo subject for her, as she did not have children at heart; but now she was happier than ever to find hear these news. Golden gaze moved to her belly; it will soon grow, and she will no longer be able to hide it; she will have to tell Kavik, their father; and… the pearl.
 
“I lied about the true depth of my feelings for the pearl; the duck, Kukutux,” she gulped; no one knew of them, or what happened that day. Her expression saddened, rising her eyes back to the branch. “She… kissed me,” she whispered, then continued, “And I kissed her back.” The argent was not ashamed of their kiss. She would do the same thing over and over again, just so she wouldn’t leave her; “but she left me. You led her to Moonspear.” A small drop fell from her cheek, heavy breaths escaping her throat.
 
“Let me sing you,” she whispered, her words carried by the wind to the ears of the silver who watched her from the sky. Dark grey tail wrapped around her back legs, the white tip touching lightly her belly; her muzzle rose, as her lips parted slowly.

Man cenuva fána cirya
métima hrestallo círa,
i fairi nécë
ringa súmaryassë
ve maiwi yaimië?
 
Man cenuva lumbor ahosta
Menel acúna
ruxal’ ambonnar,
ëar amortala,
undumë hácala,
enwina lúmë
elenillor pella
talta-taltala
atalantëa mindonnar?
 
Man cenuva métim’ andúnë?”

 
Another drop fell from her cheek on the cold ground; she shifted her weight nervously, as it was now time to go. The wind howled against her ear and brushed her warm grey mane that draped her shoulders. Agana rose from her seat, approached the branch where she felt her cousin’s grave was.

“Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar,
Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!”

She sang as a last drop fell on the ground. This was the last she would see of her for a long time; and maybe, the next time she will visit her, she will so with her children. “La revedere, dragă verișoară.” Her voice trembled as she turned away, unable to face the branch anymore. “Până ne vom întâlni din nou.” White legs led her away, cutting the mist of the vale for the last time.