The wind did not move that full moonlit night save to not disturb the haunting melody that lifted from the elven woman's lips. Turn away, for the sound of an elven funeral song would drive the listner to tears, it mattered not if you could understand the words, the tonings and feelings beneath the notes were enough.
The party was gathered about what was soon to be a blazing pyre. The elven woman standing in the center, singing the moon, her face lifted and eyes closed. To her right, elmarin, the thief who accompanied Ataylia down to the underdark. To her left, the human Darius supporting a blonde elven man who could at this point barely stand. Behind them all, stood two female drow. The matron mother Mahret Milhonestra, and a guard that had accompanied her. All, severly battered and bruised as it were.
The lilting voice of Ataylia ceased and she lowered her head, gripping the sword she held tightly, it's tip burying it's self lightly into the ground as she twisted. It was her father's sword, one Akandra had been given to carry.
Thoughts flooded her mind. The slain dryder laying to her left, clutching her twin's hand and supporting her head. It was Akandra who made the final blow to the banished dark elf, taking her father's sword and plunging it through his gullet with the last bit of strength she had within her now frail and broken body. Her bloodied hand gripped Ataylia and pulled her down, closer as she tried to speak...
"Tell Shiana I loved her and that I wanted to get to know her. There were so many things I wanted to show her. So many.......... Ataylia................... "
Ataylia bit her lower lip hard and forced herself back into reality, forced herself to look up at Akandra's lifeless form laying upon that Pyre, and seeing only herself. She wished it was herself. But.....
She swallowed hard and forced back tears. She looked back to Mahret, and pushed the sword deep into the ground...walking towards the drow and holding out her hand for the torch....which the matron handed over.
She simply nodded and walked towards Akandra. Shaking her head, and speaking in the common tounge so that all may understand...
"Now, I send you to the stars....Rest well my sister..."
And she set the pyre ablaze...stepping back as the kindling took spark and not turning until it was a roaring bonfire...
She turned then to those gathered. Looking first to Darius and the elf Legolas.
"Your assistance is appreciated. If ever you need my assistance...do not hesitate to find me..."
She placed her fist to her chest and gave a small bow. It was cold and short. She was grieving, and was not about to cry in front of strangers. The pride of this elf overwhelming all politeness... Even as the two turned to depart.
She then turned to the two drow...
"Usstan bel'la dos, Mahret. Abbanen verve ssiggrin alus phuul natha belbol. Ka rin'ov dos phuul wun ssrig'luin d'ussa, xun joros, ussta abbil."
Ataylia once more placed her fist to her chest and gave a bow. Mahret and her companion doing the same in turn and replying before turning to leave...
"lueth dos izil al, Ataylia..."
And finially...she turned to Elmarin. The elven thief walked to her, and wrapped arms carefully about her battered and bruised frame. She stood there a min...resting her chin on his shoulder, swallowing hard to keep up her composure before speaking.
"You, I will get in touch with soon. Right now I need to be alone...I will tend to my sister's ashes come morning..."
He released the hug, and asked carefully. "Are you sure?"
Ataylia nodded yes. And he in turn nodded as well. "Very well...until the next time we meet"
And with a flourish of a bow as he was apt to do, he turned...and walked away from the burning fire.
Ataylia's back was to the flame, and as soon as all the adventures had departed...she dropped to her knees.
The huntress wept.