Epilogue: A New Beginning

Under the watchful eyes of the moon, Jarthen walked hurriedly along the rough road. Every now and then, he glanced anxiously over his shoulder to see if anyone was trailing him along the dark, lonely way, but he never dared stop his forward progress. It had been three days since he had left during Glothnafar’s funeral, but part of him still worried that they foolishly sent someone after him. Though his limbs ached and his entire body screamed for him to halt, Jarthen was impelled by some invisible force within him to keep moving. He had caught a few hours of shivering, restless sleep under damp hedges and other makeshift shelters, and, even though it replenished his body to a certain extent, his mind never seemed to stop replaying all the terrible events that he caused. Every time he felt like falling to the ground and bursting into tears, he forced himself to move on, faster, as if by doing so he would somehow be able to escape the burning guilt and grief that haunted his every step.

He was not heading towards a particular destination, he was only running from a place he did not want to be. He must leave them. After all, he thought bitterly to himself, it was his actions that had caused the terrible battle, and with it, the loss of the great centaur! Everywhere he went, death and sadness followed in his wake.

Jarthen stopped to catch his breath and realized he had no idea where he had ended up: it was a strange place, unlike any he had ever been -- both in Elothnin, and outside its borders. Great stone towers and spires burst from the overgrown grass and shrubs that had reclaimed what had clearly once been a place inhabited by many people. A timeless air of mystery hung about the place that was so overpowering that it arrested the agitated young human's forward progress. He stood amidst the ghostly remnants of the strange city, and all at once the looming structures seemed to be closing in on him. They became threatening, disturbing, and were made animate by a howling wind that seemed to descend out of nowhere, rustling the foliage and blowing Jarthen's hair about his stricken face. The shadows of the unearthly stela seemed to be creeping towards him like the tentacles of a great sea monster, threatening to pull him into an abyss darker than the one he already inhabited.

As Jarthen began to recoil from the menacing specters actually there? and chilly gale, a deep, soft voice called out to him by name, and Jarthen froze in fear and disbelief where he stood. The boy could barely restrain himself from running as fast as he could away from the voice, but he slowlyturned his terrified gaze to look at the source of the words and what he saw nearly made him faint dead away. Jarthen was standing face to face with the late centaur, Glothnafar himself! Or, at least, it was the image of him. Jarthen would have been hesitant to say that Glothnafar was really there: he wasn't translucent, the centaur seemed somehow insubstantial, thin, and he was uninjured, as if he’d never been in the battle at all.

"Don't be afraid, Jarthen. I'm sorry, but I don't have much time, and I need to speak with you!" the centaur said, as reassuringly as he could, though it was clear that he was only a little less disoriented than the boy himself. He took a few steps towards Jarthen, hesitant at first, as if he was unsure of his footing, and then he extended his arm reassuringly towards the frightened boy.
"But...but, you're dead! I saw you die!" Jarthen cried, falling to his knees, tears in his eyes. "It was my fault, too," he added mournfully.

Glothnafar looked down at the boy with that same impatient look Jarthen was so accustomed to seeing when the centaur had been alive, but, instead of lashing out as he once did, he composed himself and continued in a gentle, if hurried tone. "Jarthen, my dear boy, I’m sure by now I that I have died, but you need to understand that I did not do so in vain. I -- I have already made my peace with it."

"You are…were… so important to the army!” Jarthen wailed desperately. "All I've done is cause problems for us! You were right about me the whole time - you all would have been better off if I had never joined you. You shouldn’t have saved me!"

"No, Jarthen, you're wrong,” he said with a sorrow so deep and all consuming that it made Jarthen feel like his was shallow in comparison. “You're much more important to the future of the army than I am -- truly, my dying to save you was perhaps the most important thing I ever did."

"How can that be true? You were the bravest warrior I’ve ever seen! How could I be important?” Jarthen asked in disbelief.

"Yes, Jarthen, it's true,” Glothnafar responded, looking at Jarthen proudly “You will lead the rebel army to victory over the Queen! You will lead us to a time of unprecedented peace and prosperity! All of this," he said motioning broadly with his hands, "this whole journey, was about discovering this truth!"

"But…how do you know?" the boy asked, shrinking from the enormity of Glothnafar's proclamations.

Glothnafar laughed, which sounded so real, so alive that Jarthen thought for a moment that he couldn’t actually have died. "Because Jarthen, I have seen it. You, Jarthen, are the chosen one!"
Jarthen shook his head slowly in misery and disbelief. It was too much for him – he could not believe it. "No! No – it’s not true, there’s no way it’s true! I wish... I wish I had died in that battle, and that you could lead them! I'm not strong enough!" he said plaintively, his face awash in tears.

"I saved you – I do not regret it. I knew what would happen before the battle even began, and yet I saved you. I only wish I could see the rest with my own eyes..." he said before a look of pain crossed his face, and he closed his eyes. "Jarthen, my time here is running out! You will be strong enough, when the time comes! Go back to the others! Do not forget what I have told you!” Then, with a sudden wave of panic washing over the centaur’s face, he said, “Please, please tell Jellihondor tha--" he pleaded, but he was cut off before he could finish. With a strange gust of wind, and a plaintative look in his eye, the centaur faded away into the air itself, leaving no trace of his presence behind.

"Glothnafar! Glothnafar! Don't go! I -- I can't do it without you!" Jarthen yelled as the centaur disappeared. He stared at the spot where Glothnafar had stood just moments before in a state of shock: the wind had died down completely, leaving the elvish ruins again in a deathly calm. Casting another weary look over his shoulder, Jarthen picked himself up and began walking again, still not sure of his destination.

-----FIN-----