A/N: Some definitions and then you all can go read the next chapter. It has to do with the Avari concept of family and Kin. In increasing order of importance is:

1)      Kin – this is all your relations, extended family, family by marriage, etc. Basically any sort of relation falls in this broad category. It is sort of like a community or what we call a biradari. This includes in-laws, spouse’s family, various aunts second third cousins etc. Thus, Thranduil is Rhinure’s Kin by marriage.

2)      Blood Kin – this is the family you are born in – i.e. relations (but closer than that). Relatives. This is more immediate than just Kin in the sense that these are your parents, brothers, sisters, first cousins etc. More than a nuclear family but still close enough to be called an “extended” family.

3)      Family – the most important classification in Avari life. It is the people you choose to be close to, people you live with, love etc – such as your wife or even a really close friend. Family can be Blood Kin as well, but Blood Kin need not be family. Of all three, family is the only one you choose. Blood Kin depends on birth but family is a matter of choice. Therefore, while Legolas is Rhinure’s Kin by virtue of being her husband he is not her family unless she chooses him to be so.

I hope this is clear.

 The Unwilling

When she had been young and innocent, the world had been such a simple place. She had a Naneth who had not given her birth, a Sacrifice who had brought her into this world, an Adar whom she never saw and an uncle who was more precious then all of them put together.

*~ Chachu, I think you would have been pleased today. You are remembered. ~* (Uncle)

Rhinure looked at the mass of Avari expectantly standing before her. Today they remembered all that they had lost and all that they would lose in the future. Loss was a given for them, it was only a matter of when it would come. Today it was about Morion; tomorrow it could be about her. The only constant in Avari life was that death would come and it was best to greet it with weapon in hand and back straight – with honour and dignity.

Rhinure smiled to herself as her gaze travelled over the Avari mass. Not a stitch of black was visible on the Avari – bright colours shone in the Sun. It would have reminded her of a market day in Mirkwood if she did not know what this show of colour was – a cry of defiance against the dark, against pain, and against sorrow. It was a warning that the Avari were dark but they were not lost. It was a declaration that the Avari were home and there was no need to hide any longer.

Red, the colour of blood, vied for attention with emerald so green that it shamed the trees around them. Deep colours, hard colours, Avari colours. There was no softness in this pageant – no gentleness like what Rhinure saw when she looked at the Silvan elves. But the equally fierce pride was there, coupled with an aggressive dignity that the Avari rarely bothered displaying. Dark elves out of their element but steady in their defiance of it.

Rhinure smoothed down her deep green skirts, shot through with silver thread – the colours of the House of Oropher, with an Avari twist. Cothion had not been pleased at the subtle reminder of Rhinure’s Kin by marriage – but Kin was Kin after all – unwelcome sometimes but still a cornerstone of ones life. The back of the dress scooped down, leaving Rhinure’s back exposed. Painted on it were intricate patterns forming the sigils¹ of her House – Morion’s House. It was tribute to the Second Guard and a service that only Blood Kin could offer – blood of my blood, member of my House.

It was also the only thing custom had left for Rhinure – as Sacrifice she could not be obviously partial to any one Avari since she belonged to them all. Her actions must always be equal and appropriate to the needs of the situation. As Sacrifice, she remembered all three Avari who had fallen, but as Blood Kin, she only honoured Morion.

Stepping forward, she unwrapped the Blade of the Second Guard from the black cloth which covered it. Raising it above her head, into the sunlight so that everyone may see the blood encrusted on it, she proclaimed, “By this Blade, Morion lived. By this Blade, Morion died. By this Blade, Morion brought death to our enemies. For all that he was to us, we honour him. With this Blade, we remember him. May this Blade forever sing in the hands of the Second Guards – may it always cut down our enemies. May Morion’s memory always be an model for us.”

The Avari watched silently, intently as Rhinure covered the Blade in a red cloth – the colour of blood, of life. There it would remain until another Second Guard claimed it, cleaned it and made it his own. Rhinure gently ran her hand over the hilt, rubbing the dried blood into her fingers. Tomorrow, this Blade would belong to the new Second Guard and no longer would it be Morion’s sword. Tomorrow, Rhinure would lose her uncle one final time.

Turning back to her people, she raised her voice once again, “Morion was Avari. He lived with honour and was an example to us all. Even in his death, he remained Avari. He fought and died doing his duty. If I ever have the honour of meeting him again, I will be proud to call him Avari. Until that day, I will hold his example in front of me – my duty to the Avari, my obedience to the Avari, my life for my people. He was Avari, I am Avari - we are yours, we will always be yours. One Guard has fallen but another will take his place – the Avari will continue. We survive and we always will. We are Avari – we have overcome desertion, we have outlasted captivity, we have survived the darkness. May our enemies always remember this – we are Avari, we are weapons forged in the fires of pain and neglect. We are the Unwilling and any who challenge us will feel our Blades.”

The gathered Avari roared in approval – today the entire city would ring with the Avari cries. Today the Avari challenged the Light to remember its dark children. There was no joy in the sound that the Avari made, but an ancient pain and anger. They had lost so much, their trust when their Kin abandoned them to the dark at Cuiviénen², their innocence when Melkor imposed his punishment on them, their hope when the rest of the Valar left them in captivity. Of thirteen Clans, six had been twisted, tortured until they were forever known as Abomination – Orcs. But the Avari knew better, they were Kin – the Fallen, but Kin nonetheless.

Long years had taught them that in the end, all that they could depend on was themselves. All they had was their dignity and their Honour, since all else had been stripped from them. With an unbending tenacity, they survived and they had learnt that it was enough. With a callousness bred from an immortal lifetime of disregard, the Avari remembered. They remembered the years of peace, before the Valar found them, before the Quendi were broken into the Eldar and the Avari. They remembered the chill touch of the Waters of Awakening. They remembered the oaths that had been broken, the Blood that had been forgotten, the neglect they had suffered and the cost they had borne to overcome everything that life had thrown at them. When everyone else forgot, the Avari remembered. That is all they could do – all that had been left to them.

They were the Unwilling – unwilling to forget, unwilling to suffer meekly, unwilling to break, unwilling to forgive.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Very impressive speech, Mistress. You indeed roused the masses today.”

“As was my intent, First Advisor. It will do the Avari good. Your speech about your great-niece was well received as well.”

“It was not my best. Tathren deserved better.”

“She deserved to stand beside you today.”

“Yes, she did. If you will excuse me, Mistress, I … I think I will go see if there are any reports that need to be finished.”

“As you wish, First Advisor.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure watched the First Advisor walk off, back straight and gait ever so proud. No one, not even the Avari would be able to read his face right now. Túrgwaith has perfected his mask a long time ago. One more loss, in a long series of losses was not enough to shake it from its position – even if the loss was of family. Even Rhinure would have been fooled if she had not seen the faint specks of blood on his palm where his nails had gouged his skin.

“What do you think of, Mistress?”

Rhinure turned to see Cothion standing beside her. She was momentarily amused to note that his blue tunic was almost dark enough to be called black. Even a Remembrance was not enough for him to act as if he was off-duty. “I was just musing that sometimes even masks are not enough.”

Cothion nodded, not needing any explanation. After an Age, even he had learnt to hear the unsaid amongst the noise of speech. “And sometimes they are all we have. Walk with me, Mistress. It has been a long time since we have done so.”

“It has been a long time since there was any opportunity to do so, Commander.”

“Then we must make more opportunities such as these.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“The First Guard seems well recovered from her injury,” Cothion commented as he and Rhinure passed Ehtewen on their walk around Tirnen. She seemed to be deep in conversation with a heavily pregnant elleth.

“The First Guard always recovers well, Commander. You know this – she would take great offence if you suggested otherwise.”

“I take it then that the wound was not severe.”

“It was a poisoned blade.”

“The First Guard is immune to most orc poisons. You know this.”

“It seems as if they were using a new kind of poison, or at the very least, one that the First Guard has not built up an immunity to.”

“We will have to be more careful then.”

“I trust that you are already careful, Commander. I would not like losing more troops due to a lack of attention.”

Cothion looked sharply at his Sacrifice, “Mistress, I am Commander of the Avari forces. I am never careless.”

Rhinure turned deadly eyes on him, extracting a promise from him. “See that that it remains so.”

Cothion saluted, willingly giving her what she asked for, since he would have done it anyway. But it could not hurt to re-enforce the point. Satisfied, Rhinure continued on with Cothion in companionable silence – even though to all outward appearances both were at rigid attention. Cothion did not touch Rhinure or offer his arm and neither did she relax in his presence. The softness that she showed when Legolas offered his arm seemed to have remained behind with the Sindar prince.

“When is Aldariel expecting?” Rhinure glanced behind to look at the elleth Ehtewen was sitting with.

“A few months at most.”

“The move will be hard for her.”

“She would prefer that her child is born in a more permanent settlement. I presume you intend Tirnen to stay in its new position for a while.”

“For some time.”

“Long enough for the Wood-elves to garner our position?”

“Be careful of what you accuse me of, Commander.”

“I know of the suggestions you made to King Thranduil.”

“And that is what they are, suggestions. There was no mention of Tirnen or its position.”

“The patrolling pattern will make the Wood-elves suspicious.”

“Would you have them patrol the area around Tirnen then?” Rhinure asked sarcastically.

“Of course not, Mistress. But they will know that something is wrong. King Thranduil is no fool.”

“Neither am I, Commander. Moving closer to Mirkwood is safer for us.”

“With the fall of Dol Guldur that need not be the case anymore.”

“With the presence of the Lost Ones, that is the case more so then ever. If King Thranduil’s suspicions are the price we have pay to keep our people safe, then so be it.”

Cothion nodded, he was not happy with the move though he conceded the wisdom of it. The reduced distances would allow him to concentrate the Avari forces where they were most needed, no longer spreading them so thin.

“Besides,” Rhinure added, “we can always move again. King Thranduil can keep looking, as long he does not find.”

Cothion had to smile, pleased that the Wood-elves had not managed to steal his Mistress as well. She was still as devious as ever. “Túrgwaith will need convincing. You do realise this, Mistress?”

Rhinure was pleased that Cothion had given his consent. “He always does. Why should he make it easy for me this one time?”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“When do you wish to present the contenders for the Second Guard to the people?”

“Soon enough, Commander.”

“Do you wait for Istion to prepare himself?”

Rhinure glanced over at Cothion, eyebrows raised. “And for Erutunín, who has not returned from the patrols yet.”

“I suppose that I should be grateful to you, my Mistress.”

“Erutunín will make a good Second Guard. It is his right to serve if he so wishes. I would not take that from him.” Rhinure paused, eyes twinkling, “However, you should still be grateful to me.”

Cothion smiled slightly, “You are so confident that Istion will win?”

“Naturally. After all, I was the one who trained him.”

“I trained Erutunín.”

“And if you remember, I defeated you – which is why I am Sacrifice and you are not.”

“Would you care to make a wager about the outcome then, Mistress?”

“What kind of wager?”

“If I win, you will cook for me while you are in Tirnen.”

“And if I win, Commander? I do not need you to cook for me.”

“If you win, I will come back with you and keep Ehtewen away from you and your husband when you are being … intimate.”

“For how long?” Rhinure asked suspiciously. Cothion being generous was not a usual occurrence.

“For a week?”

Rhinure thought about it, and then mentally shrugged. If nothing else, she would get uninterrupted time with Legolas. That was a good thing too. “Done.”

“I think you should get your cooking utensils ready.”

“And I think you should start sharpening your wits. They will need to be a lot more quick if you expect to dissuade the First Guard.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“You never did tell me when the ceremony will be held.”

“You should know that better than I, Commander. When does Erutunín’s patrol return?”

“In two days.”

“We will have the ceremony then.”

“As my Mistress wishes.”

Cothion and Rhinure walked in silence for a while, both comfortable with saying nothing. It was not often that the two had nothing to say to each other. Prompted by duty and necessity, their meetings were usually highly intense and rushed. It was nice to take this time and do nothing. Especially nice for Sacrifice and Heir to be together and look at their people in peace.

Cothion and Rhinure stopped near the training fields. Because of the Remembrance, none of the novices had training today but that did not stop them from frequenting the fields. Little Elflings, barely in their twenties, some even younger, practised diligently with their weapons. It was a fascinating sight – these little warriors, these futures scions of the Avari, practising what the Avari did best. Their little faces were contorted into paintings of the utmost concentration. A riot of colours mingled into a deadly dance as metal flashed in the noon sun.

Many grown elves had stopped to watch the little ones dance. In the sunlight, out of the Avari black, the little ones seemed almost normal – like any children playing their war games. Except that the Avari children did it with real blades, which could as easily wound as defend. And they did it with a grace that was frightening in ones so young, giving evidence that they had been doing so for some time.

As the two opponents bowed to each other, the Elflings finally noticed that the Sacrifice was amongst them. Many bowed respectfully, many saluted – most kept their distance from her – however, a small, bold minority rushed up to her, demanding attention, demanding that she look at their weapons or that she stay to watch them fight. This minority was also predominately very young – too young to be constrained by Avari codes of conduct, too young to know any better. The older Avari watched them with some indulgence, shaking their heads at their vulgar display of excitement, but secretly amused by it nonetheless. They were also very proud of the way their Sacrifice took this outburst calmly in her stride, gently refusing the children but not getting nonplussed herself.

“Must you go? Can you not stay until we finish?” A small black-haired child asked Rhinure, eyes huge in her small face.

Rhinure shook her head again, bending down until her face was level with the child’s, “I cannot. I need to go see someone.”

“But I – we, want you to stay. We have not seen you for so long. You are never home.”

“I know, but I have other duties out of Tirnen.”

“But – do you not have duties to us anymore?” The child asked worriedly. “Will we not get to see you anymore if you don’t.”

Rhinure swallowed, “What if I promise to come see you tomorrow? After your training?”

A small hand tugged at her skirts, causing her to look at a tiny boy. “All of us?” he whispered hopefully.

“All of you,” Rhinure nodded.

The children around her immediately brightened, standing up straight and bringing their fists to their hearts. “Honour to the Sacrifice.” Their young voices hardly stumbled over the traditional phrase. They had said it often enough to have learnt it, even if they did not understand it.

Rhinure straightened, watching them run off – eager to practise some more.

“It is good that you are home, Mistress.” Words repeated once again, but carrying so much more meaning the second time.

“It is good to be home, Commander.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“You go to see them.”

Rhinure turned to Cothion, “I must.”

“You will not be welcome. Their grief is not for public consumption, you know this.”

“They are Morion’s family, my Blood Kin, I must go and offer my support – you know this.”

“You are their Sacrifice, they are your Avari. You will not be welcome.”

“I am Blood Kin. They cannot refuse me.”

“Mistress, our vows thin even our Blood,” Cothion said a little sadly. If anyone knew how much distance duty and obligation put between families, it was Cothion. Blood Kin – family, was not only an accident of birth, it was a garden that needed careful tending. It needed time and effort put into it to nurture it, to cause it to bloom. Cothion, and even Rhinure, did not have the time to do so – they had other gardens to tend, other responsibilities to look after.

“Blood always remains Blood. Nothing can change that, Commander. He is still your brother.”

Cothion smiled, “You are, as ever, perceptive. However, he is a brother that I have not seen in two thousand years. Even when I was last in Mirkwood he did not come to greet me.”

“He had other duties; he is the Home Guards’ Captain – it is a formidable responsibility.”

“I know this, and I even accept it, Mistress. However, it only proves my point. I would not be welcome in his life.”

“You cannot know this until you try. You cannot take the choice away from him or from yourself. Kin is important.”

“So is duty.”

Rhinure bowed her head in acknowledgment, “Most important.”

“And if there was ever a choice to be made between Blood and duty, what would you choose, Mistress?”

“I have already chosen duty, Commander. As have you – as has Arandur.”

 “And that is why you will not be welcome.”

Rhinure wanted to say that it was not fair – why did she have to make that choice? Yes, she had not been able to spend much time with Morion’s wife and child – but they were the only family she had left. Why did she have to give them up? It was not fair – but then, life was not meant to be fair. It was meant to be lived.

“I still must go – they are still Blood Kin.”

“I never said you should not, but I only point out that your intrusion will be unwelcome. They need their privacy.”

 “And they will have it – after their Sacrifice ascertains that all has been done for them.”

“The Sacrifice is always welcome,” Cothion noted blandly.

“Yes, is she not?” With that Rhinure took her leave from Cothion and walked towards Morion’s house.

As Cothion watched her leave, he hoped that Morion’s family would welcome the elleth as openly as they would welcome the Sacrifice. Rhinure deserved as much – and it gave him the opportunity to wish that maybe his own brother would be as understanding.

*~ Arandur – understanding? I have as much chance of that happening as Rhinure does of being welcomed with open arms. None. ~*

Cothion laughed silently, bitterly. Sometimes, it was difficult to remember why he had sworn to be Commander. Sometimes, it was difficult to see beyond the losses in his life. Still – there had to be something that made his life worth living. Cothion was sure of it – he had to be, even if he could not think what it was at this moment.

*~ May Rhinure have more success than I. ~*

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhîwen was not particularly surprised when she opened the door to find the Sacrifice standing there. She had been expecting Rhinure to make an appearance – it was only an unwelcome matter of time.

Rhinure watched impassively as Rhîwen stared at her, unmoving, blocking the entrance to the house. As the minutes passed, the silence between the two ellyth became uncomfortable since Rhîwen did not know what to say.  She did not want Rhinure in her house. She might be Morion’s niece, but she was also the one who had taken Morion away from his family. He had always put Rhinure before them - her safety, her comfort, her life – Rhîwen could accept that his duties to the Sacrifice would keep him away but she was not so understanding when Rhinure took Morion’s attention away from his son. They were his family not this elleth who was never at home and who had now betrayed the Avari by marrying an Eldar.

This elleth – Rhinure, who Morion had loved with a ferocious intensity. So much so, that he had delayed his own marriage until Rhinure had reached her majority. Rhîwen had always been aware that when it came down to it,  Morion’s loyalty had always been with this slip of a girl. He had sworn to serve as the Second Guard when Rhinure had become Sacrifice, even though Rhîwen had not been happy about the decision. She had not stopped Morion, since it was his choice to serve and not even his wife could take that away from him. But it hurt that once again he had chosen to be with Rhinure over his family. And it wounded her even more that Morion could ignore that hurt because Rhinure wanted him near.

And now, the cause of their problems was standing outside their house – interfering once again on a day that should have been about family.

Rhinure watched Rhîwen’s eyes, ignoring the hostility that flitted across her face. What she felt, Rhinure could not change, would not change. It was Rhîwen’s right – and something that Rhinure could acutely understand. She, too had been unhappy when Morion went home to Rhîwen. He was her uncle, her Second Guard – the thought that he had others in his life to love when she did not, hurt her. Morion was all Rhinure had and the fact that she had to give him up everyday had not sat well with her.

However, all of this was irrelevant. As Sacrifice, she had a duty to her Second Guard’s family – to all Avari families. She would go to see Tathren’s and Amar’s families as well – as soon as she had seen to Morion’s. Unwelcome or not, it was what the Sacrifice did and no one was going to stop her from completing her duty. Not even a patently hostile aunt.

“You will let me in.” Rhinure’s voice was cool, reminding Rhîwen who exactly stood in front of her. Rhinure might have been Morion’s niece, but she was also Sacrifice for the Clan. She was not someone to be kept waiting while one got one’s emotions under control. While Rhinure was willing to give Rhîwen the time she needed, Rhinure was not about to leave until she had done her duty – Rhîwen would just have to get used to the idea.

“Of course, Mistress. You are, as always, welcomein my home.” Rhîwen stepped back, allowing the Sacrifice to step inside.

“Where is Morion’s son?”

“My son is away at the moment. If we had known the Sacrificewas going to visit, I would have made sure he had remained at home.”

“It does not matter if he is not here.”

*~ Though I would have liked to see him, hold him, if he allowed it. ~*

Rhîwen led Rhinure into the house, pass the little study where Morion have received her on the rare occasions she came to visit. Rhîwen sat down, quite deliberately, in Morion’s favourite chair, indicating that Rhinure should take the guest’s chair. Rhinure did not miss the gesture, but having no choice, she took the seat in front of Rhîwen.

Rhîwen watched the younger elleth, sitting calmly in front of her, and inwardly marvelled at Rhinure’s composure. There was no indication that she was uncomfortable sitting in the house of the elf she had killed, no sign of remorse or regret. The Avari had chosen their Sacrifice well. Rhîwen wanted to demand that Rhinure leave her house and her family in peace – after all, she had taken enough away from them as it was. But as long as Rhinure wore her guise as Sacrifice, Rhîwen could not do anything. As long as Rhinure obeyed the dictates of duty, Rhîwen could have no grievance against her.

Still, there was some comfort in the fact that as long as Rhinure was Sacrifice she would be unable to mourn Morion alone. That right belonged to his family, to Rhîwen and her son. The Sacrifice was there to follow the wishes of the Avari people – was there to express their condolences and offer their support. She had no personal role in all of this. Morion might have been Blood Kin to Rhinure but in the end, she was not his family – she was the Sacrifice. In the end, Morion was not hers, but Rhîwen’s.

Rhinure smiled to herself – Rhîwen was transparent in her grief. Her bitterness and hostility towards Rhinure showed clearly, more so than Rhinure had ever seen before. Without Morion’s presence, nothing buffered Rhinure from her aunt’s contempt. Rhîwen did not like Rhinure and probably never would. Rhinure represented all that had taken Morion away from her, all which had eventually killed him – duty, honour - bondage. 

Still, Rhinure was Sacrifice and this was her Blood Kin’s home. Nothing Rhîwen said or felt could change that. Morion would always be her uncle, blood of her blood – Kin of her House. She might not be able to claim him as family, her other responsibilities precluded such an intimate bond, but she could always claim him as Kin. Maybe Rhinure had not earned the right to call Morion family, as Rhîwen had – but he would always be her Blood. And as long as she had that, it was enough. Morion was Blood – not even Rhîwen could say that about him.

Rhîwen clutched the arms of the chair when she saw the proud, cold light in Rhinure’s eyes. That light made her feel insignificant in her own home. The silence that Rhinure dragged out suffocated her. They were all reminders that Morion’s Sacrifice sat before her – the elleth who Morion had vowed to serve, the elleth who had held his Honour and his life. The sigils painted on Rhinure’s backs hammered in the point that Rhîwen might have been Morion’s wife, but Rhinure was member of his House. And that was a part of him, a small part but a part nonetheless, which Rhîwen could never have.

Well, if she could not have it, her son could – her son. This was her home and no elleth, no matter if she was the Sacrifice or not, would come in and take away her privacy, her grief away from her.

“Was there something you wished to speak to me about, Mistress?”

“I have come to ask if there is anything you need, Rhîwen.”

“I need Morion, can you give him to me?”

“The Second Guard will be missed, Rhîwen. He was a valuable member of the Avari.”

“The Second Guard will be replaced, Mistress. In fact, very soon I imagine. Morion, on the other hand, will not be so easily forgotten by us, his family.”

“And neither by his Blood,” Rhinure was quick to add. She would not give up her claim on Morion so easily.

Rhîwen leaned back into the chair, eyes never leaving the Sacrifice, “I am very appreciative that you have come, Mistress. But if that is all you came to do – offer your support, then it is best you leave. You cannot give me back what you have taken from me, and there is nothing else I want from you.”

“As you wish, Rhîwen. However, I will remind you that Morion’s son will be expected to hold Morion’s Blade until the new Second Guard is chosen. As nearest Kin it is his duty to do so,” Rhinure kept her voice calm, not betraying how much this reminder cost her. As Sacrifice, she could not keep Morion’s Blade even though she was Kin. Once again, her duty to the Avari prevented her from doing what she would have wanted. Once more Blood would be forgotten for her people.

Rhîwen smiled fiercely; it was a victorious, predatory smile, for she knew that in the end she had won. Rhinure had other duties that would prevent her from asserting her rights as Morion’s Kin. When the new Second Guard was chosen, it would be her son who would present the Blade, not Rhinure. It would be her son who would keep the Second Guards’ Blade in safekeeping till that day. And it would be her son who would wield Morion’s old Blade – the Blade he used before he became Second Guard. And in the end, Rhîwen would be the one to whom Morion was bonded to beyond death. Rhinure’s claim on him was over now that she had ended his life. His death belonged to Rhîwen, and she would not let Rhinure take even that away from her.

“There is no need for the reminder, Mistress. My family always remembers its duty. If that is all …” Rhîwen left the rest unsaid but the implication was clear – if that is all, then leave us. We would like to be alone in our time of grief. We do not need outsiders amongst us.

Rhinure rose, “If you have need …”

“I will ask, Mistress. I can always trust the Avari.”

“I will see you at the choosing.”

“Yes.”

As Rhinure walked out of the door, she would have liked to have added that she grieved for Morion too. That she too would miss him, that she understood Rhîwen’s pain, but it was not her place to do so. Emotions were private, and Rhinure could not intrude in what was a family affair. Wrapping her title, her position around her like a thick blanket, Rhinure finally said goodbye to Morion.

She was Sacrifice and today she had lost the last of her family.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

1)                  Sigils – a sign, word, or device held to have occult power in astrology or magic.

Basically, the way I am using the word – it is sort of like the arms of Rhinure’s House except that it has more significance than just an identification mark. A sigil has power, one painted on the back is supposed to sort of invoke the person’s feä. Or provide a direct connection to him. The dead Avari’s Blood Kin paints the sigil of his House on their person – like Rhinure did for Morion – and give an oration. The words are supposed to be heard by the dead person’s feä. That is how I imagined it – but for the purpose of the word, I suppose all that is important is that sigils have special ceremonial significance. They are not tattoos or decorations, or something to be commonly displayed.

2) Cuiviénen – the Waters of Awakening. Where the first Elves awoke. Therefore the original home of the Elves (or so I assumed).