Realization

It was not really a strange feeling that he had, it was more that it was strange that he felt it. It manifested itself as a large lump in his throat that he continually choked back, fighting to hold his uncaring expression. The heat was searing his face and wisps of steam rose up off his cloak and boots where snow once clung. Ademar stood there with his companion Cor'Nal and a few locals at the edge of a hamlet known as Snoam-Schlabach.

They stood there in silence each honoring a fallen warrior in their own way. Cor'Nal chanted quietly to Kutenai, prayers to help his comrade rejoin the earth from which he had come. Some of the townsfolk offered prayers also, most of which went out to Tempest, bidding him to welcome the brave warrior Vrock into his hall to be honored for all time. Ademar had no prayer to offer, his gods were those of the Tel'Quessir, "The People", the elves. It would offend his deities if he offered prayer for an orc, even a half blood such as Vrock.

So he stood there in silence as the snow melted around him and Vrock's funeral pyre burned bright against the growing gloom of the evening. He continued to struggle with not what he felt, but why he felt as if he had lost a friend. He had never shown any love for Vrock son of Grock. He had rarely even spoken to him yet, he seemed to have made some connection to the brute. The half orc had served Cor'Nal and himself as if they were his masters never questioning anything they might tell him and always brushing off their barbed comments. He had even laid his life in front of them several times in their short history. Was it guilt? No, they had treated him better than most would have, he was their companion not their slave. What then? He was met with no answers, just the crackling of the burning pyre and the low moaning of the cold wind through the pines.

Though he tried for a very long time to rationalize why he should not feel loss for a dim-witted half orc who thought he would single handedly kill a great white bear, the fact remained that the lump was still in his throat. Slim elven shoulders heaved with his sigh of resignation. So it was also that he had lost another whom had grown close to his heart. Though he would deny it publicly, he already longed to hear just one more ridiculous, ill-timed comment from the brute. Deep beneath the cowl of his cloak Ademars' green eyes grew damp.

A voice broke his contemplation. "Come my friend," Cor'Nal said, "let us get back to the warmth of Magdas’ tavern."
Ademar realized just then that the pyre had burned down to smoldering coals and he and Cor'Nal were the only ones left standing in the cold winter night. He shivered as the wind kicked up around them and bobbed his head in agreement as they turned back to the town. There would be many flagons lifted in toasts this night, toasts to his lost friend, Vrock son of Grock, Killer of giant snakes, Bane of frobolds, Terror of white bear, and Rescuer of a princess.