“Do not worry, my heart,” the dying elf rasped out, face twisting and a painful cough marring the previous serenity of his features. “I am not frightened.”
“But I am,” came the answering murmur. “Nai’tae, I am very frightened.”
“You are an idiot, my heart.” Nai’tae forced a smile to his bloodstained lips. “I- I cannot move my hand. Can you lift it?”
Sehimil swallowed whatever other words he would have said. A shaking hand lowered to grasp his love’s own, raising it up between them.
“Giving rings is a tradition of humans-” the words were cut off by another hacking cough, Nai’tae’s grip tightening marginally. “But,” he soldiers on, “I wish you to take mine.”
“I don’t understand.”
The ring itself was oddly free of blood, the pale blue gem inset within the silver glittering with the light of the moon. Nai’tae’s thumb twitched, a feeble effort to twist the trinket off his finger before his hand stilled once more. A difficult breath in, and Sehimil gently pulled the ring loose, letting it rest in his own palm.
“Take it, my heart.”
“I don’t-”
“Do not resist this; you know how to use it. And it will give you some sanctuary from the world you hate.”
“I hate the world without you.”
Sehimil’s final words were soft, delivered to a vacant gaze and lips parted after their last struggling breath.
A low pained cry and the wild elf collapsed over the corpse, clutching the limp hand to his face. Whatever he whispered or cried was lost in the folds of his cloak and choking of his voice as he wrapped his arms around Nai’tae’s shoulders to half-drag the other elf to his lap.
“Hrgh,” he whimpered and sobbed, rocking the body slowly as if somehow, holding it tightly enough would bring the other elf back. “M-my heart- no, no, no… Please- Father, help- I have done everyth-th-th-”
His words once more dissolved into the meaningless sobbing babble