And I don't own any of the characters, keep it in mind as you go along, they are of David Eddings, as you all probably already know.


Garion's sleep was troubled. Imagines of his deceased friend filled his mind every time he tried to lost himself into the sweet oblivion of sleep. Memories of his childhood, of all the times he spend in the smithy with his old friend, that one that he considered to be a father, they crossed horribly with the memory of his corpse, dead, unmoving, his wide eyes staring at the empty space, nowhere, lost in the sight of an incomprehensive world for all of those who were left behind.

The floor was freezing, the noises of the creatures of the night he has grown so accustomed to during his long journey, were suddenly intimidating, treating all over again.

At last, his head and neck aching, he gave up. Garion opened his eyes and noticed that it was almost dawn. With a sigh, the now king of Riva stood up and got out of the tent.

All the others were still asleep. Or at least no one was outside in the clearing. The oak and sad trees surrounding them made his skin shudder. He hated that place, angarak territory and a constant memory of the mourning they were all submerged in.

Suddenly a white blur caught his eye and he turned around quickly in time to see a snowy owl emerging soundlessly from the forest. It landed in front of one of the tents and it blurred into the image of his aunt. Polgara stumbled to the tent and crawled inside without a word.

Garion sighed. It was time, perhaps, to leave behind his own sorrow. His aunt needed him, just as he had needed her so many times before. He was a child no more. He was a man. And the most important person in his life needed him to be strong for her.

A noise this time startled him. He turned again to the same direction. Another owl, a horned owl, come flying through the trees and it clumsily landed and turn into Belgarath. He had his face contorted into an irritated and tired expression.

"She had me flying around all the accursed night" he growled, sitting up next to the little fire Garion had managed to set.

They said nothing for a while, looking in silent grief at the sun rising in the horizon.

"Durnik was a great man" said Belgarath at last, gravely Then he sighed "One of the few man that really deserved my respect. Its tragic. And those things, sometimes are really hard to understand. But they happen" Then he looked at his grandson with a serious expression, his eyes penetrating. "Durnik didn't died for nothing. His death was necessary to save many others. And to bring peace and justice. He died as a hero, and that's the way we should see it"

Garion sighed "Being a hero does him no good, grandfather. Neither does it to aunt Pol" he had to stop for a moment, fearing his voice would break "They both deserved more than this"

Belgarath nodded "that they did" He looked at his daughter's tent with sad eyes" That they did"