Tortured yellow eyes watch from the niche in the wall, his fingers ripping the glowing rock as if it might betray him and cause him to plummet to his death. In a very strange way, he almost hoped it would.

She was gone. The games.. the tricks.. the lies.. they were over! He was free.. free of her!

But.. why does he feel so alone? So empty? So... pointless?

That's what it was always about, you know. The games. The test of wit against wit. Elf against troll. Elf against human. Hand against flesh. Pain against glory. Its all a test, a game. He loved games. The rhymes had left him, but he still loved the games. He chuckled, hoarsely, remembering the games with the Djun. He started to laugh softly, bracing his body against the shimmering wall, tears dripping down his wrinkled cheeks.

He crumpled. Hugging his knees to his chest. There was no use for him now. Mother was gone -- the games were ended. The Djun was lost -- no use for his pretty toys anymore. He sighed. Softly. He rubbed his beak-shaped nose, then buried his face in his hands. He sighed again. Softer. He was tired.

They called him the Master Builder. The Master Smith. He stood up started to move silently down the curved passageway that led deeper into the niche. He considered new games to play. But he needed a new player. New pawns. A new board. He must start over again. And that would not be fun at all.

Two-Edge stopped as light appeared at the end of the passageway. His dark yellow eyes -- so used to the dank tunnels or the spying holes of the Citadel mound -- blinked until his eyes teared before they adjusted. This.. flying egg.. had moved and now there were many more little point-ears. Tall ones, dark ones, pale ones. Those uppity mumps and the human.. Shuna, was it? Whatever her name was, it makes no difference. But they were there too. Tall ones.. Mother was tall..

His eyes ran over the crowd. So excited. So pitifully content in this ugly ball of shiny rock. Uppity creatures. He snorts, ready to turn away, to find a way out of this dung-forsaken hole when a voice strikes a new chord in him. He turns..

"First I would know how Kahvi died, if, indeed, she did."

His heart leaps to his throat, making it impossible to think. The other point-ears.. they jabber about some nonsense, but all he can hear is her voice. All he can see is her face. The soft features of her face.. the chocolate color of her skin.. the way her amber eyes so vividly express her emotions.. His mouth turns dry and he scrabbles to look out of the hole. She is turning.. walking...

"Maiden!" He swallows, his mouth so dry.. his voice, hoarse! He whispers, barely audible as all eyes turn towards the broken Master Builder. "Do not leave me!" He feels the tears well up in his eyes again as she places a hand over her heart, surprise rippling over her lovely features. A cold blush rises to his sickening pale features and he tries to keep her with him, if only he could explain.. "She was my only means of self measure... the stone on which I kept both edges honed sharp..." His knees collapse below him and he sighs again, his voice shakier. He cares not for how they stare as he whispers, ".. my mother!"

The half-troll looks up, standing, his hand outstretched towards the Maiden. "I would die, if death could bind me to her. But Rayek holds her spirit now," his face pinches as he says these words, still thinking, dead! My mother.. Mother! Dead! "Once touched by Leetah, I am unable to flee into the realm of madness." That, too, strikes a chord with him. He misses it.. the blinding numbness that madness brings.. he misses the soothing rhymes..

Soft, soothing yellow eyes peirce his heart as he stares at her. "All that is left me is you, gentle maiden." He looks down, ashamed at all the stares. If only he could ignore their expressions of anger, grief, and hatred. They don't know grief, he thinks bitterly. Finally, he calls out to her, hoarsely, his hand still outstretched to her. "Please... let me come with you."

She nods. Simply. All the weight is lifted from my shoulders from that simple nod. There will be new games.. new tricks.. new rhymes.. but as he moves out that door, all he can feel is her soft hand on his back, helping him. Supporting him. The tears well up in his eyes once more and he sighs softly. Again. And smiles.

The End?