After he cut the ties with his family, and realized the damage his angry words had caused, Berethar left his home and struck out eastwards, not knowing or caring where he was going, much like he had wandered Edivernel after Gehather's death three years before. It was the winter of 2910, just months after the Runnicoran retreat from Orden. Jedediah Crayes, having kept his "appointment with an acquaintance" and attended the Legean Association assembly as he had told Mordred, was twiddling his thumbs in Rodron.

And it happened that Berethar walked one afternoon into the very same roadside inn as Jedediah Crayes, seeking a drink and respite from the cold outside. He sat alone, and there was a look about him that signaled most men to keep their distance. Jedediah Crayes, however, was not one to be put off by such a look; on the contrary, he seized upon Berethar as quite the most intriguing person in the room, and taking a seat beside him he began to ply Berethar with questions.

Berethar, of course, had no wish to answer any questions, particularly when he learned they were coming from a member of the Legean Association; even though Jedediah Crayes had never met him, he dreaded having his name recognized and the truth uncovered. But the more curt and reticent he grew, the more Jedediah Crayes became charmed with this new enigma, until at last, when Berethar stormed from the inn and left his mug shattered on the floor, Jedediah Crayes reimbursed the innkeeper handsomely for the broken vessel, and followed Berethar secretly with greater curiosity than ever before.

Berethar did not know that he was being followed. But he came upon word of Wild Men in the region, and he knew that Wild Men had slain his father; and the word was that the Wild Men had gone south. So Berethar, hungering for a purpose again, even if it were an impossible purpose, veered gradually south, and drifted toward the Raesir Mountains, that is, the Desert Mountains, which border the wilderness below Gontland and Rodron on the east, and have their tail end in Runnicor. And there, Jedediah Crayes lost him.

For Berethar had seen movement far off in what seemed an impassable place in the mountains, and stealthily coming upon it, not knowing what he would find, he tracked it to its source; and by his own wary passage, not wishing to be seen by unwanted eyes, he inadverdently threw Jedediah Crayes at last off his trail. But so it was that he happened by accident upon one of the King of the Werevulture's secret strongholds, which he was building up in the south of Legea for his soon-launching war. And Berethar did not know this; but he thought that someone was mustering a secret foe against Runnicor, for the soldiers were marked with unfamiliar livery, and the place was close by the Runnicoran border.

And Berethar came closer, wanting to learn more of what was afoot, and what kind of word he might bring to Runnicor to warn them of this danger. And they found him, and took him, and brought him to their general, who like the one in Edivernel was a man, and not a werevulture; for the King of the Werevultures was wont to place dark and corrupted men as his high generals. And the general asked who he was and what he did here. And Berethar answered boldly and proudly, "I am Berethar, son of Cirnac, of the clan Mycraí," for he had no suspicion that his name would mean anything to them.

But the general was astonished and filled with secret delight in his mind, for he knew that he had Berethar Mycraí, and he was of a great longing to receive the reward that he was sure would come to him; so he kept Berethar, and put him away in harsh confinement. Yet he was also filled with doubt, and it began to gnaw greatly at him after his first ecstasy: whether Berethar had spoken falsely, or whether there might be another Berethar; and so he questioned him anon, seeking to confirm that he had the man he sought. And Berethar, seeing that he was desired at the hands of this man, refused to answer all he asked; so the general remained in doubt.

Now while all this went on, the rest of Berethar's family came again to Erahar and Edu Ghul. But Lryn to his distress found that they were not welcome there; for the village remembered their mother against them, and cursed them and drove them away. And Lryn, remembering Berethar's opposed counsel with a heavy and angry heart, did not want to return to Gontland; but he saw no other choice. And so they went thither, only to discover that Berethar had not been there for many months, and none knew where he had gone. Then Lryn would have had them not trouble for Berethar, for, he said, "He has evidently desired to cut himself off from us; let us therefore consent to his choice, and seek him no longer, and dwell in Gontland again without fear."

But Lyathí spoke against him this time. She was a daughter of Iloen and of the queen Fiurna of old, with the farseeing look in her eyes, and she glimpsed from afar the peril that her brother was forging into at that moment. And she would not be gainsaid, but insisted that they would not leave Berethar to his own strength, but they must find him again.

The trail was difficult to discover, and cold, yet it brought them at last into Rodron. And there they met with a gifted man, a senser of evil, who was called Dr. Gibley; and this man had long sensed the darkness growing in the Raesir Mountains, and was afraid of it, and even had an inkling of the King of the Werevulture's hand in it because of the Wild Men (though later he disregarded this as improbable); but he ignored it many years, out of fear and unwillingness to obey the silent command of his gift.

Yet when he heard Lyathí speak, and knew that she was a seer, he was ashamed and convicted, and told them who he was, and that he was bound to seek out what he felt. And he said, "If you fear your brother is in danger, you may come with me, for I know of nothing more dangerous than that to which I now go."

So since they could not trace Berethar, they accepted his offer with the consent of Lyathí, and went toward the mountains of Raesir, and were seized as Berethar had been; for the army was very wary, knowing that it would go ill for them to be discovered before the time set. And the general, when he heard this, feared that their whereabouts must be known to many, since first Berethar had come upon them and now this group of five. So he questioned them, too, seeking to discern whence they had come and whether there were many spies about these mountains. And Dr. Gibley, seeing that the matter must be played subtly if they were to live, assumed spokesmanship for all of them, and answered his questions in careful ways, alluding to this or that, and the general could not determine who they were or what to do with them. But they did not know that Berethar was held there, nor did Berethar know of them.

But on the third day, they were taken up to the general while he was still speaking to Berethar; and Berethar saw them, and Lryn saw his brother; and each knew the other. And Berethar saw that the way behind them to the gate was open, and a plan came to his swift mind.

Berethar does not filter his plans according to how they may cost him. When others' well-being is at stake, his duty-driven, fiercely honest mind demands him to consider all possibilities. And so, even though he can be almost obsessively insistent on equality, he will regard himself as an expendable object in an attempt to save another. And even though he dreads two things above all else -- captivity, and being seen as valuable to his enemies -- his capacity for alert, logical thinking will lead him in ninety percent of instances to assert those things as the best route to ensure another's safety. His conscience and reason compel him, against all his instincts, to use himself as bait.

So Berethar, knowing that the general regarded him as an exceedingly valuable prisoner, purposed to turn and run away from the gate. And he looked at Lryn, and said, "Utha, llreda," which is translated from Enydhwyn, "Go, brother." And he broke from his guards and ran. And the general took great fright and called for all his men to give chase to Berethar, and the others were left unwatched. So Lryn looked after Berethar in wonder and grief that Berethar had called him brother, and his heart softened towards him, realizing that Berethar had no hope of escape for himself, only for them; and he almost was ready to go after his brother. But Dr. Gibley drew him away, and they fled unhindered from the house, and out into the mountains, and fearing pursuit they ran for hours.

Now Jedediah Crayes had been looking for Berethar, still desirous to discover more of this enigma that had caught his fascination, but he had looked long after losing him and was ready to turn back, knowing that other, more crucial matters must deserve his attention. So he was preparing to leave the Raesir Mountains that very day, when he came upon the fleeing party of Dr. Gibley and the Mycraís. And seeing that they were foundering and hunted, he remarked, "Well, what's all this?" And he drew them aside into the cavern where he was staying, and sheltered them. When he heard whence they had come, and what they had escaped from, he saw to it that they came safely out of the mountains, and then rode with all speed to Runnicor to warn them of their danger. And the king of Runnicor came, liking little the sound of such an army building up near his country, and attributing it as all others had to a jealous enemy and no more. So they came upon the force unawares, before the King of the Werevultures was ready, and crushed them to nothing. But Jedediah Crayes slipped in among the aftermath and took Berethar safely away to his family.

And he saw that he was the same he had been tracking before, and was pleased to have found him after all; and he took a liking to the thought of seeing him and Mordred together and friends with one another, for Mordred was ever in his mind during the years that followed the war in Orden, and this thing or that would readily evoke memories of him, and his quick mind would play with opportunities. And he put the notion to Lryn that since they evidently had no home to go to, they should seek out Orden, and Ceristen, where there was land, and housing, and no enmity toward folk of a seer's blood.

"That sounds good," Lryn answered, "and I have a liking to it." But he looked at Berethar, fearing he had spoken too hastily, for in his mind all was reconciled between them, and he was eager not to stir up Berethar's anger again by crossing wills or stepping out of his place as the younger brother. "If you wish it, llreda," he said.

But where Lryn had assumed all to be well between them again, Berethar was convicted of entirely the opposite. He believed not only that Lryn must despise him and long to be rid of him again, but that he himself deserved such scorn. His own harsh words spoke themselves bitterly back to him; he had disowned himself willingly, and he must reap his seed, no matter how he longed to return. He had forgiven Lryn, as much as it ever was in him to forgive the brother that he did not and would never know; but he neither hoped for forgiveness in return nor dared forgive himself. "Do as you wish," he said roughly. "I am not the head of this family any longer."

Lryn was, naturally, bewildered. "How can you speak so, llreda?" he asked, using again the Enydhwyn word that had meant so much coming from Berethar's lips in the Raesir Mountains. "I cast you off wrongly, and I wish that I had not. Are you not coming with us?"

And Berethar said, "I am not coming with you. I will go my way and be a wanderer of the wilderness."

Lryn, astounded now, exclaimed, "You will not! Do you truly wish to leave us?"

And Berethar turned his face away, and would not speak; for he could not answer yea, and he would not tell them the truth.

Lryn argued with him long, perplexed beyond comprehension, unable to fathom that after all they had gone through to be together, after he had thought all was healed, Berethar would refuse to associate with their family any longer; but Berethar would not be swayed. No pleading of Lryn's could gainsay the guilt that lay upon him. It was only by Lyathí's urging, and with great effort and difficulty on her part, that Berethar was persuaded to join them in their journey to Orden.

So the family of Mycraí went together to Orden with Jedediah Crayes, and Berethar grew weary of Jedediah Crayes' constant lauding of Mordred Kenhelm, which Jedediah Crayes did only because he had grown fond of Berethar, first as an enigma, and gradually as a person, and he could not help bragging in a tactless way about the person that he was sure Berethar would love as much as he did. Berethar listened in silence and nursed a towering loathing for this Mordred Kenhelm who was painted in such rosy colors.

They met Mordred Kenhelm upon their arrival in Ceristen, as is told in Sorrow and Song: Winds Rise, Chapter 3. Berethar and Mordred quarreled, Mordred because in his misery over Inspector Dickson's departure he was ready to quarrel at the smallest thing, and Berethar because he was all too happy to pick a fight with anyone who gave him cause, but especially Mordred Kenhelm himself. The following day Berethar, in characteristic remorse for his unkind judgment and hasty words, apologized, and Mordred did likewise. And they became friends. All this anyone who read Chapter 3 of Winds Rise knows already.

But something happened that day that we cannot fully appreciate until we know Berethar's background.

If Mordred had rebuffed Berethar -- had not acknowledged his apology, or even had he acknowledged it but made none in return -- if he had not done all that was in his power to make amends between them, and offered eager, candid friendship in return -- Berethar would never have found a home in Ceristen. He would not have been accepted, simply because there was no chink in his stern, bitter shield for the welcoming folk of the village to find a niche. As it is, he is barely a part of the village, and even he does not consider himself "one of them". They do not understand him; he does not wish to be understood. Mordred, in that moment when he accepted Berethar's apology and begged forgiveness, stepped into the only possible moment where Berethar's guard was down, where Berethar became vulnerable because he could not let himself do otherwise, and he did not hurt Berethar. In that instant, Berethar's trust and his friendship, two things which with Berethar can only come together, were sealed upon Mordred in unbreakable bond.

If not for Mordred's response, Berethar would have had nothing to hold him in Ceristen, much less Orden. His family could not have held him, not even Lyathí. With the knowledge weighing on him that he had created another enemy, he could not have borne to live in a place that would remind him of his failure, anger and shame every day. He would have left, and would have become exactly what he told Lryn: a wanderer of the wilderness, alone, friendless, bitter and a prisoner of his endless guilt. Tied to no place, longing for stability yet denied it by his own will. Hiding from the world and from the wrongs he had done to the world.

Furthermore, if Berethar had been spurned in his repentance, more damage would have been done than simply a fresh "my-fault" hung about Berethar's neck. Berethar is intrinsically very afraid of making himself vulnerable, but all that he endured from ages fifteen to twenty made him throw up still higher walls. He does not trust easily at all. Even as far on as Sorrow and Song, physical touch from anyone except people he considers friends makes him recoil at best. Had his apology been scorned in that sensitive, defenseless moment, it would have inflicted a wound worse than any other he bore. So when Mordred met that defenselessness with gentleness, Berethar responded with gratitude, which came with him in the form of fidelity. He gave Mordred his trust. All of it. In fact, trust is all-or-nothing for Berethar. If you have a little bit, you have it all. If you're his friend, he trusts you. If he doesn't trust you... you're not his friend.

Perhaps the Mordred who had not endured the suffering of the Claw and learned the painful lesson of resentment's poison would not have answered Berethar as he did. In all probability, in fact, he would not have. But the Mordred who faced Berethar Mycraí and heard his brief, repentant admission and request was the Mordred who had hated Inspector Dickson for six torturous months of his life, who had learned what it was to hate and what it was to forgive. He gave Berethar all he asked; there was no possible way he would have done otherwise. And he gave more. All the fervent generosity and friendship in his vivid, loving soul he showered on Berethar, so eager to make right what he had done wrong and to welcome Berethar as he himself had been welcomed, and Berethar accepted it a little bemusedly, a little out of his depth, in a sense, with Mordred.

He had never had a friend his own age. The men of the Legean Association had been older than him, and though they treated him as an equal there was a gravity to most of them, and a lack of free-ness, which suited Berethar's sober, non-communicative upbringing well. He had certainly never had a friend remotely like Mordred. Mordred did things with abandon, spending his words, his ideas, his joys, his sorrows, as though there were nothing to do but share them with the world. He laughed openly, and he did not shun tears. He would not let Berethar brood in silence, but would probe gently, with loving insistence, till he had uncovered the matter. "It is not like you, Berethar, to be so somber."

"Is it not? And how can you tell?"

"I can tell."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters, Berethar. I do not want you to be unhappy."

Not only would it distress Mordred to see his friend unhappy, he had repressed his own emotions before, and knew the damage that could bring because he had seen it. Instinctively, he would probe below the surface, wanting to bring the chafing thing to the light, exposing the wound to let it heal clean. And by doing so, he taught Berethar to do the same to him. It was a completely unconscious process, full of learning on both sides, yet neither one knew that he was teaching. Mordred learned to understand a man with many similar facets to his own character, and yet a wholly different underlying bent. Berethar, who had given unconditional love before of sorts -- to his father, to his sister -- began to understand that one can receive unconditional love as well, and not be afraid of destroying it.

And that is how Berethar came to be the man he is in Sorrow and Song. It's worthy of its own book... but I have already written the entirety of it in condensed form, TWICE now (yes, this is the second time), so the book will have to wait its turn.

Sorry this took so long to get out, y'all. Path of the Tempest was not cooperating, and I had to kick it into shape and do a bit of catching up before I felt like coming back to this. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!