“Shut up,” he mocked Fey’s voice in a tone that was bitter and resentful. She did not want him here, and he knew exactly why. He made reckless decisions. He didn’t have very good ideas and sometimes he said stupid things. A lot of the time he said stupid things. That was why people ignored him when he talked, or shot him a silencing glare. That was why nobody trusted him. That was why his own wife had to convince the commander to let him stay. As pleased as he was with this unexpected development, he was also ashamed.
He stood in front of a large cluster of rocks that were too wide and flat for him to climb. He carved simple pictures into them with a smaller rock, and painted the finished drawings with mud. He drew a mountain with clouds. He drew an eye. He drew a tree with a pair of birds on one of the branches. He thought that his artwork was good, but not much compared to Anya’s. He felt bad that instead of helping, he was standing here, doodling.
“I’ve been around longer than you!” he mumbled to himself, as if responding to Fey’s earlier comment. It had sounded better in his head – out loud it seemed whiny because he knew that experience didn’t necessarily mean intelligence. His seniority didn’t count for anything. It didn’t make him the best Wayfarer, or even almost the best Wayfarer. As Fey liked to remind him, he wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Oendir.
“Yeah? Well, you wouldn’t be here either if it wasn’t for Oendir.” You know, because he recruited them all.
Four years – or was it five? – had not changed him much. He’d been fired twice and he’d nearly killed the group more times than that. But he’d been there, through all of it.
Something happened to Sage in Moria. Hallem wasn’t sure of the details, but he had survived, hadn’t he? Hallem wanted to shake the other boy and say: “Suck it up! Stop skulking around, thinking you know everything there is to know about these sorcerers!” If he wanted to survive, he’d have to get used to awful things.
He was angry that Sage could be so naive. Sage was always looking for the best in people – always looking for the exception. He expected depth and complexity from every creature. It was the same with the dragon in Forochel – Sage didn’t fight back. That made Hallem mad. He wanted to tell Sage that he was weak for not helping his comrades.
But was he weak? Maybe his resistance to assume the worst actually made him strong. Maybe he was wise to look for light in the darkness. Maybe he was right. Hallem really wanted Sage to be right.
And yet, he didn’t, because it would make him feel guilty that he was not smarter, like Sage was. He was not good, like Sage was. It would mean that Hal was wrong, again, and that is opinions were unfounded.
Hallem knew it was selfish to think this way. He was surprised at how quickly he had totally committed himself to the death of another human being. But he also knew there was a give and take – if he wanted his friends to stay alive, their enemies would have to die. There were no happy endings where everyone lived and learned from their mistakes.
That’s just the way things were.
Perhaps his time with the Wayfarers’ made him insensitive and narrow-minded. He only wanted to protect his own – to hell with the rest.
Sage might have seen, in his head, what Kalidah could do to people. He might have seen how she hurt them. How she tormented them for months and how she took their friends. Kalidah, who manipulated them. Kalidah, who put terrible dreams in their heads. Kalidah, whose lackey who froze them all in ice. He would not ever forgive her for those things that she did. Sorcerers were capable of awful things.
His comrades were too soft. As Hallem was concerned, they were being stupid. They needed him and others who weren’t full of hope and sentiment that would otherwise get everyone hurt.
Cwen asked him if he had ever been hopelessly in love, but he didn’t answer her. Was that her reasoning? That love changed Pharazanu? Love made him trustworthy?
That was shit.
Love didn’t make people good, it made them mad and vengeful. Kalidah intended to kill them out of love for her perished son. Who was to say that Pharazanu wouldn’t kill them, too? And if Azulgar had to die in order for Atan to come home safe, Hallem would not hesitate to see it done.
Because that’s what love does to people. It makes them desperate.
A Fool's Hope 