I pulled it up into the light and prised off the lid. Inside was his violin, as I knew it would be. I took it out gently and turned it over in my hands. I do not play violin, but I fancied that it was a fine one. It appeared to be made from cherry wood with cat gut strings. There was one word engraved upon its surface, the same as on the tombstone.

Joquain.

Below the violin, in the bottom of the box, were the letters written while he was in the war. Those I left alone, they weren't for me to see. I returned the violin to the box and closed the lid tightly. I knew something I could do to give these spirits rest.

I found a rusty spade behind the cottage. With the box and shovel under one arm and the blanket of bones in the other I set out into the graveyard to the marble headstone. Under the warmth of the sun, and urged on by the birds in the trees, I dug a hole next to Joquain's grave. When the hole seemed deep enough, and when my arms began to ache, I stopped to rest a moment. Then, knowing my task was almost complete, I gently lowered the box down into the cool earth. The blanket of bones I laid upon the box and then I set about filling in the hole.

When all was complete I said a quiet prayer for them. With that done I returned the shovel to its place and set out into the forest to search for a way home. As I pushed through the trees I heard the soft, lilting melody of a violin playing somewhere ahead of me. I moved towards it, hoping to find the source, but it continued to move away from me. I followed the sweet music on through the brush until I stumbled out into the bright light at the side of a road. It was a road I knew. The violin was gone, he had said his thank you.

I've never been back to the graveyard with the lonely cottage and I don't think I could find it if I tried. It doesn't matter though, they're happy together at last, and every night I fall peacefully to sleep listening to the violin that he plays for Joquain.