Elfhunter (35 page)

Rogond looked discouraged. "A deep, wide chasm,
indeed. Is there any hope that she might love me, Nelwyn? How can I
compete with the High-elven King? How can she find room in her
heart when it is filled with so much pain?"

"She did not love the High King; she loved the soul
of Farahin, for such was his name before he took the scepter. And
love that fills the heart will overcome and diminish the pain. It
will never be gone, but it may be assuaged, at least that is my
hope. She has resigned to living her life in waiting, but I pray
that it will not always be so. She holds some love for you, of that
I am certain. Whether the love she has to give will be enough to
sustain you is another matter, and something that only you may
decide. At any rate, I have done as you asked, for good or ill.
Take the knowledge and hold it close in your heart, and follow your
desires wherever they lead. Know that I am your friend and
confidante, Rogond, so long as you have Gaelen’s welfare in
mind."

Rogond nodded and managed a weak smile, though his
eyes were haunted. This was a lot for him to absorb all at once.
Galador and Nelwyn turned to leave, but Galador lingered for a
moment, turning back toward his friend as though he wanted to
remain. He spoke quietly to Nelwyn and embraced her ‘ere she left
them. Then he approached Rogond, placing a hand upon his
shoulder.

"I would speak with you awhile, my friend. Know that
I am as surprised as you are by the things I have learned this day,
but there is a matter of concern to me, and it cannot wait any
longer. This will be difficult for me to say, and perhaps difficult
for you to hear, but hear it you must."

Rogond shrugged, resigned to hearing yet another
disquieting tale. "As you wish. I expect I know the nature of your
concern. I have heard enough already today, such that my senses are
numb and my heart knows not where to turn. Speak your mind and
guide me if you will. I know you are a true friend."

"That I am. But now I must pain you by warning you to
back away from Gaelen. I have feared that you loved her from the
first, and now you have spoken of it not only with me, but also
with Ordath." He paused and drew a deep breath. "I have more
knowledge of these matters than you know. The greatest sorrow of my
life has been brought about through the love of a mortal woman, and
my grief has been difficult to bear. I loved her long ago, with all
of my heart, and she was taken cruelly from me. I will never see
her, share her spirit, or hear her voice again, as she has gone
where I cannot. The pain of this loss nearly took my life."

He looked into Rogond’s surprised, distressed face.
"You have only considered your feelings in this matter. What of
Gaelen? Even should she bind herself to you, despite her love for
Ri-Elathan, you will be with her for only a short while. Then death
will take you beyond hope of reunion. She has been grieved for much
of her life. Would you now afflict her heart with such
despair?"

Rogond’s face was drawn in an expression of pain, and
his eyes were bright as he answered his friend. "Would you rather
see her alone for the rest of her life? She has known real love for
only a short while; her grief and loss have afflicted her for a
thousand years. Yet she continues—an indomitable spirit determined
to live happily. That is what has made her different from you, who
have lived these long ages in sorrow. Gaelen will decide for
herself, but know this: my heart is given to her, whether she will
have it or no. And I will love no other."

Galador’s face was stony. "So said I to my love so
long ago. If I had known then what would befall, I would have
chosen differently… for both my sake, and hers. I am different from
Gaelen because she lives in the knowledge that, one day, she will
see her love again. I have no such hope." He cast his eyes downward
for a moment, drawing a deep breath. Then the moment passed, and
his confidence returned. "My happiness with Nelwyn has made me the
most fortunate of souls, for she is of Elven-kind, and I am of
Elven-kind, and we shall be together not only in this life, but the
next. That is what Gaelen had of Ri-Elathan, however briefly. That
is the order of things as they should be. I love you as a friend,
and I will not interfere with your choice, but consider carefully,
for you threaten not only your own happiness, but hers as well.
Farewell, Rogond."

At this he rose and left the glade, where Rogond was
now alone with his thoughts. He was having some difficulty taking
in the impact of Nelwyn’s revelation and Galador’s warning.
Ri-Elathan—the last High King.
Rogond sighed. He was
certainly in impressive company in his affection for Gaelen. There
was much to know about this "simple Sylvan rustic’, this
occasionally exasperating but irrepressible Wood-elf to whom his
heart had been irretrievably given. She would be returning soon, he
supposed, as he noticed the first light of dawn dimming the stars
in the east, over the mountains.
Will she have enough love to
give me? Do I dare risk telling her how I feel, for fear of hurting
her? Can I be sustained, knowing that not only would her love be
one day lost, but that I must share it with another? Is there room
in my own heart for this?

He remembered the words of Fima, those wise words
that sprang from pure friendship and not from any concerns over the
ways of men or Elves.
This situation doesn’t really change
anything unless you must possess her, for that you cannot do. But I
sense that you may love her and find your love returned. I have
observed this one. She may be worth the effort.

And Rogond remembered his own reply:
She
is.

He considered Galador’s words once more before
putting them forever from his mind. He could walk away now, leaving
Gaelen hurt and confused, and live the rest of his life in grief
and longing to spare them both the pain of their inevitable
parting. Or, he could continue to love her and see whether his love
would one day be returned, allowing her to choose.

Rogond closed his eyes and whispered: "Most noble
Farahin, I do not know what thoughts you are permitted as you await
her on the shores of Elysia. But if you can, know this—you must
share your affections for Gaelen of the Greatwood with Rogond, a
mortal man, for as long as he can give them. You cannot gladden her
heart, or strengthen her resolve, or protect her from the dark hand
of fate, though I know that you would. I hope you will welcome my
efforts in this common purpose, for one day you shall be reunited
with her, and I will be forever sundered from her. Then well may
you remember Rogond and his love for the one you hold dear."

He left the glade and mounted the steps to the
watch-tower overlooking the south march, so that he might look for
her return.

Seven horses stood waiting in the courtyard as the
Company prepared to depart. Their decision to leave Mountain-home
had been made after a long council that had included Lady Ordath
and Lord Magra. It was decided that Gaelen, Nelwyn, Rogond, and
Galador would now travel south to the Lake-realm of Tal-sithian,
taking with them Belegund and Thorndil. Magra would ride west to
the Verdant Mountains and the sea, ensuring that as many as
possible were warned of Gorgon. At least some deaths might be
prevented if their people were aware of the threat.

Rogond intended to investigate more of his heritage
in Cós- domhain, which lay between Mountain-home and Tal-sithian,
and he hoped that Gaelen would go with him. Her attitude toward
dwarves had mellowed since she had spent some time with Rogond’s
friend and mentor, Fima. She found him funny, even charming, very
direct and earthy. He was neither arrogant nor false and was
thoroughly interesting in most respects. He in turn warmed quickly
to her (he was already far more open-minded with respect to Elves),
and after a few afternoons spent gaining mutual trust, he actually
taught her a few words in the dwarf-tongue, emphasizing that she
was to use them only when needed. She was not to reveal their
meaning to any others of her own race. Rogond approved of this new
friendship, as he truly liked Fima and was looking forward to
learning more from the folk of Cós-domhain. This would be much
easier without a hostile Elf at his side.

As they made their final preparations, Fima appeared
in the courtyard. He was provisioned for a long journey, and to the
surprise of Rogond and all assembled, he announced that he would be
traveling with them as far as Cós-domhain. They marveled at his
appearance, for he had seemed old and rather soft while poring over
his manuscripts in Mountain-home. Now he stood clad in dwarf-mail,
carrying his weapons and packs. In fact, he would have looked
fierce were it not for the gentle good humor in his eyes.

Then he saw the horses.

Fima had a long-standing mistrust of horses that
bordered on antipathy. Although many dwarves could ride, and ride
well, Fima preferred to go upon his own feet whenever possible. The
tall horses standing in the courtyard might as well have been
fire-breathing dragons as far as he was concerned, and it showed on
his face. He had never forgotten the humiliation a horse had once
brought upon him, and, regrettably, neither had certain of the
Elves of Mountain-home. Fima had been taught a hard lesson, and he
would long remember it.

Rogond took notice of his friend’s dour expression,
realizing the nature of it. "We’re all truly glad that you have
chosen to come with us, Fima, but I’m afraid you have no choice but
to ride with one of us. I know the horses are too tall for you to
handle without aid."

Fima grumbled and growled, but Rogond saw also the
fear behind his complaining. "Don’t worry," he said. "I’m sure that
whoever you choose to ride with will make certain you’re perfectly
safe and comfortable…"

"There
is
no way to be comfortable on those
unpredictable, excitable jackrabbits! Why can I not walk beside
you? Are you in that much of a hurry?"

Rogond knelt down, looked Fima in the eye, and spoke
so that no one else could hear. "If you want to come with us,
Lore-master, you will have to ride. There’s no use arguing—I’m
afraid that’s all there is to it. Now, make your choice."

"Here, Fima, ride with me!" said Galador, stepping
forward. "Réalta is more than strong enough to carry us both. I
would be honored to have you."

Nelwyn smiled in approval, though she wondered about
the wisdom of selecting Réalta to bear one such as Fima. The dwarf
was in apparent agreement as he eyed the restive, spirited
silver-grey charger, whose head was lifted to the wind and was
taking in great draughts of air through his wide nostrils, eager to
be away.

"My thanks, Galador, but I believe I shall ride with
one of the Aridani. Their mounts do not appear to be as fiery as
yours."

"Fair enough," said Galador, bowing and swinging
gracefully aboard Réalta, his grey cloak thrown back in the morning
breeze.

Rogond stowed Fima’s pack with their other gear as
Lady Ordath entered the courtyard to say her farewells. She
approached Rogond, who bowed before her, and spoke to him aside.
"Go forth, my friend, and keep safe. I wish you success in your
quest. Take care, especially, of your heart…I pray it will remain
unbroken." She looked over at Gaelen, who stood by. "Do not expect
too much of her, my young Tuathan. Take care."

She moved next to Nelwyn, favoring her with a gentle
smile. "I rejoice that you have been restored, fair daughter of
Turanen. May you and your beloved keep safe upon the journey.
Perhaps a happy union of the Eádram and the Woodland will be
forthcoming?"

Nelwyn blushed, and glanced over at Galador, then
raised her beautiful green eyes to meet Lady Ordath’s. "We shall
see, my lady. We thank you for your hospitality and your aid. I
would hope to visit your fair lands again."

Ordath then approached Gaelen as she sat already upon
her mount. Gaelen bowed her head and placed her right hand upon her
breast in a gesture of farewell. "I give my thanks for your aid in
our need, O Lady of Mountain-home, and for the gift of the horses.
Perhaps one day you will receive our aid in time of peril, for it
shall always be given to you."

Lady Ordath returned the farewell gesture. In
Gaelen’s eyes she saw the honest spirit and the strength of purpose
that had no doubt appealed so strongly to Ri-Elathan, and she felt
a sudden pang of grief as she remembered the High King, who had
been both kin and friend.

Gaelen looked around the courtyard, hoping to see
Magra, but he was nowhere in evidence. She recalled her farewell to
him the previous evening, as he had promised to travel to the lands
of Tal-ailean and to the Twilight Shores, to give warning of Gorgon
Elfhunter. At the last Magra had turned back to her, as she stood
alone in the dark courtyard, and when he looked upward toward the
stars, she saw his eyes fill with sorrow. In a voice heavy with
regret, he had spoken to her.

"I could not save him, Gaelen, though I tried. Please
forgive me…I could not save him." He had drawn back the sleeve of
his tunic, displaying horrific scars that covered his right arm.
These extended all the way to his neck; they had been made by the
fires of the Bödvari. Gaelen could not speak for a moment, but as
Magra replaced his sleeve and turned to leave her, she called after
him:

"There is nothing to forgive. One day we will both
see him again." Magra had paused, and bowed his head for a moment
in acknowledgment.

Now, as she prepared to depart, Gaelen wanted to look
upon him once more, as she cared for him and would miss his
pleasant company.

Lady Ordath took notice and reassured her. "Magra
prepares for his own journey. He wishes you safe passage, and
reminds you to be cautious. I will add my own voice to his in that
admonition, for I sense that you embark on a path fraught with
difficulty. Guard our friend Rogond, and take good care of my
lore-master. Farewell."