Elfhunter (46 page)

Thorndil patted Eros, who appeared anxious at being
left behind. "Don’t worry, my noble friend. Rogond will soon be
approaching from the east, even as we did. You will see him again
if you remain here! Do not stray from these lands and you shall be
reunited."

Eros did not understand many of Thorndil’s words, but
took much of his meaning. He nuzzled the Ranger affectionately
while sniffing his pockets.

"Ah! You have found them, I see," chuckled Thorndil,
extracting a handful of dried apples. He gave some to Eros, then
patted him again, and left him standing alone in the tall grass.
The powerful dun chewed thoughtfully, wondering whether he would
ever see any of his friends again. This place had a strangeness
about it that unsettled him. He called once to Thorndil, who turned
and shouted: "Stay
here
, Eros. You’d best be easy to find
when Rogond arrives!"

Eros shook a fly from his ear. Of course his friends
would return; they always had before. He looked forward to seeing
Rogond, Gaelen, Belegund, and Thorndil again. The lure of the tall
grass after so many days of poor forage decided him—this would be a
fair waiting-place, and he would remain until Rogond came for
him.

Nelwyn had been to Tal-sithian once before, but that
had been many years ago. She and Gaelen had carried a message from
Ri-Aruin to Lord Airan. In truth, the Elves of Tal-sithian had very
little to do with the Greatwood, for they were High-elves of the
Eádram under the protection of Lady Arialde, an Asarla of legendary
beauty and grace. She and Lord Airan had founded the realm long
ago, placing it upon an island in the center of the largest,
deepest, and clearest lake in the west of Alterra. The Lady kept it
hidden from enemies by virtue of a thick mist that would confuse
and confound them such that they would turn aside. No creature of
Darkness loves clear waters, and there was no Ulca living that even
knew the Linnefionn had an island in it, though they were no doubt
aware of the many sentinels keeping watch over the borders of the
outlands around it. In fact, Nelwyn and her companions had already
been sighted by them, hence the Lady knew of their arrival almost
before they did.

Galador knew of Lord Airan, for he was a kinsman of
Eádros. He was reasonably confident that the three of them would
find welcome, though he was a little concerned for Thorndil. The
Elves of Tal-sithian were known to be very secretive and protective
of their borders, but once the Company explained their purpose,
Galador was confident of a gracious reception. Nelwyn’s sharp eyes
had already spotted one or two grey-clad sentinels as they
approached the cloud of mist that obscured the lake. She held up
her hand to halt and then spoke:

"Elves of the Lake-realm, I am Nelwyn, daughter of
Turanen of the Greatwood. I bear news and a dire warning, and would
counsel with those who rule this realm. Stay your hands upon your
bowstrings, but show yourselves that we may parley with you."

Thorndil was taken aback as about a dozen of the
Elves appeared as though from the very air. Their raiment was grey
to blend in with the mists and the grey waters of the lake, in
contrast to the hunter- scouts of the Greatwood, who favored greens
and browns to better conceal themselves in the dappled green
sunlight of the forest. The sentinels spoke briefly among
themselves before one of them addressed the Company.

"Farath-talam. You are known to the Lady, and you are
welcome. We will conduct you."

The Elves led the Company through the layer of mist,
which seemed to vanish before them to reveal a brilliant
sapphire-blue lake and the distant green isle of Tal-sithian. They
were taken there in beautifully-made boats, and the way was made
smooth as glass. There was a peace that lay over this place, a
sense that no ill would befall while the Elves remained vigilant, a
power that could not be seen, but could be felt. It was the same in
Mountain-home, where evil things need not be feared.

The name Tal-sithian means "Realm of Deer-roaming’,
and as they drew near to the island they could see many delicate
and beautiful deer of a light dappled golden color, much smaller
than the deer of the Greatwood, gathering beside the waters. There
were wonderful meadows and tall trees on the island, which was much
larger than they had thought at first. The Elves here lived as they
liked; some stayed belowground surrounded by carved stone, while
others lived more as the Cúinar, preferring to remain among the
trees.

In the center of the island there was a high hill
where stood a dwelling that appeared to be made of white marble
with many pillars and columns. This was the home of the Lady, and
as they drew nearer, the columns were seen to be as carved white
trees with intricately woven branches. Lady Arialde never strayed
from the island, and soon the Company would stand in her presence,
so that they might tell all that they knew of Gorgon. Then they
would most likely be free to enjoy the beauty and peace of the
Lake-realm. Any lands under the protection of Arialde would be as a
paradise; the lands were in flower and the scent in the air was
intoxicating.

Nelwyn cast her thoughts toward Cós-domhain, hoping
for the safety of the remainder of the Company, praying that Gaelen
could soon share the wonders of Tal-sithian with her.

They would not have nearly as long a stay here as
they would have liked, for Nelwyn had resolved to return to the
Greatwood as she and Gaelen had promised, that they might warn
their own people of Gorgon. Nelwyn hoped that the creature had not
already turned his path there.

If she had known better, she would not have worried
for the Greatwood, as Gorgon was nowhere near it. He was at that
moment leaving Gaelen in a dark corner of Cós-domhain, where she
would soon awake to find that the warm welcome extended her by
Grundin’s folk had run out.

Rogond was beginning to become concerned as he sat
with Fima and some of his kin in the Great Hall. He had not seen
Gaelen in many hours, and though he assumed that she had gotten up
to some activity with the dwarves, he wondered. He didn’t like the
thought of her being without his or Fima’s protection, but Grundin
himself had decreed that she might walk freely, and thus she would
be quite safe. Belegund had gone off in search of this strange
chamber leading to the forges, with its weird red light and moving
shadows of dwarvish ancestors. Rogond smiled, as he, like Belegund,
also suspected the involvement of wine (or perhaps beer) in the
creation of that rumor. If Belegund found it truly wondrous,
perhaps Rogond would go and have a look for himself.

Fima was just sitting down to a large plate of
roasted mutton and potatoes when several grim-faced dwarves
approached and surrounded him.

"Lore-master, you and the Tuathan must come with us.
Something has happened…Lord Grundin commands your presence in his
private chambers."

Fima put down the lamb shank he had just begun to
enjoy with a sigh of regret, then fastidiously dipped his fingers
in his water-goblet, a habit he had picked up in Mountain-home. He
wiped them on the edge of the table-drape before turning to
Rogond.

"This will be an important matter, I fear. We must go
at once. I pray that no ill has befallen." His expression told
Rogond he was not hopeful; they would not have been summoned unless
the matter was very serious. They both rose and followed the
dwarves to Grundin’s private chamber.

Grundin was grave as he explained why they had been
brought before him. "Ular will lead you; there is something you
must see. When you have seen it, my folk will conduct you back
here. I must ask you to return at once as I will need to speak with
you of it. I do not understand the nature of what has happened
here, but I warn you that it is quite grim, and I will want
enlightenment from you." He turned to Fima. "One thing is certain—I
fear for your Wood-elf. Her whereabouts are unknown at present, but
there are signs that she was involved. I will say no more for now."
He turned away, making it clear that the conversation was at an
end.

Ular led Rogond and Fima down a long series of
passages, and Rogond had the sense that they were going west. A
large collection of dwarves had gathered at the end of the
corridor, and Fima could hear not a few of them muttering and
weeping. The crowd parted, and Rogond gasped in horror as he beheld
the sight that had been so carefully arranged for him.

Three bodies hung from stakes driven into the rock of
the wall. Two were dwarves, and the third was a tall man. One of
the dwarves had been beheaded, and Fima recognized poor Tibo
immediately by his green jacket. The other dwarf, to Fima’s dismay,
was Noli. He had not been beheaded, but hung limp upon the spike
with his eyes and mouth open in astonishment. He had been killed
with a single stroke to the neck.

Rogond had eyes only for Belegund. His friend was as
dead as stone, with terrible wounds to his shoulder and midsection;
he had apparently battled fiercely before being overcome at last.
His sword had been broken and placed at his feet. All three bodies
were covered with blood; the corridor reeked with the smell of
it.

The dwarves moaned and muttered in their grief and
horror, and many were becoming angry. One of the Elders stepped
from the crowd, tears of sorrow and rage welling in his dark eyes.
Rogond recognized him as Nimo, Noli’s cousin.

"So much for the trust placed in strangers," he said
to the assembled dwarves. "These have brought naught but sorrow
among us. Their very presence here threatens us. And where is the
She-elf ? No one knows her whereabouts, and none may account for
them. If she has been lost, why is she not among the dead? I’ll
warrant Noli’s neck met with an Elven blade!"

Several of the dwarves muttered amongst themselves at
this. None could doubt the sense of Nimo’s words.

"Wait, wait good people," said Fima. We are all
shocked and saddened by what has happened. Please, let’s not turn
upon our guests until we know the truth! The Tuathan was a good
friend of all in our Company, and old Tibo was known for his love
of the Elves. This was done by an enemy that is the enemy of all!
If he has found the She-elf, I fear she is dead."

Rogond had never feared so much for anyone as he now
feared for Gaelen. Fima was right—killing her would please Gorgon
to no end.

"I must go in search of her," he cried, clutching at
Fima’s arm. "She will be easily taken if she is alone. I must find
her at once!"

"No, Rogond. You cannot until we return to speak
again with Grundin. Please, my friend—you would not wish to make an
enemy of him. If you did so, neither you nor Gaelen would ever see
the light again—that is certain. I sense that if Gaelen will die
this day, then she is dead already. Come along, now."

Nimo looked as though he would also like to go in
search of Gaelen, but with a very different purpose in mind. "Yes,
Fima, return to Grundin, for he has something else he would share
with you. Mark it well! It’s possible that you and I will yet come
to an agreement this day. If not, we will know that you have
forever been corrupted by Ordath and the Elves of
Mountain-home!"

Fima said nothing, as he did not yet know what Nimo
was referring to.

"Leave them," Nimo called to some of the dwarves, who
were trying to take the bodies down and tend them. "Leave them
until all is made plain. We may wish to examine them again. There
will be time later to care for them."

Rogond closed his eyes. Belegund had been his friend
through many adventures. He muttered softly in the High-elven
tongue, calling to Aontar, asking that his friend would find safe
passage to the lands of his ancestors.

"I’m sorry, Rogond," said Fima, who also had liked
and respected Belegund. "There’s no time now. We must return and
face Grundin." He sighed, a great melancholy in his lined face,
looking every bit of his age. "I now very much regret that I did
not answer Belegund’s questions when he asked them. May he receive
his enlightenment in the hereafter and remain forever young and
strong."

Rogond nodded, though he could not speak. He was
consumed with a mixture of grief and panic as he was once again
escorted back to stand before Grundin.

The great Dwarf-lord faced them, his expression
difficult to read. He handed a parchment to Fima, who showed it to
Rogond. It was written in an unlovely but competent hand, and the
message was understandably upsetting to the dwarves of Grundin’s
realm.

"See, then, what fate awaits the Elf-friend in this
Realm. Learn, also, of the fate of her Enemies.

Noli was cloven by an Elven blade.

I, Gorgon Elfhunter, send this warning."

Rogond and Fima stood confounded by the message.
Gorgon would not know that Tibo fancied himself Elf-friend, any
more than he would know that Noli was Gaelen’s enemy or be able to
call him by name. How could he know this unless he was far cleverer
than they had imagined, or was somehow in league with Grundin’s
folk, which was absurd? Fima had to sit down for a moment. Grundin
looked them both up and down.

"Well?" he said at last. "What does it mean to
you?"

Fima was the first to react. "Surely, Wise One, you
do not believe that Noli was killed by the She-elf! Obviously this
enemy wishes you to believe it, but she could not have done so.
Please tell me you are not beguiled by the lies in this
self-serving parchment!"

Grundin’s reply was stony. "I will not say what I
believe until the Elf is found, Fima Lore-master. Noli’s neck WAS
cloven with an Elven blade; that much we have determined."

Rogond broke in. "Forgive me, my lord, but many may
wield an Elven blade. I know this enemy, who calls himself
‘Elfhunter’. I have fought with him before, and I know that he
carries several blades of Elven make, taken from his victims. You
cannot blame Gaelen for this."