It was not long before the procession finally reached the main castle. Bloody and covered in the remains of rotten food, Eriboth was led past the King in the direction of the dungeons where he would await his trial and subsequent execution. Although he should have felt a foreboding dread at the promise of tomorrow, he still felt joy. He smiled, in spite of everything, because even in the misery of his progression, he had still been used to the benefit of another. He smiled because so did the little elf girl.
He had seen Meckthenial’s dungeons before, but never from behind its bars. However, he had seen his share of incarceration outside of Meckthenial both before and after his death. And from what he remembered, the elven dungeons were quite civil when compared to those of men and dwarves, and especially the Ogres. Not that they were comfortable, because they certainly were not, but when compared to the barbaric conditions of the other denizens of Avendia, the dungeons of the elves were at least marginally hospitable. At least, that was what he remembered of them. But any form of hospitality and basic respect for all conditions of life was now void. Replacing the clean cells, each with their own small sleeping cot and commode bucket, was a cement block floor. Apparently, and illustrated by the stench and remains, those incarcerated, regardless of their guilt or innocence, were expected to defecate in the corners.
When his cell door had been unlocked and opened by the guard, he was roughly shoved inside. Because his feet were still bound by shackles, he stumbled and landed on his hands and knees. He stood up, faced the guard who had now closed and locked the door and said, “So much for the elevation of the elves. Can you not see what you have devolved into?”
“Quiet, traitor! I have orders to use any means at my disposal, as long as you are present for your trial, to keep you quiet. And I will not be as kind as Hundolis,” replied the guard.
“Brother, I say this only,” but Eriboth was interrupted by the guard who took a step forward and thrust the butt of his bladed spear through the bars striking his stomach.
“Do not dare call me such! We are not brothers. Nor are we even kin. And tomorrow, we will be rid of you.”
Collecting his breath, Eriboth stepped to the back wall and leaned against it, using its pressure to slowly lower himself to a sitting position. He was about to close his eyes when he heard a female voice speak, “Eriboth? Is that you?”
Even before he extended his senses, he knew who it was. “Yes, Queen Glinovia.”
“Oh, thank the stars! I had hoped you had managed to stay alive. And in all reality, I should have expected it. Tell me, what of Lady Soliana?”
“The last I saw her, she was alive. But to her condition now, I cannot speak,” he said.
“What happened after the both of you escaped?” she asked as she huddled against the bars they shared as a common wall.
Eriboth told her the entire story from the moment they mounted the great Dragon Lacorion to the moment when he was shoved into the cell next to her. He did not omit much, but he did think it better to leave out a few of the details including his past relationship with Soliana when she was still Athlorial as well as his paternal relationship to Jesolin.
“We were so wrong to stand and not give aide to the men of the Stone Keep. But your arrival set in motion several events I was unable to prevent. I Obviously tried, which is what directly lead to my incarceration,” she said. “But Lord Hinthial, I am sorry, King Hinthial,” she corrected herself, “has changed, Eriboth. He is not the same elf he was when he stood with House Dordrosis.”
“Yes. There is definitely something different about him. Something insidious, like a plague of the will and soul. He is not altogether himself,” he stated. He wanted to say more regarding exactly what force he believed was controlling King Hinthial, but he thought better of it at this current time.
“There are certainly things in place that have deeper roots than any our enemies could have placed. Of that, I am sure,” said the former Queen as she rested her back against the cell bars, wiping a lock of her hair from her face. “Look at me, Eriboth. Just a short while ago I was the Queen. And now I have been reduced to sit in this cell as a common criminal. There was nothing of Elfish doctrine reflected in the conditions by which the Council of Lords was assembled. Neither was there any Starlight reflected in its decision or even in its process of decision, for that matter. I fear it will be the same for our trial. No doubt it will be swift and one-sided.”
Fear. The word evoked a deep seeded resolution within him provoking a visceral reaction at its utterance. He understood fear, its genesis, its manipulative and destructive nature. And to see it existing, or at least beginning to exist, within his niece, propelled him into a necessity wherein his sole goal was to remove it, at its roots. Surely, their trial would be exactly what Glinovia believed, and she was right to fear in her mortality. But mortality was not the substance of life, nor was fear its greater portion of truth. “I expect as much. I do not believe it will follow any of the Lawful Order,” he said.
“What do you believe will happen?” she asked him.
“Before I speak on that, I would bid your indulgence,” he said changing the direction of their conversation.
“Of course,” she answered.
“Thank you. A few moments ago, you made a statement to look at you, did you not?” he asked.
“I did,” she answered.
“Would you like to know what I see?” he asked her with a depth of conviction that what he was about to tell her could not be stopped regardless of her response and that the following information was vital to the moment as well as her future, however brief it may be.
“Yes,” she said inquisitively yet apprehensively.
Before he continued, he turned around to face her sitting in one of the basic postural positions from the most basic of the Star Forms. Once he was facing her, he opened his eyes and let her see their now pure white coloring. She was about to ask him what happened when he began, “Pain. Anger toward me. Resentment toward your mother and father alike. Sisterhood for Lady Soliana. Close you were to her. Maybe closer than you should have been based on that fact she had not long been in the employ of House Dordrosis, and even shorter in a direct connection with yourself. But you were still close. However, those are just observations of consequences and not the cause for those consequences,” he said.
“Yes, one could suppose as much, but go on,” she said as she stared at his all white eyes. Although she was told he could not use them, she was nevertheless given the distinct impression that his sight was greater than hers.
“What is the condition of abusive mortal emotions if not from the lack of worthiness resulting in our acceptance of such things that are toxic?” he asked her.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you not enraged at the thought of the death of your father? Are you not enraged at the actions of Lord Hinthial?”
“Yes, but anyone would be, should be, in those situations. It is only natural,” she responded.
“But what is natural if not the reflection of the reality we are directed to exist within?” he asked her.
“I am sorry, Eriboth, but I do not follow this line of questioning. What does any of this have to do with our situation at hand?” she asked him.
“What I am asking you, my little Eklirin, is what would happen if your understanding of reality were to change so much so that it required a responsive change in the basic definitions of what could be, should be, and ultimately will be, natural?”
“I am sure many things would change, Eriboth. But to think of all the possibilities one would first have to understand the changes to reality of which you speak,” she said.
He slightly grinned, and then responded, “Exactly,” he said. Had he still possessed the brilliant green of his eyes, the Lady Glinovia was sure she would have seen their familiar spark.
“Are you proposing that there is something that can change the understanding of the Elves in regards to their concept of reality?” she asked with just
a hint of daring in her voice. “Need I remind you that greater elves have existed far beyond the ability of any of us to remember. Elvish culture is said to extend to the beginning of all things, Eriboth – the beginning of time itself. Are you suggesting there is something, anything, that could have remained hidden from the all-seeing eyes of the Elves that is large enough, impactful enough, and important enough that it could change our understanding of reality? Really, Eriboth, I have always been amused by your gift for persuasion, but this sounds like madness.”
He grinned again which caused her to chuckle, “I would never presume to know the entirely of Elven culture. That task has always been best performed by the Lorekeepers. But I know what it is not.”
“Oh, and what exactly is it not?” she asked, again through a chuckle.
“Enon A’Son, (It is without love),” he whispered ever so faintly as he reached through the bars separating them. She had not realized it, but during their conversation, she had inched closer to the bars they shared. She was close enough now that when he abruptly reached through them to grasp her hand, he was able to clutch it firmly. Her initial reaction was to draw away from him, but as soon as the skin of his fingers closed around hers, any initial instinct she possessed for self-preservation was utterly dissolved within the overflowing clarity she beheld.
And there it was. A’son. Love. Complete and utter. There, inside the inclusion of his understanding, striking and echoing inside her soul, a soul that had been weaned upon doctrines endless in their development and propagation of Elven superiority, she beheld a truth beyond anything reason or mortal ability to interpret in totality could ever express. Had her soul been standing upright on mortal feet, she would have tripped and fell endlessly down a bottomless trench. But because souls do not have physical foundations upon which to stand and walk, she remained where she was physically. However, she traveled further and farther than she ever had before.
Deep in the recesses of her longing for value, a value given her by her father, mother, customs, relationships, interactions, memories existed something fixed as greater and uniquely her. Elven culture valued connectedness. Not between elves, but to elves. And the only way to establish a connection to elven kind was to reflect its long-lasting teachings. For to minimize one’s reflection of elven doctrines was to display disconnect thereby resulting in less worth, less esteem, and ultimately, less value as an elf. What she had not seen before, what no elf had seen before, is that their concept of ideal love, adopted by the nature of the stars, was not complete at all. In truth, though what one could do for the greater good of the elves was always emphasized, this was but a condition of acceptance; a condition, however innocently created, whose ultimate function was to control. For only control can maintain things as they are. And that is perhaps the greatest doctrine of the elves, to remain, to maintain, to be unchanging and not growing. For who needs to grow when perfection has already been achieved?
With a gentle squeeze of his hand, Eriboth opened himself up to Queen Glinovia that she might see him as he saw himself, a wounded, broken imperfection made perfect by the sacrificial will and manifested Love of the Man he had come to call King, the Man named Jesus. But what she did not find within the her Drahin’s soul was any amount of the mortal condemnation that should have accompanied his complete self-revelation as one who deserved nothing and was responsible for so much destruction. In its place, where there should have been darkness and void, was nothing but light. She saw in him A’son. And she saw it as truth.
Tears began to form in her eyes as all of her memories of how much she tried to reflect the stars to prove herself to her father and mother came streaming to her consciousness. She saw herself again as the little girl whose only goal in life was to bear the burden of inheriting the throne of her grandfather and father. She sought to excel beyond what was expected of her because she ultimately knew her father, and entire kingdom, was secretly hoping for a male heir. But instead, she was born; and while she was never made to feel unworthy or unwanted, she nevertheless came to realize she was not the fulfilment of hope for the elves. She had been unworthy since birth not because of what she did, but because of who she was.
And when she finally found what she was seeking, she could not hold back the tears. For in her Drahin, this man whom she had known her entire life, was everything she wanted to feel. Instead of doubt and lack, he held power, confidence, and completeness all within his soul not because of what he had done, but because of who he was and what had been done for him. In all of his vices, all of his transgressions, all of his selfishness, he was still made worthy and complete. And if he, who had caused so much pain could have it, then surly she could too.
She wept at the possibility. She sobbed because of its potential. And when the overwhelming emotions ended and Eriboth withdrew his hand, she looked up at him, tears still freely flowing down her cheeks, the hair in her face made wet from her sobs, and said, “Teach me.”
“Do you accept Him, Jesus, as One Who Can and Will Save you?”, he asked.
“Yes,” she said as she inhaled deeply seeking to stem the flow of her tears.
“And do you believe, in your heart, in the place beyond mortal temptations, that He will do as you ask. That He will Save you?” he asked her again.
“Yes,” she said through a deep exhalation as her tears and breathing began to calm.
“Then call Him Lord, King, and Christ and be saved!” he said with a conviction and direction that could only be called divine.
“You ARE Lord,” she said firmly. “You are MY King!” she stated with a rising conviction as the waves of an ocean driven storm. “You HAVE saved me!” she said as the tears and sobs stopped and were replaced with a steel firmness in her voice. “And I AM Yours!” she said finally.
The remainder of the night progressed in the rhythm of their conversations spanning all topics from their past, to the Indri Primos ceremony, to their current status, and ending with their speculation of tomorrow’s events. Eriboth was glad to have the company of his niece before the trial began. The characteristics he spoke of during his speech held true even under the worst of conditions, and he could imagine none worse than this for her. In a span of a few short moments, she was delivered from the pinnacle of her youth to the decimation of losing a father, king, uncle, house and country all before her young abilities were prepared to handle such atrocities. But he was able to provide for her an extension of her life into the immortal legacy of Jesus, his King; and that gave him some solace. He chuckled to himself, though there was really no humor in this moment. However, he chuckled because it was not too long ago when his main concern would have been the condition of her mortal preservation, but such as things were now, when set against the backdrop of true immortality, it was of little concern to him. So, as he focused himself on the task of slumber, he was able to feel easy, even now, because, at the very least, he would see her again. Perhaps not after tomorrow in this life, but certainly in the next.
He perceptive gift was able to detect the movements of life even before he was consciously awake, so it was no surprise when he felt the cell doors being unlocked. Nor was it difficult for him to rise into wakefulness when the Elven guards harshly pulled he and Lady Glinovia to their respective feet. They did so silently which provoked a response in kind from the two of them. Although there was a very different feel to the entirety of the Castle, its structural integrity remained the same. He was still quite familiar with all of its halls and turns, so he was still able to tell that they were not being led to the traditional hearing room, but to the throne room instead.
They entered through the side door and were escorted to one of two witness booths that had been transported from the hearing room. In total, there were two booths, one for those issuing the charges, and one for those refuting the charges. Each booth had room for multiple witnesses, but Eriboth suspected they would be alone in theirs. The booths were constructed out of ornately decorated wood with leather cushions lining both
the seats and backs. It was traditional for the fabrics of the cushioning, indeed for all of the fabrics on all of the cushioning in the whole castle, to be reupholstered to reflect the colors of the ruling house. Because House Hinthial had been the ruling house for a very short time, Eriboth was surprised to sense that the previously red and black leather had already been replaced with the yellows of House Hinthial. As he extended his knowing around the throne room, he sensed that all of the tapestries and fabrics had already been replaced suggesting their manufacturing had been completed in advance of those events responsible for this trial.
The two defendants sat by themselves for several minutes with their guards as the only others present. From a side door opposite the one they were led through entered a contingency of four elves, three of whom Eriboth recognized. The last one to walk through the door, he did not; not because there was no familiarity with the Elf’s face, but because he could not see his face as it was hidden within the hood he chose to wear. It was customary for the witnesses to be dressed in their own house colors signifying which house they represented; however, each of them was dressed in robes signifying their allegiance to House Hinthial. He saw Tlieal, the Lady Zamorinthia, and Queen Fontina along with the unknown elf as they walked to their seats, none of them acknowledging the presence of the defendants. They silently made their way to the opposite booth, sat down, and turned their attention back to the door through which they entered.
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