Elfhunter

by C S Marks

  To a Wood-elf, this substance is more precious than gold and more intoxicating than wine. Gaelen and Nelwyn wasted no time getting into the dark, sticky-sweet richness, and they were soon quite silly. Forgetting all caution, they sat giggling in one corner as they shared cakes covered with honey, both charged with exuberant energy.

  Rogond had the feeling that, though it was better than nothing, the small pile of gold coins they left behind would not be considered adequate by the next party of dwarves to pass through. He hoped that they had left little other evidence behind as they finally packed what they could easily carry, lighted one of the eight torches they had taken, and pulled the heavy panel until it was nearly closed. Then Rogond repeated his action of touching four images simultaneously, and the panel closed with a grinding ‘thud’.

  The Company was much more cheerful after that, what with Gaelen and Nelwyn laughing and very nearly colliding with the walls, and at least one of their water-skins filled with good wine. They had plenty of food in their packs to see them for quite a number of days yet. In truth, they had not made much of a dent in the stores, but the dwarves still would have no sense of humor about it if they suspected that anyone other than their own folk had taken the provisions.

  To that end, Rogond had at the last insisted that the Elves surrender one of the tokens sent by the Woodland King for Lady Ordath—a beautiful and incredibly lifelike golden replica of a dragon in flight, jeweled and enameled. It was meant to fasten and adorn a cloak and was of great worth, for it had come from the treasure-stores of the

  Eádram, though it was of dwarf-make. Gaelen and Nelwyn were fiercely opposed to the idea, but in the end they relented, as they still had one other token for the Lady. The dwarves would count themselves well paid. "Well, then I’m taking our coins back, at least," said Galador.

  As the four travelers made their way north along the dwarf- passage, they were unaware that, a scant two miles away, Gorgon was stirring in his stony sanctuary, preparing to go abroad again. The disquieting visions of the Elf Gelmyr spouting prophetic nonsense from his dead lips had motivated Gorgon to seek new prey as quickly as possible. It was the only thing that would make the visions go away. He also had the uneasy feeling that the same pursuers he had sensed by the river were still close at hand, though he could not really explain why or how he knew it. Gorgon did not realize that his "sense" of Gaelen was coming from her already-intense hatred of him, nor did he understand that she, through her contact with his victims, now held a sense of him, as well. For a while, he contemplated seeking out those pursuers and making an end of them, but decided that would be imprudent, as he only knew that at least one Elf traveled with them. He strapped on his armor and various weapons, provisioned himself lightly, as he had no trouble finding sustenance on the trail, and placed his heavy helmet on his head.

  Now to decide which of his killing-grounds would be most productive. He thought about returning to the Darkmere, as that area was still fresh in his experience and might prove interesting. But he felt that he had picked up his pursuers shortly after he had killed the two Wood-elves there, so at last he decided to make his way westward, toward the gentle lands near the sea. Hopefully it would not be too long until he could waylay one or two of the Elves passing through those pleasant lands and make a very unpleasant end of them. Then he would go to the Verdant Mountains and prowl for more. After all, he would have to apply himself to his murderous task if he hoped to erase the images of Gelmyr’s sinister, smiling face and at the same time accomplish the goal of exterminating the Elves from the face of the world. Someday Gorgon would have an army, and then he would slay them all. He had foreseen it.

  He glanced at his reflection in the mirror-bright, polished center of his dark shield, pausing to tuck away a few long strands of silken hair that had fallen across the thick, grey skin of his forehead. "Forth, Elfhunter, and good hunting," he growled. As he headed out he was in fairly high spirits, despite the vague, uneasy feeling of unyielding pursuit that gnawed at the back of his mind.

  The Company had not gone more than a mile north of the dwarves’ hidden cache when the first rumor of heavy-shod feet was heard down the passage ahead. All four of them froze in their tracks, listening intently, trying to determine the nature of the oncoming threat. "They do not sound like Ulcas…I would expect them to go more quietly, especially down dwarf-roads," said Galador.

  "Dwarves then, I expect," said Rogond, looking at the three Elves, who appeared less than happy at the news.

  "We cannot risk an encounter with them, Rogond," said Galador. "They are very likely to take offense to our presence here, and it sounds as though they are many. We shall have to find a hiding place at once!"

  "There are no hiding-places," said Gaelen with alarm. "We will have to outrun them back the way we came, and turn back up the other passageway, hoping that they will go straight on—it’s our only chance." Without waiting for agreement, she turned to move quickly back the way they had come, going as quietly as she could, listening to the rumble of the approaching dwarves behind her. As she approached the hidden doorway, she froze in dismay. Similar dwarf- racket was now heard from in front of her, as well. Apparently, the Company had been caught between two groups of travelers who most likely meant to meet in the exact spot where they were now standing. "Hurry!" whispered Nelwyn. "The other passage is not far… perhaps we can make it!" It was worth a try, though they all doubted they would make the passage before the dwarves did. As they hurried along, they caught their first sight of the north-bound dwarves. They were a group of about twelve, jogging easily, apparently relaxed and in a good humor, talking amiably with one another. This evaporated when they beheld the four interlopers, and they halted and became silent, twelve sets of hands gripping twelve axe handles.

  "Well," whispered Gaelen with a sardonic shrug of her shoulders, "this explains why we haven’t seen any Ulcas."

  That was true enough. The dwarves approached with deliberate caution, stopping about a hundred feet from the Company, and called out to them in the common tongue: "Hail, wayfarers. Who are you, and by whose leave do you trespass upon the Great Dwarf Road?"

  Galador spoke first. "We are lost travelers, waylaid on our way to the Sanctuary and driven underground from the High Pass. We do not wish to trespass, only to find our way out again. We had hoped this road would lead us there."

  The dwarves muttered in low voices, as one stepped forward. "I am Dwim, son of Dolim," said he. "We do not usually brook Elves making use of the passages made by our folk. You will have to find another way out."

  "Rogond of the Tuathar bows humbly before you," said Rogond, bowing low. "We have naught but praise for those who built this passage, for it is as fine and straight as one could hope for. However, unless I am wrong, Elves of the Èolar also had a hand in the building, and it was they who provided these lamps. Can my companions not claim a share, enough to travel in peace just this one time?"

  The dwarves considered this, and then Dwim spoke again. "They are not of the Èolar. Hardly any of those folk remain. However, we have been set to meet a group of Dwarves from the Northern Mountains, and when they arrive we shall consider your request and decide your fate." Dwim and his folk approached the Company and surrounded them. Then they were conducted back to the carved stone door that marked the food cache, where the south-bound group had arrived and stood waiting. "Stand where you are!" said Dwim, as he went to greet them.

  The group of dwarves coming south looked tired and travel- weary. A feeling of dread came over Rogond, as he expected they meant to break into their stores to replenish themselves. They would find what had been taken. Rogond’s dread grew deeper when he noticed the crest of Rûmm emblazoned on their leather breast-plates. This made sense—the Northern Mountains had been settled by the survivors of the war that had destroyed both Rûmm and Eádros.

  He hoped the dwarves would consider the dragon-brooch adequate payment, but since they would now know the stores had been plundered by Elves, sufficie
nt payment might not be possible.

  He spoke to Galador aside. "Whatever you do, don’t speak to them again. They will know you for a High-elf, and they won’t like it. You are now a Sylvan Elf of the Greatwood Realm." Galador would not need to be told twice—he, too, had noticed the crest of Rûmm on the dwarves’ armor.

  The Company was surrounded by a group of some two dozen dwarves, nearly all of whom were muttering in angry voices about the Elves, who were now trying to look as non-threatening as possible. Dwim hailed the leader of the northern dwarves, whose name was Noli.

  "We are glad to have encountered you, Noli of the Northern Realm. Here you shall rest from your travels for a time, and then we shall escort you to Cós-domhain."

  "It appears we’re not the only ones you’re escorting," growled Noli with a very unpleasant look at the Company.

  "They are trespassers. What do you and your folk think of them?" asked Dwim.

  "We don’t like the look of them. We do not know the man, but Elves are not welcome here or in any of our lands to the north," said Noli. To this, all his folk agreed, nodding their heads and muttering. "Let’s bind them until we learn more, and then decide their fate."

  At this the Elves could keep quiet no longer. "We will not suffer ourselves to be bound and made helpless!" cried Nelwyn, who was becoming very nervous indeed. These dwarves were fierce, and out- numbered the Company by six to one.

  Rogond placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "You surely do not expect us to submit to being bound, O Reasonable and Courteous Dwarves, whose beards are indeed impressive. You may trust us to remain here quietly until our fate is decided." He shot a look at the Elves, who returned it with expressions of tension bordering on barely controlled panic.

  "We might trust you, Aridan, if you had chosen better companions," said Noli. He was eyeing Galador with suspicion.

  "I will vouch for them," said Rogond hopefully, but the dwarves were moving closer, and several had cords in their hands.

  "I’m sorry, Aridan, for you are courteous, and I would trust you. However, we cannot trust them. They will be bound, and if they do not resist, no blood need be shed this day. If they do, we are ready to deal with them." Dwim patted the haft of his axe. He turned to his companions. "Bind them," he said. Then he turned back to Rogond. "I sense that you lead this Company. Tell your companions to submit peacefully, or things will not go well with you."

  Rogond did so, and the four of them were soon bound hand and foot, sitting in a row with their backs to the wall opposite the engraved stone door. As an extra precaution, they had been blindfolded. Gaelen trembled not with fear, but with indignation, as the dwarves bound her. She spoke under her breath to one of them; he did not understand her tongue, but the message was clear. He jerked the rawhide thongs painfully around her slender wrists, and she stifled a cry that he noted with satisfaction.

  A few of the dwarves were inspecting the contents of their packs, and they became angry and suspicious as they noted the provisions that might very well have come from their own stores. They discussed this in low voices with Dwim and Noli, who immediately went to the carved panel, no doubt intent on investigating. They pressed the icons that opened the door to their storehouse, and several of the dwarves entered. The angry shouts began almost immediately, and the hearts of the Company sank into their boots. They knew the dwarves were in the storehouse; they had heard the door open.

  Dwim stormed over to the captives, and jerked the blindfold from Rogond’s eyes. "What do you mean, breaking into our stores and stealing from our folk? You neglected to mention this to us. Did you think we would not notice?"

  "Let’s just slay them and have done with it," growled Noli. His folk heard this and began to move toward the Elves, who were still blindfolded. Rogond searched frantically for a solution. Dwarves were not savages, but these were angry, and they were advancing on Galador.

  Then the words of Lore-master Fima came to him, and he cried aloud: "Norúllu hadi Rûmhar! Ish menukurr ani belkur!" (Most noble Dwarves! Wait until you hear my tale!)

  They froze in their tracks, regarding Rogond in astonishment. "I have rarely heard our tongue spoken by one such as you," said Dwim, looking Rogond in the eye. "How came you to learn it? Speak quickly!"

  In answer, Rogond replied once again in the dwarf-tongue. What he said was apparently satisfactory, as many of the dwarves chuckled, and they seemed to relax a bit. They lowered their axes, at any rate. "What did you say to them?" whispered Gaelen, who sat next to Rogond.

  "I told them I learned the dwarf-tongue from one named Fima in the Sanctuary, so that we could talk about the Elves behind their backs," he replied. "I’m going to have to do some careful talking to get us out of this. None of you should pay heed to anything I am going to say." Gaelen was puzzled, but she trusted him.

  Dwim and Noli questioned Rogond further. Dwim and the folk of Cós-domhain were familiar with Fima, and honored him even though he had gone to the Sanctuary at Mountain-home. The realm of Lady Ordath was possibly the one place in all of Alterra where good people of every race met and discoursed with freedom and respect. If Fima had deemed this man worthy of learning the dwarf-tongue, then he was indeed worthy. They would at least hear what he had to say. They took off Rogond’s binding so that he might address them, over the protests of Noli, who would not have shown such courtesy.

  There followed a long conversation in which Rogond told of the Company’s travels and how they came to the Great Dwarf Road. He admitted that they had broken into the cache and taken supplies, but that they had left payment. The dragon-brooch was found and brought to Dwim, who examined it with awe.

  "This was made by the folk of the ancient Dwarf-City of Rûmm, that was the Deep-delving," said he, turning the brooch this way and that so the various jewels caught the light and sent it back in rays of scarlet, green and gold. Noli stepped up for a closer look, and Rogond held his breath. Though Noli regarded it with wonder, he did not appear to associate the brooch with the Eádram and the ruination of Rûmm.

  "From whence did this come?" asked Dwim. "Surely the Elves did not leave such a fair token in payment for food and a few torches." "No, it was I who left it," replied Rogond. "I have been charged with leading these three Elves over the mountains, though I doubted the wisdom of it. And now, they must do as I direct them, for they are of the Cúinar, the Woodland folk, and are helpless underground. Had I known they would tax me so, I would have refused." The dwarves nodded, looking over at the three blindfolded Elves with disdain.

  Rogond continued speaking to Dwim and Noli as though in confidence. "They’re worthy enough in their own lands, I suppose. Good enough at climbing trees, feasting and singing, dressed all in their finery. Not much good at making anything by craft. Were it not for dwarves and men to make their ornaments and carve out their great halls, where would they be? They remember the days of the Èolar, who were mighty craftsmen among their people. Those smiths are long since gone, yet the haughtiness of their descendants remains. And the real frustration for us is that we cannot even escape their haughtiness by outliving them!"

  The dwarves nodded in agreement, as the Elves sat in silence (though their faces reddened a little, for there was a small grain of truth in Rogond’s words). Dwim clapped Rogond on the elbow with a hearty laugh. Here, surely, was a kindred spirit.

  Rogond glanced over at his friends before turning back to Dwim. "Actually, I’m reasonably fond of these, else I would not have agreed to help them in their folly, but would have abandoned them. I would appreciate your leaving them unharmed, as I promised to make every effort to conduct them safely."

  Noli growled under his breath at this. It was clear that he was going to be difficult. Rogond thought quickly then raised his voice to the assembled dwarves: "Let’s have music and song, avail ourselves of this excellent wine and ale, and rest from our labors. I’m happy to be in such pleasant company at last!"

  The dwarves of Noli’s group, who were weary and in need of just such a diver
sion, joined their fellows in a hearty cheer. Soon the wine and ale were flowing with abandon, and torches were lit all along the walls. The Elves had been moved out of the way of the merriment.

  Their captors took turns keeping an eye on them as they sat on the cold stone floor, still bound and blindfolded, but safe enough for the moment.

  The dwarves had loosened up considerably and were nearly all in a good humor as they played their tunes and danced in the torchlight. They were surprisingly agile, hardy, and strong. "Perhaps we should play a bit of the music of the Elven-folk," said Rogond. "It might be enjoyable to watch them dance." The dwarves glowered at him, and Rogond looked around, and then feigned sudden understanding. "Oh, I see! You thought I meant to untie them first!"

  At this the dwarves all burst into laughter, turning their heads to regard the three Elves, who were becoming quite uncomfortable. The dwarf who had been set to watch them actually clapped Galador on the shoulder, startling him such that he cried out.

  Rogond gave Noli a look that said: You see what I have to put up with? There followed a long period of jesting, mostly at the expense of the Elves, and in the dwarf-tongue. Rogond missed some of the words, but he took much of the meaning. He was glad the Elves did not understand what was said about them, as he felt they had suffered enough already. They were a proud and worthy people, and Rogond knew and loved them well, but this would not serve their interests just now. Better he should at least pretend to join in the jest.