Elfhunter

by C S Marks

  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 tal
l 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."

  "Can you account for her whereabouts, Rogond of the Tuathar? Unless I am wrong, neither you nor anyone else was in sight of her when this happened. Until she is found, I will hold back my judgment."

  Ular appeared in the doorway at that moment, begging leave to speak with Grundin, who left the chamber for a brief while. When he returned, his face was grimmer than ever.

  "Come with me, both of you, and we shall all be enlightened."

  They followed him into an antechamber, and Rogond was both shocked and relieved to see the miserable, shivering Elf that now looked up at him with bright eyes full of pain, though she could not speak. Rogond started toward her, and as she beheld him she wept with grief, pain, and frustration. Grundin held up his hand, and two of the dwarf-guards stepped in front of Rogond, preventing him from reaching her. He halted, but looked around the guards into her frightened eyes, reaching over their heads to touch her outstretched hand. The guards pressed him, and he backed off, speaking soothing words to her and maintaining eye contact.

  She had been ill-used and nearly killed—that was plain. Her clothing was torn and bloodied, her face battered and cut, and her throat was so bruised that it was a dark purplish-black. The imprint of Gorgon’s fingers could be clearly seen. So, that was the reason she could not speak. She was in considerable pain; her neck felt as though filled with hot shards of metal, and the slightest movement caused her to gasp and grit her teeth. Her red, swollen eyes showed that she had been crying for some time. Rogond could smell Gorgon all over her, even from this distance. He tried not to show the horror and rage he felt as he looked at her.

  Grundin’s expression was difficult to read as he regarded Gaelen in silence. She in turn looked at Rogond, mouthing the same words over and over:

  "Belegund…what of Belegund?’

  Grundin spoke then to her. "Your friend Belegund is dead, apparently killed fighting an unknown enemy. What do you know of this?" Gaelen closed her eyes. She had known Belegund was gravely wounded, but she had not witnessed his death. She looked up at Grundin, her tear-streaked face hot with fury and frustration, and tried to speak, but no sound came from her other than a harsh, halting whisper.

  "Belegund fought a terrible enemy. He calls himself Gorgon Elfhunter. We were journeying to Tal-sithian to warn our people of him, but did not know he was in Cós-domhain. When last we saw him, he was near to Monadh-talam, and we had wounded him. I never dreamed he would dare to come here…it doesn’t make any sense."

  Grundin then approached Gaelen so that he looked directly into her eyes. "Two of my people are slain as well. Tibo and Noli. What have you to say to this?" He studied her reaction carefully, and it was obvious from her surprised, saddened expression that she had not known. He turned then to Rogond. "I believe that she had nothing to do with this. You may attend her now."

  Grundin felt a hand touching the hem of his cloak
and turned to regard Gaelen, who whispered, "You thought I had a hand in this? Why would you think such things?"

  Grundin handed her the parchment, explaining that it had been found clutched in Noli’s dead hand. She held it before her face and read the words, her jaw working, eyes bright with hatred. She handed it back to Grundin and closed her eyes.

  "I am truly sorry about Noli, though there was no love between us. I deeply regret the death of Tibo, who loved my people and seemed gentle and harmless. It is ironic that he was chosen for death, as the enemy could not have known these things."

  Rogond now knelt beside her, concern in his eyes. "But somehow Gorgon knew that Noli did not love the Elves. That is clear from the parchment. How could he have known this?"

  Grundin replied, "Noli wore the emblem of Rûmm. Your enemy must have seen it and knows enough of history to determine that Noli and Gaelen were not friends."

  Gaelen clutched Rogond’s arm. "Why am I not dead? I fought beside Belegund, though I could not aid him. If only I had my longbow…" She burst into tears again, and Rogond held her gently, trying not to hurt her.

  "Hush, Gaelen, hush. What’s done is done. You fought to your limit with what you had. It is obvious that he left you for dead…he thought you were dead. Thank the stars that you are not!"

  Gaelen stopped crying and struggled to her feet, pain graven into her face. She faced Grundin and tried as best she could to address him.

  "My Lord Grundin, we must leave now—today. Your people will be safe once we are gone. Our enemy follows us, though we did not know it. He will not rest until we are dead. So far as I know, he holds no enmity toward your people, but so long as we are here and you shelter us and show us kindness, he will hold you to blame."