With his eyes averted the kneeling elf spoke in a crisp, clear voice.
“Master Hammersmith, I apologize for the insult my kin has paid you this evening. I hope you will not hold the actions of my son against the rest of the clan and realize that the young sometimes act without the proper restraint.”
Logan glanced quickly at Aerlian’thor and then at El’dreathia for any signs of what to do, but they both appeared as mystified as he did. He cleared his throat and dropped his own gaze.
“Patriarch … Please rise, I do not warrant such prostration from a man of your stature. In fact, it is I who beg your forgiveness for any disharmony I may have caused your family in my ignorance. I pray you will be able to forgive my rudeness.”
With that Logan bowed his head, even as Lean’thor rose to his feet.
“Of course lad, of course.”
Lean’thor clapped his hands on both of Logan’s upper arms and kissed both his cheeks. He then turned, and with a stately stride, returned to his place at the head of his clan.
“Well done, lad. Well done,” whispered Aerlian’thor as they took their seats at the great table.
Chapter Twenty-Three: And the Mead Flowed Freely
The feast progressed well from there. To Logan’s relief Lan’thor never made an appearance and both the food and drink were excellent. Logan learned that the sweet yellow drink was called mead and made from fermented honey. El warned him that it could be quite potent if you weren’t used to it. Logan heeded her warning and made sure to take it easy on the drink.
The majority of the elves spoke to one another in their own language, so most of the conversations were lost on Logan. Thankfully, El and her father made an effort to speak Tir’anish and involve him in their conversations.
Logan had to admit, that there were more than a few times in the evening that he found himself just staring at El as she spoke with some friend or relative. At one point he found Aerlian’thor watching him as he did this. He blushed in embarrassment as the older elf raised a brow and smiled slightly.
The main feast ended and many left to return to their homes. Soon, there were only a few from each family present in the large chamber and most of these were more than a little happy from the mead they had consumed.
Aerlian’thor had been speaking with Logan for a good portion of the evening and Logan found himself telling the elf all about his family’s ill fortune and his current undertaking. El also listened intently to Logan’s story, a tear in her eye as he spoke of the death of his parents and the loss of his sister. Her hand reached across the table to hold his in comfort and support.
As he finished the story, Logan suddenly felt a strong hand rest gently on his shoulder.
“A terrible tale, lad, a terrible tale,” murmured Lean’thor from behind him.
The large elf lowered himself into the chair beside Logan and shook his head.
“I met your father once. He was a fine man, strong as an ox as I recall. He knew how to lead men. Back in the war with the Trolls, most of the human leaders would hang back away from the fighting, sending their men into battle. Not your father, lad. If there was fighting to be done, he’d be right there in the thick of it. He’d never ask a man to do something he wouldn’t do himself. The men respected that. That’s what moved him up in command so fast, his men respected him. He led and they followed.
Not to mention that he was the first human I’ve ever seen go toe-to-toe with a Troll and come out on top.”
Logan listened intently to the warrior elf, a feeling of pride welling up inside him. Lean’thor’s stories were all new to him and through them he came to a greater understanding of the man his father was.
“My father never really spoke of the war. When he came home he wanted to leave it behind.”
Lean’thor nodded appreciatively before continuing.
“I can understand that. War is a terrible thing. The killing can be the least of the atrocities. It can get so it haunts your dreams at night and a man is never the same again.”
Lean’thor took a large swallow of mead.
“Your father would be proud, lad. I can only hope that my kin would avenge me so well in similar circumstances.” He paused for a moment of introspection before continuing. “I fear they would not.”
“Surely they would hunt to the ends of the earth my friend,” Aerlian’thor argued and Lean’thor gave him a sad smile.
“I can hope,” conceded Lean’thor. “Yet, Aerlian, for some reason I do not think it would be the case.”
An awkward silence followed. Finally, Lean’thor forced a smile.
“But enough of this depressing talk,” he announced. “More drinks!”
With that, Lean’thor hammered his fist down on the table and a serving boy came at a run.
The mead continued to flow freely and Logan eventually found himself discussing Hagar’s soldiering days with Lean’thor. At one point, Lean’thor summoned a young elf to him and whispered something in his ear. The elf nodded and a few moments later the young elf stepped back and cleared his throat. A hush fell over the room and Lean’thor leaned over to Logan and whispered quietly.
“Lad, there’s something I’d like you to hear.”
Logan gave the older elf a confused look as the young elf began to sing.
“The Trolls had come, from the Dragon’s Spine,
With weapons drawn, in united tribes.
They came to burn, to rend and kill,
To destroy the woods and leave it still
But met they were, their rampage slowed.
By the elfin folk, who fought most bold
But elfin craft and magic’s might,
Could not contain the Trollish blight
The elves fought hard, they would not give.
But against Trollish rage they would not live
The summons went across the wood,
A call to arms, to all that could
Humans came to give their aid,
Joining wooden staff with axe and blade
Still the Trolls fought hard and well,
But against this force, they barely held
And so it came, down to the last.
Elf and man, both standing fast
Blood was shed and many died,
As these two races, met the Trollish tide
Lean’thor, our very own,
Met the biggest troll and held his own
The fight was fierce and blood was spilled,
When from behind, Lean was nearly killed
A second Troll had interfered,
And Lean’s leg was burned and seared
Two huge Trolls, prepared to strike,
To send Lean into the final night
Then one collapsed, his head was smashed
A one-eyed man, who’s hammer bashed
The second Troll bellowed his rage,
Swung his club and set the stage
Lean watched as the battle began,
As man and Troll both made their stand
Blows were thrown, weapons crossed,
And though he raged, the Troll, he lost
The man’s final blow caved in his chest
And to the earth, he came to rest
The big man helped Lean gain his feet,
Then turned to witness the Troll’s retreat
Hagar the Hammer, was the man who came
And the elfin tribes still sing his name.”
Logan sat in stunned silence for a few moments once the young elf finished. Lean’thor lifted his mead in silent toast to a fallen hero. Logan was at a loss and felt a tear slip down his cheek. He felt El’s hand gently touch his own and looked up to see the elfin maiden smiling comfortingly at him. He managed a slight smile and gave her hand a reassuring smile before returning his attention back to Lean’thor.
“I didn’t know,” Logan whispered.
“I know lad,” said Lean’thor with a compassionate smile. “I know. Your father was a hero to many and I owe him a great deb
t, one that I can never repay. With his passing, the world is less and that is something we should all morn.”
Lean’thor took a large swallow of mead before looking about the chamber before finally settling on El.
“Now lass where did that father of yours get off to?” questioned Lean’thor. “Its bad form to leave when there is still so much drinking to be done, especially with morning still so far away.”
El smiled at the older warrior, but refrained from commenting. Aerlian’thor had actually left much earlier in the evening. Lean’thor had just been too engrossed in his stories and tales to notice. Not that he’d been much more informative with El. All he’d told her was that there was something that needed his attention before the morning.
El had eyed him suspiciously at that, but he’d refused to say more. He just kissed her on the forehead like he used to when she was little and bustled off.
As the evening progressed El didn’t speak much, merely listened and watched. A number of times, she caught herself staring at Logan and quickly pulled her gaze away, though she was nearly certain that he had caught her on a couple of occasions. Thankfully, he’d spared her the embarrassment and refrained from making a fuss about it.
Finally, very late into the evening or early in the morning, Logan couldn’t be sure, Lean’thor spilled his cup of mead down the front of his tunic. The elf was deeply into his cups by then and El rose from her chair and went to his side.
“Lean’thor may I help you to your chambers?” she spoke softly and respectfully to him and Lean’thor smiled up at her.
“A wonderful girl, Logan. It is a shame she will never be my daughter-in-law.”
“Lean’thor, I …”
“It’s all right, lass. Don’t try to deny it. I know how things are and I could hardly blame you.”
Lean’thor slowly got to his feet. He leaned heavily on Logan’s shoulder as he rose and took a moment to steady himself when he got there. The tall elf paused and looked down at Logan, his words slurring slightly as he spoke.
“Unfortunately, my son has made a great ass of himself where El’dreathia is concerned. Part of the blame is mine I am sure, never teaching him proper humility and respect for women.”
The big elf sighed deeply and allowed El to lead him away, leaving Logan sitting alone and thinking. After a few minutes, a serving girl approached and asked if he would like more drink. He told her no and thanked her for enquiring then he asked if someone would be able to show him back to his chambers. The elfin girl smiled and said she would be more than happy to. Logan rose from his chair and followed the girl from the hall.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Are We Done Yet?
His head spinning slightly, Logan followed the elfin girl along the tree paths into the night. After several minutes and narrower and narrower tree paths, Logan realized that he was being led astray. His black eyes had adjusted well to the moonlight and he looked around as he walked. Feigning tiredness, he slowed to a halt and inhaled deeply. The cool night air cleared the remnants of the alcohol from his brain. He realized that he’d been led to a fairly deserted portion of the elfin village.
“Where exactly are we going?” he inquired of his guide.
The female elf had stopped a few yards ahead and was looking back at him. She flashed him a smile then disappeared down the narrow paths at a speed Logan couldn’t hope to follow. He sighed deeply as he watched her disappear into the night.
Here we go again, he thought. I’d best see if I can retrace my steps.
Turning on the narrow branch, he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Moving on pure instinct, Logan dropped to his chest, managing to duck the intended strike. Quickly regaining his feet, he faced his opponent, though he already knew who it was.
“Lan’thor,” he growled.
The tall elf stood before him, a long staff in his hands.
“Shall we continue our little game?” the elf growled back.
With a resigned sigh, Logan lowered himself into a fighter’s crouch.
“If you’d like,” he answered.
Lan’thor began spinning the staff in his hands. Faster and faster it spun as he cautiously advanced on Logan. Taking stock of the situation, Logan realized that he was at a severe disadvantage. The path they were on was no more than a foot wide, the elf before him was a trained warrior with the added advantage of being at home in this maze in the sky.
Lan’thor feinted for Logan’s head and followed up with a sharp blow to his right shin. As pain flashed along his leg, Logan knew he was in trouble.
Lan’thor was a whirlwind with the spinning staff, constantly on the attack striking and feinting. His strikes pushed Logan to the left, then to the right and then to the left again. Always, they made him retreat. Logan blocked the blows he could, but more often than not the hard wood staff impacted with his ribs or legs. Logan knew that he had to attack, had to take control of the fight, but he couldn’t figure out how to get past the spinning staff.
Logan didn’t see the blow that rattled against the side of his head, but he definitely felt it. The impact caused a sudden flash of light behind his eyes, knocking him off balance and nearly unconscious. He found himself falling from the narrow branch. In a panic, he reached out with his strong hands. He grasped for anything that would stop his fall.
His right arm hooked across a narrow branch. The force of the impact followed by his sudden stop almost tore the arm from its socket. Grasping the branch with his other hand, Logan painfully pulled himself up. Gaining his feet he looked up towards Lan’thor. The elf stood twenty feet above him. Lan’thor stared down at him, his own chest heaving from exertion, the staff held loosely before him.
Logan’s gaze narrowed as he watched the elf. Pain and frustration flowed like blood through his veins. A rage he had last felt when his mother had been killed began to build up inside of him. The entire world seemed to melt away from him as he became aware of only Lan’thor. Everything else faded into a hazy background of greens and browns. The rhythmic pounding of the elf’s heart echoed in his brain. The sickly sweat smell of the elf’s perspiration teased his nostrils.
Logan crouched low on his branch preparing to spring. He watched Lan’thor’s muscles tense as the elf prepared to meet him with his staff. Logan might have been short but he was built for power. His legs drove him forward into the air as he leapt from the branch.
As Lan’thor began spinning the staff in his hands, Logan’s strong hands caught the branch on which Lan’thor stood. He used his momentum to carry his body up and around the branch behind the elf, his feet catching the elf in the side as Lan’thor turned to meet him. The force of the strike carried them both off the branch.
Lan’thor and Logan fell together. Logan reached out with his left hand and twisted his fingers into the elf’s long blue hair. Again, Logan caught hold of the lower branch with his right arm. Again, the terrible wrenching feeling, this time it was worse, as he absorbed the weight of Lan’thor’s falling form with a sudden jolt. He felt the joint in his shoulder pop, dislocating in an explosion of pain.
The elf’s hair began to tear from his scalp and Logan quickly wrapped his short legs around the elf’s chest. Releasing his hold on Lan’thor’s hair, Logan grabbed the branch with his left hand, trying to relieve the weight on his nearly useless right. He inhaled deeply as he forced his aching muscles to pull the two of them up to the branch. Lan’thor assisted as he could, reaching up with both hands and pulling them up. The elf’s staff was lost somewhere far below them.
Lan’thor and Logan sat on the branch eyeing each other warily. Both were breathing heavily and Logan’s right arm hung limply at his side.
“Are we quite finished?” Logan asked through a grimace of pain.
“Yeah, I think we are.”
Lan’thor rose to his feet and offered Logan his hand. Eyeing it warily for a moment, Logan eventually took it with his left and Lan’thor helped him to his feet. The two continued to face each other, appraising looks on
both their faces. Lan’thor broke the silence first.
“Let me see your arm.”
Logan nodded has Lan’thor reached for his limp right arm, gingerly taking hold of it.
“This is really going to hurt,” said the elf.
Again, Logan nodded. Bracing himself as much his possible, Logan took a deep breath. His arm protested painfully as the elf lifted it up.
“Ready?” asked Lan’thor.
Logan flashed the elf a smile and nodded briskly. His arm exploded in agony as the elf pulled it sharply, popping it back into place. A low grunt escaped through Logan’s clenched teeth as Lan’thor gently lowered the arm. Using his own tunic as a sling, Lan’thor helped Logan secure his injured arm tight against his body.
When they were finished Lan’thor regarded Logan closely for several moments. Then with some unspoken decision reached, he offered the Logan his left arm. Understanding achieved, Logan clasped the elf’s arm firmly in return.
“I need a drink,” muttered Lan’thor.
“Me too,” said Logan with a smile.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Gifts and Farewells
Bright sunlight shining in his eyes woke Logan. Gingerly, he propped himself up his left arm and looked around. He noted that at some point in the night he had managed to make it back to his chamber, though, he couldn’t remember exactly when. Everything after he and Lan’thor had started drinking was a blur.
Light suddenly streamed in as the leaf door opened. A tall, lean figure was silhouetted in the sunlight.
“You look terrible.”
Logan recognized El’s voice.
“Thank you,” he croaked.
Groaning, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. The shift in position caused the blanket to fall to his waist, exposing the damaged arm that was still tied tightly to his chest. That and the now blackening bruises that covered his body caused El to gasp, as she moved from the doorway to his side.
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