Wild Monster

by Matthew Harrington

  The Gallery was a massive stretch of hollowed stone at the highest point of the Halls. The cavern was, in the day, golden with glowing stone and sunlight; green with the nut trees that reached up from the cavern's broad, sunny patches; fragrant with the bumble of flowering vines and strawberry runners that draped them from above. It was colossal. There were many small stone bridges for strolling upon, which crossed a pair of chattering rivers through the uneven floor. Under the moon, velvety moss looked like glimmering woolen cozies on the stones that sat in perpetual darkness, softly luminescent. The underground rivers were crystal clear, and ran deep, in places, from springs within the mountain. The Rangers and Kingdom's-seneschal had come in by a path usually used by the King. This afforded them the luxury of space and relative privacy, because there was a large round room connected to the upstairs King's Sanctuary, called an Aerie – a room off the throne hall to which she'd never been – which was closed in except for one door, now under Elite guard.

  Eithahawn paced the round confines of this room and looked up the curving wood stairs toward the King's Sanctuary. He expected that his King, the man who so frustrated him, and whom he loved like a father, would possibly emerge from there.

  Like the rest of the Rangers, Lusis looked around the room. Its roof was a filigree steel and crystal that the moon flooded with nearly effervescent light.

  Beyond the door, a natural outcropping stood. On it a dais had been carved and planed into glass-like flatness. It was used by officials when they came to view this natural marvel, possibly from the throne hall, which was upstairs from here, but very near. The Istari marveled as she stared out of the stone door at it. If only the petitioners upstairs could lay eyes on this wonder. Predictably, this being an elven gathering, there were no chairs to be seen. There was a lustrous wedge of crystal near the front of the dais nearly six feet tall. The moon had turned it into a blue and white fire. A book sat open upon it.

  That mass of quartz was astounding. When she stepped outside the door, the Elite there moved his chin down, fractionally. In this case, it was assent. She was allowed. But Lusis hardly cared. She felt drawn to the light of that great mass of crystal like the head of a flower, and in it, she thought… she could hear centuries. She stared at its light. Whispers echoed in her mind. As she stared, so rose the sound of them. Elvish ran from her thoughts and into her ears – many elves speaking many elven tongues. She thought she heard the still, deep, supremacy of one elf melt away into the rumbling roar of Thranduil calling his people to war. A woman's voice rose from it in high, sweet threnody, nearly as clear to her as if the elf had stepped onto the dais beside her.

  Lusis shook herself and stepped away, cold. It had frightened her in the part of her mind comfortable with pain, blisters, running all day, sleeping on the ground, and hunting for her supper in a brook. The practical humanity in her that could neither see nor hear time. Just now.

  She backed up a few steps and looked down from the edge of the platform on which she stood, her eyes largely unseeing. Except that there was a deep pool below, now blue in the moonlight. A small troop of red-gold mottled fish bobbed in that deep stretch. The elves threw bits of nut-bread to them. She glanced up at the cavern again, and the world rushed in. The sound of elves was a dull roar. Among people who were, naturally, quiet. It reached into her consciousness: a lot of elves gathering. More than she'd ever seen. More than her Keep. More than the Town. More than a city. Her breathing quickened to the point of suffocation. Gods. How many lives was he responsible for? Yet they kept arriving.

  She was still standing on the edge of the stage, frozen to one side of the large door, when the Elfking descended the stair. He came down from the Sanctuary clad in unblemished white, threaded with whorls of seed-crystal snow. His hoarfrost cloak shone behind him. The red foliage and berries of his living-crown were his only deep colour. He was a portrait in red and white, painfully beautiful. Lusis could see only the pillar of star-fire for an airless moment; her brothers fell back as he crossed the room and drifted toward the dais. He paused so that Eithahawn could step forward and, in full view from the broad doorway, bow so that one knee touched the floor. The Kingdom's-seneschal rose, effortlessly.

  When he passed her, she smelled snow and red berries and the slumber of life. Winter.

  The elves beyond her gave a great thunderclap of welcome. They broke apart into booming chants of elven that built up to a tidal ambiance of sound that shook the crystal at the head of the dais. She felt Eithahawn pass through the door to flank the Elfking – far back, and on his right. The King had come to the middle of the long stone platform and had stopped there, buffeted, she imagined, as she was nearly pressed flat to the wall by the most beauteous sound.

  And yet, for all of that, they submerged into ringing echo as one.

  The echoes died. It was possible to hear her own heartbeat.

  The King breathed, "Le suilannad."

  The elves, by number, drowned the room in the response. "Suilannad Taur."

  His voice came direct on the heels of the last echo. "And welcome to our new friends from the West." He turned in the glow of the crystal, his profile flooded with light, his eyelashes white, as he shut his eyes and bowed to the balcony on his left. Lusis saw Eithahawn also turn and bow, and when he straightened, his blue-green eyes darted to her briefly. His face was more set and cold than it was doll-like. The Elfking's expression could best be described as beautiful and closed. He had straightened slowly, and in time with Eithahawn. That, she'd learned by now, was the true measure of elven respect.

  The cavern was utterly silent. The King glided slowly left, "I have been abroad on tour of the holdings of late. I have been to the Southern Brown Lands, and as far as the Northern Mountains in our forest this autumn." There were several heartbeats before he said to them. "The forest is vast. The forest is… healing. This Age. Men are rising, but these Men do no harm to the Greenwood. Their wish very much appears to be as ours is – to live within the arms of this marvel, or at least as close by it as they are comfortable. I have, of late, travelled with Northern Rangers in our number. I have learned what is comfortable about a forest for an elf, is not necessarily ideal for Men. In this I find hope. Our demands of the living canopy will be different. Complementary. I work toward this goal. This is the forest of forests. It can protect many. It can support many. And so we protect and support it. I have seen its increase. Fingers of green climbing the foothills far North of us, and sweeping aside the dust and mold of the Brown Lands far South. The forest is returning to places once cut clear, once poisoned, once claimed by the Enemy. The great lungs of them breathe life into the lands."

  The crowd made no whisper while the King spoke. Lusis put a hand over her heart to hush it, and watched his tall, white figure from behind, as his head tipped gently forward and down to the right. Affection. Affection for them that he couldn't quite contain.

  "I must, this Lasbelin – this Autumn – remind you that our work is not yet done in this land… in this world."

  Eithahawn's head turned a fraction toward the left. Lusis edged out to see Loss, Glir, and Osp standing at the balcony closest the dais. Among the Silvan elves they were taller, and they were clearly not of that bloodline. She watched Loss' chin rise as if in response to the King's words. His head turned minutely, and his eyes looked toward Glir without her seeing. No one seemed to notice that Osp, the Noldorian with copper eyes, was immersed.

  The King moved. Slight tip toward the right and his head turned. She knew his blue-silver eyes were hidden under low lids. "There is much darkness still. Great, dark mouths seeking the shelter of our Greenwood. Swarms of blood-hungry bats... of late. Slaughters of Orcs abroad. There is unrest among Men. And I have slain dragons."

  Now some of the elves reacted. She could hear them inhale. They were stunned.

  His voice was suddenly crisp with temper, "I have burned with the scourge of dragon's blood, confined in red halls close to undoing. That atrocity of the North rears, again,
and our green stronghold lays at its feet. Our work is not done here. Our work is not done."

  Lusis checked Eithahawn's blue-green gaze. It was ignored by those he'd fixed it upon: the Council of the West. Glir's lips moved in the exhalation of a word. Loss' brows rose. Osp leaned slightly to the right and listened. Lusis saw light between him and the others, even if they didn't notice it.

  The Elfking walked toward the front of the stage. "The Fourth Age is like all others – not to be feared, but to be faced. It will be navigated like a passage of river. We will know it well. We will love it well. We will change, gracefully, inside its rhythm. I have summoned to these Halls, my own, Legolas Thranduilion, and I bring before you Eithahawn Auronion." He set a pale hand on the book beside him. "Into the pages of record I have recognized my foster, as is… long overdue."

  Eithahawn's eyes snapped forward. He stiffened, wide-eyed, for a moment and then bowed toward his King's long back, unable to contain the surge of revelation. Lusis felt for him then, so publically tumbled by such private emotions. He seemed stranded, just feet away from her.

  The King's hand turned a page in the book before him. He took up the reed of pen from the small tray beside it, and dipped the tip in crimson ink. Elves rose. They pushed forward in a scramble and she had a sense something terribly momentous was happening to them. The Elfking first lovingly touched the page before him. Then he wrote in the book. A soft burble, like a hum, had started.

  He set the pen aside. She could hear the wood clink on the silver, it was so still in the cavern. "My final words to you, before the Autumn Festival begins," there was a stir in the crowd again, "are simple. You are my elves. You are my own." He turned his head graciously left, but his eyes were downcast. He wasn't looking at the Council of the West. Quite. "Now I must secure a future for you."

  Heartfelt elves stared at him. He looked only at the stone.

  The Elfking's hand pressed to his chest, protectively. "I offer to you my blood, and my life, joined together in succession. My sons. Co-rulers of the Great Greenwood. A son to each. One to suffer the thorns of the Warrior's Circlet, and the other to bear the weight of the Living Crown."

  The hum burst into a roar of chants that became all but earsplitting.

  "The forest is wide. The forest is healing." He breezed past Lusis, "And so are we."

  Inside the circular room, several of his Elite lined the far wall. They bowed as one. Ewon arrived by the wide door. He was in the most formal gear that Lusis had ever seen of him – the hem of the elven coat he wore touched the floor, and it was a beautiful deep brown shot through with red and gold thread. Amathon and Nimpeth followed him in, but were clearly on duty. "My Lord, all is ready for you."

  "Thank you, Ewon." He pivoted toward the sudden approach of Remee Buckmaster. It had distracted him. He laid a hand on the white hilt of Lossivor, his sword.

  "We are sorry," Remee edged under the King's notice and nodded at the wintery vision before him. "We… we are deeply ashamed of our brother, and of ourselves."

  Elsenord joined him, "We didn't know who you were, Great Elf. We doubted any King would attempt the mountain and venture into Buckmaster Keep. It has been long since that fine old hall saw as much as Strider, he who, it is rumoured, is Elessar of Gondor-"

  "That is no rumour. Elessar is King, and has spirited Arwen Elrondiel from her father – very good for his continued health, I am sure," said the Elfking in a low, lingering voice. He was distracted and spoke in Sindarin cadence and with heavier accent when he was thinking in Elvish. His chin rose, "Aside from which, I wintered near the summits of Bregolnag hunting dragons when the Men thereabouts were but learning to build fires. Buckmaster Keep was, at least, more comfortable than that. Unfortunately," he glanced at them and added a sharp, "that is not saying much." He hadn't forgotten what had befallen him and his Elites there, or how Lusis had been defamed. He turned away to a scroll that his Court Scribe held before him. He scanned it and took the pen she handed to him. He passed all back again, "Not yet. Add lines and bring it back. You must make mention that the Kingdom's friends, the Northern Rangers of Lusis, some of them Buckmasters who still count elves as friends, and our good and wise ally, the Yellow Istari, were all present for this."

  She bowed and took the scroll and pen away.

  A second elf brought him a list that he glanced over quickly. "Ma. You are done. Deliver it downstairs, go and celebrate with your wife and daughter."

  "Hail to my King," The young elf bowed and hurried away.

  The King waved away an offer of red wine and gestured at the long, spotless white clothes he wore. It was then that he glanced over the Buckmasters once more. The two brothers were in earnest.

  At his right the latter of the two men, Remee Buckmaster, bowed to Ewon. "We offer our deepest apologies, Lord Elf-"

  "Oh my," Ewon's dark head tipped left in amusement. He glanced at Nimpeth. "Lord, now."

  "-you were sorely injured by our weapons. You might have died. We are at fault." He hung his head in shame. Behind her father's back, Nimpeth's chin dropped slowly in agreement. As much as she was Lusis' friend, she was furious with the Buckmasters as an organization. She loved her father, and was gratified to see an admission of their guilt.

  Though he didn't know how to read the subtly, Elsenord joined in, "The debt we owe to you is great, and our swords and shields are in the King's service until such a time as that debt is cleared. He need only tell us what he would have us do, and that will be our command."

  "Lusis-sell," the King summoned her forward. "Collect your brothers. Have them enter into your troop more properly, into the service of the Yellow Istari."

  She nodded at Elsenord and Remee, "I could hardly ask for two tougher and more battle-seasoned men." She herded them back from the King and said a quiet. "We shouldn't trouble him, now, none of us."

  Eithahawn swept in, having officially started the festivities. He brushed through the room with his red robes floating and stopped several feet short of the King. He waited there, mindful of the bustle of Silvan staff. For his part, the Elvenking signed a series of documents. He gave directions in Elvish. He called down the hall for his Clothier – quite a tall woman – whom he talked to in a burst of Sindarin.

  In the orbit of the King, this night, all was hectic. But he turned to Eithahawn, once, and then twice. On the third time he took a step toward the Kingdom's-seneschal and said, "The guest halls must remain under watch tonight, but see to the comfort of the Men there. This is the feast of plenty. See that they are given wine and meat – if there are children, sweetbreads, since I recall they approve of such things – and all should be encouraged to relax themselves as there is no line of petition for the next three days." The King signed a smaller document, glanced over it, and handed the pen to Eithahawn. "In case of sudden and unforeseen succession."

  The Kingdom's-seneschal, sucked a breath at this. He blinked at the text and paled, "There is one pressing docket before us. The particulars are in your offices – a human girl bound in marriage as a child, seeking to undo the contract?" He took a deep breath and then signed his name under the name of the man who had chosen to raise him.

  He glanced over his son, "I do not follow. Tell her to undo it."

  "She is not permitted to undo it."

  The King stilled, "She may choose to go with him, with another, or no one at all. She is a woman in my Kingdom, not a toy on a string. Tell the families I am responsible for the dissolution." He signed off on the rewrites he'd ordered as he said, "And get a writ into law declaring that agreement from both parties must be freely expressed for a contract of coupling or marriage to be held as legitimate. All else is unlawful. This is something we must do." The formal document declaring co-rule was carried away. That it had been composed on velum, richly illuminated, and written in flawless red-silver calligraphy meant it had been ready for some time. The Elfking answered a question, aside, and then glanced up at his Kingdom's-seneschal, "Eithahawn… are you all right?"

>   The Kingdom's-seneschal hesitated a moment too long before he replied, "All is well."

  The King's head tipped to the right, forward, and he went still. He considered the younger elf.

  Eithahawn bowed his head, set a quivering hand on his chest, and swept it out toward the King.

  The King was more firm this time, "Are you… all right?"

  Eithahawn simply said. "Yes, adar."

  "Pity your brother can't keep a schedule… but this will assure him some portion of his freedom, and it gives to you…," the Elfking looked at the large, earnest eyes of the child he'd saved from death, and was suddenly flooded with feeling. He looked down and away.

  The Kingdom's-seneschal hadn't moved a whisper. He continued to stare at his long-wished for father, almost in a shocked state. His voice was a whisper. "Of course."

  "Get him wine," said the King of his newly acknowledged son and co-heir. A pair of the staff in the room broke away to do just that.

  On his way for the door, his step paused and as the Elfking's head rose, he glanced at Lusis.

  She nodded at her troop, which had grown by two men, and said, "Let's go. We're with him."

  The King swept through halls that bowed as he passed.

  He wafted the rowan-berry-winter scent everywhere he went, and they hurried, with him gliding through passages and upstairs until it seemed they were in a maze and Lusis had long ago forgotten all the turns.

  "How big is this place?" Remee puffed as he ran up steps behind the King.

  "The hills are covered in chambers," Aric looked up and slowed his chase. "Never seen this one before. It's… nice."

  "It'd be nicer with a chair," Elsenord grumbled.

  "I didn't expect Buckmasters to be so pampered." Aric casually extended a foot to try to trip Steed, which didn't work, though Steed was amused. Instead, he nearly spilled his distracted little brother on the painted floor.

  Redd scruffed the brothers and pulled them apart shortly after.