Wild Monster

by Matthew Harrington

  And so, Merilin, quite uncharacteristically, spoke directly to a human, "Lord Eithahawn?"

  "That's him – the tall one. Needs to eat a few more meals. Staff wants to make him a pot roast."

  The very elf swirled through the door, with his dark red velvet cloak billowing around him. He took down the hood and his hair spilled out from under a glimmering circlet of Mithril – holly complete with star ruby berries. He came in through the open doors and the blowing snow outside, and leafed through the paperwork he held. He did not look up. "I will take that under advisement… whatever in the world 'a pot-roast' might be." His golden brows rose up.

  "You wouldn't like to be one," Lusis said, aside and saw that Merilin was entertained.

  The Elfking thawed a moment. "Hello, my own."

  Though he didn't look up, or break stride, the words had struck Eithahawn. His voice was quietly grateful as he replied, "Ada."

  "Oh," Avonne cooed. "He calls you ada too. He's my brother. Brother is hannar."

  Eithahawn looked up at the tiny and unfamiliar voice. He warmed when he saw the little blond girl that his father held. Human or not, elves did adore children. For weeks they'd been teaching her Silvan and Sindar, and Ewon could sometimes be found singing her songs in his off time. Eithahawn, tall, bright, and lovely, glanced from Avonne to Lusis and his eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "Ah. You look like one of us, friend-Lusis. Beautiful."

  "Thanks. I think." She said sharply.

  He glanced back at Avonne. "Hawn is also brother. As in my name, Eithahawn."

  Her nose wrinkled, "But… but why would they name you one who pricks his brother?"

  "Because when I was born, I already had four very puckish, adult brothers," said the aqua-eyed Kingdom's-seneschal, and his brows rose in tickled memory. "My name was meant for those four, as a warning. I suspect my emel – my mother – feared I wouldn't survive them." He made a sad elven smile, because those brothers had fallen in battle, along with his parents. At that time, Eithahawn had been under a decade in the world. And it had been a struggle in the early years, but he had survived them all.

  The King must have known what he was thinking. He stepped forward, "I am glad to see you, ion." His head drifted down and right. "Your stay must be brief, I know, but I see you and I am content."

  "Ai, it's the Winter Deer," his aqua eyes took in the crown the King wore. "I've never seen this beauty of our making outside of books. How did you come by it?"

  Now Jan Kasia cleared his throat, delicately, "Right, that would be the small contingent seated at the west wall here." He directed their attention to the bearded, scruffy men who crouched on benches, hunched under tapestries whose browns, reds, and tans they matched, from whence they gaped at the elven royals. Pacing along before them was a straight-legged young woman with short, brown, waving curls of hair and matching eyes. Her gaze mostly on the floor. She wore leathers and furs and frowned as she turned and paced the way she'd come.

  Kasia nodded at the King. "Elfking, this is Bess." Now he spoke slowly to the imposing tower of light, "Most in Lake Township know her as Bess Bowman Once-of-Dale."

  Now the Elfking set Avonne onto the floor. He took slight steps in the tall girl's direction, and then inclined his Mithril-antlered head to her. "Ariel Bess, why did you bring me this crown of yours?"

  She nipped the corner of her lip and looked up at him. Her voice was unsure, "H-hello, mighty Elvenking," she inhaled as if to inflate her collapsing figure, and said, "There's scarcely 2000 of the old city's citizens in between Esragoth and Dale. I'm hardly a princess."

  He glanced up at her, "You know and remember elvish?"

  "Why not?" she crossed her arms and looked up at him. "You know and remember your Westron. Why shouldn't I do the same of my Sindarin?" Her chin rose.

  "Ai," breathed Eithahawn. "The blood of the Bowman is strong."

  "You should retain this," the King said and one increasingly graceful hand unfurled toward the crown that glinted over his fair hair.

  The girl, who was just older than a teenager, looked grim as she said, "I would rather preserve your goodwill. It's more important than a relic, or so my father's-fathers always said. You must understand… my brothers are in the North, where they fight as Rangers. Their troops of men are their kingdom. They care only for ridding this world of taint."

  "Which leaves you, here." Without hesitation, the Elfking asked, "What do you need, ariel?"

  "There are Men in the mountain, Elvenking. My people ever watch that place. We are honed against the Dragon Sickness, and can hardly suffer it anymore. We are natural friends of Man, and spies on the mountain. They can hide much…" she jabbed a thumb at herself, "but not from me."

  Eithahawn set down his stacks of paperwork on the long table that ran along the top of the room. "The Lonely Mountain is under treaty, and while no elves are allowed in, there is no such prohibition on Men and Dwarves."

  "Not like this." The earnest-eyed young woman shook her head.

  The Elvenking raised a hand, fractionally, to call for silence, "What have you seen?"

  "Flattened grass along the Northern dells at the foot of the mountain. And wild game. It is hard to detect this, because his Majesty has claimed this land and, so, filled even the winter with mildness and plenty, but… something is taking a large quantity of wild game. My Men work with Kells Srus, the furrier, and we all expected a winter take such as we'd never witnessed. But that's not come to pass, someone else is taking the animals. Winter fish are the same."

  "Your people are hungry, while mine harvest honey in the snow," the King tipped his head. "We shall see you through."

  There was obvious relief on the faces of the two men behind her.

  But the small, sharp girl pressed on, "It's more than our hunger, brings me here, Elvenking. There are tracks to the North, and pains taken to conceal them. Just hours ago, I walked through the woods and saw split and broken trees so eerie. I've climbed down the slopes to ask you, what could split them as I've seen, at the top? Elvenking, these trees are taller than the highest steeples here."

  The Elfking had already shut his eyes. "I see."

  Bess Bowman's dark brows drew down, "You and your… your fine miss," she snuck a shy look at Lusis, "must leave this place."

  Lusis laid a hand on her sword hilt.

  No one else spoke.

  "Eithahawn."

  "Adar?"

  "You will brief me on affairs," the Elfking pivoted, "and you will leave for the Kingdom. Merilin, find Legolas and tell him the same. In fact, when he is home, perhaps… confine him to his suites."

  The dark-haired section-head glanced up at the King, daunted, but it was Eithahawn who said, "That's a weighty 'perhaps'. Unless you plan to tie my slippery brother to a tree. But I wouldn't bank on any elf's ability to do so, friend Merilin. I… I don't suppose the King will tell us what is causing such a rush?"

  "Peace, my child."

  "Of course." Eithahawn came to a stop beside Lusis. He glanced down at her as if for guidance, but her steady eyes, darker than the deeps of Erebor, didn't stray from her King. The King was moving his heirs out of the way. There would be no more bats at the river, or werewolves at the edge of the woods. Trouble had arrived at the doorstep of the Kingdom. It sat waiting to be opened.

  Bess Bowman wrung her hands and murmured. She stared at Eithahawn as if unable to look away, "You… you should listen to him, lovely one. Very soon, this will not be a place for anyone who is not good with a sword." Her eyes skipped to where Avonne watched these events. "And this will be no place for a child, if they come."

  Jan Kasia looked down at his only child, and fell silent. "Avonne, my King," his words were heartfelt.

  The Elfking didn't delay. "Collect her governess and nanny. Pack her things. She must be ready within the hour," said the King as he pivoted. His silver eyes passed over them all. "Master of Boats, call the Council together. The enemy is sharp. A crisis is upon us." He glanced down at Avonne's upturned face,
reached a graceful hand, and smoothed her hair. She was quickly gathered up by staff who carried her away to help select things to pack.

  Briefly, the Elfking cupped a hand around Eithahawn's pale cheek. He bent to press his forehead against the side of his foundling son's head. "There will be fighting – bloodshed. I cannot afford the distraction of fearing for you. You will travel today."

  Eithahawn's brows drew down as his father passed him.

  That didn't bode well. Lusis glanced across at Bess who quietly nodded. They fell in step beside one another and followed the long strides of the King. Steed hurried in beside her. "Lusis, speaking of someone who can't use a sword, I need to talk to you about Osp."

  "You think I should send him back to the Kingdom?" Lusis asked.

  Steed opened his hands.

  "Back to Loss and Glir, then?" Her lip curled a little at the thought. "No. He should see this. He should see what these elves he and his disdain must risk, and must do, to triumph over evil."

  Now Steed frowned. "He could be killed."

  "Pardoning the Dunedain, but so could we all." Bess looked across at the Dunedain, curiously. She had no idea who Osp was. But was naturally intrigued. She'd never heard of an elf who disdained other elves before.

  "Well… I thought to quietly remove him from here," Steed told her. "He told me that Dorondir Hastion involved him in some calculations. He's very sharp with numbers, Osp. There are plans in which he is involved. If they are battle plans, he will become responsible for loss of life."

  "Warriors save lives," Bess told him. "If… if I may say."

  Lusis agreed, but she also knew the circumstances were very different for this particular elf. "My friend had a good point here, Princess of Dale."

  Bess shook her waves and curls, "Fine-miss, I'm no-"

  "This elf we speak of, Osp, he is unlike other elves. He has come here from the West. He cannot battle. He knows nothing of death and killing."

  "Oh," her brown eyes widened. "Does such an elf exist?" Involuntarily, she glanced across at where Lord Eithahawn wordlessly followed his father.

  Lusis tried not to smile at this.

  "Dorondir Hastion's actions are no less a conundrum than those of the Elfking. But if he's used Osp for such a thing, I'll also hold him responsible for the outcome, and for Osp. Mark my words." She glanced up at her contracted match, again, and his white blond hair drifted as he made for the doors. "In the meantime, show me. What has Dorondir done?"

  They stopped and let events pass them.

  "It is… discourteous for a human, even a part-elf, but I went into the Quiet Room in the early hours today. There is a map the elves keep against the wall that faces the outside – the wall with the open door. None would have seen it. One would have to go in, and it is a space for elves, so… Men don't."

  "An open door. Among the elves. Of course it keeps a secret," Lusis realized the failing of her human habituation. She also glanced after Bess who had followed the King out into the yard. Another dark-eyed, dark-haired girl, though paler than Lusis would ever be. She wondered if the King had noticed a difference. Bess' two large, scruffy men followed her. And Nimpeth followed them. Which meant Amathon was nowhere to be seen. And that made Lusis secure in her King's safety. Because elves were much more where they weren't seen than where they were, as absently present as their emotions.

  "Of course there's a map on the very wall that anyone," she glanced aside at him, "just staring in the doorway as we've all been doing, would never see." Clever elves.

  "I think it's for the King's work, Lusis. I really do. Come and see it."

  She turned on the off chance that… indeed, Telfeth was behind her. Lusis stopped. "Tell me, Telfeth, are you watching me for the King?"

  "Yes, Lady," said Telfeth. Her head started to tip, and she caught herself quickly, because she was unsure what a being like Lusis might construe. "I… I am charged with your safekeeping. I am your cirbann-edhel, your haven-elf – the keeper of your confidence. Or…" she groped for a comparison, "I am meant to be, to you, as maer-Ewon is to our Greatest King. As is your right. For the Istari has graciously sworn contract to the King of Mirkwood, and he did, under the morning star, make solemn oath to uphold her. You are Lady of the Great Greenwood. What else would we Silvan do but protect you?"

  The shock cracked Steed's cultivated, part-elven sangfroid. "What the Fires is this, Chief?"

  The contract hadn't even been publically announced yet. "Right." Lusis made a nod. She continued through worsening weather while Telfeth eased in and pulled Lusis' hood up over her hair in a motion so quick and smooth that it was nearly invisible. Lusis had seen the Silvan do the same for the King. She sighed through gritted teeth, turned, and pulled Telfeth's hood up for her too. Elves. "The Lady… situation. I can't fully explain it right now, Steed-"

  "You sound like him," said her Ranger archer.

  "I'm sorry about that, too," she finally understood why the Elfking no longer bothered to unburden himself of these long thoughts of his. She looked into Steed's blue eyes, "The gods know I find secrets irritating."

  "Are you… together with him?"

  "No."

  Telfeth made a soft peep, which had to be out of utter horror.

  Lusis quickly added, "Also… yes."

  Steed bared his teeth a moment, frustrated. "Fires, that King has too many angles. Tell me, are you being forced to this?"

  She looked up at her tall Ranger, "Yes. But… no. Steed it's complex. It takes too long to explain."

  His lips compressed, "Lusis! We were willing to stand against Kirstman Buckmaster, famed sword of the Keep, as you recall. He wanted to consign you like house property too. For pity's sake, are you doing this freely?"

  "No," she sighed, but then amended with a fearful. "Yes." She set a hand over her beating heart.

  Steed looked grave as he turned away to mutter, "Gods. I asked myself, what were the chances that Istari could be as convoluted as elves?"

  "Later, Steed, I swear." Lusis' will returned to its steely state of rest, "Take me to Osp."

  And in response to her command Steed snapped to Ranger protocol. "Yes, Chief." After all, many times his neck had depended on Lusis Buckmaster's commands.

  They walked through the bustling main building, through the stares of many of the workers there. They had grown used to seeing Lusis Buckmaster, the Ranger Chief, but hardly recognized her in the long elven coat she wore, and with her skin and hair so polished. She spared no attention for newfound admiration and went up the stairs two at a time.

  In the upper hall, armed Silvan elves passed in and out of the Quiet Room. In contrast to the break-rooms of the workers in the downstairs, this lone haunt of elves in Kasia's largest building was hauntingly quiet. They saw Lusis coming, and several of them stepped out of her path and bowed to her.

  "Lady, are you sure you wish to come in here?" an elf stepped aside to reveal tall, ginger-haired Arasell, herself. The section head had a bow out in one hand, strung with red bow string.

  Lusis glanced up at the part-Sinda woman and said, "I know."

  Arasell simply bowed her body and backed out of the Istari's way.

  Elves moved aside for her. Lusis stepped into the room that, hitherto this morning she'd considered a sacrosanct haven of elves. Behind her, Telfeth inhaled deeply and followed. The inside was changed. It had been a spacious storage room, prior, lined with windows and piled with material now moved to a reinforced and specially prepared space in the attic. The room was wide and white. In the corners there were wood tables that had been cut to fit, and carefully stained. Bowls of berries, nuts, and dried fruits stood under a dome of elven glass, a tall silver vessel of water and cups beside it. On the opposite table she saw a profusion of spring-bright wildflowers growing from pots, a pure white antler, green pine cones, driftwood gone pale in the sun, a trio of rounded and glossy stones, old glass phials, a hammer and pestle, fur painter's brushes, and several large hunks of old and weathered glass that had bee
n frosted by the motion of the river, and that the elves had now partially carved into lovey objects. All of this sat on a fragrant circle woven of sweet grass.

  Lusis crossed to it first, the elves had an air of expectancy, but she didn't understand any of it. She couldn't say why these things were here. Was it to misguide the humans who could see this little trove from the upstairs corridor? Perhaps aesthetics? Elves found symmetry relaxing and were very fond of beautiful things.

  "To help the mind relax," said a subdued voice from close behind her.

  She blinked at the collection and suddenly realized they were bits and pieces of home – things she'd seen in the Halls before. "Sleep aids."

  "For overtaxed minds."

  Lusis turned to look up at Dorondir. His bright eyes fluttered. "Lady…," he inclined his head.

  It pleased Lusis, she couldn't lie, that the elf spy who left her so curious was now so obviously moved. Likewise, she tried not to hold his green gaze in silence for long. But she didn't have to pretend at the vexation she felt with him, "Your mind is so overburdened lately, it must be hard to look up anymore." Her tone was critical. "What have you been doing? And why involve Osp?" Her eyes found him standing in the middle of the room, as if unable to hear her.

  She headed for the Western elf, saying, "He's an innocent here. He's like a child."

  "A useful child, my Lady, and good at probability, if I may say," Dorondir dropped in beside her stalk across the room. "Which is unrelated to either innocence or experience."

  "What do you need probability for?" She asked him harshly, unsure, really what the ability to predict things had to do with math to begin with. In her experience, prediction was down to those rare individuals who were sensitive enough to see tells in the natural world.

  Dorondir nodded quietly. His voice was low, "You are angry."

  "Yes, I'm angry," Lusis snapped. "I take care of him."

  "Lady, don't you think it's more appropriate to say that Inilfain – that Steed – takes care of him? Yet you do not see any temper from your Ranger. He knows I do no harm." Dorondir countered.