Elfhunter (15 page)

The King was a sight to behold as he sat mounted
astride, his raven-dark hair held by an intricately woven crown of
hard silver, his robes of sable and white. Beside him, his chosen
courtiers and huntsmen were also attired in relative splendor, and
some carried banners that bore the crest of the Woodland Elves upon
it, shimmering in green and gold in the chill, early breeze.

Only Wellyn showed some reluctance. Ri-Aruin had
detected a melancholy in him; no doubt he had somehow learned of
Gaelen’s departure. The King had decided that going on an extended
hunt would accomplish both the task of distracting him and of
raising his spirits, as Wellyn loved hunting with his father.

The King was certain that, should his son discover
that Rogond had gone after Gaelen, even the orders of his father
would not dissuade him from going after them as well. Rogond had
been smitten to the heart, and both Ri-Aruin and Wellyn had seen
it. The union of one of their own people with one of mortal race
was unseemly and to be forbidden—Wellyn would never allow it. The
last thing Ri-Aruin wanted was for his son to go haring off after
Gaelen in order to safeguard her from Rogond’s advances.

Wellyn moved slowly and deliberately as he made
ready, turning back toward the stable and listening to the
frustrated calling of Eros and Réalta. Ri-Aruin rode up before him,
saying, "Make haste, my son, for all are ready save yourself. The
dawn is growing and we are eager to run over the wide lands."

Wellyn made some adjustments to his own equipment and
swung lightly up on his own horse, a clean-limbed grey mare. Were
he in better spirits, he would have looked quite formidable, clad
in grey and white, armed with bow and blade, his dark hair flowing
behind him. But his blue-grey eyes were subdued beneath his dark
brows.

"What animals are those, neighing and pawing in the
stables? Why are they not looked after and calmed?"

"They belong to the Aridan and the High-elf. We have
sent for them—I expect they are both still at breakfast. The horses
are restive because they know we are going out, and they wish to
accompany us. Once we’re away, they will settle down. So, let us be
away!"

Ri-Aruin turned and rode forth into the sunrise.
Wellyn followed, but he sensed that his father had not told him
everything, and he was troubled. Ri-Aruin now set about the task of
distracting his son. He would allow Wellyn to return home only when
the opportunity to follow his friend Gaelen (and the moon-struck
Ranger who pursued her) had long since passed.

It looked as though Galador’s thought of dying a
frozen death beside Nelwyn might well come to pass. An unexpected
storm had come over the mountains in late morning, and by
mid-afternoon the snow was flying so thick and fast that the
Company could not separate by more than a few feet, lest they lose
sight of one another. They would need to find a place to weather
the storm, and soon, or the combination of the screaming wind,
bitter cold, and blinding snow might well be the death of all four
of them.

They had been on the trail now for nearly nineteen
days. The last five had been spent crawling painfully along toward
the High Pass of the mountains. They had made great progress
through the forest, skirting to the north of both the swift river
and the wider Ambros, crossing instead the two broad streams that
came down from the north. It was plain that the Wood-elves knew
this route well, but it had meant going out of their way, as the
High Pass lay considerably farther south. That did not seem to
concern Gaelen and Nelwyn, who moved along at a consistent pace of
about five miles an hour, covering a minimum of twenty miles a day.
They would have gone farther and faster, except that they wanted to
conserve their strength for the crossing and make time to procure
fresh food where they could to save their stores.

Once on the eastern side of the Ambros, they had
again followed the river south for a while, and then cut across the
wide scrub forest to the foothills of the Monadh-hin, the Great
Mountains. Rogond did not like the look of them. They were nearly
always shrouded in a mist that told of cold, damp conditions, and
on the rare occasions that they were clearly visible, they were
seen to be clad in white from about halfway up the tree line.
Rogond was wise in mountain lore, but he had been raised in the
Verdant Mountains, which were near to the sea. The climate there
was much more moderate.

He took advantage of one of many opportunities to sit
before the fire and assemble two pairs of new snowshoes, as he and
Galador would soon be in need of them. Gaelen was fascinated, as
she had not seen them before. Rogond had soaked and bent the frames
before setting out, so that they had cured and were ready to be
strung with the rawhide strips he had procured from the Elves’
tannery. These he soaked overnight to soften them and then
proceeded to wrap the frames, weaving the long strips back and
forth like a coarse net.

Gaelen’s curiosity had gotten the best of her. "What
are you constructing? Is that a thing for netting fish? Or perhaps
some sort of trap?"

Rogond smiled. "You shall find before long, do not
fear," said he. "I only hope I have constructed them well, for we
shall have great need of them." He referred to himself and to
Galador, who would also require snowshoes to keep up with the
Wood-elves. The talents of High-elves did not include walking
trackless in deep snow.

The chance to try them out came not four days later,
as they worked their way up the rocky slopes through the tall
spruce/fir forest into a world of white. Gaelen and Nelwyn watched
in fascinated approval as Rogond strapped on his creations, which
resembled rawhide-laced beaver tails. He could then walk nearly as
lightly as they. "Well done, clever Tuathan! I have underestimated
you again.

Those are ingenious! How fast can you travel in
them?" Gaelen was impressed.

"Fast enough, I hope," replied Rogond, his eyes on
Galador, who had seen him use the snowshoes before and knew that
they would slow him down considerably. Galador would have less
difficulty, for he was both hardier and more graceful than Rogond.
The Elves would all have to slow their pace to allow Rogond to keep
up, but he was determined not to hold them back, and he set off as
fast as he could go. Though it tired him quickly, he would not say
so. Fortunately for Rogond, the climb and the footing would slow
the Elves down as well. Though these paths had been made by many
travelers, they were still steep and treacherous, and one needed to
use great care in traversing them.

One also needed to be watchful, especially during the
dark hours, as there were many enemies living under the mountains.
Therefore, the Company tried to find places of concealment before
dusk where they could sit huddled together against the cold. Once
in the mountains, there could be no fires except in dire need, as
they could not risk discovery. Doing without a fire was not as
difficult as it sounded at first, for the Elves and Rogond all were
hardy in the cold, and their cloaks were warm, especially when
shared. But the chilly, ever-present mists blocked the stars and
dampened the spirits of the Elves, who loved always to renew their
bond with the stars by night. So they huddled together in silence,
listening only to the wind, the cracking and shifting of the rocks,
and the occasional sound of snow sliding from the high peaks. At
such times Gaelen felt Rogond tense beside her, and she understood
his concern. To be caught in one such slide would probably finish
them all.

The storm had come upon them on the fifth day. They
had heard it approaching but had not seen it, as the mists were now
so thick that it was like traveling through a cloud bank. The wind
came up at midday, and it began snowing. Soon the blizzard was upon
them, and they were all having difficulty moving in the wind and
the snow that piled over Rogond’s snowshoes faster than he could
lift them. They could not hear one another for the wind, nor could
they see one another beyond a few feet. Galador brought out a long
rope, which he handed to Nelwyn, Gaelen, and Rogond, instructing
all to keep hold of it. Then he took up his position behind Rogond
so that he could watch over him. Nelwyn led the way, followed by
Gaelen.

After a while, Gaelen shouted to Rogond over the
screaming wind: "We are going to look for shelter. Nelwyn and I
believe we know where to find it." She patted his snow-covered
shoulder encouragingly, and he smiled beneath his frozen moustache,
trying not to worry her. He had struggled valiantly but was losing
ground, and by the time they stopped to rest under an overhang of
rock, he was completely spent. Gaelen and Nelwyn debated with one
another, trying to establish their location and the whereabouts of
the shelter they sought. The fact that they did not agree was not
encouraging.

Rogond lay panting, exhausted, and shivering with the
cold, as Galador turned to Nelwyn. "We have to get him to some
warmer place where he can rest. He is worn out with trying to walk
in those snowshoes. You said you knew the mountains. Why can you
not agree?"

Nelwyn cast a worried glance at Rogond. "I think the
shelter is farther up the pass, but Gaelen thinks it has been
passed by. She wishes to go back and look for it, but if she is
wrong, it would be disastrous for Rogond. He cannot risk using any
energy in a false pursuit. She would go back on her own, but I
don’t think we should separate." She looked pointedly at Gaelen,
who shrugged at her.

"You’re right, we should not separate," Galador
agreed. "How certain are you of the location of the shelter?"

"Not certain at all, but neither is Gaelen. The mists
and snow have made it difficult for us to keep our bearings on the
trail. We are not exactly lost, but we’re getting there."

Gaelen looked over at Rogond and shook her head.
"Enough of this! While we stand here debating, the Aridan is
freezing to death. I am going out to scout the way. You should all
stay here…there is no point in risking more than one of us. If we
don’t find the shelter soon, we shall
all
freeze to death."
She drew her cloak tightly about her, took a draught of the warming
liquid from her flask, and headed out into the snow over the
protests of Nelwyn and Galador. Then they lost sight of her, and
there was nothing to do but wait and compare her again to the
Fire-heart.

She reappeared not twenty minutes later, completely
covered with snow and shivering, but elated. "Nelwyn, you were
right! I found the shelter, and it’s not far. I’m
so
glad
you talked me out of going back." Moving to Rogond, she roused him
and got him to his feet, pouring a quantity of the warming fluid
down his throat. He stopped shivering and shook off his weariness,
looking hale enough. "Up and onward!" cried Gaelen, in a voice
charged with hope. "Forth, bold adventurers!" They each grabbed the
rope and set out into the blizzard, trusting that Gaelen knew what
she was doing. Thankfully, this time she did.

They soon reached their intended shelter, a most
welcome little cave whose entrance was nearly concealed by the
rapidly accumulating snow. It was a miracle that Gaelen had spotted
it, but so she had, and they were now protected from the worst of
the weather. It was a small cave, with a sin gle narrow passage
leading off the back into the darkness. It probably went back for
miles to places best left unseen, and no one in the Company had any
desire to explore it. But the small chamber in which they were now
sitting was hospitable enough, with a smooth floor and a roof tall
enough to stand beneath. Gaelen tested the air at the entrance to
the passageway. It was clean of the smell of Ulcas or trolls, at
any rate. This shelter had been used by many travelers at one time
or another, and some had left evidence of their coming and going.
Runes and letters adorned the walls, providing some entertainment
until the light failed. There were also some old torches that had
been used and discarded, and a ring of stones marked someone’s
attempt at a campfire.

The four companions rested together, and after a
meager meal they settled back, listening to the howling wind and
hoping they would not have to dig themselves out of too deep a
drift in the morning. Turning two of their cloaks around backward,
and two forward, the heat of their bodies was well-contained. A
fire would have been wonderful, but it was out of the question as
they had no fuel. The Elves kept watch while Rogond slept, resting
in the cold darkness, imagining the warmth and light of a crackling
fire under a sky filled with stars.

Gaelen reflected that Rogond had made a remarkable
effort and actually had slowed them only a little. She patted his
arm affectionately and whispered to his sleeping form: "Well done,
Tuathan. It appears that we will not have to leave you on the ice
after all." She shook her head and chuckled to herself. Snowshoes.
What a clever idea! But Rogond could no t hear her, as he was deep
in unpleasant dreams of struggling to keep up with the Elves, who
drew ever farther away from him no matter how hard he strove to
catch them, hearing their scornful laughter drifting back upon the
wind.

The Elves felt the tremor long before they heard it—a
rumbling vibration so low that it was like a wave of pressure that
brought an oppressively close feeling they could not shake off.
This grew until they knew it for what it was, hearing the first
roar of the hillside as it thundered down from the high peak above
them. Rogond then felt and heard it too, and the four of them
clutched each other tightly, fearing the collapse of their tiny
cavern but not daring to emerge from it. They huddled together in
the dark as the noise grew to a deafening thunder that seemed to
fill the world, shaking the walls and floor so that dust and small
stones rained down upon them. One struck Nelwyn, and she cried out
in panic as Galador pulled her to his chest, trying to protect
her.