Elfhunter (62 page)

Gaelen’s eyes flashed. "If Farahin were here, Rogond,
he could explain his choice to us. But he is not, and I cannot
speak for him. I can only consider my own choices."

Rogond spoke gently to her. "That’s right,
Gaelen…Farahin is not here. He has not been by your side since the
Third Battle. Look into my eyes and tell me that he would choose a
lifetime of grief for you!" Gaelen looked hard at Rogond, but she
could not answer, and she looked away.

"I need time to consider your words," she said,
pulling back from him and rising rather ungracefully to her feet.
"Do not say anything more until I have had time. If you press me, I
shall turn from you. Do you understand?"

He bowed his head in acknowledgment, and she turned
and ran from the glade. Rogond knew that he had upset her, for her
footfalls were easily heard. He drew a long, shuddering breath,
fear and doubt gnawing in the pit of his stomach, and returned to
the firelight. He could not rest and began pacing the clearing,
muttering occasionally to himself as Galador watched from his place
by the fire.

"Rogond, your incessant pacing is unsettling to me.
Please, come and sit in one place for a while and try to calm
yourself. You will arouse the attention of our enemies with all
this motion and noise." Rogond looked over at his friend, whose
steady gaze drew him back down. He moved to sit beside Galador in
silence, as the Elf slowly stirred the glowing embers.

"Well, you’ve gone and done it now, haven’t you, my
friend?"

"Yes, Galador, I have done it. Though exactly what I
have done. I’m not certain. I only hope that Gaelen will consider
well my words and not send me from her. I don’t know whether I will
ever be happy again if that happens." He sighed, quelling the tears
that threatened to fill his earnest grey eyes.

"I warned you, Rogond, and so did Ordath. Now you
have come too far to turn back. I hope your heart survives
unbroken, for I love you as a brother…a wayward brother who doesn’t
heed wise advice when it is given."

"Perhaps not, Galador, but I am a wayward brother who
is true to his own heart despite wise advice. I simply do not know
any other way. I am sorry that I cannot learn from the experiences
of my elder brother, but I rejoice that he loves me nonetheless."
He sighed, resigned to stirring the fire. Galador smiled for a
moment, but the red firelight flickering in the cool grey depths of
his eyes revealed the doubt that lay within.

Nelwyn and Fima had remained near their camp for a
while longer, in case Gorgon should appear, but Nelwyn doubted that
he would show himself as he had obviously not felt comfortable
entering the Wood-elves’ domain in the first place. The two hapless
Ulcas lay dead. Nelwyn had shivered as Fima related every word of
their conversation to her. So, they had been sent to capture her
and take her to Gorgon. And the Ulcas had mentioned "big plans" in
which Gorgon was heavily involved. What sort of evil mischief was
brewing? It would be best to return to the Woodland stronghold as
soon as possible.

They had just about finished their preparations when
Nelwyn heard sounds in the undergrowth, followed by a familiar call
that she recognized at once. It was Gaelen, asking whether the area
was secure so that they might approach. Nelwyn replied with a
distinctive call of her own.

She and Gaelen had developed a complex series of
whistles and soft hoots that formed a sort of code. They and the
other hunter- scouts often used such codes in the performance of
their duties. Many an unwary traveler wondered at the strange
sounds, which, though unfamiliar, seemed to fit perfectly into the
ambiance of the forest. Enemies would find them the last sounds in
hearing, just before the whistling of arrow-shafts ended their
misbegotten lives. The Wood-elves had no mercy upon the servants of
evil, and showed little tolerance for trespass into their
domain.

In a few moments Gryffa heralded the approach of
Rogond, Galador, and Gaelen. They were relieved to see Nelwyn and
Fima apparently alive and healthy; nothing seemed amiss in the area
until Gaelen suddenly went rigid, scenting the air.

"Ulcas!" she hissed, turning toward the west, her bow
fitted in a blur of motion.

Nelwyn grabbed her arm. "They’re dead, Gaelen, and
there were but two of them. There have been no others; I just
returned from the watch."

Gaelen scented the air again. "Dead, eh? So they are.
It is sometimes difficult to tell with Ulcas, as they often smell
worse alive."

Nelwyn and Fima continued to occupy themselves with
making ready to leave, and neither of them would make eye contact
with either Rogond or Galador. "I learned something about you
recently, Lore-master," said Rogond, who was following Fima around,
trying to get him to look at him. "I was not aware that herb-lore
interested you in the slightest. This must be a recent fascination.
After all, what else could explain the sudden desire to travel
swiftly for three days on horseback to this distant corner of the
Elven-realm? You wouldn’t care to enlighten us, would you?"

Fima continued his pretense of packing up his already
well- secured belongings. "Not at this time, thank you," he
replied. "Perhaps I will have some things to tell you when we
return to the Elven-halls. Until then, my friend, I would suggest
you not press either of us.’" He shot a knowing look at Rogond, who
knew then that Fima had every intention of sharing his insights,
but this was not the time.

Nelwyn was having far worse luck with Galador, who
was angry with her for worrying him. Rogond could hear their voices
from the undergrowth, engaged in a lively argument. Nelwyn, like
Fima, was reluctant to explain herself, and pleaded with Galador to
wait until a better time. He was indignant; Rogond heard the
prideful tone of his voice as he lectured Nelwyn concerning the
folly of going so far from the safe areas of the realm without him.
Rogond winced at this. Nelwyn had lived for hundreds of years as a
hunter-scout and had dealt quite well with the hazards of traveling
in the Greatwood without Galador, and her annoyance was apparent as
she so informed him. Then she accused him of suffocating her, which
hurt his feelings. Rogond would not suffer himself to hear more,
and went in search of Gaelen, who had disappeared into the forest,
apparently in search of the Ulcas.

When he finally discovered her she was indeed tending
to the dead Ulcas. She had dragged them into a clearing with some
difficulty, as they were large and heavy, but she had grown
stronger of late with her preparations for battle. For some reason
Rogond felt reluctant to approach her, and as he watched he beheld
a sight to chill his blood.

She had taken some stout vines and bound the wrists
of the dead Ulcas. Then, straining with all her might, she hoisted
them from sturdy branches to dangle grotesquely before her. Rogond
was strongly reminded of Gelmyr. She had tied small pieces of
parchment onto the arrow-shafts that protruded from their dead
flesh; written upon each was the word "Trespassers!"

Rogond remembered Noli with the parchment clutched in
his dead hand, and he suddenly felt ill as he beheld the satisfied
expression on Gaelen’s face. He could imagine the same expression
upon Gorgon as he hung Belegund, Noli and Tibo in Cós-domhain.
Gaelen’s sharp ears detected Rogond’s presence and she turned to
him, looking somewhat quizzical at the look of trepidation on his
face.

"What is it, Aridan? Is something wrong?"

He was not quite sure what to say to her. "Ahh…I
suppose not… it’s just that I had never seen you arrange such a
display before. What is the meaning of it?"

She looked back at the Ulcas with satisfaction, then
turned to him as though he were an untutored child. "They will be
left to warn any of their fellows that an ill fate awaits
trespassers in the Realm of Ri-Aruin," she stated, as though it
should be obvious and there was nothing sinister about it. "It’s
our custom sometimes, especially in this remote area. Better to
warn them now than to deal with them later." This explanation
seemed to satisfy Rogond, but Gaelen had not cared for his
expression when she had first turned to him. He had plainly been
horrified, and she did not understand. What was so horrifying about
two dead Ulcas?

Rogond returned to the glade to find Nelwyn, who was
obviously unhappy as she prepared to ride. He drew her aside for a
moment, and then led her to the place where the Ulcas were hung.
Gaelen was by now looking to Siva, making ready to leave with her
companions. Nelwyn stopped in her tracks when she saw the Ulcas,
and Rogond could tell from the look on her face that if this was
indeed a custom followed by the Elves of the Greatwood, it was a
very, very uncommon custom. She turned to Rogond with an expression
of consternation.

"Gaelen did this?" she asked in a small voice. Rogond
had not often seen such a look of disquiet upon Nelwyn. She
shuddered, then turned and made her way back to where Gryffa was
saddled and waiting for her.

The Company rode through the long afternoon, until
they decided to stop and refresh themselves. Nelwyn and Galador
were not speaking, and would barely even acknowledge each other.
Gaelen sat by the small fire they had built; it was obvious to
Nelwyn that she was not really speaking to Rogond, either, though
Nelwyn did not know why.

Nelwyn was overcome with melancholy and wandered away
from her friends to stand alone in the forest, silent tears
glistening in her eyes. She did not hear Galador come up behind
her, and was startled as he placed a hand upon her shoulder. She
was in desperate need of comforting, and when she turned and beheld
him, she fell into his embrace, muttering apologies over and over.
Galador responded in kind, for he had come to try to heal the rift
between them. He knew that Nelwyn was deeply troubled.

"What has so upset you, my beloved? Why did you lie
to Gaelen and hide the truth from me? What brought you here if not
the order of the herb-master? Please tell me, that I might
understand."

Nelwyn drew back and faced him. She could not keep
this inside any longer; she needed to confide in Galador. Perhaps
he would be able to suggest a wise course of action, for he was
true of heart and he cared for Gaelen. Perhaps Galador would know
what to do.

"I have a tale to tell you, but you must promise not
to reveal it to anyone, not even Rogond. Fima has agreed to tell
him when the time is right. Do you understand?"

Galador nodded, but he was afraid. This tale of
Nelwyn’s would tell of naught but sorrow and pain; he could see it
in her eyes. Then Nelwyn told Galador all that she had learned.
When she finished, Galador was white-faced and shaken. He had
expected a tale of woe, but his expectations fell far short of
reality.

"Will you think on this, my love, and help to guide
me? I cannot imagine what my course should be—how can I ever tell
Gaelen? She will not be able to handle this dreadful news. And yet,
she will have to be told. We all risk our lives and the lives of
others whenever we are near her. What, then, must we do?" She
implored Galador, desperation in her eyes. Galador had no answer
for her.

"I…I will think on it, Nelwyn," he muttered, then
turned from her and went off alone to collect his thoughts and
absorb the impact of what he had learned.

Back in the encampment, Rogond and Fima sat on either
side of Gaelen, partaking of bread and water. Fima kept looking
over at Gaelen, who stared straight ahead into the fire, and
neither moved nor spoke. Tomorrow they would reach the King’s halls
once again, but this did not cheer her. She did not understand why
Nelwyn had lied to her about her errand, or why no one was speaking
to anyone else, or why Rogond and Fima kept looking at her as
though she were dying of some pestilence that would no doubt be
transmitted to anyone who drew near. She sighed and rose from the
fireside, crossing to where Siva was tethered. She stroked the
mare’s neck, running her fingers through her silken mane, and found
some comfort.

They headed back north along the Forest River, a deep
and fairly swift watercourse that flowed from north to south and
passed directly beside the Elven-hold. They were not more than a
few hours’ journey away when they decided to stop for the night, as
Nelwyn was more weary than Galador had seen her since their time in
Mountain-home. In truth, she was heartsick. She was no closer to a
solution to the terrible dilemma of what to do about Gaelen, and
the strain was graven into her face, especially her eyes.

Galador wanted desperately to help her, but did not
know what could be done. He had been frightened to his very marrow
when Nelwyn told him why she had come to the borderlands of the
realm with only Fima for protection. Gorgon had known through
Gaelen, and he had sent his Ulcas to capture Nelwyn and bring her
before him. What if they had succeeded? Galador shuddered, feeling
shaky and ill at the very thought. For a moment he pictured Nelwyn
hanging from a tree in the manner of Gelmyr, and his vision swam
until he closed his eyes and banished the vision, attempting to
clear his thoughts. They were all in dreadful danger. What if they
let something slip in front of Gaelen such that Gorgon was privy to
information that would lead him to accomplish some undoubtedly
horrific end? What if the next time Nelwyn was not prepared and
Gorgon took her? What if…?

Galador found himself wandering in the deepening
darkness. He needed to be careful, as the forest was so dark and
forbidding at night that it would be easy to lose one’s bearings.
Though the forest was actually quite beautiful within the
Elf-realm, Galador knew that it could still bewilder him in the
dark. This was not his home, and he knew that he would never be
truly at ease here without Nelwyn beside him.