Elfhunter (41 page)

"I thought the Èolar were supposed to be the wisest
of all Elves," said Belegund, who had been drawn into the tale.

"They of all Elves held the greatest knowledge, but
knowledge is a thing separate from wisdom," said Fima sadly. "The
Dwarves, for example, are unenlightened according to the
High-elves, and yet we have never been taken in by the Dark Power.
This is a characteristic that we share with the Elves of the
Greatwood." He winked at Gaelen.

"At any rate, Ri-Aldamar was said to be a wise and a
good king, and he produced two sons named Iomar and Farahin. Iomar
was heir to the throne, and he stayed with his father, but it was
decided that Farahin should be sent to the Sanctuary to be
educated. That, of course, is the great University founded by
Shandor, who was said to be the mightiest and most noble of the
Asari.

Ri-Aldamar thought Tal-elathas would withstand any
onslaught, alas that he was misguided. It was indeed fortunate that
Farahin was safe in the Sanctuary, for Iomar was lost in the Second
Battle along with his father. Thus Farahin, the second-born,
reluctantly took the mantle of High King and the name of
Ri-Elathan. Yet he was as ill-fated as the rest of them, and his
death was perhaps the most horrific of all."

"I have heard the stories," said Belegund. "It is
said that he was killed in the Third Battle by Wrothgar’s own hand.
No Elf or man had ever before met Wrothgar directly, not in single
combat." He shuddered as he thought of it. "That must have been
terrible."

"Oh, I have no doubt of it," said Fima. "Wrothgar
probably thought that, if he brought about the death of the King,
the Elves would fall back in disarray and he would defeat them. So
he commanded his Bödvari to surround Ri-Elathan such that none
could interfere, and then engaged him. At the last, they fought
hand-to hand. Ri-Elathan was burned alive by the Black Flame as his
power faded and his strength finally failed. He died in pain and
despair, but that wasn’t the worst of it."

"What could possibly be worse?" asked Belegund.

"It is said that the King had foreknowledge of his
fate, that he knew he would die in agony," said Fima quietly. "He
looked into the Stone of Léir before he went forth to battle, and
Lord Shandor showed him his doom. Imagine having learned that you
would face such a trial, knowing how it would end!"

"If he knew of it, why did he allow himself to be
taken? Why did he not guard himself such that Wrothgar could not
engage him?" asked Belegund, incredulous.

"It seems a fair question," replied Fima, "and I have
a hard answer. He could not guard himself, because he knew that if
he did not fulfill his destiny all would be lost. His sacrifice was
not in vain—when he fell, the Elves were so enraged that they found
their courage. They rose up and slew the Bödvari, and drove
Wrothgar back into shadow where he still remains. At the same time,
Belegund, your forefathers saw to the defeat of Kotos’ vile armies
as they tried to overwhelm Tuathas. Alduinar, your King, fought
valiantly and survived the battle, but he was terribly grieved by
the loss of Ri-Elathan, who was his friend."

Rogond, who had been following behind, overheard the
mention of Ri-Elathan and had been horrified to hear Fima
discussing the details of his undoubtedly agonizing death. He
prayed that this was not the first time Gaelen had learned of them.
He strode forward, silencing Fima with a hand on his shoulder,
looking pointedly toward Gaelen. Fima was shocked to see that she
fought back tears.

Suddenly she halted, eyes closed, as a great weakness
came on her. She sat upon the ground as Rogond knelt beside her.
Gaelen was quite vulnerable to reminders of Ri-Elathan’s death, as
she had felt some of his anguish as his spirit was torn from his
body. Her sorrow had drained her strength for a moment, but she
reassured Rogond that all would be well.

"Perhaps I need to rest for a brief while, and
partake of some water," she said, as Rogond handed her his
water-skin, then left her, drawing Fima aside so that, with luck,
she would not hear.

"Do not speak of such things again, my friend. You
have opened a wound that is old and deep. I beg you, do not mention
Ri-Elathan in her presence again." Fima looked over at Gaelen, who
sat with her back to them, her head resting on her arms, which were
folded across her knees. Understanding dawned in his lined,
intelligent face, and he looked at Rogond with wonder.

"You don’t
mean
it! This concerns her Lost
One, doesn’t it?"

At this, Rogond looked at his hands, and would not
look Fima in the eye. "Just leave it, Fima," he muttered without
much hope that the dwarf would hear him.

"By Grundin’s Beard! I had thought him to be a person
of importance, but…I had no idea. The High King himself and our
little Wood-elf ?" Fima could hardly contain his excitement and
babbled on for a few moments, to the dismay of Rogond.

"Of course, from what I know of Ri-Elathan, he would
be just the type to be subject to giving his heart on first meeting
at the directive of destiny. He was very passionate, I’m told. That
explains so much that I have seen in the eyes of Magra, and of
Ordath, and the way they react to Gaelen. Of course! Why had I not
seen it before?" Then, his expression grew melancholy. "Alas! I
would not have wished such a fate for anyone, let alone Gaelen.
Such sorrow she must have known."

Rogond turned then and spoke sharply to Fima. "Hush!
If she hears you, all is lost. I will neither confirm nor deny your
speculation. But do not ever mention it again in front of her."

Fima grew solemn. "Of course, my friend. I surely did
not mean to hurt her and will avoid doing so in future. But I am
more concerned for
you
right now. Winning her love may be
more difficult than I first predicted."

Then his weathered face brightened and he smiled at
Rogond. "Never mind. You are up to the challenge…and she needs one
such as you. I have complete confidence that you will prevail."

Gaelen had lifted her head and turned her sharp ears
toward them. Rogond grew anxious.

"Be still, Fima! I will have no chance at all if you
force my hand now, so for the love of Aontar,
hush
!"

He left Fima and returned to Gaelen, who appeared now
to have mastered herself; her color had returned, and her eyes were
dry. She rose and gave him back his water-skin, but as they
continued on their way to finding the gate, she asked no more
questions of Fima. In fact, she did not speak for several hours,
until they reached at last the doorway of Cós-domhain.

It was indeed lucky that Fima knew where to find the
gateway, because it could not be easily seen. "You will see it as
it opens, but not before," said Fima. "Now, if you will forgive me,
I must concentrate." He uttered a complex incantation in a tongue
that none of the others had ever heard before, an ancient version
of the dwarf-tongue that had not seen common usage in time out of
mind. Fima struggled with it at first, and had to repeat himself
once, but in the end two sentinels appeared atop the rocks, raising
their hands in greeting. A rather small opening appeared in the
very rock. They would have searched for an eternity and never found
it.

"That’s one of the cleverest illusions I’ve ever
seen, Fima!" said Rogond as Fima stepped back, beaming at all of
them.

"Actually, I could see the entrance clearly, but
then, I knew where to look! The incantation is uttered merely to
keep the guards from… ummm, from not opening the door."

"Ah. By that, you mean to keep them from shooting
us?" said Gaelen.

"Not at all," Fima replied, his face reddening a
little. "We aren’t nearly as suspicious as we have been in the
past, after all." He forced a small chuckle, and then extended a
short, sturdy arm dramatically toward the rocky doorway. "Well,
what are you waiting for? Enter and marvel at the Realm of the
Rûmhar!"

Belegund, who was eager to see this great sight,
entered first. Rogond then stepped through the great doors, looking
back at Gaelen and beckoning to her. Still, she hesitated. There
was something about this that she didn’t like.

Fima came up behind her. "Go on, little Wood-elf. You
shall be most welcome, I promise! Don’t be afraid. Surely, you
wouldn’t wish to hurt my feelings?" That much was true. For Fima’s
sake, and for Rogond, she took a deep breath, squared her
shoulders, and stepped through the doors into the greatest
underground realm that had ever been.

It was three days since the Company had divided, and
as Rogond, Fima, Belegund, and Gaelen arrived at the mountain gate,
the others were making their way slowly toward the pass known as
the Iolari, or "Way of Eagles". This was a steep and winding path
between two very tall peaks to the west, which dropped down into
the foothills and the valley beyond, wherein could be found the
great lake known as the Linnefionn. The Elven-realm of Tal-sithian
was located on an island in the midst of that lake.

There would still be snow in the upper elevations of
the mountains, but with any luck the path would be mostly clear
now, as the Iolari was considerably farther south than the High
Pass they had attempted to take into Mountain-home earlier. Summer
was approaching, and that meant there would be many swift, churning
streams of snow-melt. Immersion in them would freeze the life from
man or Elf in a few minutes. The other hazards of traversing the
mountains lay in those inhabitants that lurked below ground during
the daylight hours. Ulcas and Trolls were known to take the unwary,
but they did not occur in large numbers due to the vigilance of the
dwarves, whose realm was so vast that it easily encompassed the
entire area beneath the pass.

One source of difficulty had come (not unexpectedly)
from Eros. He was unhappy at being separated from Rogond and
demonstrated this by stubbornly refusing to follow Thorndil,
pulling and tugging at his long line and generally making matters
difficult. Thorndil knew Eros well, but had not been treated to the
complete demonstration of his displeasure before. It was difficult
enough negotiating the tricky footing without being pulled off
balance by over a thousand pounds of reluctant animal, and
Thorndil’s tolerance was wearing thin. Handing the two horses he
was leading to Nelwyn, Galador dropped in behind them, and when
Eros lagged and tried to pull Thorndil off balance, Galador drove
Réalta forward, bowling into Eros from behind and startling him
into leaping forward.

Eros shook his head at Galador and lashed his tail,
daring the Elf to repeat
that
maneuver! In reply, Galador
rode up beside him and swung a coil of rope at his hindquarters,
slapping him with it. Réalta neatly dodged both of Eros’ hind feet
as the big dun lashed out at the irritating Galador, who then had
the unbridled temerity to laugh at him.

"Get along, now, Eros, and stop your playing! You
cannot follow Rogond; you must await him on the western side of the
mountains. I shall tan your backside if you do not behave!" To
reinforce this point, he slapped Eros again with the rope. "Go ON,
now! Don’t try my patience." If Eros could have grumbled, he would
have done so. As it was he sulked along, plotting his next
opportunity to escape and return to Rogond.

"You have my thanks, Galador, for setting him upon
the straight path. I thought he was going to pull me over once or
twice. He seems much more cooperative now," said Thorndil.

"Yes, it would seem so. But I would not trust him…he
is biding his time. Watch him carefully!" With that admonition,
Galador turned and made his way back to where Nelwyn waited with
the other three horses. Galador took hold of the lines again, and
they set off.

In time, they stopped for the night. They would light
no watch- fires, as their enemies would be drawn to them, so they
sheltered under an overhang of rock that made an excellent vantage
point for the watch. The horses were hungry, for there was not much
grazing to be had, but at their current pace it would take only a
few days to reach the western valley, where there was grass
aplenty. The horses would survive until then, as at least there was
plenty of water. They picketed the horses to keep them from roaming
and shared some of the provisions they had brought from
Mountain-home.

Thorndil slept as Nelwyn and Galador sat atop the
rock shelf, each taking turns resting while the other kept the
watch. At times they would talk quietly together, but they were
weary from the long day’s ride. The path was treacherous; sometimes
it seemed to disappear altogether, and sometimes it wound along the
mountainside with heart-stopping drops on one side. At such times
the horses were led in single file, tied head to tail, and Eros
forgot all about escaping Thorndil, concentrating on the task
before him like the sensible, sane animal he generally was.

At present, the sensible, sane animal was working
diligently at freeing himself from the picket line. Thorndil had
secured him with a difficult knot and had double-secured him with
two lines about his neck, but there weren’t many knots that Eros
could not undo when he applied himself. He was gifted with great
dexterity, and he used this gift in such mischief as breaking into
Rogond’s food stores and helping himself to the dried fruit that
was usually found there. Rogond had thwarted the horse in the past
by placing several dried apples stuffed with ground red pepper in
the food sack, then turning a blind eye as his wayward animal broke
into them, receiving a valuable lesson. This resulted in Eros’
developing an uncanny knack for detecting dried fruits that were
stuffed with pepper and thenceforth avoiding them.

Now, as Eros worked the second knot loose, he
considered his choices. In a few moments he would be free to go
where he would. And though he did not relish the thought of
traveling the mountains at night by himself, he truly did want to
get back to Rogond. Besides, Galador had thrown the gauntlet in his
face, slapping him from behind like a common mule! He would show
that Elf a few things. The memory of the indignity inflicted on him
by Galador decided him, and he walked quietly from behind the
picket line, ducking his head under and lifting it so that he could
proceed back down the path the way he had come.