Elfhunter (47 page)

"Can you account for her whereabouts, Rogond of the
Tuathar? Unless I am wrong, neither you nor anyone else was in
sight of her when this happened. Until she is found, I will hold
back my judgment."

Ular appeared in the doorway at that moment, begging
leave to speak with Grundin, who left the chamber for a brief
while. When he returned, his face was grimmer than ever.

"Come with me, both of you, and we shall all be
enlightened."

They followed him into an antechamber, and Rogond was
both shocked and relieved to see the miserable, shivering Elf that
now looked up at him with bright eyes full of pain, though she
could not speak. Rogond started toward her, and as she beheld him
she wept with grief, pain, and frustration. Grundin held up his
hand, and two of the dwarf-guards stepped in front of Rogond,
preventing him from reaching her. He halted, but looked around the
guards into her frightened eyes, reaching over their heads to touch
her outstretched hand. The guards pressed him, and he backed off,
speaking soothing words to her and maintaining eye contact.

She had been ill-used and nearly killed—that was
plain. Her clothing was torn and bloodied, her face battered and
cut, and her throat was so bruised that it was a dark
purplish-black. The imprint of Gorgon’s fingers could be clearly
seen. So, that was the reason she could not speak. She was in
considerable pain; her neck felt as though filled with hot shards
of metal, and the slightest movement caused her to gasp and grit
her teeth. Her red, swollen eyes showed that she had been crying
for some time. Rogond could smell Gorgon all over her, even from
this distance. He tried not to show the horror and rage he felt as
he looked at her.

Grundin’s expression was difficult to read as he
regarded Gaelen in silence. She in turn looked at Rogond, mouthing
the same words over and over:

"Belegund…what of Belegund?’

Grundin spoke then to her. "Your friend Belegund is
dead, apparently killed fighting an unknown enemy. What do you know
of this?" Gaelen closed her eyes. She had known Belegund was
gravely wounded, but she had not witnessed his death. She looked up
at Grundin, her tear-streaked face hot with fury and frustration,
and tried to speak, but no sound came from her other than a harsh,
halting whisper.

"Belegund fought a terrible enemy. He calls himself
Gorgon Elfhunter. We were journeying to Tal-sithian to warn our
people of him, but did not know he was in Cós-domhain. When last we
saw him, he was near to Monadh-talam, and we had wounded him. I
never dreamed he would dare to come here…it doesn’t make any
sense."

Grundin then approached Gaelen so that he looked
directly into her eyes. "Two of my people are slain as well. Tibo
and Noli. What have you to say to this?" He studied her reaction
carefully, and it was obvious from her surprised, saddened
expression that she had not known. He turned then to Rogond. "I
believe that she had nothing to do with this. You may attend her
now."

Grundin felt a hand touching the hem of his cloak and
turned to regard Gaelen, who whispered, "You thought I had a hand
in this? Why would you think such things?"

Grundin handed her the parchment, explaining that it
had been found clutched in Noli’s dead hand. She held it before her
face and read the words, her jaw working, eyes bright with hatred.
She handed it back to Grundin and closed her eyes.

"I am truly sorry about Noli, though there was no
love between us. I deeply regret the death of Tibo, who loved my
people and seemed gentle and harmless. It is ironic that he was
chosen for death, as the enemy could not have known these
things."

Rogond now knelt beside her, concern in his eyes.
"But somehow Gorgon knew that Noli did not love the Elves. That is
clear from the parchment. How could he have known this?"

Grundin replied, "Noli wore the emblem of Rûmm. Your
enemy must have seen it and knows enough of history to determine
that Noli and Gaelen were not friends."

Gaelen clutched Rogond’s arm. "Why am I not dead? I
fought beside Belegund, though I could not aid him. If only I had
my longbow…" She burst into tears again, and Rogond held her
gently, trying not to hurt her.

"Hush, Gaelen, hush. What’s done is done. You fought
to your limit with what you had. It is obvious that he left you for
dead…he thought you were dead. Thank the stars that you are
not!"

Gaelen stopped crying and struggled to her feet, pain
graven into her face. She faced Grundin and tried as best she could
to address him.

"My Lord Grundin, we must leave now—today. Your
people will be safe once we are gone. Our enemy follows us, though
we did not know it. He will not rest until we are dead. So far as I
know, he holds no enmity toward your people, but so long as we are
here and you shelter us and show us kindness, he will hold you to
blame."

"You are not ready to leave, little Wood-elf," said
Fima. "You would never make it to Tal-sithian without aid." He
turned to Grundin. "She must remain here until she is strong. Our
people will be watchful now, as they are aware of the enemy."

But Gaelen again tried to speak. "You do not know
Gorgon! He has killed untold numbers of Elves over the years, and
he is clever, stealthy, and swift. He is a coward, striking from
the shadows, and he only attacks when he is certain he will
prevail. Merely being aware of him will not prevent him from taking
vengeance upon Grundin’s folk, and I will not stay here to be a
danger to them."

Grundin held up his hand to silence them. "Here is my
decision," he said to Gaelen. "You and Rogond are free to leave
when you choose. I would encourage you to stay until you are
healed, but I sense that you have already decided your course.
Should you choose to leave us, you will be provided with an escort
as far as the Lake-realm. If the enemy is as cowardly as you say,
he will not dare attack you. After that, I cannot vouch for your
safety. But your enemy does not understand the nature of Grundin’s
folk if by this action he expects we will turn you away out of fear
of him! A coward understands only cowardice, and he thinks you will
no longer be welcomed here. For your courage and willingness to
place yourself at risk to protect my people, I name you
Dwarf-friend. You are ever welcome in my realm." Grundin bowed low,
as did the other dwarves in attendance, and Gaelen tried her best
to return the gesture, though it pained her. Grundin smiled.

"It has been long since I so named an Elf, Gaelen of
the Greatwood. You have the heart of the Èolar. Guard it well."

Fima and Rogond helped Gaelen return to their
chambers, where their few belongings were gathered. Gaelen would
take no food, as she could not yet swallow it, but Rogond and Fima
availed themselves of one last meal and a rest before departing.
Rogond would be glad to see the outside world again, and he now
wrestled with his own feelings of guilt and responsibility. Had he
not disregarded Galador’s warning, all would have been well. He
certainly had not expected Gorgon to turn up in Cós-domhain. He had
learned so little from Farin—certainly not worth the three lives
that were lost. He mourned Belegund in silence, though no one was
there to hear.

Fima went to see his kin, explaining that he would
accompany his friends at least as far as Tal-sithian. From there
his path was yet undecided, but he told them that it might be
awhile ‘ere he returned. They were saddened, as Fima was well loved
and would be missed. Each hoped that they would see him again, for
news of this new enemy had spread quickly, and they feared for
him.

As Fima made his way back to the Great Hall, Nimo and
several of the kin of Noli appeared out of the dark, blocking the
way. They stood before him with stern faces. Fima sighed. "Pardon
me, Nimo, for I am in a hurry to return to my chamber and prepare
to leave with my friends. I have no time for your ill temper just
now."

That made no difference to Nimo. "Well and good,
Lore-master, leave with your friends. They brought this evil here,
and while they may have the favor of Grundin, they had best never
return so long as I or any of my kin are here. And they had best
never go near the Northern Mountains. You may give them that
message from me. We will never forget the loss of Noli. That Elf
had better never show her face here again."

Fima nodded at him, his eyes cold and hard. "Very
well. I will tell them. Shall I also inform Grundin that perhaps he
should take back his designation of Dwarf-friend from the Elf so
that it does not displease you? I’m certain Grundin would not wish
to upset you or your kin, Nimo. And while I’m about it, perhaps I
should alert Farin and his folk in the smithies that their
friendship is wasted on Rogond, as well. After all, they certainly
would not want to displease you, as there are only about a hundred
of them. The last person who displeased Farin, as I recall,
received the loving attentions of his hammer and required
significant healing time. I shall certainly relay your threats to
those who should hear of them."

Nimo and his kin responded with anger to Fima’s bold
words, for he was alone among them. They moved toward him,
apparently meaning to do harm, when out of the shadows emerged
about twenty of Farin’s folk, bare-chested in leather aprons, their
beards divided and plaited and tied behind their necks to keep them
from the fire. They carried large hammers in their hands, and their
eyes were alight with the possibility of mayhem. Farin himself
stood among them.

"So, these folk think they can threaten our friends
and gainsay the pronouncements of Grundin, do they? How very
foolish! I would imagine, Nimo, that if you reflect for a moment,
you will realize the folly of your words. After all, you sit on the
Council of Elders. You must have some wisdom. If I were you, I
would think on it, as you would not wish to deal with us."

This was true, as Farin’s folk worked the forges, and
were incredibly strong. They were also in high favor with Grundin.
Nimo realized that he was outmatched, and he bowed before Farin,
though his eyes were hard.

"Your pardon," he growled. "We shall rethink our
stance in this matter, but expect no love for the Elf or the
Tuathan from us. My warning to them concerning the Northern
Mountains is still clear, Fima. Tell them so from me, won’t you?"
At this, Nimo and his kinsmen turned and retreated down the long
corridor, grumbling as they went. Fima and Farin watched them go,
and then Farin escorted Fima back to his chamber, as he wanted to
wish Rogond well.

Fima looked in on Gaelen to see whether she needed
anything. He found her standing as though entranced, eyes closed,
mouthing a long stream of words that he could not fully understand.
He did not comprehend what she was doing, and feared for her. She
heard him approach and opened her eyes. "What is it, Fima?"

The dwarf looked uncomfortably at his feet, as though
he knew that he had witnessed something very private and
spiritual.

"Nothing, ah, I just wanted to see if you were all
right," he muttered. Then he looked up at her. "I hope I wasn’t
interrupting anything."

A sad, sweet smile crossed Gaelen’s face. "I was just
reciting a prayer in High-elven. I thought Tibo would have liked
it."

Fima nodded. "That he would have. It was a fine and
fitting tribute to his passion for the Èolar. I always said old
Tibo was simply born at the wrong time. Gaelen, you are a
tender-hearted little spirit deep down, aren’t you?"

Gaelen sighed, grimacing as she tried unsuccessfully
to turn her head toward him. "Yes, I suppose I am. But don’t you go
around telling anyone—otherwise these constant jests referring to
my being descended of the Fire-heart might cease. That would break
my heart." She rolled her eyes heavenward for emphasis.

Fima chuckled. "Yes, I’ve no doubt it would. Do not
fear; I shall tell no living soul. Take some rest, little one.
Tomorrow we depart for Tal-sithian, and I do not envy you the task
of traversing the black passage—bending over will be difficult when
you cannot move your head to look down!"

Gaelen smiled at him. "Rogond is the one I worry
about—are you certain he will fit?"

"Ha! Of course he will, though he’ll look somewhat
undignified crawling along. We’ve entertained many tall guests over
the ages… but few are as tall as our Rogond! But do not fear. You
are high in favor with Grundin; he will see you both safely
through. I bid you good evening. Rest well." He turned to go, but
paused in the doorway.

"Gaelen…?"

She turned to him and raised both eyebrows,
indicating that she awaited whatever he had to say.

"Thank you for the prayer. I am certain Tibo would
have loved it." Then he left her to her solitude.

It was not long before Nelwyn and Galador were
brought before the Lord and Lady of Tal-sithian, whose place of
counsel was high atop the Greenwood Hill that stood in the center
of the island. Nelwyn was quite at home in this place, as she loved
all things green and growing, and Tal-sithian was presently in full
flower and leaf, with beautiful tall forests that covered much of
the land. Galador was likewise at ease, for he was surrounded by
Elves of the Eádram, who were his distant kin. Thorndil, who knew
little of Gorgon Elfhunter, did not need to present himself before
the council and had remained beside the lakeshore, for such was his
preference. He conversed politely with the sentinels as he awaited
the return of his friends.

Lord Airan, who was a venerable and mighty Elf of the
Eádram, had long, flaxen hair and wise, calm grey eyes. Nelwyn had
spoken with him before, when she and Gaelen had delivered a message
from King Ri- Aruin of the Greatwood. But Nelwyn had not yet beheld
the Lady Arialde, whose deep blue eyes were unfathomable. Her hair,
as with many of the Asari, was of flowing silver, and she had the
most beautiful features Nelwyn had ever seen; it was as though some
sort of divine light hovered about her in a glowing veil. Nelwyn
had never actually met one of the twelve ancient Magic-users, and
she was quite overwhelmed for a moment.