Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (21 page)

“We need their support,” Lysandir pressed.

“I will do all I can,” Iarion said. The Learnéd One let the matter drop.

“We should never have come here,” Barlo heard Linwyn say under her breath, too quietly for anyone but Barlo and her twin to hear. Golaron gave her a warning look. Barlo was the only one to notice the exchange. He sighed, sensing there would be more trouble to come.

Silvaranwyn looked strained. She took advantage of the opportunity to bathe her face in the spring before lying on a bedroll of fur to rest. Barlo saw Golaron watching her closely.

Hidar was still silent, drinking in his surroundings. It was unlikely he had ever seen so many elves before. Barlo still hadn’t made up his mind about that one. Had Iarion made the right decision?

Later, Falan returned to escort them to the feast. He led them back to the large clearing where the lord and lady held court. Now it housed a long table, laden with food.

The clearing was lit with torches that almost made it seem light as day. Off to the side, a group of musicians played pipes, drums, and other percussive instruments while a naked, painted elf danced in a frenzy to the wild beat, his braids flying. A circle of elves surrounded the performance, clapping in time to the dancer’s steps. Linwyn looked away. All the other guests were now clothed, for the time being, at least.

“Iarion! There you are.” A pair of elf maidens approached. They looked to be only a year apart in age. Their resemblance to Falan was unmistakable. Both wore beaded feathers in their braided hair.

“I think I will leave you to catch up with my sisters,” Falan said to Iarion with a sly wink before disappearing into the crowd.

One of the elf women pulled Iarion in for a familiar, lingering kiss before passing him off to the other. Linwyn looked as though she were about to be sick, but remained transfixed.

“Beliriel! Luniwyn!” Iarion greeted them breathlessly. It seemed he was making a new habit of blushing.

“The lord and lady’s daughters?” Linwyn said in a strangled voice.

“Iarion is smart, strong, and handsome.” One turned to address Linwyn’s shock. “A fine prize for any man or woman who can win his affections. He has sired many strong
Beliadar
children for the tribe. Who better for the daughters of the lord and lady?”

A younger elf with green eyes and silver hair that was unmistakably Iarion’s bounded over to throw himself at him, chattering away in Elvish. Linwyn mumbled an excuse and fled in the direction of the guest hut. Barlo watched her go, waiting for Golaron to follow. But her brother was too busy at Silvaranwyn’s side, fending off shameless would-be suitors of the beautiful Light Elf. Iarion was oblivious of Linwyn’s pain, catching up with several of his former ‘acquaintances.’

Barlo waited a few moments before trotting after Linwyn, pausing only to take a plate of food and two goblets of wine with him. No one was going to miss him here. Besides, without any ale, it wasn’t his kind of party anyway. He got the strong impression Narilga wouldn’t approve, with naked elves and all.

Barlo returned to the guest hut to find Linwyn facedown on one of the fur bedrolls, sobbing. The dwarf lowered himself to the ground beside her and patted her back awkwardly, comforting her in the same way he would his daughter.

Linwyn snapped her head up, wearing a horrified expression. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and gave him a haughty look. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw the look on your face when those two elf women showed up. I followed you to make sure you didn’t do anything rash.” Barlo sat back on his heels and took a bite out of some roast as though nothing were wrong. “Would you like something to eat? You left in a bit of a hurry.”

For a moment, Linwyn seemed to struggle to contain herself, but Barlo just sat there, looking at her. She dissolved into tears once more, abandoning the facade.

“No one has ever seen me cry, except Golaron.” She looked miserable.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.” Barlo shrugged. “For example, today was the first time I ever saw an elf dancing naked.”

Linwyn choked out a laugh around her tears before turning serious. “I know you tried to warn me about this. I didn’t want to listen. I just didn’t think it would be like…like this!” She scrubbed her damp cheeks with her sleeve.

“Iarion told me the stories of his past and even I wasn’t prepared,” Barlo said. “It’s a different way of life here. Iarion was a different person when he lived with these people. It was a long time ago. He ran away from here for a reason.”

“Well, they seem to have forgiven him.” Linwyn’s voice was bitter. “I think they mean to persuade him to stay.”

“Shame on you for not giving Iarion more credit.” Barlo wagged a finger at her. “Iarion is the Lost Wanderer. He has spent thousands of years searching for meaning! He thought maybe these people knew the answer. Once he realized they didn’t, he moved on.

“Don’t get me wrong, he probably had a good time while he was here. But he’s not going to stop to dally with these people now, with his answers so close at hand. This quest is what he lives for. Each day that passes, I see it consume him a bit more. I’m not saying this to give you hope, because I don’t think there is any where the two of you are concerned. Maybe once this quest is over… I don’t know. But for now, Iarion lives to reunite the Quenya in the hopes it will give him the answers he’s seeking.”

“So you don’t think Iarion will decide to stay,” Linwyn said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Barlo pulled a tartan handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

“This part of his life is over. There are probably many elves propositioning him right now, but he’ll turn them all down. The call of the Quenya is too strong.”

“Well I suppose that’s something.” Linwyn gave a small smile.

“Don’t forget what I said about getting your hopes up. If you pin your sights on Iarion, you’re only asking to get hurt. He won’t even realize he’s the cause of your pain.” Barlo hoped she would see reason.

Linwyn made no promises. “Thank you for coming after me.” She eyed his plate. “Is there enough to share? I really don’t want to go back to the feast.”

Barlo placed the plate, still heaped with food, and the second goblet on the floor between them and gestured for her to take what she wished. Now that Linwyn had let her guard down, she seemed relaxed and in good humor.

They spent the next several hours swapping stories of their homelands and making each other laugh. It was good to see the young woman enjoy herself for once. She was normally so aloof and serious. Long after the plate was empty, they went to sleep.

The others must have returned during the night. Barlo was a heavy sleeper and did not wake until several hours past dawn. He was still the first of his companions to rise. He was pleased to notice Iarion sleeping soundly on his bedroll. Barlo left the guest hut and went outside to stretch. It was a beautiful morning. Other than the birds singing in the trees, there wasn’t a sound to be heard. Barlo went to the spring and splashed some water on his face, shaking the droplets from his beard.

“You’re up early.”

Barlo whirled to find Falan standing behind him.

“Galrin’s beard! Give a dwarf some warning next time you come creeping up on him.” Barlo tried to regain his composure.

“My apologies.” Falan made a mocking bow. “I come to tell you the lord and lady will meet with your group in an hour’s time to discuss your quest.”

“It’s about time,” Barlo grumbled under his breath. His stomach growled, reminding him it had been several hours since his last meal. “Where do you get something to eat around here?” he asked the elf.

“A late breakfast will be served at your audience.” Barlo groaned at the delay. Falan laughed as he disappeared into the trees.

Barlo went back into the hut to wake the others and pass on the news. Linwyn was the only one he managed to rouse without complaint. Iarion looked tired and pinched. Silvaranwyn looked even worse than the night before. Golaron had dark circles under his eyes. Lysandir was in a foul mood, mumbling curses under his breath when Barlo shook him awake. Hidar was second to rise, only after Linwyn. He was quick to get over his annoyance at the early summons, singing as he dressed, drawing even more grumbles from the others.

After making themselves presentable, they went back to the meeting glade. This time a smaller table was set with Numadil and Salimarawyn at the head. Eggs, wild boar bacon, honey, and berries waited to be served. Barlo was quick to take a seat and fill his plate.

After a few moments of comfortable silence where everyone ate their fill, the lord cleared his throat to speak.

“Last night, Iarion informed us of the details of your quest. We understand its importance and wish to aid you in your journey.” Barlo was surprised Iarion had managed to stick to business with all the distractions.

“We will give you supplies and horses from our herd.” The lord paused, allowing his words to sink in.

Iarion’s eyes widened. “A generous offer,” he said with a nod of thanks.

“We suggest you travel the Wild Lands to the Mountains of Wind,” Numadil continued. “That area is still under our protection and has yet to draw the interest of the dark creatures. If you journey to Dwarfwatch, perhaps the dwarves there can help you pass the Mountains of Fire into the dark lands. They have kept watch over that area for centuries and know it better than any other. Thus you can avoid Nal Nungalid and the Forsworn One that abides there.”

“Your counsel is wise,” Lysandir said. “And what of the battle to the south?”

“I am afraid that is where our generosity ends,” the lady said. “We are still safe here in our wood, and take little part in the affairs outside it. We will not send our people to be slaughtered. The alliance you speak of, of dwarves, elves, and men in the midlands, is good news. I doubt our aid would make a difference.”

“You have not seen the army we are up against,” Lysandir insisted. “We need all the help we can get. Will you not reconsider?”

“Our decision is final.” The lady’s voice was firm.

“When the rest of Lasniniar has fallen and Saviadro finally turns his gaze upon the Fey Wood, your people will wish they had died fighting when they at least had a chance of success.” The Learnéd One’s flinty gaze held the lord and lady’s for several moments.

“Perhaps you are correct,” Numadil said. “But such is our choice. We would not normally allow outsiders to even enter our wood, never mind feeding them and supplying them with our precious horse children. We do this only because Iarion is with you. Do not press for more than we are willing to give.”

“I believe Beliriel has one last gift for Iarion,” Salimarawyn said.

Her daughter stepped forward and smiled at Iarion. “When you left our wood, you left your wildcat, Beliorom, behind.”

A large, gray lynx with green eyes and gold and silver markings padded forward. It was lithe and powerfully muscled, its thick coat sleek and shiny.

“Beliorom!” Iarion uttered a cry of joy.

“No.” Beliriel shook her head. “Iarion, it has been many years since you left us. Although our children are slow to age, creatures such as Beliorom are not. This is Sinstari, a wildcat sired by Beliorom before he died.”

For a moment, Iarion looked sad at the news of the cat’s passing. Then he went to Sinstari and knelt. The wildcat approached him curiously, circling and sniffing, his tufted ears pricked forward with interest. Iarion spoke softly in Elvish. Once the cat had completed his circuit, he rubbed his whiskered face up against Iarion’s hand and sat before him.

“Sinstari has been raised in our ways,” Beliriel said. “He is quite intelligent and understands most of the Elven Tongue. Luniwyn and I raised him in the hope you might return someday. He knows you are his hunting companion. I hope he can help you on your quest.” She gave a sad smile.

“This is a wonderful gift,” Iarion said. “Thank you.”

“Perhaps once your quest is complete, you will return and show us your gratitude.” Beliriel grinned. “My sister and I were disappointed you turned down our offer last night. There were many others who also would have enjoyed your company.” She pouted. Barlo noticed Linwyn smiling at Beliriel’s words. Barlo met her gaze and winked.

“As I said last night, I need to focus on my task. I cannot afford any…distractions.” Iarion blushed as he trailed off.

Beliriel sighed. “I know. We understand. But consider our offer and return to us. You were happy here.”

“I will think about it,” Iarion promised.

The lord and lady stood to say farewell. “It has been interesting to have such a group visiting our wood,” Salimarawyn said. “Iarion, it was very good to see you again. Please do not keep us waiting so long for your next visit.”

“Falan will take you to be resupplied and show you to the horses we have provided for you,” Numadil said. “Please do not think unkindly of us for not helping you in the way you had hoped. We must do what we think best for our people. We all wish you luck in your quest.”

“Thank you,” Iarion said with a bow. “For everything.”

Barlo couldn’t help but notice as the group took their leave that Lysandir looked less than pleased.

–
Chapter Nineteen –

What Comes After

Falan led the group to the northern edge of the wood. With a trilling whistle, he summoned six horses and took his leave with a wink and a wave once the companions were mounted.

Iarion was reluctant to turn his back on the Fey Wood. It held so many memories. Even though his need to fulfill his quest pulled at him, it was difficult to leave a place that had made him feel so welcome. He stifled a sigh. That part of his life was over. Iarion knew in his heart he would not return.

Now they rode across the Wild Lands, heading north for the Mountains of Wind and Dwarfwatch. Sinstari loped beside them. Although the lord and lady had not acceded to Lysandir’s request for military aid, the horses they had given were fine beasts. Bred by the elves, they were much more intelligent than others of their kind.