Elfhunter

by C S Marks

  Thorndil nodded, raising his right hand in farewell. He turned his stout black horse toward the mountains, leading Eros. Nelwyn looked once more into Gaelen’s eyes, then turned Gryffa and Siva to follow Thorndil. Galador remained for a moment longer, his expression grave. He nodded once more to Rogond, then turned Réalta, Belegund’s chestnut horse, and the bay horse that bore their gear, and trotted off after Nelwyn. Galador prayed that he would see his friends again, even the dwarf, whom he had come to like and respect.

  It would be a long and hard journey, for although winter’s hold upon the mountains was well and truly broken, it would still require skill and a bit of luck to reach Tal-sithian. Galador was glad that Thorndil had chosen to accompany them, for he was worthy and was now out of harm’s way. Belegund had made his choice even after knowing of Galador’s grim vision. He was still fairly young, and his desire to see the Cavern-realm was great. Galador hoped he would not fall, as he was steadfast and quite likeable, with a ready sense of humor. As though sensing Galador’s misgivings, the rain began to fall as they departed. Even the horses felt the melancholy that had settled over the now-divided Company, as they hung their heads and trotted away, with some reluctance, into the cold, damp gloom.

  Chapter 20: Cos-domhain

  It took several days of careful going for Rogond, Gaelen, Belegund, and Fima to draw near the gates of Cós-domhain. They traveled along steep cliffs that rose straight up on both sides of a narrow footpath. There was no sign of activity anywhere.

  "It would seem that this path has been well-used on a time, yet I see no sign of any gate or entrance," said Belegund. "Are we there yet?"

  "No, my good Aridan," replied Fima. "But your concern is well taken. The eastern gates are difficult to find and nearly impossible to enter unless one knows the password. That password is well-known to me, do not fear!" Fima was obviously enjoying his role as trusted guide. They were approaching the underground realm from the east, where the way was little-known, rarely used, and kept in secret. The Great Gates on the western side were large, ornate and much easier to find, but they offered only limited access to the wonders within. Enemies would find little value in storming them. Fima laughed at Gaelen’s worried expression.

  "Don’t fear, little one. You are in safe hands! The realm of Cós- domhain is a bright and hospitable place. You will be welcome, as you are in my company. No servant of Darkness is allowed to enter. We have never been deceived by Wrothgar nor by any of his minions, though he has tried through all his long years to win us over to his will. For this reason, because we resisted, he hates us."

  "You’re in good company there," said Gaelen. "Wrothgar has always hated the Elàni. For many an age have we warred with him." "True enough," said Fima, "yet the Elàni have also formed partnerships with those who turned to the Darkness. My people never were favored with the presence of magic-users in our realms, and although we are thus considered less enlightened, it turned out to be a blessing in my opinion. Take Dardis, for example. He was perhaps the most beloved and skilled of all the Èolar, and my people still revere him. He wrought some of the most wondrous things ever seen in Alterra—mirrors that could see the truth and tell enemy from friend, magical rings and blades, and even a shield that was said to be able to turn back the very fires of Wrothgar. He learned this craft from no less than three Asari. There was Léiras, the far-sighted, Baelta the bright, and Lord Kotos, whose name means power. Dardis was the maker of what has become the most powerful magical object known in Alterra, and that, of course, is the Stone of Léir. But Dardis was deceived by Kotos, and unwittingly by Baelta—only too late did he discover it. All of the Èolar were taken in, for they trusted the magic-users."

  Fima shook his head. "The desire to know all things was the curse of the Èolar, and it was also the thing that doomed several of the Asari to Darkness. They were lured to Wrothgar with promises of answers to all mysteries, and once ensnared they could not escape. It is thought that Kotos alone survives among the Dark Asari, and he has lost much of his power, yet he is still a terrible and dangerous enemy. Dardis discovered the treachery of Kotos, and for that Kotos killed him. My people wept at his passing and never since have maintained friendship with the Elves, which is a pity. The downfall of the Èolar was a time of great sorrow."

  Gaelen knew that Fima was well over two hundred years old, but not remotely old enough to have known many of the Èolar save those remaining in Monadh-talam. Still, she could not help but ask what he knew of the High Kings.

  "Ah! Now THERE was an interesting and noble collection of Elves. There were only four, and all came to spectacular but bad endings." Fima could not conceal his admiration. "Yes, if you’re going to throw your life away, do it with style. They didn’t seem to have any sense of their own limits. Most notably so, of course, was Aincor Fire-heart. It was said that once he decided upon a course of action, nothing would sway him. Aincor was said to be of brilliant mind, but he allowed his passion to override his judgment one time too many, and as a result Wrothgar’s forces nearly prevailed. When Aincor was killed, his elder son, Asgar, refused the throne. Instead, he supported his cousin, Aldamar of the Èolar."

  "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, y
our 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.