by C S Marks
The scornful words of Gelmyr echoed in his mind, tormenting him. In addition, he had been humiliated by Gaelen, after she had cut the mirror free. Though she had barely enough strength left to speak, he sensed her smiling at him as he backed away, crying out in pain, right hand grasping his left wrist.
"You said that Belegund whimpered like a child at the end, didn’t you? Did he sound half as pitiful as you do right now? I think not!" Then she had crawled back from him and closed her eyes, effectively blinding him.
How had things come so far awry? He had been deceived, and the Elves had won the night, though they paid a terrible price for their victory. And now Gorgon himself would have to pay the price of disappointing Wrothgar and leading his fearsome force to disaster.
Deep in the fortress of Tûr Dorcha, the Shadowmancer surely awaited Gorgon’s return. He would eventually learn of the deception of the Elves, but would not know what had befallen Gorgon for a long time after. If Gorgon escaped Ri-Aruin’s net, and survived, it would then be up to the Black Flame to decide the fate of his Dark Child. Gorgon knew that whatever else befell, he would have to face this fate, and the thought terrified him.
For a moment he considered engaging Rogond and Galador, effectively taking his own life, for he could not prevail in his blind, one-handed state. At least then he would not have to face the wrath of Wrothgar, and he might accomplish at least one of their deaths, for he would fight like the wounded animal he was. But in the end, he could not face the thought of any Elf accomplishing his end, and so he continued, hoping against all reason that he would be able to find his intended hiding place before Galador and Rogond could reach him.
The warm, moist air that had borne the rain with it had spawned a thick mist that seemed to hang all about the ravine and was especially dense near the floor, where Rogond and Galador tracked Gorgon relentlessly. Far above them, Gorgon could not see the mist, but he could feel it. He rejoiced in his dark heart, for he knew that it would conceal him. The Tuathan and the tall Elf would never find him if he could only reach his goal…and here it was.
Weeks ago he had found this place, when the words of Gelmyr had brought to his mind the vivid image of being murdered by one of his own Ulcas in the dark of night. He had decided then to find a secret place in which he could rest undisturbed, and none of his minions had known of it. He searched with the fingers of his right hand and located the cleft in the rocks, barely large enough for him to slip through. But slip through he did, and he sat upon the cool, damp stone inside the narrow cavern, tears of pain still glistening on his dark, scarred face. He roused himself for one final effort, and groping blindly he found what he was seeking—a stone large enough to block the entrance so that it could not be seen.
Rogond looked up at Galador, who was shaking his head in frustration. "He has not left us much to go on, has he, my friend?" "Indeed not. For such a large being he can be incredibly light- footed. And now we must contend with this mist, which makes tracking nearly impossible even when there is sign to find. I fear we may have lost him."
Rogond’s shoulders dropped as he spoke, for he was dispirited. He did not wish to disappoint Gaelen, but his hope of finding Gorgon was fading.
Galador reassured him. "Don’t be dismayed. The people of Ri- Aruin are many and vigilant. Gorgon will not escape their nets. Have hope in your heart, for we have only to await the news that he has fallen to them. Do not fear. Gaelen will understand; she knows what it is to lose his trail."
"If only the wind moved in our favor! I might track him by scent," said Rogond, who was not yet ready to give up the chase.
Galador peered into the mist, clearly uneasy. The thought of an enraged, wounded Gorgon leaping upon them from a place of concealment was unsettling.
"I am not comfortable with this; he could so easily come on us unaware. And though I believe we could prevail, he might inflict grievous hurt on at least one of us. Are you sure that you can find no sign?
Rogond rose to his feet and shook his head. This left them with little choice, as Galador knew that Rogond was an accomplished tracker. If he could find no sign, then there was none to find. Gorgon had eluded them for now, and there was nothing to do but return to Gaelen and Nelwyn. Though he despaired at having to tell Gaelen that Gorgon still walked free, Rogond brightened a little as he remembered that he could also inform her that her dear friend Fima still lived. He was looking forward to that moment very much indeed.
Kharsh despaired as he cowered among the rocks, hoping not to be noticed. The Wood-elves had arrived and routed what remained of Gorgon’s forces utterly. Now Kharsh hoped for escape, but he knew in his old, dark heart that this was unlikely. He had survived many battles in his long life, but never before had he faced the wrath of the Shadowmancer, and he wondered whether it might be better to face death here, where the Elves would take his life quickly. It could have been worse, he thought. Gorgon’s methods for dealing with captured enemies, for example, were far less merciful. The Elves did not take captives; they would simply dispatch him with efficiency and add his carcass to the large pile they had amassed in the center of the plateau. The smoke from the fire set to the pile of dead Ulcas might even be seen as far away as Tûr Dorcha, but Kharsh doubted it. Still, the Shadowmancer had many ways of gathering information, and He was probably already aware of the disastrous outcome of the battle.
Kharsh wondered, for a moment, what had befallen Gorgon. His powerful commander probably would not escape the fate the Elves had planned for him, and that was well, for Kharsh knew that Wrothgar would not have treated His wayward creation kindly; not after a failure of this magnitude. Kharsh’s ugly, grey face twisted into an expression of resolve, and he drew a final, deep breath as he prepared to charge, a battle-cry on his lips, his curved scimitar in hand. He would end his life as a fearsome warrior, not cringing before the Shadowmancer. He managed to send three of the surprised Elves to their deaths before they took him down.
Gaelen had been taken to the place where the wounded were tended, and Nelwyn had stayed by her side, for Gaelen was exhausted, and did not stir. Galador and Rogond returned not long after with the somewhat disappointing news that they had lost Gorgon’s trail, and though they all knew Gaelen would be disheartened, they also knew that she would understand. Ri-Aruin’s folk would surely find him; he was blind, wounded, and fairly helpless. Yet he was still crafty enough to elude them, and would be dangerous if cornered. The Elves had best be very, very cautious.
Rogond looked down upon his beloved, who appeared to be at peace for the first time in a long reckoning. She was free of the mirror now, and much of the burden had been lifted from her. The taste of her vengeance had been painful, but sweet. Rogond stroked her hair with a gentle hand as the healers tended her, and then he went in search of Fima.
The old dwarf was giving the healers some trouble, as he was simply bursting with the desire for news and would not remain quiet. He was still a bit muddled and could not yet stand on his legs, but Rogond noticed that his eyes were bright in his lined face.
"What news, Rogond? What of Gaelen and the enemy? You must tell me, for otherwise I cannot rest. Where is our little Wood-elf ?" He closed his eyes, for the effort of such an outburst had wearied him.
Rogond sat beside him. "She is being tended…she fought Gorgon in single combat and managed to cut off his left hand…and the mirror with it! He was clutching it for some reason. I have it here." He drew forth the wrapped hand as Fima beheld it in wonderment. "Hmmm…it must be that he wanted to see himself through Gaelen’s eyes—how very morbid! A terrible sight it must have been…I trust it was worth it to him. She still managed to fight him off by herself!" He shook his head. "She is incredibly quick and fairly strong of late; still, he could surely have killed her quickly, but for his own pride and twisted curiosity." He paused, looking sidelong at Rogond. "Both curses of his Elven heritage, you know. Ever have pride and curiosity been the downfall of the Elàni. But now we have the mirror, and so she is free of it. P
lease tell me that she used my axe to accomplish her victory—I noticed it was missing."
"She did, Master Fima," Rogond chuckled. "And you will be happy to hear that it has been recovered. I wondered why she had shown such an interest in learning the use of it of late. A good thing she did, otherwise she would not have prevailed. Her strength was completely spent."
Fima grew solemn as Rogond then described the events that followed, including the lighting of the maglos. The dwarf would not rest until Rogond had taken him to see Gaelen, who still had not stirred; it would be nearly a day and a night before she would regain her senses.
Fima sat by her side, chanting softly in the dwarf-tongue for nearly an hour before returning to his place of healing, where he rested at last. Rogond had assured him that Gorgon would be brought to bay by the folk of Ri-Aruin, even as he prayed it would be so.
Rogond, Fima, and Gaelen would not be the only ones who would be disappointed should Gorgon evade them. Wellyn, son of Ri-Aruin, requested that Rogond be brought to his side as he lay with the rest of the wounded. He was still weak, but would heal quickly, for the ancient lines ran strong within him. He was relieved to learn of the recovery of the mirror.
"So, she is free. That is well, for I don’t know how much longer she could have borne that burden," he said, looking earnestly at Rogond. "And what of the remainder of the Company?"
Rogond then recounted the fate of the travelers. Thorndil, Nelwyn, and Galador had survived with only minor wounds. Fima and Gaelen would require healing, but they would recover quickly, for both were made of strong fiber. Only Amandir and Oriana had left them forever. Wellyn turned his pale face away for a moment, an expression of sorrow in his eyes.
"Tuathan, you must come and tell me when the creature has been found and slain. Will you do that for me?"
Rogond nodded. "Of course I will, but I will leave you to rest now, son of Ri-Aruin. I must see to Gaelen, for when she awakens I would be beside her, even though she will not be able to see my face. Rest well, my friend."
Wellyn nodded and closed his eyes. By the time Rogond had risen from beside him and turned to leave, he was asleep. Regrettably, though Rogond had promised to inform Wellyn of the slaying of Gorgon Elfhunter, he never did so, for Ri-Aruin’s folk found no trace of him, and they did not know whether he was alive or dead.
As soon as they were strong enough, the wounded were taken back to the Woodland stronghold along with the bodies of the dead. All who had died would be borne with honor, for they had fought valiantly in defense of their homes. Gaelen had given Turantil back to Halrodin’s kin, who had stormed the hill with Ri-Aruin. They took the sword reverently as Gaelen wept, partly in lingering grief for the loss of her friend, but mostly with relief that the quest to recover Turantil was finally achieved. She had taken the news that Gorgon had eluded capture surprisingly well. Rogond held her to him, expecting her to weep in frustration, yet she merely sighed and shook her head. She alone knew of the involvement of the Shadowmancer, and that at the last Gorgon had been directed by a power whose evil was vastly deeper than his own. She had sensed Gorgon’s fear of Wrothgar when he had first approached the archers on the hill, and, like Kharsh, she thought death in battle might have been preferable.
The King himself escorted Gaelen, Wellyn, and the rest of the Company as they traveled back through the forest under heavy guard. He had been quite impressed with his two hunter-scouts and had given each of them a gift. To Nelwyn he gave a beautiful emerald ring, and he presented Gaelen with a fine new set of knives, for hers had been notched in the battle and had lost their perfect throwing-balance. "I would wait, Gaelen, until your sight returns before you try them out, however," he said in a deadly serious tone that did not quite conceal the humor behind it.
He drew Rogond aside. "Aridan, you must not be discouraged. Though the creature has not yet fallen, I have little doubt that he is at least weakened to the point that he will not emerge for a long while. Our people are now aware of him, and they will hunt him throughout the lands of Alterra. His power is broken. Your plan was a successful one."
Rogond bowed in respect as he walked beside the King. "I still would have seen his head on a spike, my lord," he muttered under his breath.
Ri-Aruin placed a hand upon his arm. "Stop for a moment and face me," he said gently. "My son has told me much of your heart, Tuathan, at least as he perceives it. I know that I have not welcomed your attentions to Gaelen, for it is not our custom to welcome such unions. However, my son has also informed me that our hunter- scout’s heart is closed to Elven-kind and that it will never again be given but to one such as yourself. It is ironic, as I have spent considerable effort keeping her from Wellyn, for I approved even less of a union between Gaelen and my son. It seems I need not have feared. Our worthy Nelwyn has told me that you possess a stone, a gift from the Lady of the Lake. Do you have it with you?"
"Yes, my lord, I carry it always, though it is very small and I am ever-fearful of losing it." Rogond drew forth the stone and handed it to the King, who examined it closely.
"Interesting," said he. "When we return to our stronghold, we will set this in gold for you, that you might never be fearful of losing it. It shall be our gift to you for your aid."
Rogond started to say that, though Ri-Aruin was generous, he needed no thanks from him, but the King held up his hand, and Rogond was silent. "It shall also be a symbol of our acceptance and blessing of the friendship between you and our hunter-scout. Perhaps this will please you?"
Rogond smiled. "The potential fate of that friendship is uncertain, my lord. Yet I welcome your blessing."
"My son has said that her heart was given long ago, yet he does not know the identity of her beloved. I would know of it, if you can enlighten me. I give my word to guard the secret well."
Rogond considered for a moment. It was really not his place to reveal Gaelen’s past to anyone, not even the Elven-king. Yet, he thought, it might ease Ri-Aruin’s mind, and he knew that the King would be true to his word. He nodded, then reached deep under his tunic and drew forth the banner of Ri-Elathan. The King’s eyes grew wide as he beheld it. Rogond smiled a sort of wry smile, and Ri-Aruin drew in a sharp breath, then a moment later his solemn face brightened, and he threw his head back and laughed aloud.
"And I thought she was unworthy of the Prince of the Greatwood Realm! This has been a bit humbling, my friend Rogond. Ah, well, it is said that the Èolar were sometimes lacking in common sense. I shall view her somewhat differently after this day." He smiled at Rogond, who chuckled and shook his head, then grew serious.
"You should view her differently, my lord, but for that which she has accomplished, not because she was chosen by the High King. She has earned your respect, I believe."
Ri-Aruin bowed. "She and Nelwyn have ever had it, Rogond. Yet I still did not want Wellyn consorting with her. Forgive a father’s protectiveness of his son."
"Somehow, I do not believe Wellyn would need protection from Gaelen," said Rogond.
The King favored him with another laugh. "Some day, you may find out, Rogond. For now, I shall hope for your happiness. You are ever the friend of Ri-Aruin." With that, he turned and went to see to other matters.
Eros was healing quickly, as well. Rogond led him slowly and carefully, and each night he poulticed Eros’ legs with clay, patting him and giving him extra feed.
"For once I believe your spoiling him is justified. What an incredible effort he made! Never has there been a more loyal animal upon feet," said Galador, as Nelwyn nodded in agreement.
Rogond smiled as he walked beside Gaelen, who rode upon her trustworthy Siva, with Fima, as ever, sitting before her. Rogond still did not have Gaelen’s answer to his proposal of love, but he would remain beside her, protecting and loving her, for as long as she would have him. The mirror had been given into the care of Lore-master Fima until it could be taken to Mountain-home, where Lady Ordath herself would look after it.
Gorgon would not dare to emerge fr
om his underground sanctuary for many weeks, as the Wood-elves were still searching for him. They turned over every stone, but did not find the hidden way into the cliff-side. More rains had removed what little sign there was of his passing, and he made no sound as he lay alone in the dark. He was still unable to see, though his eyes were undamaged, and still unable to close his eyes for fear of the light of the maglos exploding in his mind. He tried for many days and nights to hold on to his sanity, but in the end the voice of Gelmyr prevailed.
I shall be with you always, Gorgon Elfhunter, for you are vanquished. You have succeeded only in earning the wrath of the Dark Power. Your evasion of the Wood-elves is but a temporary reprieve from your fate at His hands. I expect He doubts now the wisdom of your creation, for you have proven to be a worthless bungler. You have lost the mirror of Dardis, and it is now in the hands of the Elves. I must admit, even I did not expect such a spectacular failure! He laughed at Gorgon then, and his laughter was both loud and long.
Finally, thirst drove Gorgon to remove the huge stone that both blocked and concealed the entrance to his lair. He did not yet know what his course would be, or what his fate would hold. He had been changed forever, and his tortured spirit would seek in vain to regain its purpose. He had thought that there was little to consider in his dark life beyond the hating and slaying of the Elàni, but his connection with Gaelen had shown otherwise.