Logan had been watching Le’land from the moment he stepped from the forest. All of his instincts told him that the young Elf brought trouble. When Le’land released his arrow, Logan had expected it. Faster than the eye could follow, Logan’s hand snapped out toward the arrow. The extra inches in his arm had made the impossible grab, possible. He’d caught the arrow mid-flight, spinning with it to allow it to bleed off some of its momentum before coming to a rest facing the archer.
For several moments none of these actions registered to Le’land. He stared in disbelief, first at the realization that he’d shot at his commander, then at the angry mountain troll with the massive war club glaring back at him uninjured. His startled gaze took in the severed bowstring as the weapon explosively released its tension and as he tried to flinch away from the damaged weapon he found himself unable to move. His overwhelmed brain tried to make sense of the situation. There was no wind to speak of in the clearing and the range wasn’t great, his arrow had flown true. The commander had stepped into its path, moving so fast that it seemed like the arrow had been intended for him. Why then wasn’t the Elf dead? Why was he still standing there glaring at him? Then, another thought registered, that other blur. What had that been?
Le’land moved his gaze from Lan’thor and the mountain troll to the man standing beside them. With a start he realized the strange, short man was staring coldly at him, tapping the shaft of Le’land’s arrow against the palm of his hand. The man’s icy gaze sent an involuntary shiver down Le’land’s spine and a moment of true fear passed through him.
The moment was broken by Lan’thor’s bellowing voice. At Lan’thor’s command, one of the veterans stepped over and yanked the bow from Le’land’s still unmoving hands. Le’land noted that his fellow warriors now had their weapons trained on him, their faces inscrutable as they levelled their watchful gazes on him. He also found that he was able to move again. Whatever had been done to hold him in place had been removed.
Seeing the young warrior without his bow and clearly under guard, Lan’thor allowed himself to relax.
“Everyone stand down, but keep an eye on him,” ordered Lan. “I don’t want anymore nonsense.”
With a last glance to ensure that no additional trouble was brewing, Lan turned to greet his big friend.
“Smash, I’m sorry.”
He never got further as Smash swept the tall Elf into a massive bear hug.
El couldn’t help but smile at the expression on Lan’thor face as the big man lifted him off the ground in the crushing embrace. She actually laughed out loud when, after returning Lan to the ground, the big man swept Raeth up and repeated the gesture. The assassin did not look at all impressed at the treatment, but was tolerant of her friend’s exuberant greeting. El was pretty certain that she saw a touch of a smile crinkle at the corners of the assassin’s eyes.
Standing as she was in the middle distance between Lan’thor and his warriors, El found that she was close enough to hear the murmurs of curiosity from Lan’thor’s warriors. She guessed that Lan was probably a bit too far away, and possibly a bit too pre-occupied, for even his sensitive ears to hear what was being said, which was probably just as well when she heard what the guarded Elf was muttering under his breath. She couldn’t make out all of it, but the word “traitor” managed to come through.
Picking Fights
El’dreathia turned to glare at the boy but she realized, with a sense of dread, that she hadn’t been the only one to hear the boy’s nonsense. With ears even more sensitive than an Elf’s superior hearing, Logan had caught every word out of the young Elf’s mouth. Washing against her mind like an angry sea, she felt Logan’s anger flowing as he moved.
Logan! she called directly into his mind.
He wasn’t blocking her so she knew that he heard her, but hearing and listening were not the same thing. Logan didn’t give any indication that he’d even heard her call, not even a look in her direction. He just moved at a slow and steady march toward the Elfin warrior.
Oh, gods, El thought to herself. This isn’t going to be good.
Briefly, she entertained the thought of stepping between Logan and the young Elf as she had with Ar’n’tor.
Don’t!
Logan’s thought came before she’d even fully completed her thought, before she had time to act. El sighed in frustration and crossed her arms in protest, glaring at his back as he continued forward.
Boys! You’re all just a bunch of silly, over-sensitive boys!
Again, she got absolutely no response from Logan, but then, this time she hadn’t really expected one. With a sigh of exasperation, she looked toward the foolish Elf who had started everything. She could see that he, along with the warriors guarding him, had finally noticed Logan moving toward them. She could see the uncertainty in their eyes and she muttered a prayer to the gods that the young Elf would just shut up and not make things worse.
“What’s your problem, you runty freak?” blustered Le’land.
Perfect, thought El, just perfect!
“Thank you ever so much!” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she muttered her words to the heavens.
Le’land’s words had been loud enough to ensure that everyone was now aware of Logan’s approach. The veteran warriors were shifting nervously as they cast glances between their young comrade and the man approaching him. They were unsure what, if any, action to take. They had all heard Le’land’s comments about the commander and they all agreed that Le’land was out of line. Even if he had legitimate concerns about Lan’thor’s leadership, there were some things you did not do in front of others. There were definitely some things you did not do in front of potentially hostile non-elves. To make matters more confused, they all understood and respected the shorter man’s position. You defended the honour of your friends. That was just the way of things. But, in the end, it came down to two simple facts. One, Le’land was under their guard and therefore their protection until their commander said otherwise. And two, he was an Elf and a comrade in arms, a young and foolish one admittedly, but an Elf and a comrade all the same.
Two of the Elfin warriors stepped between Logan and their young charge hoping to act as a barrier to the escalating situation. They looked nervously at each other and then towards Lan’thor for guidance.
The commander was facing them and he held their gazes for a moment. It was clear that he realized what was going on. He saw their hands tightening on their weapons and gave a slight shake of his head. These Elves were veterans, and that slight shake of the head was an order from their commander. A slight wave of his hand made it clear to them that Lan’thor wanted them to let things play out. With the experience that comes from many seasons as warriors they understood and they listened. Moving away so they were no longer a physical barrier, the two Elves stood to the side with their comrades, offering more room should things get physical. The veterans relaxed, secure in their orders and intrigued about the show about to begin before them.
Le’land had noticed none of this exchange. He was still caught up in throwing taunts and insults at Logan as he approached. Logan came to a halt just a few steps in front of the young Elf. He stared up into the youth’s eyes and the young Elf tried to meet his gaze. Despite his discomfort, Le’land’s pride would not let him look away.
Gods, Logan thought. Was I ever this stupid?
What do you mean was?
The deep rumbling voice that sounded sarcastically inside his head made Logan pause. For a moment it was all he could do to stop the smile from touching his lips.
So, you’re still in there are you? he thought back. I thought you’d gotten bored and left.
Funny the voice came with even more sarcasm. Again, Logan had to fight not to smile.
I prefer to keep an eye on you, continued Hephaestus. You have a habit of doing the unexpected and getting yourself into trouble when I’m not watching. Nice catch by the way!
Thank you.
Logan! I can’t get a clear sens
e of you right now, interrupted El. Are you talking to someone in there?
Hephaestus! he thought back before focusing his attention back on the blacksmith god.
So, what are you going to do with the boy? asked the god.
What does he want? came El’s thought.
Right, thought Logan, the boy.
Refocusing on the task at hand, Logan was thankful that the conversation in his head occurred at the speed of thought. Le’land, meanwhile, was still trying to hold Logan’s gaze.
Well? asked Hephaestus.
Logan? asked El.
Okay, quiet you two! Logan thought to both of them. Gods, his head was starting to feel very crowded.
Logan allowed his gaze to become flat and cold as he stared at the young Elfin warrior before him. Logan knew the boy needed to be taught a lesson before he got himself or someone else hurt or worse. But then, that wasn’t really his job. Lan’thor was his commander and Lan’thor should be the one to deal with this.
Oh, well! Logan thought to himself. Lan can have the clean up.
“You dropped this,” announced Logan flatly as he held out the arrow to the young Elf.
Le’land quickly reached out to catch the shaft as Logan dropped it. Logan had to admit he was proud of himself for not adding ‘boy’ to the end of that sentence. He was pretty sure that it wouldn’t have gone over at all well, and besides, the way Elves aged this ‘boy’ may well be several decades older than he was. Logan held Le’land’s gaze a moment longer, the young Elf squirming under it, before he finally turned to go.
Le’Land found himself staring down at the back of the shorter man’s head. Fear warred with humiliation and his ears still burned at the man’s condescending tone.
How dare he speak to me? Le’land thought. How dare he use that tone! I’m an Elfin warrior! An elite fighter! This man isn’t even an Elf. Hades, he doesn’t even look all that human. Le’land’s cheeks flushed to match his ears. How dare some half-breed pull such an attitude with me?
The moment that Le’Land’s fingers made contact with Logan’s shoulder, Logan was in motion. Spinning back, his long arm looped around and caught the taller Elf in an arm bar that locked his elbow painfully. Le’land didn’t have time to react as Logan’s other hand, aided by his deceptively long reach, caught him by the neck and wrenched him downwards. Logan pulled the Elfin warrior off balance as he held him close. Le’land found himself inches from the other man’s face, staring eye to eye. The shiver of fear he had tried so hard to suppress earlier was back. The man’s voice was like ice as he spoke, the words coming so softly that Le’land couldn’t be sure that any of the others had heard them.
“Don’t make me kill you, boy!”
Then as quickly as it happened, Le’land found himself released, staggering to keep his balance and staring at the short man’s retreating back. The other surrounding warriors, stunned by the speed of the exchange, also stared at the retreating man.
El watched Logan as he walked toward her. His face betrayed nothing of his mood at the moment, but his eyes never left hers.
What did you think? he thought back to her. That I was going to kill him for calling Lan names? You should have a bit more faith in me, El.
Logan continued past her towards his forge. El frowned slightly, still put out that he had told her to be quiet and now more than a little miffed at his tone. He was right of course, which didn’t help at all. She did need to have more faith in Logan. Apparently, their previous encounter with Ar’n’tor and his crew had left more of an impression on her than she’d thought. She was far more nervous and edgy than she should have been.
Life Lessons and Threats
El and Tanel insisted that Lan’thor and Raeth get the spare room in the house rather than camp at the forest’s edge with the rest of their group. Raeth quickly made herself at home, but Lan found that the duties of being a commander never seemed to end. He spent the majority of his time, at least initially, with his warriors as they got their camp together. Not that it actually took all that long as the warriors were all experienced soldiers and woodsmen and quickly got things organized. No, for Lan, it was about bonding with his warriors, showing them that he was with them and not someone detached and apart. He made his rounds, ensuring they all had adequate space and provisions, using that excuse to chat amiably with them.
When the Elves were finished and the camp was set, Lan’thor sent them to collect additional wood for the evening’s bonfire, again, a necessary job, but also a way to ensure that everyone was kept busy with something. Conveniently, this also gave Lan’thor a great opportunity to have a private, little chat with Le’land. The Elf had been given the freedom to set his own camp, but his longbow and quiver had not been returned. He had caused a ridiculous amount of trouble earlier in the day, and it had nearly had tragic consequences for everyone, and that wasn’t something that was just forgotten. Things needed to be dealt with and Lan hoped it could be done quietly and painlessly, but much of that would be up to the headstrong young Elf.
With a sign to the young warrior, Lan’thor led the way into the forest. Covering ground quickly and silently, they were soon a good distance from the homestead collecting fallen branches and tinder.
“So,” Lan’thor began. “How are you after your encounter with Logan?”
Silence greeted his question, but Lan was willing to wait allowing the silence to draw out. Finally after several minutes a response came.
“Fine.”
Lan stopped his work for a moment and gave his companion a tight smile.
“I warned all of you not to underestimate him and not to do anything to offend him,” Lan began. “Somehow, you took that to mean go out of your way to insult him and be as big an ass as possible in the process? And that’s not even touching on that nonsense you pulled with the arrow. Disobeying a direct order! I should have you imprisoned, or at least have you thrown out of the warrior clan for that, by the way.”
“I explained that,” Le’land stammered. “My arrow was already notched, the others’ weren’t. It had left my bow before your order came.”
The young Elf looked sullen and Lan’thor studied him with a slight frown making sure that Le’land knew he wasn’t buying it, before shaking his head.
“Alright, I’ll take your word for that and pray that I’m not making a horrible mistake. We’ll let it serve as a lesson. Always know the situation before you react. You’ll live longer.”
They worked in silence for a few more minutes.
“This should be enough, let’s head back.”
Silence held for the first few minutes of the walk back as both Elves surrendered to their own contemplations. Lan had to admit that he had a soft spot for the boy. He was young, brash and pig-headed and reminded him more than a little of himself when he had first met Logan. Could it really have only been a little over two years? It seemed so much longer. That had been an encounter that left both of them pained and injured, but had also been the beginning of their friendship and their mutual respect for each other. Le’land was still very young and he desperately needed to grow up, but the potential was there. Lan could only hope the young Elf would grow into that potential.
“You know he suckered me,” the young Elf finally announced in a voice that sounded like little more than a pout.
It took all Lan’thor had not to break out laughing at the boy. Instead he simply shook his head.
“You know, that was exactly what I told myself the first time I got on the wrong side of him,” Lan paused for a moment, reliving the memory. “But, you know, I was wrong, too.”
Le’land stared hard at him for a moment before finally dropping his gaze. Lan sighed slightly before continuing.
“And if you ever call me a traitor again Le’land, it’ll be more than just your pride that gets hurt.”
Le’land glanced up, startled.
“Oh yes!” Lan said with a feral smile. “I have much better hearing than you think I do!”
; The rest of the walk back to camp was silent.
Tales By The Campfire
The moon had been up for several hours and the bonfire blazed in the night. The older warriors followed their commander’s example and relaxed in the company of the companions. They shared stories easily as they shared their wine. Lan’thor shared some of the companions’ adventures and the Elfin warriors were pleasantly surprised to learn that Logan and Tanel’s father had been Hagar Hammersmith. Like Lean’thor, Lan’s own father, many of these older warriors had fought alongside the big smith in the Elf-Troll wars, and they were soon regaling Logan and Tanel with tales of their father’s escapades.
Smash quietly excused himself. The big man understood that both Tanel and Logan needed these stories about their father as they offered a link to something that had been brutally taken away from them. Unfortunately, the stories didn’t exactly portray the Trollish people in the kindest light. Not that the stories were inaccurate, far from it. In fact, it was the accuracy of the stories, the brutality of his own people that made the stories all the harder to bear. They showed the Trolls as a violent, aggressive group of savages that thrived on the suffering and pain of others. And honestly, Smash couldn’t deny that that was exactly what they were.
The time of the Elf-Troll war had been a particularly nasty one, even by Trollish histories. Something akin to insanity had seized his people. Collectively, they felt that they had been trapped in the plateaus of the mountain range known as the Spine of the World by the fairer races – the humans and especially the Elves. This insanity spread throughout the different tribes, like some strange disease of unknown origin, it enflamed the blood, pushing an already violent and volatile people to their breaking point and beyond. Finally, the war parties moved south, angry Trolls butchering and killing as they went. Before long, the lowlands that led into the Spine ran red with the blood of many different races. And still the Trolls were not satisfied. Their insanity pushed them to the very edge of the Great Southern Forest. It was there they encountered the Elves. Ancient hatreds ran high between both races and when the two met in battle neither side gave quarter. Their battles were bloody. Elves smashed to pulp by Trollish clubs, Trolls burned to death by Elfin magic. The death toll on both sides was staggering. The magic gave the fairer race the advantage in combat, but the Elves were a dying people, and though very long lived, they had few young. The Trolls, a much shorter-lived race, produced offspring faster and had many more warriors on which to draw. As the war dragged on, first into months and then into years, the Elves realized that they were facing their own annihilation. Yes, they might eventually defeat the Trolls, but the cost would be too great. What use was victory, if all your people were dead? And so, they did what none thought the Elves would ever do. They asked for help.
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