by Dave Gordon
Abbair considered the matter. “Rents have risen dramatically since you left. Our new-found wealth has made us a popular place. We can pick and choose who we want. Since Van is the inventor of food processor alcohol, we can hold a place for him. Could you two stay together?” Abbair asked Van.
“We've been on a ship together for a long time. I've only bled a few times,” Van said with a sly look at the fuming Siln.
Abbair said. “I am going to name you Lord Ellen. As a lord, you are under my protection. But, what you do reflects on me so don't screw it up,” he said looking at Siln.
They walked back outside to be met by a huge crowd. The crowd erupted into applause when they appeared. Abbair held out his hand to silence the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, lords and dames, it is with true honor and pleasure that I introduce to you the inventor of food predecessor alcohol, Lord Ellen.”
The announcement sent the crowd into wild cheering. Chants of long live Lord Ellen, and hail, hail ran through the crowd. Van was stupefied. Abbair leaned over to him and said, “Smile and wave.”
Van gave a small wave and the crowd erupted again. Abbair said to Van, “Stay close to me.” Abbair caught the eye of one of his attendants and made a circular motion. Ten people immediately ran up the steps to encircle them. They began walking through the crowd as a unit. The people were frantic to see or touch Van. He played along and touched as many hands as he could. The knot of people that encircled Abbair, Van, and Siln made their way slowly to a door set in rock. The three of them were pushed inside and the door was slammed shut. The attendants blocked the door and the two windows, while outside the chants and cheers continued unabated.
Abbair plopped down in a chair. “Good grief,” he said laughing and fanning his face. “I hope you don't want my job, you are much more popular than I am.”
“How long is that going to last?” Siln asked.
“Probably until dinner time. They'll get tired of it eventually. You are going to be mobbed where ever you go, though. I'll leave you three people. Van, you shouldn't go out without Siln. Let her do the talking for you. Siln, your first few outings are going to be more of an audience than anything else. Order your food in. I will take it on faith that you are well able to pay. Siln, you need a title. You can't be a dame because you aren't married. You could be a consort, but that implies an intimate relationship. You could be Lady During, that has a nice ring, but it sounds like you lounge around all day counting unicorns. Maybe chamberlain. You know what that is?” Van and Siln looked at Abbair blankly. “A chamberlain is the chief officer of a nobleman's estate. That fits pretty well. What do you think?”
Siln was kind of partial to Lady During because it sounded so refined, but she could never pull off refined. Chamberlain During was the ticket. “Let's go with chamberlain,” she said to Abbair.
“Alright then,” he said as he rose. “Lord Ellen, Chamberlain During, I bid you farewell.” As he began to open the door he said, “Don't go out for a few hours.” When the door opened, a tremendous cheer arose and quickly died. Abbair spoke to the crowd but they couldn't hear what he said. Something like they are tired from their long trip and many trials, blah, blah. The windows were still blocked by Abbair's men.
Siln realized in shock that the apartment she was in was huge. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a closet, and a sitting room. Most apartments were a single small room.
“I think you should call me Sir,” Van said strutting around the sitting room all puffed up.
“Oh, you are going to be big stuff now that you're famous, aren't you?”
“Yes,” Van said with a flourish.
“Well, remember this, Lord Ellen. You are famous in the Dives. This is a place where the best thing you can be is invisible and instead, you are a hero. That makes you a target and they have to go through me to get to you. So, all I can say is thanks a lot for being not just an asshole, but the biggest, the most famous as hole of them all.”
Van stuck his hand inside his shirt and said, “You are very welcome,” and continued to strut about.
They slept in the same bed that night which was not uncomfortable since their relationship was platonic in the extreme. They were like family. They undressed in front of each other without a thought. They fought without holding a grudge. They could say anything to each other and often did. Three days later Van said, “I have got to get out of here.”
“I thought you were never going to say so,” said Siln.
“What? Are you shy now? You don't want to tell me we're going outside?” Van teased.
“It's you that's going to get torn to pieces by your fans. Hail Lord Ellen is going to become a hail of Lord Ellen,” Siln said, laughing at her own joke before she could get the words out.
They were still bantering as they opened the door. A small crowd of people shouted “Hail Lord Ellen” over and over. The rest of the court was drawn by the noise. A crowd rushed over to get a glimpse. The three men guarding them were entirely overwhelmed. The crowd surged around him and Siln. A woman patted him on the head, asking for his blessing. One woman even tried to get her infant in front of him for a blessing. He finally pushed his way over to a table and got on top of it while Abbair's men tried to restore order.
Van held his hands out and shouted “Good people of New Bedlam.” He reached down and pulled Siln up onto the table. “It is with great humility and appreciation that Chamberlain During and I give our thanks for the most gracious welcome you have given us.” The crowd roared. “I thank you sincerely and now hope you will accept our thanks and return to those most crucial tasks you perform. It would be a sadness to us if our presence were to cause a disruption to this wonderful place you have built. I am your servant.” He bowed low as the crowd applauded and cheered. When the excitement had lessened a bit, he stepped of the table and offered Siln his hand.
Siln jumped off the table and said, “You are really taking this famous shit seriously, aren't you?”
“I was just trying to keep us from getting killed. Pretty good speech, huh?”
“You sounded like a damned politician. I wish they could see you drooling on the floor like I have.”
“I'm sure they'll get the chance,” Van said as Abbair walked up.
“Hey, good speech,” he said. “It said thanks for all the attention but enough is enough. Go back to work. I'm glad you did it.”
“They'll find something else to be excited about eventually.” Van said.
“I wouldn't count on it for awhile. These people need something to believe in. Right now they believe you are their savior. We need to have a feast in your honor before you go or everyone is going to be seriously disappointed. I don't like it when they get that way,” Abbair said with his eyebrows raised. “Let's plan on three weeks from now, it takes some time to get these things organized. We'll need the time to synthesize more alcohol and synth meal. You can announce you are leaving then.”
Van was about to answer but Siln cut him off. “Three weeks is okay, but we'll be leaving right after that. What about the idea that Van might not be returning?” she asked.
“I've been thinking about that. I think I'm going to frame it as a quest. They already think you are the White Knight. You are going on a dangerous quest in defense of your loyal Chamberlain. If Siln returns without you, it will be because you fell defending the honor of your friend and companion. Do you think you can handle that, Van?”
“I think so,” he said acutely aware that Siln had been left out of the decision. “What do you think, Siln?”
“I don't care what you say as long as we get out of here.” Siln walked away making her way through the still lingering crowd.
She walked without thinking about where she was going. The streets no longer felt menacing. Not at all like home, as bad as it had been. She didn't need her fear and anger anymore, it no longer protected her. The thought of losing that which had dominated her entire life left her empty. She felt tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of being mad. Why do I
feel this way? she wondered. She was in the lap of luxury, she had nothing to struggle against. She tried to find the root of it. A sour and foul emotion lay deep within her. The bitterness of it stung her eyes. She could taste the acrid, steely hate rising in her throat. Van had received the brunt of it. Why did she treat Van the way she had? She should be treating him as the savior he was. He had been nothing but kind and understanding to her even when she had been beating him. Why was she so mad? She sat on the curb and examined the question. She tried to look at the things that made her stomach knot and twist, made her face contort, made fists lash out. There was a lot there. A life of growing up in hell, constant fear and danger, the loss of the only loves she had ever known. A mother who had done the best she could, but often didn't have time to think of things such as, “I love you". Digging for scraps of food and often not finding them. She was still fighting even though there was nothing left to fight against. Why wasn't she happy? There was only one person to blame. She used to blame everything and everyone else, but now it all came down to her. The only thing making her unhappy was herself. The revelation stunned her and gave her a sudden jolt. She could not raise her baby with hate and anger in her heart. She had to change or she would poison her child with the same sickness that she carried inside. She had to make a change, make herself happy. She cleared her mind and thought I'm happy. It seemed foolish but then again she felt a little better. What about how she felt about herself. There was nothing beneath her, yet she had to find a way to climb above it. I am a happy, good person, she thought. Sure she was. Hadn't she taken care of Van for all this time? She started repeating those words to herself over and over. She felt them getting a toehold inside of her. She rose and walked back to the compound repeating that phrase over and over, believing it a little more each time. She walked back to their apartment, guards still at the door. She walked in to find Van reading a book.
“Look,” he said. “A real book.”
She walked over to him and pulled him to his feet. She held his hands and said, “You think I can be a happy, good person, don't you?”
Van had never see Siln the way she looked then. She had an earnest, almost desperate, look. “Of course I do. You are a wonderful person. I know you can be happy.”
She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Thank you. Thank you. I am going to be,” she said smiling. “I am going to be happy. Will you help?”
“Well of course I'll help. You want to hear a joke? How about this? A friend of mine said that he had met a man with a wooden leg named Sam. I said Oh, what was the name of his other leg?"
“Oh my God, that's the worst joke I ever heard,” she said, but couldn't help laughing. “Van,” she said seriously, “I have to be happy. I can't have my little girl and be the way I have been. I can't be angry all the time. I have to be happy.” But Van wasn't listening. Van was very far away.
* * * *
We have entered a stand of ancient trees. The bases of the tall fir trees are enormous, larger than I have ever imagined a tree could be. The bark is thick and weathered. It looks like the wrinkled skin of an immensely old person with long beards of moss hanging from the drooping limbs. The slight breeze fills the air with the playful sound of treetops swaying above. It is a sobering yet joyful sight. The air is heavy with the scent of the forest. Ty stiffens and the horse stops. I think she may have sensed a game animal, but she is not readying her bow. I dismount and go to her side. A contingent of armed elves emerges from behind the massive trees. They are armed with bows and short swords. The thought of an elf warrior wielding a sword is daunting. They approach casually, bows shouldered and swords sheathed. They are all dressed in the same manner as Ty. Not so much as a button's difference.
She is visibly nervous. I have never seen her like this. She has faced great danger with nary a frown. The foremost elf approaches her. They begin speaking in the elf tongue. Their voices merge as a single sound. The words string together with no spaces between. The rise and fall of their speech is like a boat upon the swells of the ocean. His tone is stern. Her replies subdued. He makes several pointed remarks. She hangs her head and speaks softly. They stand silent for long minutes. She speaks in my tongue.
“He is a fine man. He is of spotless character. He will ever strive to aid the elves in anyway he can. If I am not to pass, then allow him to enter.”
“No,” I shout in desperation. I lunge forward but she blocks me with an outstretched arm.
“He would rather risk death than be parted from you,” the foremost elf says. “That speaks well of his courage and character. His heart is true. He may pass. That you love each other cannot be denied. However, the pain and sorrow you have brought about is not small.”
I am shocked by the turn this meeting has taken. I don't know what the elf is talking about. The pain and sorrow Ty has brought about? How could my heavenly lover cause any grief? She is a blessing in full.
The lead elf relents. He lets out a deep sigh and says, “Still, it is but a minor sadness in the sea of troubles we have faced. You may enter.”
They turn and begin walking. Ty follows them. I look at the horse. She follows Ty. I am leaving my world of the common place for an unknown world of wonder. I step across the border. The forest is transformed immediately upon entering. The ferns shimmer and glisten. The trees that looked stately on the other side now loom as giants. Bird song fills the air with sweet, melodic trills. Brilliant mushrooms seem to spring to life even as we pass. I feel I am floating.
I don't know how long we walk, time seems to pass unmarked. We cross a river that runs clear and fast. Large fish leap out of the water. The ripples their landings create disappear quickly as they move downstream. The elves walk directly to the waters edge. Stone blocks just wide enough to stand upon rise to the surface. The elves file across the slender path while I am considering my impending drowning.
Ty looks back at me to say, “They won't let you fall.”
This did not seem a good time to debate the abilities of elves. I step out onto the shiny black rock and am surprised at how firm it feels. I take a few tenuous steps and then walk across the river. I walk perfectly at ease despite my feet being just inches from the racing water. I wonder if that is what its like to be an elf. Supported and steadied by those around you. I feel as though I cannot make a bad step. In this time I feel connected to the throng of elves just beyond. The memories of countless river crossings fill me with confidence. Even the horse follows peacefully.
We leave the river and rise up onto a broad meadow. I have never seen anything as beautiful in my life. The grass is not just green. It is the perfect ideal of green. It is the very definition of green. Butterflies of endless variety whirl around our heads. A large snake of lustrous blue and red scales pauses to regard me. It is completely unconcerned for its safety. I wish the snake good hunting as we pass. Ty turns and smiles at me. We mount a small rise. The bull elk are sparring. The crash and clatter of their enormous antlers sounds as if a battle is raging. The elves continue towards them. Apprehension grips me as I inspect the massive elk, large even for their kind. The animals don't turn to look at us as we pass until I get closer. Every one of the bearded faces turns to look at me. I fill my mind with thoughts of plump cows, endless vistas free of lions, and sweet grass. They return to their contests.
Every good thing lies at our feet. Even the fen is beautiful, alive with frog song and water fowl. I can think of nothing finer than to sit in conversation with the plump mice that scamper about. The look of the land begins to change. We rise from the meadows into a forest of oak trees. The ground is clear and there is no need for a path. The oak trees are so large that the limbs have sagged down to rest upon the ground. A rock cliff looms before us. The face of black rock is imposing, even oppressive. Two monstrous oak trees standing twenty feet apart frame an opening into the mountain. The huge limbs arch over the opening from both sides, appearing to have been a master stroke of arborist artistry performed over hundr
eds of years.
We are led into a hall of stone carved from the living rock. The ceiling is only high enough to accommodate a tall elf. The walls have been polished to a shine. The room is about twenty feet wide by forty feet deep, not a large hall, not splendid or grand but rather simply adorned. A mat of tightly woven grass covers the floor. I thought the halls of the elves would be a splendor to behold, but this hall is rather plain. I think of the legendary grand halls of the past. They lie in ruin scattered about the country side. The elves have seen them all come and go. Nothing they can construct will outlive them. Perhaps they choose to live simply and not to strive against the predations of time.
The hall is aglow with soft golden light, the source unseen. I try to collect my wits so I might represent myself well. A number of elves are seated upon a slightly raised dais at the rear of the hall. These elves are not dressed in the common fashion. A few are wearing heavy robes that are various tones of gold and yellow. The robes are rather plain except for the rich brocade they sport. Another few are dressed in loose suits of natural colors. Not at all what I expected. I foresaw sumptuous robes of gold and fur. Brilliant colors all about. Many soft cushions and pillows—A court in merriment. Instead I find aged elves sitting on bare stone. We approach the dais and stop. Ty is looking at the floor. I do the same, stealing a few glances at an old elf who has risen. He appears older than time. His weathered face is creased with the tracks of countless years. His eyes are impossibly black. His gaze is penetrating; I can feel him looking into me, through me. I am released as he begins to speak. His speech is soft and fluid. I feel I can almost understand what he is saying. His speech is the burble of water over a slick rock, the wind through the heather. He is citing Ty's history and calling her into account for her shameful actions. I am saddened along with the assemblage. Her fate is to always be two steps from sorrow. It is not myself who is the cause. It is her love for me and her tragic obsession with humans. I am ashamed. I have taken her for myself when I knew the end would be inevitable heartbreak for her. The ancient elf stops and turns to me.