The Last Elf of Lanis

by Hargan, K. J.

  Feeblerod turned to look at Halldora. “Haergill did have the Mattear Gram when he fled Ethgeow?” Feeblerod put a contemptuous emphasis on ‘fled’.

  Halldora knew it best to be honest with these two. “Yes,” she said. “But I do not know where he hid it.”

  “Did your daughter?” Feeblerod said looking with an uncomfortable length of time at Wynnfrith.

  “She is not here to ask,” Wynnfrith defiantly said.

  Feeblerod laughed a vicious little laugh to himself, and his gaze lustfully followed after Wynnfrith.

  The whole of the rest of the day was spent sorting through the debris of the village. Some food was left as garonds only ate meat. With some grains, vegetables and flour Wynnfrith was able to make enough of a meal to satisfy all.

  As evening set in, the five humans sat around a modest fire.

  “We will have to dig up the floors of the houses,” Apghilis said.

  “I do not think Haergill hid the sword under any of the houses,” Kellabald said with firmness.

  “Were you here every moment of the day?” Feeblerod craftily said. “Were you privy to his every action behind closed doors? We most definitely will need to dig up the foundation of every house, and demolish the houses as well.”

  “What?” Wynnfrith said with tempered anger.

  “Are we to find the famous Mattear Gram and unite the human race against the garonds? Or are your houses more precious?” Apghilis said with a grunt as he rose from the fireside. He turned around and began to urinate.

  “Please do that outside the village,” Kellabald said with angry disgust.

  “Why?” Apghilis said finishing. “To honor the ruins of this insignificant animal pen? You should see the ruins of mighty Ethgeow. Now there is something to cry over. Yet, I do not shed a tear for that once mighty city. When we have driven the garonds from Wealdland, I will build a city ten times as magnificent.”

  All were silent with tension.

  “I will sleep the night in Haergill’s former home. Any care for the warmth of my carcass?” Apghilis pointed the last question at Halldora.

  “We three will fare the night in my husband’s house,” Wynnfrith said with quiet, angry strength. “Only we three.”

  Apghilis laughed a deep, repulsive laugh. Then shambled off to Haergill and Halldora’s house. Puffing, Feeblerod flabbed after him, and threw a last longing look at Wynnfrith.

  Kellabald, Wynnfrith, and Halldora stared into the fire.

  Then Kellabald rose. “We need sleep. Best to take turns with one of us always awake. I fear we camp with serpents tonight.”

  “You know not how truly you have spoken,” Halldora said. With that, they wearily rose and went to Kellabald and Wynnfrith’s house. The three made themselves as comfortable as they could.

  “I will watch first,” Wynnfrith said.

  Kellabald turned to Halldora. “I am truly sorry for your loss of Haergill. He was a good man. If I did not think so, I would never have allowed him to stay in Bittel. Whether he was a king once or not, he was a good father, and I’m sure a good husband.”

  “He was my king,” Halldora said. “We never meant to deceive you. We thought if we kept our royalty secret, it would protect you and your family.”

  “We all have secrets,” Wynnfrith said to Halldora with a comforting assurance. “And your family was never a burden here in Bittel. But, I think it best we keep our conversation as simple as we can. There may be unwanted ears to hear our words.”

  “You don’t know the great depth of your wisdom,” Halldora said. “Watch those two with the attention a mouse gives to a hungry hawk.”

  Kellabald grunted with assenting understanding. Soon Halldora and Kellabald were fast asleep with Wynnfrith keeping the first watch over that uneasy, cloud filled night.

  The next day, Apghilis directed Kellabald and Feeblerod as they dismantled the three, modest houses of Bittel. Kellabald removed roofs and beams with care, with every intention of rebuilding his village. Feeblerod heartlessly kicked down beams and supports to hurry the work along. Apghilis, of course, didn’t lift a finger in actual work, but instead was constantly lecturing Kellabald and Feeblerod in what was to be taken down and how urgent their mission was.

  At midday, a strong wind momentarily whistled through the stand of trees, which encircled Bittel.

  “That is a sign to take a break,” Wynnfrith said, bringing bread and hot porridge to the men. Halldora said nothing, but seemed to be listening for something, perhaps singing, far away.

  “Maybe the sword is not here,” Wynnfrith ventured.

  “He would have hidden it where he could quickly lay his hands on it,” Apghilis said, spitting pieces of bread, the crags on his face were like weathered stone.

  “Leave men’s work to men,” Feeblerod said leering at Wynnfrith, his egg-like head bobbing as though he were telling a joke. Feeblerod had a scruffy, dark goatee, which looked as though his mouth were always unwashed.

  Wynnfrith shot Kellabald a disapproving look.

  “Everything in Bittel has been demolished,” Kellabald said clearing his throat. “Surely you don’t mean to dig up the foundations?”

  Apghilis squatted in his fatness. His face, when he was thinking, had a pursing frown as though he were just about to vomit. “You don’t understand the importance of the Mattear Gram,” he said. “It’s more than just a pretty sword. It’s a unifying symbol of all humanity. Only the rightful king of all men can carry it at the head of an army.”

  “The rightful king of all men is dead,” Halldora snapped, her red hair appeared to be aflame in the sunlight shafting through the trees.

  “Then there must be another” Feeblerod said standing. Then he began a silly dance, rolling his obese body from side to side, kicking out his legs, and flapping his arms. It was clear the dance was meant to draw out laughter, but no one laughed. Feeblerod watched his audience with sharp eyes.

  Kellabald stood, and Feeblerod stopped his dance.

  “If we are to dig up the foundations, let us be to it,” Kellabald sighed. “An extra pair of hands will be welcome in this work,” Kellabald said to Apghilis.

  Apghilis nodded, his exceptionally large ears lay perfectly flat against his square, fat head. “The women should help with the digging, as you have said.”

  Kellabald was aghast. “I meant you should help. My wife and her friend will do no such labor.”

  Apghilis shook his head, the large, bloated ridge above his eyebrows quivered. “As you say, but this means more work for you.” Apghilis leaned heavily against a pile of housing beams as though he owned them.

  Kellabald began digging the foundations of the house, which were once Haergill and Halldora’s. Feeblerod complained of a pain in his back, and so Kellabald did almost all of the digging. In the early evening, the digging shifted over to Yulenth and Alrhett’s foundation with no discovery.

  As night fell, Apghilis lit two torches, and brought them over to the foundations of Kellabald and Wynnfrith’s house.

  “We have no need to dig here,” Kellabald said.

  “No?” Apghilis pursed his thick, cruel lips.

  “Haergill could not have hidden the sword here without my knowledge.”

  “No, certainly if you were at home,” Feeblerod sneered. “But, he might have had help when you were away,” the last he insinuated at Wynnfrith.

  “You can eat by yourselves,” Wynnfrith said, throwing several loaves of bread to the ground at Apghilis and Feeblerod. “I have had enough of your company.”

  Kellabald, Wynnfrith, and Halldora ate at a small campfire, while Apghilis and Feeblerod ate apart at another. Apghilis sat with his back to the other campfire, while Feeblerod constantly looked over to gauge the mood of Wynnfrith and her company.

  Tents were made of linens, as the houses had been pulled down. A watch was set again, with Halldora staying awake first. Kellabald was drifting off to sleep, the day’s labors throbbing in his hands, when he suddenly sat upright.
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  “What is it?!” Wynnfrith hissed to keep quiet.

  “The riddles!” Kellabald whispered. “I know where the sword is!”

  Outside the tent, a sudden sound of twigs cracking made all freeze.

  “Say nothing more.” Halldora urgently whispered. “Our lives are now in even greater danger.”

  With that, Kellabald and Wynnfrith fell to a fitful sleep, with Halldora keeping the first watch.

  The next morning, Kellabald woke with a start. He had not been woken for his turn at the night watch. He looked over to see Wynnfrith sound asleep. But, Halldora was not in the tent. Kellabald quickly rose to pull on his trousers and buckle on his belt. He hissed at Wynnfrith, who awoke in a sleepy daze.

  “Did you take your turn with the night watch?” Kellabald whispered to Wynnfrith.

  Wynnfrith’s eyes popped open. “Where is Halldora?!” Wynnfrith jumped up and pulled on her dress over her undergarments. Kellabald drew his sword and Wynnfrith grabbed her spear. Slowly and with caution, they exited the tent.

  Feeblerod sat like a child, lolling on a stump. He grinned at Kellabald and Wynnfrith. “Good morning,” he said with an infantile mushiness.

  “Where is Halldora?” Wynnfrith demanded.

  “No morning greeting for me?” Feeblerod pouted.

  “Where has he taken her?” Kellabald drew near with his sword.

  “They have gone for a stroll on the meadow,” Feeblerod said with feigned compassion, “to talk of old times.”

  “If he has harmed her...” Kellabald trailed off as Apghilis and Halldora strolled into the center of Bittel from the meadowlands. Apghilis’ face was slack, and he walked with his hands behind his back. Halldora clasped her hands in front and had a haunted, hunted look.

  Wynnfrith ran to her side without concern for her safety.

  “Has he harmed you?” Wynnfrith said stroking Halldora’s hair.

  “No,” she said, “no.”

  Wynnfrith then led Halldora away.

  “Where were you? What have you done?” Kellabald demanded of Apghilis.

  Apghilis’ face was contemptuously slack, and without answering, he turned and shuffled away to sit by his and Feeblerod’s campfire.

  Kellabald watched Feeblerod lean into Apghilis to mutter in secrecy. Kellabald then edged away to join Wynnfrith and Halldora.

  At their camp fire, Wynnfrith stroked Halldora’s face, but Halldora remained silent. Kellabald gathered together what food he could find to make something for them to eat.

  All the rest of the morning, the two groups remained apart, watching each other.

  Later in the morning Halldora began to cry.

  “What is it?” Kellabald sympathetically asked.

  “I told him of the riddles,” Halldora sobbed. “He threatened awful things to you and Wynnfrith. I told him the first two riddles. I withheld the third. I told him there were only two No matter how he pressed, threatened or coaxed, I insisted there were only two.”

  “It’s okay,” Wynnfrith held Halldora. “We should have been there for you.”

  “But he knows,” Halldora said through sobs. “Feeblerod heard Kellabald last night. He knows that you know where the sword is,” she said to Kellabald.

  “If he was certain I knew, they would have attacked me by now,” Kellabald said standing with determination.

  “Sit down,” Wynnfrith firmly said. “There are three of us, and they must have supposed Halldora and I can fight. So we are safe for now. Let us eat and gather our strength.”

  Kellabald immediately grasped the wisdom of Wynnfrith’s words. He kissed her on the top of her head, and sat next to her, but with a vantage so he could watch Apghilis and Feeblerod. They ate and waited.

  About midday, Feeblerod began screaming. Kellabald, Wynnfrith and Halldora grabbed their weapons and rushed towards the screams.

  At the edge of Bittel three garond soldiers stood before Apghilis who confronted them with his drawn sword.

  Before Kellabald could reach his side, Apghilis began swinging his sword over his head and bellowed at the garonds. The garonds soldiers weakly swung their clubs, and then ran off into the high grass of the eastern meadowland.

  As Kellabald reached Apghilis, who was breathing hard, Apghilis turned to him and said, “We have no time, they’ll be back with reinforcements.”

  Kellabald stared hard at Apghilis. “I have never seen garond soldiers turn and run without a fight.”

  “He saved us!” Feeblerod whined. “What more proof do you need of his good faith?”

  Kellabald backed away from Apghilis and Feeblerod. He could feel Wynnfrith and Halldora with their spears at his side.

  Apghilis stared hard at Kellabald, then broke into a deep laugh from his gut. Apghilis raised his hand and cuffed Feeblerod hard to the ground. “I told you he was more intelligent than he appears.” Apghilis then turned and called out to the high grass where the garonds had disappeared.

  From the edge of the meadowland twenty five garonds swaggered into Bittel.

  Kellabald, Wynnfrith and Halldora backed up in horror.

  Feeblerod began gesturing and grunting to the garonds while Apghilis looked on in contempt.

  Feeblerod turned to Kellabald. “Put aside your weapons or they will kill you,” he said.

  “You traitors!” Halldora screamed.

  Apghilis raised his hand in disgust, as the garonds advanced.

  Kellabald readied his stance, but then Apghilis called sharply to the garonds and they stopped in their tracks.

  The leader of the garonds approached Apghilis and made gestures of obedience.

  Apghilis turned to Kellabald and said, “Well?”

  Kellabald turned to Wynnfrith. “There are too many,” he said with despair. Kellabald, Wynnfrith and Halldora surrendered their weapons.

  The rest of the day was spent torturing Kellabald, who would not talk.

  As evening fell, a garond messenger on horseback arrived, and all but three garonds left Bittel in a hurry.

  Apghilis had Kellabald released, to eat and to be seen to by his wife.

  As Wynnfrith dressed her husband’s wounds, Feeblerod squatted next to them. “Why continue to hide the sword? We will find it, and your life will have been wasted. I can save you. Tell me where the Mattear Gram is hidden. I have saved many lives! I am on your side.” When there was no response Feeblerod rose with a repugnant huff and carried his obesity away.

  “What shall I do, wife?” Kellabald said with pleading eyes to Wynnfrith.

  “I have no sight for this. I only know we survive to see our son,” she said.

  That night they slept little under the cloud filled night sky.

  In the late morning, Apghilis woke Kellabald with a kick. With an imperious gesture he had the garonds remove the shackles from Kellabald, Wynnfrith and Halldora.

  Food was brought to Kellabald and the women. They ate while watching Apghilis secretly conferring with Feeblerod throughout the morning. Two more garonds had joined the others in the night, so now there were five. The garonds snarled and restlessly waited for their human captain to order them to violence.

  The sun was breaking through the clouds and filling the village with light and warmth.

  After what seemed a long morning, Apghilis and Feeblerod rose, and with the garonds close behind, approached Kellabald, Wynnfrith and Halldora.

  “All this time Haergill was hiding here,” Apghilis said with a belch. “Did an atheling named Varknifl ever call here in Bittel? No? He was like a son to me. I sent him to find the coward king, and he was never heard of again.” Apghilis turned, and with a dismissive flip of his hand had the garonds drag Kellabald and the women over to the large fire set up in the center of Bittel.

  “There will be no more delay,” Apghilis said, and sat on a pile of clothing as though it was his by right.

  “Throw the dark haired one into the fire,” Apghilis proclaimed to Feeblerod. A look of lecherous disappointment briefly passed Feeblerod’s fa
ce, and then he turned to grunt to the garonds, who then roughly grabbed Wynnfrith and pulled her towards the fire.

  “Wait!” Kellabald cried. “I don’t know where the sword is. But I think I know.”

  “Do you or don’t you?”

  “Don’t tell them,” Wynnfrith bravely cried.

  “Our lives are more precious than some piece of metal,” Kellabald said. “There are three riddles.”

  “Three!?” Apghilis shot a venomous glance at Halldora, who looked down in the bright afternoon sun.

  “I want your promise,” Kellabald said. “As an atheling of the Northern Kingdom of Man, that you will free us when you have the sword.”

  “Yes, yes,” Apghilis said disdainfully.

  Kellabald rose and, turning, took in all of Bittel.

  “The first riddle,” he said, “seems easy. But it is deceptive.” The pain of the torture from the day before ached in Kellabald’s bones. Kellabald recited the first riddle.

  “I shelter you from rain and sun,

  Warm you when the cold days come,

  With arms outstretched, old and grooved,

  A leaning friend, I can’t be moved.”

  “Yes,” said Apghilis, “a house.”

  “No,” said Kellabald, “a tree.”

  “Of course! I knew it all along!” Feeblerod cried. “It’s buried under a tree!”

  But the sudden enormity of his statement made him freeze in his quivering fatness, for Bittel had almost a hundred trees.

  “But which one,” Apghilis derisively said.

  Feeblerod dumbly stared at the numerous trees surrounding Bittel, and was silent.

  “The second riddle tells us which tree,” Kellabald said. Then he recited the second riddle.

  “To the silver traveler I have no end,

  I’m the mother winding round your friend,

  As long, as far, as distant lands,

  Pick me up, I’m not in your hands.”

  “It means nothing!” Feeblerod cried.

  Kellabald snorted. “To you it means nothing.” Kellabald turned and walked, and the whole company rose and followed him.