by J Battle
‘Don’t hit me. You’ll break my bones, and they don’t heal well. We have to be very careful about breaking our bones.’
‘Getting caught by a Giant don’t seem a good way to look after your bones,’ said Raarvan, looking as if he was about to throw another punch.
‘You can’t kill us that way. You can hurt us, but we don’t die. We’ll only die if you drain our blood.’
‘You damned fool!’ snapped Terrion; upside down in the foliage. ‘Telling them how to kill us.’
‘I ain’t got a knife to cut you. Have you got a knife there Raarvan?’
His old friend replied in the negative.
‘What about if I just pulled his arms and legs off? What do you think?’
‘Well, if it don’t kill em, at least they can’t cause much trouble, can they?’
Aarvarn gave a quick tug on Weoren's left arm, just to get a feel for it.
'No! Stop! We can be friends,' groaned Weoren, as Aarvarn put more pressure on his shoulder, elbow and wrist joints.
'Yeah; I reckon if I put my shoulder behind it, it will come away easy enough.'
'Go on, then Aarvarn, and I'll take hold of his leg.' Raarvan reached for the dangling limb.
'Cease your actions immediately!' The voice was loud and firm, and filled with authority.
'I think he means you,' said Aarvarn.
'No! I've barely started. He must mean you,’ said Raarvan as he tested the strength of the left leg in his hand.
'Both of you! Release your better and step aside.'
The newcomer was a smartly dressed fellow, with a whitefox fur cloak and tight leather leggings and jerkin. In his hand, he held a long curved sword.
'Step aside, or you'll be cut into easy to handle pieces.'
'I think he means to stick us with his pointy thing,' said Aarvarn.
'Ay, you'll be right there, I should think.'
'Will it hurt much, do you think?'
'Don't rightly know. Let him stick you with it, and then you can tell me if it hurts.'
'Don't reckon it'll hurt as much as that there Rumm.'
Three more Elvenfolk moved onto the slope, their swords drawn.
'Oh, see, that saves us looking for them, that does,' said Aarvarn, grunting as he tore Weoren's arm from his socket. The sad creature screamed and jerked, and passed out just as Raarvan did the same to his leg.
Aarvarn tossed him into the trees beside Terrion and turned to face the four upright Elvenfolk.
Raarvan glanced at his old friend, and then he bumped shoulders.
'Do you want them? Then I'll just take me a seat over here in the shade, and maybe take a few draws on my pipe.'
Aarvarn made no show of hearing his words; he was concentrating on the Elvenfolk who had now started circling him, with their swords pointing directly at his chest.
Aarvarn raised up his hands and made fists of them; great lumps of hard flesh and bones, more than a foot across.
He took a step forward, and then he roared.
Lesser creatures would have fainted at the sound, or at least be off on their toes. But Elvenfolk are not lesser creatures, so they were not unnerved by his ability to make a loud noise.
Two of them leapt forward; so quickly that the eye could hardly follow their movements. The first whipped his sword across the expanse of the Giant's chest; the other reached to push his sword deep into his opponent's belly. After all, it was a very large target.
The first cut a swath through the purple blouse the Giant wore, but left no mark on his chest. The second was more than a little surprised to find his sword buckle and snap with a loud crack.
His surprise didn't last long, as Aarvarn struck him a concussive blow with the soggy end of his friend's arm and knocked him into the ground and unconsciousness; both at the same time.
Looking down at his blouse, Aarvan was annoyed.
'This is my best blouse,' he said, as he took a swing at the nearest of the Elvenfolk.
But Elvenfolk are quick, and he ducked beneath the mighty fist and slashed at it with the razor-sharp edge of his sword.
'Ooh, now, I felt that,' he said, as he kicked out his foot and sent his opponent tumbling down the hill.
The other Elvenfolk moved back up the hill a little.
'Now, good friend. You've had your sport, and shown yourself worthy in battle.' It was the Elvenfolk with the fancy white cloak. 'But, we don't need to be enemies, and, if this is your home, well, we won't be here long. We'll just take our sport with these wild humans you have here, and we'll be on our way before the sun yawns and takes itself to bed.'
Aarvarn looked up at him; then he glanced at the silent Elvenfolk, and then over at Raarvan, relaxing with his pipe in the trees.
'He said a lot of words, there, and I think I caught most of them. What do you reckon, Raarvan?'
Raarvan blew a cloud of smoke from his nostrils as he considered his response.
'Well, I see it this way. We lost a bet to rid the valley of Elvenfolk, and the Lady-woman is right to expect us to pay our debt.'
He paused then and took a deep draw on his pipe.
'Now, that there fancy fellow; he's says he'll be gone before tonight, and I don't see any reason as not to believe him. So, when he's gone, the valley will be rid of Elvenfolk.'
'So, that will please the Lady-woman and pay our debt?'
'Well, that is one way of looking at it. But I see it another way. You see, if we don't clear the valley, and it gets cleared itself, is that paying our debt? I don't think so, 'cause we ain't done it, see. And if we ain't done, we ain't paid our debt.'
'So, we kill them all?'
'I don't rightly know if we can kill them, so we'll just break them up a bit, and carry them out of the valley. That should do it, but we best be quick, before they leave of their own accord.'
'Surely now, if your minds are at all clear, you'll see that the best thing for all of us is to let us leave now, and we won't wait for our fun, and then you can have the valley to yourselves, and this Lady-woman; she doesn't need to know how it was all done, does she?'
Aarvarn stared at him for a long moment, as if he was perhaps counting the words that had been spoken without a breath.
Then he shook his great shaggy head.
'No, I think it's best if I just break you all up a bit, like Raarvan here says, and then no-one will be confused about what's happening, and I don't like being confused.'
With a hiss the Elvenfolk attacked, dropping their swords and moving with such speed that the Giant could hardly keep track of who was hitting him. With feet and hands, they struck; fast and hard, ducking to avoid the monstrous but slow blows from his great fists.
On his thighs, his groin, his arms, his belly and his head they struck; each strike precise and delivered with the maximum degree of ferocity.
At last they stopped and fell back, gasping for breath, to consider the effects of their concerted attack. He should have been curled up on the ground, battered and broken.
But he was just standing there, with his hands on his hips, looking more than a little annoyed.
‘They won’t stay still long enough for me to hit them, Raarvan. And I reckon they were trying to hurt me, though I’s not too sure. They might have been trying to tickle me.’
Raarvan sighed and put away his pipe.
‘I suppose you want some help,‘ he said, as he got to his feet, ’though I don’t know why you can’t deal with a few skinny little fellows like these on your ownsome.’
The remaining pair of Elvenfolk looked at each other and nodded. In a blur of movement, they were gone.
‘What do we do with these ones?’ asked Aarvarn, as he looked down at the remaining damaged Elvenfolk.
‘Oh, I reckon that, the next time we look, in about an hour or so, we’ll find them all gone, I reckon.’
‘Is it time to eat; it must be time to eat. I ain’t eaten for so long. What’s that other meal the humans have?’
‘Lunch?’
‘I reckon you’re right there, you big old lummox. Let’s go down there and see if those humans we saved from the Elvenfolk want to feed us to say their thanks.’
‘What if they don’t?’
Raarvan laughed. ‘We be Giants, you old fool. We takes what we wants.’
Chapter 51 Esmere
Esmere awoke from her troubled sleep, but lay absolutely still in her bed.
There was the sound of someone breathing close by, and it could only be the Trytor.
'Ah, I think you've awakened, my dear. Your breathing has changed somewhat, and you look less relaxed. Could you be pretending to still be asleep? Trying to fool this old Trytor?'
She opened her eyes and turned to look at him, standing in the doorway to her bedroom. How long had he been there; watching her sleep?
'There you are, back once more with us. Can you smell something? Something you might find delicious?'
Esmere took a deep breath and nodded. There was something in the air, and it didn't smell at all like the gruel she'd been forced to eat over the past few days.
She sat up. 'What is it?'
'Oh, just food, I think. But food you might find matches your taste a little more than that which you have had recently.'
'But, why?'
'Oh, I had my cooks rush out and seek the best quality human foods. Just for you.'
'That's very kind of you, Lord Trytor. Perhaps you are learning to be a good host, after all.'
'Oh, it's nothing like that. Come, take a look and see what we have for you. I'll wait below whilst you attend to your toilet.'
Alone again, Esmere realized just how hungry she was; after so many days where she could barely bring herself to look at what she was meant to eat. She slid from the bed and dressed in her day- clothes as quickly as she could.
Then she was out through the door and rushing down the stairs, with everything forgotten but the thought of the delicious food she could smell.
In the rulehall, the table had been set for one, with silver plates and goblets, and a beautiful golden brown chicken holding pride of place in the centre. There was also a leg of lamb, a small ham joint, and a large plate of crisp roasted tatoes. Next to these, she could see a steaming pie and a plate loaded with thick slices of bread, slathered with rich layers of butter and jam.
There were apples and pears within easy reach, and a glistening flagon of ale.
She settled herself down in the chair and her eyes spun from one delight to another, undecided as to where she should start first.
Then she turned as she felt a shadow fall on her shoulder.
'How can I thank you for doing all this for me?'
'Thank me? No need to thank me; just eat and enjoy. For this is my thanks to you.'
Esmere sliced a thick cut of chicken breast and placed it in the centre of her plate. Then she reached for the ham.
'Why do you need to thank me?' she asked, as she sawed away.
'Why, you have been a big help to me. You've helped me discover an act of treachery, from one I always took as loyal, despite his bickering.'
She froze. 'What do you mean? I don't understand…who are you talking…?' She stopped, realizing that she was able to answer her own questions.
'I see you understand. Your dear father, pretending to do just as I say, and smiling and nodding at my every word, held treachery within his breast. He said he'd do this, when he was really doing that. And I would not have guessed, my dear, if not for you. If you had not placed the idea in my head that your father would never do such a thing; if you had not caused me to doubt him. So, enjoy your food, and accept my thanks.' He bowed a little, as he turned away.
'What…what have you done with him?'
'Done? Oh I've done nothing with him just yet. He's in a cell of course, but he thinks that that is just another whim on my part. I expect he believes he'll be released in a day or so and be about his treacherous business.'
'What will you do with him? He's been so loyal all these years. He's done everything you've ever asked of him.'
'Well, of course, that is what I always believed. But now, thanks to you, doubt has been cast on all of his actions over these last few years. Has he been betraying me all this time? Would I ever have suspected him without a few words from his devoted daughter? Who can say? But his punishment? That will have to be apt to his crime. I will have to spend a considerable amount of my precious time extracting confessions on all of his crimes from him, before I decide what must be done, and me without the help of my old factotum.
'Go on, my dear. See this glorious array of food as just payment for your deeds. Eat and enjoy, for who knows what you'll be eating tomorrow?
Esmere dropped her knife to the table, hardly able to look at the feast before her. It was all her fault. Her father locked up and soon to be tortured, and killed, no doubt, when the Trytor had had his fun.
She turned away from the table, suddenly no longer hungry.
*********
He dreamed of water, and a boat, and a gentle ride along the edge of a great lake. He rocked and hummed in his sleep; both his mind and his body relaxed from the travails of the weeks past.
He heard a voice, a female voice, gently singing.
'They're gone, for now, or so they say.
But who knows when they'll return?
Who can even say?
When all is gone, and all is dry.
When the cold winds blow on by
Then mayhap, they shall return
The First of Men, the Best of Men
Shall we ever see them once again?'
'What is that nonsense, woman?' he whispered, as wakefulness began to return.
'Shush, my dearie, have no concern. I'll look after you well enough, for now.'
He opened his eyes and saw her bent over him, a damp cloth in her hand as she washed his naked body.
He should have pushed her away and leapt to his feet, but her touch was so comforting, and it was so long since he’d known comfort.
'There, there, dearie. Relax and let old Ellaine clean and soothe your poor body.'
'Ay, old woman. I'll allow that, but be careful where you wash; you might get more than you wish for.'
She chuckled as she moved the cloth down his chest and onto to his flat belly. 'Don't you worry none for me, my dearie. I seen a lot in my long life, and I don't expect anything will arise that I've not seen before.'
'Just don't try to take advantage of me, old woman, and be sure to treat me with due respect. Now…that's…quite nice.'
'You just relax there, my dearie, and let old Ellaine do her work.'
Chapter 52 Evens
Evens paused, and swapped his bag from one shoulder to the other. It was heavy and fair wore the skin from his bony old shoulders, but he couldn’t leave it behind. Who knew what would happen to it if he did not watch over it the way he did?
He heard a shuffle of feet behind him and turned, his veined hands clenched.
‘Oh, it’s only you boys. You fair put a scare up me then, with your sneaking about.’
‘Sorry, Mr Evens,’ said Tom, smiling. ‘It was this lump here that gave us away. Poor old Sam couldn’t sneak if his supper depended on it.’
‘I can sneak with the best of them; if you hadn’t pushed,’ protested Sam.
‘Sorry to disturb you, Mage Evens, but we wanted to ask you about Magic,’ said Gorge.
‘Oh, don’t go calling me Mage; I’ve not been such since Anders returned in all his glory.’
‘Ay, we heard about that. But why did you let him? You were the true Mage, and people who are old, they say you were a good mage.’
‘Now, it’s Gorge, isn’t it? Let’s go inside my house over there, and sit ourselves down for a while, and mayhap have a warm drink, or a cool one, if that suits your taste better. How does that sound?’
‘Mighty fine to us, Mr Evens. Shall I give you a hand with that heavy bag?’ Tom stepped closer.
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‘No, lad; there’s no need. I’ve been carrying it around for long enough; it’s no trouble to me now.’
The boys followed the old man to his home, just on the edge of the forest, a few hundred yards from the reservoir.
‘Those Giants did a good job of clearing them Elvenfolk from the valley, don’t you think?’ asked Tom, by way of conversation.
‘And now they won’t leave Hesselton,’ replied Sam. ‘They say they’ll go when they’ve had their fill.’
‘And that could be quite some time,’ answered Gorge, as they entered the home of Evens.
It was a single room dwelling with a low ceiling and a fire simmering in its grate. It was dimly lit by a narrow window, and there was a single wooden chair by the fire.
‘No place for you boys to sit, I’m afraid. I don’t get many guests these days.’
‘Don’t worry none about us, Mr Evens, the floor will do just fine for us,’ said Tom, as he settled down on his haunches before the fire.
Evens bustled about, filling an old kettle from a big jug of water, and arranging cups on a small table.
Sam was standing near the window, studying what looked like a piece of driftwood hanging from a nail in the wall.
‘What be this, Mr Evens?’ he said, without turning.
‘Oh, that? That’s just a reminder. Us old people, we forget things, you know.’
‘What does it say?’
‘Ho, Sam. You know your letters. You can work it out.’ Gorge joined him by the window.
Sam puffed out his lips and sighed. ‘I’ll give it a go, I shall. Now, let me see.’ He reached out and put one finger on the first word.
‘Now, I know that word; it’s a tricky word. They’ve gone and put one of them silent letters in there that I’m not supposed to say. It says ‘when’; I’ve got that. Now let’s see; I’ll work my way through, in my head like, and then I’ll say them all in one go, like the way you read, Gorge.’
‘Ay, that’s a good idea. Take your time, but see if you can finish before Mage Evens’ kettle boils.’ Gorge smiled at his old friend.
It was a close-run thing, but, just as the kettle was starting to make a little noise, Sam was ready.