Elfhunter (27 page)

Gaelen sensed this, the fire of her spirit flickering
brighter as she strengthened her resolve.
You cannot give in,
Nelwyn. You must prevail and come back with me. Do you not hear me?
You must prevail!

No, Gaelen, I cannot. They that have gone before
are calling to me even now. Release my hand, for I must go where
you cannot follow.
She sorrowed at the despair in Gaelen’s
face, but her own light now flared around her as she attempted to
pull away from Gaelen, who would not let her go.
Release me! You
cannot come with me, and you cannot hold me here. Do not endanger
yourself thus.

Gaelen would not let go of Nelwyn’s hand.
Do you
not understand what you are asking of me? I will never let go!
Aontar Himself will have to come and strike me down. I will not let
you leave us so long as my strength holds.
She meant this with
all her heart, though her strength was waning even as she spoke the
words. Her fiery aura was diminishing as Nelwyn’s grew
brighter.

Take not so lightly the name of Aontar. It is
useless to resist. Let go! I will not be the instrument of your
death
, Nelwyn cried, pulling back with all her strength. Gaelen
hung on with grim resolve.

I will not let you go without me. If I must follow
you into the Eternal Realm, so be it. May I be imprisoned together
with the spirit of Aincor forever—I will not leave you.
But
even as Gaelen said this, Nelwyn slipped from her grasp……and drew
her last breath.

Lady Ordath stiffened, waiting for Nelwyn’s next
breath, which did not come. She reached across to Galador, gripping
his arm. "You said you wanted to aid Gaelen, and now is your
chance. Call to Nelwyn. Call her back to you and make certain she
can hear you from the shadows. Rogond, do not call to Gaelen—her
greatest test is at hand and you must not distract her. But focus
your will and your fortitude, that she may gain strength from your
devotion."

Galador called to Nelwyn, even as her spirit drew
farther from him, in a desperate, broken voice. In the dark,
swirling chaos Gaelen cried out to Nelwyn, even as she began to
turn away.
Listen! Do you hear Galador? This is the cry of
forlorn hope! Can you not hear it? Turn back and face me! I would
speak with you one last time.
The fire of her spirit flared for
a moment, so that she was difficult for Nelwyn to look upon, but it
faded rapidly until all Nelwyn beheld was Gaelen standing before
her, her face grim and sad.

Speak, Gaelen, for I must leave soon. I hear
Galador’s cries… they wrench my heart. But I must go now to my
fate, as it cannot be denied.

Then the fire flared again in Gaelen, until Nelwyn
had to close her eyes against the brightness of this final effort
to hold her.

You are not so fated! You just refuse to see it!
Where is your strength, daughter of Turanen? Where is the love of
Galador? Where is your love of Gaelen, the one for whom you endured
the black ditch? Do you not remember? We did not care as we both
leaped into that foul, stinking mire together so long ago. Is that
not stronger than this? And when you saved my life in the dark when
we drew too near the Pale Tower? Will that spirit not prevail? Will
you leave us to die in despair without you? My spirit is spent with
effort. I cannot return without you, for I have gone too far.
Galador, though he may not die of grief, might as well do so rather
than live forever without love. Will you let Gorgon succeed in
killing the spirit of three more worthy Elàni? I think not,
daughter of the Greatwood. I KNOW not!

Nelwyn shuddered, trying to grasp the impact of
Gaelen’s words. She could not let Galador suffer such a fate. And
Gaelen, who had gone so far to save her that she herself would be
lost, what of her? The pull of death was so strong, and the promise
of rest so tempting. She was so weary! Then, as if sensing Nelwyn’s
wavering, Gaelen spoke one last time:

If you deny me, and go to this fate, I shall have
no choice but to go with you. And I was not ready to give up my
life, Nelwyn, not until my quest is fulfilled. I love you and would
return with you to the wide world, where so much yet awaits us. But
if you insist on death then I shall make certain that you never,
EVER hear the end of it!
Even as she said this, her spirit
faded and flickered.

Rogond moaned in despair as he sensed Gaelen’s fading
spirit. At the bidding of Ordath he did not call to her, and he
knew that there was nothing he could really do for her, as she was
unaware of the depth of his devotion. He sat in grim silence,
focusing his will on thoughts of her returning, bringing Nelwyn
with her, and reuniting with him. He thought of the adventures they
would yet have together and how she would come to know him better.
And he thought of how he would give all the strength he had at this
moment to ensure that he could behold the light of her eyes and
hear the clear sound of her voice again.

NO!
cried Nelwyn. She would not tear Galador’s
fragile heart with grief, and Gaelen would not be lost. Her resolve
hardened as she turned at last from the voices, and reached out
with both hands toward Gaelen’s rapidly diminishing light.

I don’t want to leave any of you! I WILL try. Help
me!
Nelwyn, her own inner fire flaring blue-white, struggled
forward against the forces pulling at her, clutching at Gaelen.
They combined and renewed their strength, clinging to one another
in the gale, taking first one step, then another. The voices of
Gaelen and Galador filled Nelwyn’s ears, sustaining her resolve and
drowning out the voices calling at her back.

Remember the Black Ditch! Remember the Dark Tower!
Remember Tal- rodin and Thaldallen and your vow of vengeance! Find
the strength to live, for your work is unfinished! Hearken to
Galador, who loves you!

The darkness faded, and the wind grew less. Gaelen
closed her eyes as warmth returned to her limbs, and she grew vital
again in Rogond’s embrace. Nelwyn once again drew breath, and
Ordath smiled.

With the return of Gaelen and Nelwyn, the darkness
passed from the Company, and the peace and healing of Mountain-home
could be enjoyed at last. All Elves are quick healers, but it would
be awhile before Gaelen or Nelwyn regained full strength, probably
late spring at least.

As soon as she was able, Gaelen met with Ordath and
Magra to tell them her tale from the beginning. Magra was
especially dismayed by the tale of Gelmyr and the horror Gaelen
read in his eyes. She told Magra this knowing it would distress
him, for she hoped to enlist his aid.

Magra was an Elf-lord of the Èolar, and his name
means "Mighty", for so he was. One of the chief advisors to Lady
Ordath, he also commanded her forces in battle. He had fought
beside Ri-Elathan during the Third Uprising of Wrothgar; in fact,
Magra was probably the closest thing the High King had to a friend.
Gaelen was hopeful that with one such as Magra to aid her, Gorgon
would be overthrown and destroyed at last. In the meantime, she
resolved to accomplish two things while in Mountain-home: to
acquire a larger, more powerful bow and to regain her ability to
pull it.

Nelwyn and Galador were nearly always together. They
rejoiced as they came to learn more of each other, and Nelwyn
thrived under Galador’s excellent care. She slept well and often,
as Elves do when they are healing, and at such times Galador would
rest with her, though he did not sleep.

Rogond did not dare appear too solicitous of Gaelen,
for though he knew that Ordath had perceived the truth of his
feelings, he did not wish to make them the subject of widespread
speculation in Mountain-home. Gaelen initially had needed rest, as
the journey of her spirit had exhausted her nearly beyond recovery.
She had slept beside Nelwyn for a day or two, and Galador had not
begrudged her this, knowing that he owed her a great debt.

Gaelen’s recovery was swifter than Nelwyn’s, and she
was soon on her feet and wandering about. Though both she and
Nelwyn had been in this realm before, they had never been afforded
the status of honored guests. Now Lady Ordath announced that there
would be a celebration in honor of the Company, for their courage
and devotion in bringing their grim news as quickly as possible and
at such great risk. The feast would occur during the new moon in
three days’ time, for the stars would be most bright above
Mountain-home, and no mist would cloud them. The Lady would see to
it.

Those three days passed quickly. On the morning of
the celebration, Nelwyn, Galador, and Rogond were brought before
the Lady, where they listened with fascination as Nelwyn told them
of her encounter with Gaelen in the Spirit Realm. Galador chuckled
at Rogond as Nelwyn described her own blue-white aura and Gaelen’s
fiery one.

"You see? I told you. She is a foundling descended of
the house of Aincor!"

Rogond smiled back at him. "A good thing, my friend,
as the blood of the Fire-heart must have been an asset. Gaelen
accomplished a difficult task."

To this, Ordath agreed. "It was indeed difficult for
both of them. Nelwyn also has a strong will, though it lies more
deeply hidden— like a swift current beneath calm waters. You shall
all sit at my table tonight with Lord Magra. This reminds me…I must
seek him now, as there are things I would discuss with him. You
will please pardon me." She rose gracefully to her feet and bowed
before taking her leave, pausing in the doorway to address Rogond.
"There is a friend here who would see you; he was in the second
floor library, I believe."

Rogond knew at once who she referred to. Fima, the
dwarvish lore-master, was waiting for him; the library had been
their favorite place to meet and study together. Rogond said
farewell to Galador and Nelwyn, and prepared to greet his old
friend.

Magra found Gaelen perched on one of the high walls
overlooking the rushing waters of Monadh-talam. Her hair was
ruffled in the early morning wind, her eyes distant, looking out to
the west. She appeared to be lost in thought. Magra didn’t really
know why he wanted to speak with her, but he sensed that she had
not yet told him everything of Gorgon and the death of Gelmyr. He
also wanted to give her a token to show his appreciation for her
efforts. He had one for Nelwyn, as well. Gaelen had not yet
detected his presence, and he stood for a moment, gazing at her, as
she sat motionless as though made of stone. He didn’t wish to risk
startling her from her perch, so he made certain she could hear his
approach. She turned quickly to face him, and then relaxed.

Gaelen had been edgy all morning for some reason,
maybe something in the wind or a movement in the earth? She did not
know why. "Gaelen, may I sit with you awhile?" Magra drew nigh her,
his long flaxen hair blown back and his piercing blue eyes fixed on
her. For a moment, they took one another in. Gaelen admired Magra’s
broad, strong shoulders and powerful, tall frame. Magra’s gaze was
drawn to Gaelen’s large, bright eyes and rather long, elegant ears,
which were swept back along the sides of her head in a most
attractive manner. Most male Elves would agree that Gaelen’s eyes
were beautiful, but her ears were considered stunning and highly
sensuous. They more than made up for her shortcomings: her slight
stature, her cropped hair, and her reluctance to wear any but
masculine attire. Magra wondered…would she make an exception for
him?

Gaelen dropped down from the wall onto the ground,
and they walked a few paces to an intricately carved wooden bench.
Sitting beside Magra, Gaelen waited to hear what he had to say, for
she knew there was some purpose to his coming. First, he drew forth
the longbow he had slung at his back and presented it to her. It
was a thing of beauty, plain but elegant, of Èolarin design.

"Word reached me that you wanted a more powerful bow.
Please accept this as a gift for your invaluable service. I would
say that you will not be able to pull it as yet, for it is a
powerful weapon with a very long range. It was recovered from the
battle-plain and has been kept wrapped with oil for many long
years. May you have better fortune than he who bore it last."

Gaelen was delighted. She could hardly wait to try
out her gift. She would make certain, however, that she was
unobserved, as she sensed that Magra was right. She would not be
able to pull this massive weapon for quite some time. She accepted
it with thanks, still waiting to learn why he had sought her
out.

"I would speak with you of Gelmyr. What became of his
remains? Are they where they might be recovered?"

"Alas, they are not. We gave him to the Ambros, as I
remembered him speaking of how much he loved the sound of it."

"When did he speak of this? I was not aware that you
knew him well," said Magra, his eyes and his voice solemn and sad.
His heart ached for the loss of his friend, and Gaelen’s mention of
this personal detail grieved him, for she was quite right about
Gelmyr’s affection for flowing waters.

"I did not know him, but he came once to the
Greatwood, and I remember you sitting with him at feast. He must
have mentioned it then. My lord, is there anything else you would
learn of me?"

Magra nodded. "I felt a great dread come over me, a
fear that I could not name. I don’t recall now when it happened,
but I expect it was about the same time as Gelmyr’s death. I
dreamed of a large, dark enemy coming for Gelmyr, for me—for every
Elf who lives. We could not stand against it. Gaelen…what
was
this thing you fought with on our southern borders?"

She took a deep breath. "What was the moon like on
the night of your dream?"

He considered for a moment. "It was full, or nearly
so. I remember that it had risen when the dread struck me, and I
grew cold and did not know why."