ground
there were hilltop gardens, courtyards, and battlements that were
concealed by the natural features surrounding them. The grassy
hills that lay to the west of the fortress were wide and open.
Rogond could hear horses and the sound of flowing waters.
The source of the Forest River, known as the
Dominglas, was formed by the union of two cold springs to the
north, and it flowed beside the underground realm.
In general, the reception was a warm one, for all had
feared for Gaelen and Nelwyn and rejoiced that they still lived. To
the newcomers they extended every possible courtesy, escorting them
deep below ground, removing the horses to the capable care of those
in the stables.
They were allowed to wash, rest, and dress in fresh
clothing that was provided for them. There would be a feast tonight
in their honor, but first Ri-Aruin had summoned Gaelen and Nelwyn,
as he wanted to hear their news in private.
They stood before him, lean and somewhat travel-weary
but still bright-eyed and clear of thought, and told him of all
that had passed. He had been especially shocked and dismayed at the
sorry fate of Gelmyr, who had been his honored guest on several
occasions.
He sensed that Gaelen kept something back from her
tale at first—she was reluctant to tell Ri-Aruin that she could
read the eyes of the dead. She did not wish to recount the terrible
tale she had read in the eyes of Gelmyr, but the King needed to
know everything of this enemy, and she relented. Not even Nelwyn
had been privy to all of it, and when the tale was finished, she
and Ri-Aruin looked at Gaelen with new respect.
When they came to the point at which the trail had
been lost, Gaelen hung her head. It still pained her that she had
failed. But Ri- Aruin, though he sometimes found her exasperating,
was fond of her and bade her not be troubled.
"It is more important," said he, "that you have
returned through this peril to tell the tale. We all rejoice that
you are found— let that satisfy you."
But Gaelen said, in a small but clear voice, "I would
rejoice with you, my King, yet Nelwyn and I still must face the
memory of the sight of our friends and the bereavement of their
families. I hear your words, but I do not feel them in my heart."
Ri-Aruin was grieved, knowing that the desire to pursue and slay
this creature would never entirely disappear from her, and that she
would be with her people only for a short while.
Chapter 7: In the Halls of the King
There was a feast that night in celebration, for two
thought lost had returned. Both Nelwyn and Gaelen would sit at the
King’s table, an honor they had each received only once before, and
on separate occasions. Of course, one did not decline the
invitation of Ri-Aruin, but Gaelen and Nelwyn would sooner have sat
in less prominent positions among their friends and kin. Rogond and
Galador were invited, of course, and were received as honored
guests, though not at the King’s table. Galador, who was of
High-elven heritage, was treated with great respect, as was Rogond,
for the people of the Greatwood had met and interacted with Rangers
before and considered them to be allies.
Galador looked reasonably well, though in the end
they had needed to trim off some of his hair in spite of his
protests. A bit of rest, good food, and hot water had done wonders
for Rogond, and he looked every inch the noble man of Tuathas. Clad
in Elven-made garments of grey and white, clean-shaven, combed, and
polished, he was so comely that Gaelen barely recognized him. He
was hale and strong, for he had come to full vigor in the prime of
young manhood. His dark hair was held back from his face by a
circlet of silver, and his grey eyes were bright. Yet the tale of
fifteen years in the wild could not be entirely erased from his
face; sun, wind, and worry had left their marks on him. Still,
sitting beside Galador, he could easily have been taken for an
Elf-lord.
Nelwyn was attired in raiment of soft green, her
golden hair
there were hilltop gardens, courtyards, and battlements that were
concealed by the natural features surrounding them. The grassy
hills that lay to the west of the fortress were wide and open.
Rogond could hear horses and the sound of flowing waters.
The source of the Forest River, known as the
Dominglas, was formed by the union of two cold springs to the
north, and it flowed beside the underground realm.
In general, the reception was a warm one, for all had
feared for Gaelen and Nelwyn and rejoiced that they still lived. To
the newcomers they extended every possible courtesy, escorting them
deep below ground, removing the horses to the capable care of those
in the stables.
They were allowed to wash, rest, and dress in fresh
clothing that was provided for them. There would be a feast tonight
in their honor, but first Ri-Aruin had summoned Gaelen and Nelwyn,
as he wanted to hear their news in private.
They stood before him, lean and somewhat travel-weary
but still bright-eyed and clear of thought, and told him of all
that had passed. He had been especially shocked and dismayed at the
sorry fate of Gelmyr, who had been his honored guest on several
occasions.
He sensed that Gaelen kept something back from her
tale at first—she was reluctant to tell Ri-Aruin that she could
read the eyes of the dead. She did not wish to recount the terrible
tale she had read in the eyes of Gelmyr, but the King needed to
know everything of this enemy, and she relented. Not even Nelwyn
had been privy to all of it, and when the tale was finished, she
and Ri-Aruin looked at Gaelen with new respect.
When they came to the point at which the trail had
been lost, Gaelen hung her head. It still pained her that she had
failed. But Ri- Aruin, though he sometimes found her exasperating,
was fond of her and bade her not be troubled.
"It is more important," said he, "that you have
returned through this peril to tell the tale. We all rejoice that
you are found— let that satisfy you."
But Gaelen said, in a small but clear voice, "I would
rejoice with you, my King, yet Nelwyn and I still must face the
memory of the sight of our friends and the bereavement of their
families. I hear your words, but I do not feel them in my heart."
Ri-Aruin was grieved, knowing that the desire to pursue and slay
this creature would never entirely disappear from her, and that she
would be with her people only for a short while.
Chapter 7: In the Halls of the King
There was a feast that night in celebration, for two
thought lost had returned. Both Nelwyn and Gaelen would sit at the
King’s table, an honor they had each received only once before, and
on separate occasions. Of course, one did not decline the
invitation of Ri-Aruin, but Gaelen and Nelwyn would sooner have sat
in less prominent positions among their friends and kin. Rogond and
Galador were invited, of course, and were received as honored
guests, though not at the King’s table. Galador, who was of
High-elven heritage, was treated with great respect, as was Rogond,
for the people of the Greatwood had met and interacted with Rangers
before and considered them to be allies.
Galador looked reasonably well, though in the end
they had needed to trim off some of his hair in spite of his
protests. A bit of rest, good food, and hot water had done wonders
for Rogond, and he looked every inch the noble man of Tuathas. Clad
in Elven-made garments of grey and white, clean-shaven, combed, and
polished, he was so comely that Gaelen barely recognized him. He
was hale and strong, for he had come to full vigor in the prime of
young manhood. His dark hair was held back from his face by a
circlet of silver, and his grey eyes were bright. Yet the tale of
fifteen years in the wild could not be entirely erased from his
face; sun, wind, and worry had left their marks on him. Still,
sitting beside Galador, he could easily have been taken for an
Elf-lord.
Nelwyn was attired in raiment of soft green, her
golden hair
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