Tales of Eldelórne Read online

  He straightened his uniform front as he moved toward his desk.

  “I have often thought to myself, no one could be as lucky as you.”

  Roevash flung himself down into a chair, and sat glowering in front of his captain. He closed his eyes with his hands against his forehead, trying to compose himself for what was to come.

  “This never ends well,” Roe sadly huffed, expecting the worst. He was instead surprised at what Ferric did next.

  “Please honor me by doing a favor, for an old friend, and deliver this to its rightful owner.”

  The captain carefully set on the desk in front of Roe a beautiful old sword of the loveliest elven make.

  “By now the men’s minds will be divided about you and I cannot guarantee your safety here,” Ferric sighed in exasperation.

  He knew Edhellen had a code of honor beyond human understanding. If Roevash would take up this task, he would see it done. Ferric handed Roe official release papers that he signed and sealed right there, and took a hefty pouch of coins out of a side drawer as payment for his service.

  “You should go... forget all this, find your brother if you can. I hear rumors a wizard still resides near the capital city of Drustnlach. He may have the ability to help you find your lost brother,” Ferric said gentler, leaning forward to get his point across. He slid the gold towards Roe. He stared into the brooding face across the desk. Then giving up, he sat down again in his chair and waited for his young soldier’s response.

  Roevash was all too familiar with men’s reactions. He looked down at the blade and let out a long resigned breath.

  “Okay. I will thank you ... friend.” He tried to keep his voice steady. “I travel then to the capital as you suggest to seek the wizard, that is if there even is one.” He picked up his pay and shoved it into his belt pocket.

  Looking into Ferric’s eyes, and taking up the task laid before him he asked, “But first, before I go, explain to me whose sword I will carry and where it should be surrendered.”

  Roe held up the great-sword with expert hands to make a closer inspection. It was perfectly balanced and still shined. None of the Intricate gold etching was marred even though the sword had been used in many battles. He could tell the hands that cleaned it cared for this blade. It was not just a sense of duty that preserved its beauty. It was obviously made for a tall warrior such as himself.

  Ferric looked at him softer now.

  “This unique weapon was sent to me to hold until I could deliver it south to Illianheni.”

  Roevash looked up at Captain Ferric with interest.

  “This sword was owned by a Darjal’n Ranger. They are a race that is not commonly found among men, except during the direst times of war. He was an honorable and fair commander. I would swear upon my life that you share the same qualities, and features of height and face. Back when you first joined our ranks, it was as though he stood before me when I first glanced at you. He was a trusted friend until his recent passing.” The captain paused to let that sink in as he leaned back in his chair.

  “Travel first to Illianheni to honor him for me if you would? The Darjal’n have run a small outpost there for centuries. It is hidden in the foothills to the east. When you show this sword to the rangers there, they will know what to do with it. You might even find a lost relation or two for yourself as well.”

  Roevash was buried in his thoughts for a moment before he spoke. "I am, in fact, just over five hundred years old Captain Ferric. I have come to an age that is considered only half-grown to adulthood among my elven kin.”

  Knowing a little bit about the lives of the Edhellen, the captain sat up stiffly in his chair and poured himself a drink from a nearby decanter. He was thinking about how this young elven boy must have suffered greatly, throughout so much time hiding among men at war.

  “Gods,” was all he could say, guzzling his first drink down.

  “I would honor you with knowing truth, about me and my kind.” Roe scowled at the door. Beyond they could hear drunken men howling as they attempted to sing together. Ferric filled a glass for each of them this time and slid one across the table. Roevash stared into the glint of candlelight as it danced on the surface of the amber liquor. He picked it up and drank a full mouthful.

  “If what you say is truth, it might make clear a riddle unsolved in my mind, and I will thank you now for that.” Roe lowered his eyes as he spoke, feeling the pain of long memories as they crept back into his mind.

  Sitting across the desk from his former commander, Roevash spoke about the Edhellen and how they linger in numbers, unknown to humankind, because of hidden enchantments surrounding and protecting their lands. He told him about a pain-filled migration to the spirit lands of their Lords. He also told the story of his younger brother, Eijlam.

  “I understand better now your reasons son,” the captain said solemnly. He still saw his twenty-year-old former soldier sitting before him. He smirked as he shook out the last drops from the glass decanter into their glasses. The sun would soon be rising outside on the cold gray horizon. The candles on his desk had burned down and melted away.

  “Having you here has been a blessing my boy, and I am going to miss you in the days to come. That is the god's truth,” Captain Ferric said, tiredly wagging his head.

  With that, the two stood up and clasped hands as equals, in a genuine handshake of friendship.

  “I do pray I will see you again someday.” Ferric warmly put his hand on Roe’s shoulder.

  Roevash nodded shyly and gave him a faint sober smile as he said goodbye in elvish tongue.

  Knowing now what he must do, he slipped quietly out the back door, and into the woodlands beyond.

  Honor and Heart

  Chapter Six

  Roevash was expertly sliding through shadows, unseen as he ran. He was moving at a fast pace making his way south and east towards the lost gardens of Illianheni. Beyond would be the hidden ranger outpost he was told about, located somewhere in the foothills. For many long days he ran, lost in his thoughts. The memory of his mother’s voice haunted him. He could hear her words of love, sung so clearly now. “The noble hero she spoke of in bedtime stories, might have been my own father!” Roe beat himself up for not realizing that.

  “The garden is where it must have happened. How unseeing I was! A human might not have dishonored my mother as I imagined in my silly elfling mind.” Roe had never met one of these rangers even though they lived so close to where he grew up. If what the captain told him was true, these men could not commit such depravity upon innocents as he had believed. This would change the truth he’d held since his elfling days into falsehoods. It was hard for Roevash to comprehend making an error in judgement of this magnitude.

  He had learned from Captain Ferric, the Darjal’n were known for their friendship and care of Edhellen. They were given a special grace by Ilmatar itself for their heroic acts. Roe thought about his foolish vow and how he need only have asked and his mother would have told him anything. “All the silence between us to protect her… what has it wrought! How unthinking I was,” he cringed. “What could you hope to find after all this passage of time,” he shook his head, sarcastically goading himself.

  In his distraction, Roevash did not see the band of men hidden beneath the forest canopy sleeping in the dark shadows. He almost stepped on one. Leaping high he grabbed a low tree limb and thought to swing clear of the group when the branch cracked and gave way, slamming him flat on his back where the coals of the fire smoldered.

  “Aiiii ... aaagh, ugh.” He leaped and rolled to the left in a flurry of smoke, dust, and sparks only to crash hard against an unmoving tree trunk. It knocked the wind out of him, barring his escape.

  “Agh, Lords!” he groaned at the pain of a torn ribcage through gritted teeth.

  The sleeping men moved quickly to subdue whatever monster or bandit might be attacking. The one who had been on watch was so shocked at Roe's sudden appearance he didn't even have time to sound an alarm. Ha
lf-awake men scrambled up slinging swords into the darkness in trained formation, ready to defend themselves.

  Roevash’s hooded cloak had twisted around his arms, holding him captive. He struggled to loosen himself from his tangled coat, still not knowing who or what he was facing.

  “Light a fire,” a voice commanded. Roe saw the glint of a sword pointed at his throat and froze.

  “Brother?” The man said as the glow of the fire struck Roe’s startled face. “No, impossible, he is dead at the pike of the gods forsaken enemy...” the mumbling leader trailed off with a puzzled look. “Who are you that I see there? Speak quickly, or I shall run you through and be over with it. I am tired, and I need my rest.” He deeply sighed as he waited for an answer.

  “Well, let me not trouble you, kind sir,” Roe said as cordially as he could muster. “I am, but a simple soldier sent home to aid my ailing mother on her death bed.” Roevash lied in the face of what could be a threat. He could see that the leader wore military garb of a sort that he did not recognize.

  “See here, I, I have a document for your inspection,” he said as he carefully picked the release papers out of his coat pocket with two fingers and painfully handed them over. While the other man took them from his hand he rubbed his stinging, cracked ribs inspecting the damage.

  “Roevash ... honorable release from service. I see… sealed only this week. Then you may well be as you say.” The man flipped the paper around checking its authenticity and then, lowering his sword into its scabbard, handed it back. He put his hand out to help Roevash stand up. Roe cringed to a standing position with the torn rib. Roe was shocked that he and the man were the same height. They lingered for a moment eye to eye just staring at each other.

  “Can not be too careful, you know,” the man's voice trailed off as he studied the young soldier’s face before him.

  “I am from the south lands near Illianheni,” Roe spoke hesitantly taking in the details of the man’s face, “...just west of the river. I only seek swift passage when I tripped, by accident ... over one of your men... here.” He pointed awkwardly.

  Roevash smiled broadly to defuse any doubts about his intent while looking around at the many frowning faces. The men seeing he wasn’t a threat, settled back down into their warm places.

  “That is where we are headed. You could stay in our company and find safety in numbers. My name is Calan... Calan of house Isokian.” He reached out and firmly shook Roevash’s hand in a standard greeting this time. Roe tried to smile but cringed at the force of it on his injury. Calan did not seem to notice as he turned to toss another log onto the growing flames of the campfire.

  “I am the commander of these fine men.” Calan couldn’t stop himself from staring. He could see it made the young soldier uncomfortable to be so scrutinized, so he got right to the point.

  “It is just that you look so ... like someone ...” he trailed off trying not to be rude but then... “Your mother… would she be one of the fair folk by chance," he blurted out.

  “What of it?” Roevash’s eye narrowed as he prepared in his mind for a possible fight.

  “My Brother Marin,” Calan sighed, “he recently perished in a lost cause for no reason other than the vanity of a castle steward,” he hissed as he wagged his head angrily.

  “Sorry, I need not raise my voice,” Calan sighed quietly, “but you see, I am grieving his loss.” Shaking his head again, he took in a short breath and tried to compose himself. Calan motioned for them to move up closer to the warmth of the blazing flames.

  “I am sorry to hear that,” Roe politely said as they sat down by the fire on old tree stumps that had just been set there for that purpose.

  Someone pushed a bowl of broth into Roe’s hands with some cuts of cold meat. His gut complained about the pain of emptiness at the sight and smell of food. Roe hadn’t realized how starved he was from running for the past few days. He momentarily forgot about the conversation and smiling tiredly, he nodded and thanked the kindness of the unknown man, as he ate hungrily.

  “It is just that you look so much like him.” Calan brought the conversation back. “Long ago my brother hand wed a young elven maiden named Thendiel.”

  At the sound of his mother's name, Roevash choked and sputtered soup back into the bowl.

  “My mother,” was all he could say holding the food close to his face as if to hide behind it. He hadn’t heard his mother’s name spoken in well over 300 years.

  Roe’s crystal blue eye haunted Calan, and again he tried not to stare. He held a piece of bread out, hoping it would distract this young man with the startled face from rashly reacting before he could finish having this conversation. Roevash sat in silence, looking at Calan through the flames of the campfire stunned with the sudden growing realization of who he may be talking to. He looked down at the bread in Calan’s hand and slowly took what was offered. Still being cautious, Roe decided to listen as he continued to chew the food slowly.

  “Your mother ...” Calan said gently not expecting any reply as he repeated Roe’s words.

  After staring over the fire at each other a little while longer Calan said solemnly, “They did what they had to during stressful times. They made vows to one another with great love and haste because our king’s conflicts to the north called him to duty. You can understand this, being a soldier yourself.” He tried to measure in his mind how Roevash was taking this all in.

  “I hope you know this,” Calan spoke softly shaking his head. He grieved now for the family his brother never knew. He remembered how Marin had desperately sought to return home, but because of duty, was never afforded the time. He looked down into the crackling flames of the fire as he continued, “Though Darjal’n are blessed with long lives, time still seems to cheat us of our loved ones when at war.” With a nod of his head, he solemnly pointed out the orange burning night sky to the southeast, acknowledging yet another war on the horizon.

  “So goes this joyous and sad tale of your mother and my brother, gods rest his soul.” Calan frowned as he looked to the fire for solace.

  Roe thought this man seemed fair enough, but he had learned the hard way to be wary of men who seem trustworthy. The tiredness of the last few days exertion, and the occasional sting of his injury started to catch up with him. So he sat and ate food. Roe allowed his body to go into a restful healing state. Calan continued telling Roevash stories about his life before all the recent fighting and the life of the brother he had just lost. Roevash’s face grew soft and weary as his torn ribs healed, and he contemplated all that he was hearing.

  Captain Ferric’s words came blaring back into his mind. “The sword was owned by a Darjal’n Ranger … I would swear you share the same qualities and features of height and face. It was as if he stood before me when I first glanced at you…”

  “I have my own father’s sword here then?” Roevash brought the weapon out that was strapped across his pack where it hung wrapped in a protective cloth. He thought his mission to Captain Ferric was done, as he handed the work over to his newly found uncle.

  “Yes,” Calan recognized it. “Your mother had this made and gave it to Marin the day he had to leave. This sword is yours now as his only heir.” He handed it back into Roevash’s hands.

  Roe gulped at the sound of it.

  “Heir?”

  He had never thought in terms of gain as humans do. Where he was raised there was never a need or want, but this... this was a great gift, and Roe did not feel worthy of it. His eyes teared up, and he tried to give the sword back to his uncle, who knew the man as brother, and seemed more deserving.

  “See here...” his uncle pulled his own weapon forward so Roe could see, “I have my own blade that suits me.” Calan had to smile as he respectfully refused his brother’s sword. He knew Roevash was raised among the elves, and they rarely owned anything humans would call value, or real property. Oh yes, there was the occasional named weapon that had become legendary. The Edhellen revered those things, but they were onl
y borrowed in times of great need from their king’s armory. Inheritance was a whole new concept to an elf. Roe would just have to keep it.

  Roevash reverently pressed the gold etched filigree against his cheek and felt the cold steel. Calan could tell he enjoyed ownership of this sword.

  “This was my fathers... made for him by my mother’s heart…” Roe could barely comprehend that a weapon such as this now belonged to him. As he unsheathed it, the metal sang out in his hands as all finely crafted elven swords do.

  “Thank you...” Roe still could not believe it, so he just smiled softly and shook his head, not knowing what else to say.

  Calan grew solemn, breaking the trance. Roe sheathed his sword and tied it back onto his pack; to wait for further inspection later.

  “What is it you wish to know?” Roe asked politely, seeing the man wanted to say something.

  “I can not command you Roevash, but I feel that under the circumstances, you must come with us. There is something important you need to see, that is if the delay in accompanying me does not stress your mother’s health,” he added curiously.

  Roevash could tell Calan had figured out he might have said a half-truth or exaggerated a bit about the sick mother part of his story. His voice low and even he explained shyly, “Mother sailed with Lord Atto to Ilmatar over three hundred forty years ago. She was faded and drawn unto death and compelled to go.” Roe nervously picked up a stick he had found nearby and poked it into the dying campfire.

  A shadow of sadness fell across Calan’s face in learning that the beautiful and merry Thendiel, as he had known her, was indeed gone from this realm. He just sat and listened as Roevash continued.

  “When he needed me most, through my own impetuous anger, I drove my brother away. My actions dishonored my mother’s last wishes… I have searched in vain throughout all these years to beg his forgiveness, but cannot find him.” Roe grieved because he kept the memories of his lost family close to his heart.