Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Solitary Arrow By Mack the Knife

   Part Fifteen

   The bright sun of morning did little to warm the day.  A chill northern
breeze brought winds down from the mountains and whipped the turning leaves
into orange and brown blizzards.

   Hyandai clutched her cloak about herself.  "I dislike fall." She said to
Harlen, peering back over her shoulder at him.

   Eying the trees as they denuded themselves for the winter, Harlen
nodded. "It's colorful, at least." He said, plodding behind her as they
passed through a small gap between two large brambles.

   They had been marching for five hours, and Harlen had declared that the
road should be just ahead any moment.  The sun was still well over the
horizon and they had plenty of travel time remaining.  Harlen moved a bit
faster to walk aside her as they passed the narrow cleft.

   "Teach me elven." He said, suddenly.

   Hyandai blinked a few times.  "Just like that?" She asked.

   Harlen smiled.  "Uh-huh." He said, nodding.

   Turning her eyes to him, she said.  "It will take time."

   "Start by naming things we see and actions we take." Harlen suggested,
pointing to a rock nearby.  "What is a large stone like that called?"

   Hyandai glanced down along his extended arm.  "Ureondo." She said. 
"Large rock.  But you could also call it a Uregond."

   "Do all elven words have two expressions?" Harlen asked.

   "No." Hyandai said.  She began to tell him the elven words for other
objects they passed, and for things they did as they walked.

   --

   "Miqula, hmm?" Harlen said as they parted lips.  "Good to know."

   They walked onward, as the sun sank toward the rolling hills as they
moved southward now, at a much better pace, following the old Norboro Road.

   Hyandai laughed.  "Would you prefer me to teach you some `practical'
elven words?" She asked, grabbing him around the waist and moving her
slender fingers around his belt, following it to his front.

   Harlen chuckled, also, but said.  "I think, perhaps we would both like
to get home for any more education in the useful elven phrases."

   With a mocking pout, Hyandai unhanded his belt buckle and slid around
him kissing his cheek as she turned back to face down the road.

   "Are we getting near?" She asked, gazing ahead into the misty distance.

   Harlen squinted ahead and said.  "Perhaps we will arrive shortly after
dark." He said.  "Unless you would rather make camp?"

   A quick shake of the head answered him.

   "The Ehladrel made a sound when you screamed earlier." Harlen said.

   Hyandai decided that she would need to grow used to his sudden
non-sequiturs.  "What do you mean, beloved?" She asked, turning her head to
watch him.

   "Well, when you had release," he replied, "it sort of echoed you, like
it was singing along."

   There was a long pause as Hyandai pondered this.  "You are sure it was
echoing me, and not just a reverberation off the tent walls or some such?"
She asked.

   Harlen nodded.

   "Perhaps, as the last person to channel it, I am `attuned' in some way
to it." Hyandai offered.  "But, I have never heard of it having such
properties."

   Harlen looked at her.  Hyandai's eyes seemed to show honest surprise at
his revelation.

   "It flashed very faintly, too." Harlen said.  "Right as you stopped
screaming."

   She looked down at her side, where the weapon hung, wrapped in a sheet
of leather that Harlen had sewn into a makeshift pouch.  The pouch was
draped over her shoulder to just under her right arm by a long leather
strap.  The blade's tip barely managed to stay clear of the ground.

   "I am afraid that I do not know all the properties that it possesses."
Hyandai said.  "I was more interested in the reacquiring it for my clan
than using it myself.  It was always our intent for Eleean to use the
blade."

   Harlen nodded at this, and glanced over at the sun as it touched the
edge of the horizon.  "It will be darkening soon." He commented.  "I think
it better if we proceed, as well.  I would like to spend the night in our
bed."

   The elf's face spread in a wide smile at the word `our.' She leaned over
and kissed Harlen's shoulder.

   --

   True to his word, almost exactly two hours after full dark, as the moon
was just cresting over the Worldspine Mountains west, they came to their
home.  There was only one candle burning in the entry foyer, as was normal
for after Trevir had gone to bed.

   Harlen went through the house and out the back while Hyandai tended to
their backpacks.

   Knocking gently on Trevir's door, Harlen heard a muzzy voice.  "Who's
that?" Trevir asked.

   "It's me." Harlen replied, opening the door a crack.  "Just letting you
know Hyandai and I are returned, and that we will talk to you tomorrow. 
Good rest to you, Trev."

   "And to you, Master Harlen." Trevir said, smiling.  "I'm glad you're
home."

   As he walked back into the house, Harlen found Hyandai already moving
gear from the packs and into storage in the workroom.  She had also shed
her traveling cloak and her boots.

   She padded up to him and kissed him soundly.  "Welcome home." She said
quietly.

   Harlen put his powerful arms about her and pulled her tight to him, she
smiled and leaned against his broad chest, folding her arms before her so
that she was being coddled.  They stood like that a long moment, enjoying
the touch, sound, and the smell of one another.

   Finally, after long moments of simply enjoying being held, Hyandai
looked up.  "Are we ready to sleep or just for bed?" She asked, raising
both eyebrows inquiringly.

   Harlen smiled.  "I'm very tired, but if such joy is in the offing." He
replied.

   She slid her hands around him and gripped both his buttocks in her small
hands, pulling them toward her.  "It is quite in the offing." She said.

   His arms released her and she turned about, and took one of his hands,
leading him up the stairs, looking back from time to time with a wide grin.

   "You know, this amount of activity is not very elven." She said as they
arrived at the top of the wooden stairs.  "But, I have to say, I think I
prefer the human way in this matter, very much."

   Harlen chuckled.  "I'll try to increase the frequency, if that will help
you feel more `elven.'" He said.

   Throwing him a look of fictitious alarm, she said.  "You know that is
not what I meant." She said.  "Elven couples are considered `active' if
they make love once a week."

   A look of deep consideration came over Harlen's face.  "That would
explain the low numbers." He mused.

   Hyandai giggled and looked at him.  "I suppose I am simply doing my part
to get those numbers back up." She said, her face taking on a look of
righteousness.  "We elven folk thank you for your assistance in that odious
endeavor."

   He pushed her back gently to the bed, pinning her against one of the
great oaken posts.  "It's a sacrifice I know I must make." He said, then
kissed her, slipping his fingers into her thick mane of red hair.

   When he knotted them into the tresses, she gasped and her face became
flushed.  He pulled back gently, forcing her head to tilt back and exposing
her exquisitely slim neck to his gaze and to his lips.  Bending down, he
began to kiss and suck on the exposed, taut flesh of her throat, eliciting
small moans and gasps from her with each touch.

   Once again, Harlen marveled at her responsiveness and her general
magnetism, as she parted her lips and breathed heavily, he found himself
desiring to take her, and to do so roughly.  She would let him, and gladly
accept him, he knew.

   He undressed her slowly, pausing at moments to allow her to do the same
to him.  They removed one article of clothing, then another.  Soon,
however, they stood before one another nude and thoroughly aroused.

   "I would take you forcefully." He murmured into her ear as he gently
licked at the pointed shell.  "If you will allow it."

   She smiled upon him.  "Of course, betrothed." She said in return. 
"Ever, you have been gentle with me.  If once, you wish to do so a bit
more, well, wantonly, then I would welcome it, as well.

   Harlen smiled and put his hands on her flanks, just at the bottom of her
ribs.  With a grunt he lifted her and threw her back onto the bed, landing
her almost dead center as she bounced slightly.

   Harlen started crawling up after her.  She flipped over and stood upon
her hands and knees.  There was a somewhat feral look in her emerald eyes.

   "If you wish to take me roughly, my lover," She said, a threatening tone
in her soprano voice, "then you must best me, and take me in your victory."

   Harlen smiled slightly at her challenge, and he lunged for her.

   Hyandai's remarkable reflexes prevented him getting a hold upon her, and
she was now kneeling at the right headboard corner of the bed, watching him
carefully and even wagging her backside, preparing to leap aside should he
come at her again.

   He did, casting his arms wide to encompass anything that he could. 
Gracefully, she bounded aside, almost like a startled cat, leaping up and
over him, again landing on all fours.

   "If you do not catch me soon, you will be too winded to take what is
rightfully yours." She said, teasing him.  "I have no energy to spare for a
man who cannot even cat . . .."

   She was interrupted by Harlen's next charge, wrapping one massive arm
about her waist; he funneled her into the area directly before him.

   She tried a desperate gamble to elude his grasping hands, spinning about
she tried to spring forth and grip one of the massive posts, intending to
pivot around it and come back onto the bed behind him.

   However, his strong hands locked onto her shoulders as she gathered up
her muscles to leap.  Forcing her shoulders to the mattress, he found
himself behind her, with her shapely legs folded partially beneath her.

   Hyandai's head came around, and he saw teeth flash for his neck.  Harlen
pulled back and moved one hand from her shoulder into her thick hair. 
Taking hold of a massive fistful of the hair, he forced her head back down
to the covers and held her there.

   "You will have to let my head or my shoulder go to take me." She
taunted, her voice gravelly with some deep growl.

   Pushing his elbow down right between her shoulder blades, he held her
down with one arm, reaching between their bodies, and aiming his organ at
her entrance from behind.  She tried to wriggle her hips aside.

   Harlen reflexively smacked her backside as she attempted to move herself
out of his way.  This earned him a startled gasp and moan from Hyandai as
she felt the shock of his spanking.

   The random movements of her rump ceased and he aimed again for her tight
entrance.  Once his cock had pushed up against it, he felt moisture at her
opening.

   His aim was checked by his hand again, then he shoved himself into her,
slapping her butt again with his lower abdomen.  Hyandai cried out as he
spread her wide and took her deeply, filling her with his cock.  She glared
up at him in a mocking fury; however, the response of her body betrayed how
much she really enjoyed it.

   Thrusting into her, he thought for a moment about going a bit easier,
watching her face grimace with a mix of pleasure and pain from the rough
handling her intimate places were receiving.  She pushed her rear back to
receive each of his thrusts, and he could feel it beginning to well up in
him, the release he so desired.

   However, Hyandai was far more aroused than he even guessed by the
manhandling he was tendering her.  Within minutes, her climax tore through
her, sending sharp shudders throughout her tiny body.

   With her immediate needs at least partially sated, Harlen began to grow
rougher with her, plowing into her cunt with increasing force and speed. 
Sweat was dripping from his bangs as he brought his swollen organ home over
and over, feeling her receive it.

   Hyandai was coated in a sheen of perspiration, as well, and he doubted
not she was trying just as hard as he, working toward individual, but
shared goals.

   The man's orgasm was imminent, and he at last gave her every ounce he
could muster of strength and desperation and lust and hunger.  Her body
quaked with each impact of his pelvis as his organ rammed into her,
knocking her breath from her lungs with each entry.

   Finally, he came.  Grasping her hair tightly in his hand, and pulling
back, he lifted her by her thick hair to standing upright upon her knees
before him.  He spilled himself into her, pulsing stream after stream into
her tight entrance, and up into her womb.  Her groans were exciting him
farther, and he gave her a final few fierce thrusts, that lifted her from
her knees and caused her back to arch painfully, bringing her neck to his
mouth and teeth.

   He bit her neck for the last few grinding motions inside her.  Then
ultimately stopped.

   Her thick hair was released by his fingers, and she fell forward onto
the mattress, bouncing once and simply laying there gasping for air.

   One emerald eye turned to regard him.  "I love you." Hyandai said, her
voice both hoarse and soft.

   Harlen bent and kissed the nape of her neck gently.  "And I love you."
He replied.  Her legs unfolded and he slowly sank atop her.  He laid upon
her a long moment, feeling her heart beat and her breathing.

   "I hope I did not hurt you." Harlen finally said.

   Hyandai smiled and wiggled her rump.  "You did, a little, my lover." She
said.  "But I did ask for it, and very much I enjoyed it." A rather
mischievous grin crossed her face.  "Would you like to take me thus again?"
She said, her eyes flashing.

   "How could I refuse such a generous offer?" Harlen said, leaning down to
kiss her.  She gave him an infusion of whatever mysterious energy she could
tap to grant him.  Almost without pause, his manhood swelled back to full
growth within her tender and well-used cunt.

   He lifted her back up onto her knees, then started giving her his full
power again.  With fully renewed vigor, she found herself being roughly
handled.  His massive hands gripped her hips, and he slammed his cock into
her over and over.

   More and more force was poured into his actions, and within a brief time
she was screaming out in her release again.  His renewed erection did not
falter, though, and he continued tearing into her.  Her hands were entwined
with the sheets and blanket, gripping them for purchase against the intense
inertia he was expending into her private places.

   Close on the heels of the prior, she had another orgasm, this time one
that was quieter, but just as intense as the more vocal ones.  As her
orgasm again subsided, he felt the build up of his own release into her
waiting opening.

   Crying out "Hyandai!" He spilt forth his semen again.  His entire body
was wracked with tensed and quivering muscles.  They all soon relaxed, far
beyond the normal level of repose taken by most spent lovers.  Harlen
collapsed and rolled onto his side while Hyandai's legs simply slid down
the bed, her feet hanging off the side.  It was long minutes before either
moved.  All that could be heard in the room was gasping for air, and tiny
moans escaping Hyandai's lips.

   "I think I will now sleep." Hyandai said in almost a whisper as she
crawled up the disheveled sheets to the big pillows at the headboard.

   Harlen marveled at how slowly she crawled, and how tired she looked now.
When he attempted to rise, he found he could not.  His organ throbbed, and
was slightly reddened by the rough payment he had forced it to mete out.

   He wound up crawling up beside her, just as slowly and lethargically. 
Hyandai rolled toward him, cuddling up against his chest in a tiny ball. 
He protectively wrapped his arms around her and felt her relax as sleep
took her from the world of the waking.

   Once Harlen was convinced she was fully resting, he allowed himself to
drift off to dreamland as well.

   --

   The sound should not have awakened Harlen, so exhausted as he was.  But
it had.

   His eyes snapped open and he sat up.  Muscles in his back and sides
screamed in protest to the movement, but they responded.  Hyandai opened
one eye blearily.

   "What is it, beloved?" She whispered, her voice slurry with sleep and
exhaustion.

   Harlen glanced at the door.  "I thought I heard something." He said,
rising from the bed and padding to the wardrobe.  He silently opened the
wardrobe and drew out a long knife from a sheath tacked to the backside of
its door.

   Hyandai sat up, seeing the drawn weapon; she was as awake as he, now. 
She rolled out of the bed and silently moved beside him.  There was a soft
creak outside the bedroom, on the stairs, from the sound of it.

   Someone was climbing the stairs, someone trying very hard to not be
heard.

   Harlen held out an arm and pushed Hyandai back slightly as he stepped
back from the door, getting himself out of its path, should it swing inward
suddenly.  There was a minute click as the thumb latch on the far side was
pushed down.  Harlen brought up the knife and prepared to lunge.

   The door swung open, followed by a cloaked shape.  Harlen waited until
it was mostly into the room and waited too long, the shape gasped and
turned toward him, steel flashing in the dim moonlight coming in through
the windows.

   Harlen swung his knife, connecting with the figure's arm as it came up
with a sword.  There was a rasping sound as his blade slid over steel
rings. The figure was wearing a mail shirt.  It forced Harlen back with a
feint with its sword, swinging it toward his head.

   Hyandai was forced back also and was near the bed.  She dove for the
side of the bed, under which she had concealed the Ehladrel.

   "Run, Hyandai." Harlen grunted as the shape pressed him back and another
shape slipped unhampered into the room.

   "No!" Hyandai shouted, "Never again!" She stood up, holding the Ehladrel
in its leather covering.

   The shape fighting back Harlen hissed something to the other in elven.
Harlen recognized only the word `Ehladrel.' Hyandai's eyes widened and she
said a single word in elven, then reached into the leather case.

   The second shape said a single word that seemed to fill the room with
ambient noise as she spoke.  She had a beautiful soprano voice, similar,
but even richer than Hyandai's.  The sound filled the room and as Hyandai
pulled the leather, a flash emerged from the second elf's outstretched
hand.

   The air before that hand turned into an imperfect lens, as it seemed to
compress, and form a tight, thick wave.  That lens then shot forth and
struck Hyandai in the chest.

   Harlen watched, helpless, as his lover was lifted and flung bodily out
the back window of the room, shattering it and the wooden frame it was set
into.  There was a soft thudding sound as she rolled down the sloped roof
of the bathing room.  The elven woman was hot on Hyandai's path, leaping to
the window in one graceful jump.

   The sword came down at Harlen again and he parried it with the small
knife.

   "You cannot beat me, human." The elf before him said.  "Your little
whore is already dead, and you will die too, just slightly sooner than your
short-lived kind normally do."

   The blade whistled around as the elf took a wide swing with it.  Harlen
leapt back and watched as the blade sank into the corner post of the bed
with a solid and satisfyingly loud thunk.

   Harlen came around with the knife and tried to stab his attacker,
however, the elf raised his forearm and met Harlen's own forearm on the
downward swing, knocking the knife from his grip in the process.

   The huntsman, however, had learned a trick from Hyandai.  His left hand
had already started an uppercut as his knife arm was being blocked.  He
caught the elf in the chin with the sneaky punch.  The elf flew back as if
struck by a really big man, which coincidentally, was exactly true.  The
slight creature lost his grip on his sword and landed, sprawled upon the
floor.

   As Harlen moved forward to kick at the elf, the cloaked figure sprang
back onto his feet with an odd and graceful motion of his legs and
shoulders.

   With a smooth and flowing motion of his arm, the elf struck Harlen in
the chest with his palm.  The blow hurt, but did not stop the large man.

   "You'll have to do better than that, elf." Harlen growled as he grabbed
the slender man about the waist and lifted him from the floor. 
Accelerating across the room, Harlen aimed for a solid section of wall to
smash this little man against.

   Fists battered Harlen's head and shoulders, and boxed his ears so that
they rang.

   However, the hail of blows stopped when his momentum was cancelled by
the solid stone and mortar wall.  There was a huge whoosh of air by his ear
as the elf was pinned against the wall and slammed into it with a human
smashing him.  There was a dull cracking sound in the elf's chest, and
Harlen knew he had broken some of the smaller man's ribs.

   Stepping back, Harlen let the elf go.  The elf seemed to be toppling
forward into a fall, but at the last second, changed course and lunged up
at Harlen's throat, another blade gleaming in his fist.  This one shorter
than the sword, belatedly, Harlen realized it was his own knife.

   The blade gouged deeply into Harlen's arm, and then across his chest in
a shallow cut.  Harlen dove back across the bed and landed nearly off the
foot of the large four-poster.  His upper half hung over the side
precariously, but he saw above him the elf's sword.  Gripping it in one
hand Harlen lifted himself with it, then yanked it free of the wood with
one quick pull.

   The elf was leaping over the bed toward him as he brought the sword
around in an intercepting motion.

   Unable to still his forward momentum, the elf impaled his own leg upon
the sword, running it through his upper thigh and out the back.  He growled
something in elven at Harlen and swung the knife again.

   Pain seared through Harlen's chest again as the dagger bit deeply into
his flesh.  "You will wish you had killed me first, you arrogant elven
shit!" Harlen screamed, pulling the sword to the side, severing many
tendons of the elf's inner thigh and ripping the large vessel and vein that
fed blood to that leg.

   Harlen could see the elf's eyes widen in realization that he was going
to die in seconds.  Blood sprayed from the wound in a huge fan.  Dousing
the bed and Harlen in a crimson mist.

   The knife came back around, but Harlen caught the elf's wrist with his
left hand, clamping down with every ounce of strength in his muscles. 
Harlen heard bones grinding together in the elf's wrist.

   "And now, you self-righteous prick, you die." Harlen said and brought
the sword's blade around and nearly cut through the elf's neck.  There was
a soft whimper from the elf as he collapsed onto the bed and ceased moving.

   Harlen did not watch him for more than three heartbeats though, and
bolted out the bedroom door.

   ---

   Hyandai felt the flesh of her back pierced and cut by many shards of
broken glass as she smashed bodily through it.  Stunned, she was unable to
control her fall, and landed upon her back on the sloped roof of the
bathing room, still sliding.

   The sound of tinkling glass and wooden thuds followed her as she slid
inexorably downward.  Her mind cringed realizing what was next, and in slow
motion, she felt herself falling to the ground behind the house.  The thud
knocked what little air she still had in her free.

   Attempting to lift her head, Hyandai found herself now lying upon her
stomach, her left leg bent at an improbable angle.  One eye was unable to
see, something thick and opaque was flowing freely over it.  Blood.

   She gasped in air in a great gulp and felt around for the Ehladrel.  As
her fingers closed on the leather pouch that contained the weapon, a booted
foot kicked it away from her.

   "Let us help you join your short-lived human lover, shall we?" The
female elf said in elven.  Her voice was hard and cold, and just the sound
of it sent a chill through Hyandai.

   The same boot kicked Hyandai in the ribs, causing her to roll over to
get away from the pain of another blow.  She looked up with the one eye not
covered in blood.  The elven woman had tossed back her hood, and, much to
Hyandai's relief, she was not known to her.

   Interesting, Hyandai thought to herself, would knowing that her murderer
was someone she knew and loved have made it so much worse?  Yes, another
part of her mind answered.

   Hyandai locked her emerald eyes onto the silver orbs of her attacker. 
Nothing happened.

   "Don't bother, human-breeder." The elf said, again in their native
tongue.  "I know of your mental abilities, it is why I was chosen to come
after you."

   With dreadful slowness, the elf drew out a long, triangular-bladed
stiletto.

   Hyandai cried out.  "You would not!" Eyeing the ritual dagger.

   "Oh, indeed I would." Said the elf with a malicious gleam in her silvern
eyes.  "The sacrificial dagger is used only to slay animals, and I say you
have lowered yourself to such." She stooped nearer to Hyandai, hovering
with her face mere inches from hers.  "Your horrid golden eyes were bad,
but to know a human made them green is by far worse.  But, truly, I do not
blame you so much as your fey, it made you weak."

   Hyandai cringed as the elven woman rose up again, lifting the dagger
over her bare chest chest.

   With a last desperate surge of energy, Hyandai tried to stop the
descending hands that aimed the blade for her heart.  She managed only to
deflect the blade slightly; she felt the point pierce into her, the pain
shooting to every corner of her body as it buried itself into her chest.

   The elf laughed a vicious, cruel note.  "You just made it worse for
yourself.  I offered you a quick death, you stupid cur." She began to rise.
"Now you will die sl . . .."

   The elf woman's eyes widened as an arrow appeared in her chest, still
quivering from the impact, she stumbled back, looking up from Hyandai out
into the yard.  She saw the elven altar standing there and her eyes widened
when a shape moved from the shadows beside it.  It appeared to be an elven
man, he drew another arrow from his quiver and shot her again as she stood
reeling, this arrow striking her shoulder and causing her to fall onto her
rump.

   "Mercy Ehladrim!" She cried out in desperation, holding up an imploring
hand, coated in Hyandai's blood.  "I work only to . . .." The third arrow
buried itself into her heart and silenced her voice forever.

   Hyandai turned her head and looked toward the altar and saw an elf
running toward her for a brief moment, in her blurring vision.  Then the
shape focused into the form of Trevir, a bow clutched in his hand.  He
leaned over her.

   "Miss Hyandai!" He exclaimed, seeing her wounds clearly now.  Trevir
dropped the bow and knelt at her head, lifting it into his lap.  He stroked
her hair from her eye, taking the clotting blood with it.

   She gazed up with both emerald eyes now, and smiled up at the lad, with
his head backlit by the full moon behind him.  "Trevir." She said quietly.
Her hand reached up toward him, and she felt tears fall from his face onto
hers.

   "You can't die, Miss Hyandai." He said quietly, weeping freely now. 
"You just can't, you're supposed to live a long time."

   Hyandai felt her life draining slowly, and her fingertips briefly
touched Trevir's smooth cheek before her strength left her arm and it fell
to her side.

   --

   Harlen ran down the stairs so fast that, in the darkness of the common
room, he stumbled over one of the rocking chairs.  Regaining his footing he
slammed into the door to the bathing room and then the back door of the
house.

   As he pushed the back door open, something stopped its swing, something
soft and yielding.  Harlen looked down and saw the dead eyes of an elven
woman there, but not Hyandai.  Three arrows had pierced her.  They were
Trevir's arrows, Harlen recognized the colors that Trevir had chosen in the
fletching.

   He almost had a smile on his face when he spied Hyandai's broken body
laying just a few paces from the other elven woman's.  He ran to her and
fell to his knees beside her.  Harlen looked down and saw that her eyes
were closed, and she did not breathe.

   Blood covered her bare chest and had run from small wounds over her
whole body.  Harlen heard the sound of weeping nearby and looked toward the
altar, where Trevir was kneeling, his head hanging low.  Harlen could
actually see the tears as they fell from the tip of the lad's nose.

   Harlen's own vision was blurring from the tears welling in his eyes.  He
looked down again, taking one of Hyandai's delicate hands into his own.  It
was still warm and soft, but it did not respond to his touch and when he
let it loose, it simply dropped onto her stomach with a dull slap.

   Trevir looked up at that moment, turning his head so fast that the tears
at the tip of his nose flew away from him.

   "Harlen!" He screamed.  "I thought you were dead!" He stood and ran
towards the huntsman.  Harlen tried in vain to work up a brave smile for
the lad's benefit, but was unable to muster more than a pained grimace.

   Harlen stood too, letting the lad run into his arms and embrace him.  He
needed the comfort as much as the boy did, if not more.

   The tears that Trevir shed soaked Harlen's arm.  He realized he was
naked, but now was not the time for such concerns.  He brushed the wet,
flowing tears from his upper arm and looked at his hand as he prepared to
wipe it on his own leg.  The fingers were black.  It was not tears covering
his arm, but blood, from Trevir.

   Grabbing Trevir by his shoulders, Harlen pushed him away and held him at
arm's length and looked into his young face.

   A smile of surpassing eeriness crossed Trevir's face.  And his eyes
softened as he regarded Harlen.  "You must work quickly, beloved." Trevir
said, his voice oddly soprano.  "Get the preist from your church.  I cannot
tarry long in Trevir's mind."

   Harlen looked at Hyandai's body for a brief moment.  "How?  What?" He
said, his mind reeling.

   Trevir stepped forward again.  "Go get the priest now, he is a healer,
Trevir told me." Trevir said, though now Harlen began to recognize
Hyandai's speech pattern and tone.

   "Now!" Trevir screamed, in his own voice.  "Dammit, Harlen, she's going
to die if you don't go now!"

   Harlen ran, slamming through the house at breakneck speed, this time
barely missing the rocking chair that he had stumbled over before.  Only
the barest presence of mind allowed him to grab his cloak off the peg
inside the door and fling it about himself as he ran across the dewy front
lawn.

   The gravel of the road hurt his feet, but he flinched not at all to
these little pains.  The pain provided impetus, and focused his mind on the
run.  As he ran toward the gates that opened into the inner village, the
guards started at his approach.  However, when they saw it was Harlen, they
simply watched him run past them, then looked at each other and shrugged.

   He got to the priest's small home beside the church in mere minutes,
hammering at the door.  Father Tegmar opened the door and regarded Harlen.

   "What is it, my son?" He asked and was answered by having the collar of
his nightshirt grabbed and being dragged bodily from his doorway.  He
stumbled along with Harlen down the cobbled streets.

   "Hyandai needs your special healing touch." Harlen said.  "I know she's
not of the One, but . . .."

   "You need not explain yourself, Harlen." Tegmar said.  "Hyandai is
elvenborn and blessed for it, let us move hastily." He added, moving even
faster than Harlen had been dragging him.

   They arrived back at the house, and went to the rear courtyard.  The
pastor looked down at her corpse.  "Harlen, my son, she is beyond my help."
He said, tears welling in his own eyes.

   "No, Father Tegmar, I am not." Trevir said, again in an imitation of
Hyandai's voice.  "Simply heal the mortal wound, and I can return to my
body." Blood was running down the lad's face more freely now.  There was a
noticeable gauntness to Trevir's face and especially around his eyes.

   The priest gasped, then said.  "I had heard some elves could do such a
thing." He said.  "But never imagined it was true."

   "Please, pastor." Hyandai said.  "I have not much longer."

   Trevir's voice changed subtly.  "She's hurting, pastor, hurry."

   The priest knelt beside the body and clutched forth his octoform
pendant; He gripped it in his hand and tightened his fingers about it.  His
other hand, the left one, hovered over Hyandai's naked chest.  A pulse of
purest white light came from that hand, and the pendant in his right hand
flashed within his grip.  Blood was dripping from the fingers as he
clenched the pendant tighter.  Another pulse flashed from the hand and
pendant.  And the wounds started to close, not slowly, like a reverse of
the wound themselves, as Hyandai's healing breath, but they simply ceased
being wounds, and were smooth, normal skin.  He gritted his teeth and
screamed out words that Harlen had never heard before, ancient words,
Syrisian words, perhaps.  His hand flashed white again, leaving little
black dots in Harlen's vision afterwards.  The body gasped in air, and the
golden eyes flew open.

   There was no mind behind them though, and they stared blankly into the
sky.  The body took another shuddering breath and Trevir collapsed atop it,
his green eyes over her golden ones at a mere inch of distance.

   To Harlen and the priest, they seemed to simply look at one another a
moment, but suddenly, Hyandai's arms came up and grabbed Trevir around the
chest and kissed him.  She then pulled back and looked up at Harlen, a wide
smile crossing her face.  Then she fainted.

   Harlen panicked a moment, then realized she simply slept.  Lifting her
from her place upon the ground, he carried her into the house.

   The priest saw the other elven corpse upon the ground.  "What about this
one?" He asked.

   Harlen glanced back over his shoulder.  "She's already getting what she
deserves, in hell, I hope." He said, with a vehement voice.  "There is
another upstairs, a man, who is also enjoying the devil's tender
ministrations."

   "I must summon the Magistrate." The priest said.  "You understand that?"

   Harlen nodded.  "I do." He said, his face cringing.  Hyandai was
partially awake now, and touched his face.  The last time he had faced the
Magistrate was after he had slain the other huntsman.  The priest shuffled
out the front door, wringing his hands with worry, and to soothe the one he
had used to feed blood to his healing magics.

   Trevir followed Harlen up the stairs, near fainting himself.  "Is she
okay?" He asked, distantly.

   Harlen nodded as he laid her upon the guest bed, in the room across from
his own bedroom.  "She will be okay, now, Trevir." He said.  "We owe you
her life."

   Trevir gave a weak smile.  "I'm glad I could help." He was weaving
noticeably, and his eyes seemed determined to shut.

   "Lay down, Trevir." Harlen said.  "I will deal with the Magistrate.  If
he wishes to talk to you and Hyandai, he can wait until you two are
rested."

   Trevir crawled onto the bed, curling up at the far edge from Hyandai and
quickly dozed off.  Hyandai, however, looked at Harlen with her golden eyes
flashing.

   "It will be okay." Hyandai whispered.

   Harlen nodded.  "I know." He replied and kissed her gently, then rose
and walked out, shutting the door behind himself.

   Less than half an hour later, the Magistrate arrived.  Obviously upset
with having been rousted out of bed at the wee hours.  He grunted and
harumphed as Harlen told him the tale of the deeds done this night.  The
small man standing beside the Magistrate nodded in agreement with each
statement Harlen made.

   It was the Magistrate's Truthteller.  A form of magician who could tell
lies from truth upon hearing them.

   The Magistrate wrote down a lot of things in his journal, and looked
about a bit.  Guardsmen came in and collected the two bodies and their
weaponry.  One guard tried to take the Ehladrel, but Harlen stopped him and
the Truthteller confirmed its ownership.

   "What will be done with them?" Harlen asked the Magistrate.

   The Magistrate regarded the corpses on the back of a wagon brought for
the purpose.  "They will be burned." He said.  "It is the elven way, or so
I hear."

   The small group said their farewells, leaving Harlen with only the
priest again.  They watched the wagon bounce and jolt down the road toward
town.  "My son," Father Tegmar said, "you will need to watch Hyandai for
some days."

   "Why is that?" Harlen asked.

   "She was dead, Harlen." The preacher said.  "It is bound to affect her
mind, in some way.  I will pray to the One for guidance."

   Harlen nodded.  "Thank you father." He said, patting the man on the
shoulder.  "I will watch her closely." The first rays of sun were peering
over the fuzzy eastern mountains, and the sky was lightening.  Father
Tegmar walked out of the gate and down the road, gravel crunching under his
feet.

   The house seemed somehow broken now.  Harlen ambled through it, picking
up the fallen rocking chair and setting it on its rockers.  A massive sigh
escaped him as he looked up the stairs.  He was not ready yet to face the
bedroom, with the blood and damage of the fight.  He felt violated, like
someone had stripped away his most secure of securities.

   For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Hyandai was at fault.  Quickly,
that thought was banished and squelched mercilessly by his affection for
her.  She was doing the right thing here, not those other people.  Looking
out the back door, he regarded the numerous bloodstains by the waxing light
of morning.

   The Ehladrel gleamed near Trevir's cottage, lying bare in the tall
grass. Harlen walked up to it and slipped it back into the leather sheath.
"You're the cause of this misery." He murmured as he lifted the strap and
began to walk back toward the house.

   Harlen mounted the stairs and walked up to the master bedroom.  Peering
in he saw the damage was not as bad as he had, at first, thought.  The
mattress and bed linen would have to be replaced, of course, and perhaps
the rug beneath the bed.  The damaged post of the bed would be repairable
by a skilled carpenter, of which Morrovale boasted several.

   He then sat the Ehladrel down upon a small table in the antechamber at
the top of the stairs, just under the windows that lit the stairwell.  He
opened the door to the guest room and saw Hyandai still sleeping, with
Trevir now curled up in the large reading chair at the foot of the bed. 
Harlen smiled and closed the door.  He looked at the cursed weapon again.

   "Will you not be satisfied until she is dead?" He asked it, glowering.
"Or is it me that needs to die?"

   The Ehladrel remained uncommunicative.  Harlen dressed and walked
downstairs.  He fetched out his broadsword and a dagger for his other hip.
He dragged the rocking chair up the stairs and sat in it, facing down the
treads of the upper flight.  Drawing the sword, he sat in the chair, with
the silvery blade across him, from one arm to the other.  Slowly, and in
fits, he fell asleep.

   --

   Hyandai's voice awoke him.  "Harlen?" She asked.

   Harlen opened his eyes.  The sun was now pouring through the stairtop
window and his back was moist with sweat.  Hyandai was on her knees before
him, with her head in his lap.  "I will tend your wounds this evening,
betrothed." She said quietly.  Touching near the large patch of red on his
chest with her fingertips.

   He stroked her hair, still tacky with blood and grass and dirt from the
yard.  With a crooked smile, he said.  "You look like you're half dead."

   Hyandai grinned up at him.  "I shall take that as a compliment,
considering I was far more than half dead."

   She sprang to her feet; she had dressed in one of his mother's old
dresses.  "I am hungry, Harlen." She said.  "Let us eat." She grabbed his
hand and pulled insistently.  He reluctantly rose from the creaking chair
and followed her down the stairs.  She bounced as she walked, he noted,
like she had energy to burn.

   Entering the kitchen, she peeled and devoured three oranges and two
apples, and all of the bananas.  Pulp and juice ran from her chin as she
demolished one fruit after another.

   "Harlen, may I beg some meat?" She said, wiping her chin with a cloth.

   He nodded and took some smoked meat from the cupboard, handing her a
large chunk.  Quickly, she was ripping through that, as well.

   "Hungry?" Asked Harlen, smiling.

   Hyandai interrupted her current project.  "Dying takes it out of me,
apparently." She said with a wry grin.

   As the last of the meat disappeared down her gullet, Trevir dragged into
the kitchen.  "Did everything get sorted out?" He asked.

   Harlen nodded.  "Yes, it did." He said.  "Trevir, I want to thank you
for what you did last night."

   Hyandai nodded assent.  "I agree, you are my hero now." She said,
jumping at him and hugging Trevir tightly.  "Without you, I would now be
dead, and the traitors would have the Ehladrel."

   Trevir blinked.  "I suppose I did do good." He said, humbly.  "Does that
mean no chores today?" He asked.

   Harlen laughed uproariously at that.  "A day?" He said.  "You're free of
chores for TWO days!"

   There was a pause while Trevir digested this.  "Neat." He finally said,
and bolted for the bathing room door.  "I'm going to wash, so no one come
in." He slammed the heavy wooden door behind him.

   Hyandai giggled at that.  "Wonder where he is off to after his bath?"
She asked.

   Wincing as he shrugged, Harlen said.  "I've no clue, perhaps he has a
girlfriend."

   A long moment passed with Hyandai adopting a considering expression. 
"He might, at that." She said quietly.  "It would explain some of his odder
behaviors."

   --

   Gramma came to Harlen's house about noon, with a basket of fresh-baked
muffins.  She clucked about the house as she moved through, commenting on
the mess that the two `ruffians' made upstairs.

   "I cannot believe such horrid behavior of elves." She said, her voice
rich with upset and indignance.  "And you're sure you're well, Hyandai?"
She asked the elven lady.

   Hyandai smiled kindly.  "Yes, Lady Maggie." She said, bowing slightly.
"I am very well, and thank you for your concern."

   Harlen had left shortly after Gramma had arrived, saying he was going to
go retain a carpenter and glazier, as well as buy a new feather mattress.
The glazier, a scrawny man named Timmerak, showed up even before Harlen had
returned.

   Gramma imperiously set him to work replacing the windows broken out the
night before.

   The carpenter arrived just after that, and was put to work finding and
fixing damaged woodwork.

   Finally, Harlen rode up, sitting upon a wagon.  Hyandai bounded out of
the house and hugged him fiercely when he dismounted the high perch on the
bench.

   Three large, strong lads leaped out of the wagon and were ushered
upstairs by Gramma.  Soon, they were lugging out the huge mattress and the
carpet from the bedroom.  A new mattress was carried up and installed,
including Gramma making it with fresh linen from the wardrobe.

   Several buckets of water and strong lye soap were used to remove all the
bloodstains from the floors and simply water to wash it out of the grasses
in the rear courtyard.

   By the time Gramma, the carpenter, the glazier, and the three laborers
with their wagon left, the house had been totally put back the way it had
been.  Not a single trace of the conflict remained, except on the bedpost
where the carpenter had been forced to use a slightly blonder piece of wood
to fix the notch.

   Harlen looked at his slightly reduced coffer of silver.  "Adventuring is
an expensive hobby." He commented.

   Rubbing his shoulders, Hyandai commiserated.  "I know, beloved." She
said.  "I shall repay you for damages, but I find myself short of coin this
day."

   With a massive grin, Harlen pulled her into his lap.  "What is the going
payment for wrecking one's home, making one fear for your life, and
appropriation of one's apprentice?"

   Hyandai tilted her head slightly.  "Lifelong devotion?" She asked.

   Harlen considered this for a long moment.  "Throw in occasional tumbles
in the bed, and I'll call it even."

   Wriggling in his lap, Hyandai smiled and kissed him.  "Agreed." She
said, hugging him close to her and nibbling his neck.  "Though, I think I
should wait on Trevir to come of age." She added, her eyes glinting.

   Playfully goosing her, Harlen stood up and walked her toward the bathing
room.  Trevir had left the house, from the sound of his heavy clomping
through the common room.  Harlen noted that the lad had started the fire
beneath the bath and the water was already warm.  "In you go, milady." He
said, pointing to the tub.

   Hyandai stripped of his mother's old dress and climbed into the steaming
water gingerly.  She began to bathe in earnest as Harlen stripped, too and
slipped into the tub beside her.  He helped her wash the blood from her
hair and out of her scalp.  He then went to cleaning is own wounds, the
nasty long cuts the knife had given him.

   Hyandai turned as he did this and began healing him, even as he winced
at the lye soap against the open wounds.  She moved her soft lips over his
flesh and gently blew over the wounds, sealing them as she moved across the
long, ugly cuts.  After the initial pass to heal the wound, she trailed
backward, to kiss and nuzzle the recently healed and very sensitive flesh.

   He gasped at the sensation of her electric kisses over his pink, new
skin.  Hyandai felt his manhood stiffen in the water and moved a hand down
to it, stroking his thick shaft slowly.

   "You will have to settle for lesser pleasures this night, beloved."
Hyandai murmured into his chest.

   Harlen nodded.  "I understand.  You're still recovering from the shock."
He replied.

   Hyandai giggled.  "No." She said.  "Leave it to say that for a few days,
I am `indisposed.'" She looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

   It took the large man a few moments to finally achieve a gleam of
realization in his eyes.  "Oh." He said.  Then kissed her gently.  "I had
forgotten about such necessities." He quietly said into her ear as he
kissed it.

   Hyandai's hand still gripped his cock firmly, though.  "Do not think
that you are free from duty, man of mine." She said, her eyes flashing and
he saw that the bronze color had returned.