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

   Part Eighteen

   "Harlen, dammit, you've been propping up my bar for two weeks now."
Tammer groused, drawing a greasy rag over the oaken top of his bar.  "It's
not doing you any favors."

   The huntsman's head came up from regarding his Coghlandish rum and
looked at his former mentor, and current friend with a bleary eye.  "How
long did you mourn Loskenaur's departure, Tammer?" Harlen snapped.

   Tammer thought a moment, then sighed.  "A few months." He said.  "And
sometimes, I still do." His face fell and he shuffled down the bar to
another patron who seemed to have run out of ale.

   It had, indeed, been two weeks since Harlen had returned, without
Hyandai, from Windir.  He moved like an automaton, like a piece of Tammer's
ridiculous water clock, which dripped and splashed behind Harlen's back.

   In those two weeks, he had not hunted, nor had he processed any of the
pelts or skins that he was already working upon.  He simply existed, for
all intents and purposes.  He would sleep late, then rise and do some minor
chores to maintain the house and its small grounds, then he would make his
daily pilgrimage to Tammer's bar, and there ensconce himself upon the
leftmost of the bar stools and begin to get seriously drunk.

   The routine alarmed Harlen's friends, which he had more than he thought.
His willingness in the past to help those in need of help, and to drop his
own projects to help others complete theirs had won him many people who saw
him as a worthy neighbor and gentleman.

   They all worried for him.  He did not shave, he did not bathe daily, and
he seemed to be cold and distant now, rather than friendly and
approachable.

   Trevir and Tammer noticed it the most, naturally, both being close to
Harlen.  Trevir even tried a few times to do what he could to help Harlen,
though it only earned him rebuke and scolding from his mentor.

   The lad had finally confided in Tammer that Harlen cried at night, and
was seen looking out his bedroom window.  Tammer simply nodded and told the
lad to still his tongue over gossip like that, but he worried for the both
of them.

   One of the outcompanies had now returned, the one of which Wendy was a
part.  She came to the house, freshly changed from her uniform and back
into one of the modest dresses favored by the women of Morrovale.

   She walked the flagstones from the road to Harlen's door nervously.  At
her knock, Harlen answered the door.

   Wendy managed to not gasp as he looked at her.  His skin was pale and
rather sickly-looking and his hair was tangled, uncombed yet this day, and
his eyes were bloodshot.

   "Wendy." Harlen said, a bit surprised, but not terribly demonstrative in
his reaction.

   The young woman smiled bravely.  "Harlen, how fare you?" She said,
immediately regretting the question as she suddenly realized what his
condition must mean.

   He turned and invited her in with a gesture, and she followed.  The
house was clean, probably, she thought; do to Trevir's diligence.

   "Hyandai is no longer here, and may be a while in returning." Harlen
said, looking at her and offering her a seat while he scooted the rocking
chair over beside the long bench.

   Taking a seat, Wendy looked at him.  "I am so sorry." She said.  "You
miss her terribly already, I see."

   Harlen chuckled.  "It is like missing the air." He said.  "It is not
something I thought of when she and I began our relationship - How bad it
would feel if it might end."

   Wendy touched his hand.  "It's not ended, is it?" She asked.

   "No." Harlen said.  "But there is a war in the elven lands, and she may
well not come back, falling to the blades of traitors." His face twisted
with an expression of hatred and rage.

   A long moment passed, with Wendy covering her mouth and her eyes wide in
horror.  "Poor Hyandai, and poor you, too, Harlen." She said, again patting
his hand gently.

   A long moment passed, with her watching his eyes.  "Should I leave?"
Wendy asked.

   Harlen chuckled bitterly.  "It is your choice, Wendy.  Believe it or no,
Hyandai bade me to seek your company."

   She blinked a moment.  "Okay." She finally said.

   "I don't expect anything of you." Harlen said, rising form his seat,
making the rocking chair creak with his shifting off of it.  "You may stay
here, if you wish it, with or without being a companion to me."

   She smiled gently.  "Harlen." She said, standing herself and putting a
small hand upon his neck.  "I am involved with both Hyandai and you.  I do
not seek out either of you alone, as Hyandai said is a rule.  But if you
seek me, with her blessing, then it should be allowable."

   Harlen nodded.  "I leave it to you." He said.  She could see a rather
hollow look to his eyes, like someone was in there, but they wished to
remain hidden.

   She giggled.  "Leave it to me?  What do you wish?" She asked.  "Harlen,
I am still a whole person, and seek to only be with people who wish my
company."

   Harlen looked at her, his eyes gaining a little of the light of
realization.  "I wish you to stay." He said.

   Her rather hurt expression changed quickly to a broad smile.  "Then I
will stay with you." She said.

   He felt her hand on his neck shift to his cheek where its mate took up
position opposite on his other cheek.  She pulled him down and kissed him.

   After a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the kiss, then put his arms
around her slender shoulders and held her tightly to him.

   Wendy's tongue wormed into his mouth and petted his own, encouraging him
to further deepen the kiss.

   He did so, and their kiss quickly became more passionate.  Harlen's
defenses were down somewhat, through shock and surprise; first by Wendy's
appearance, then by her acceptance of him alone.  He felt her welcoming
embrace of his body and the heat of her kiss, and it was good to feel
wanted.

   The young woman pulled away.  "Before any further greetings, Harlen."
She said, her blue eyes playfully sparkling.  "You need a bath."

   Harlen nodded.  "I imagine I do." He said.  "I will take one now."

   He turned from her with a smile and made his way toward the bathing
room. He opened the door and turned to tell her to make herself
comfortable. She was right behind him, smiling.

   A moment passed with him blinking at her.

   "You don't mind company now, do you?" She asked.

   Harlen gave her a lopsided grin.  "Not at all." He said.  Inside he felt
a twinge of guilt toward what was happening and likely to happen soon
after. Should he do these things?  He had Hyandai's blessing, but was it
given for the wrong reasons?

   They entered the room and Harlen bolted the two doors, one leading out
into the courtyard and the other back into the common room.  He then took
out a flint and steel and started the fire beneath the massive tub.

   Wendy walked up to him, her hips swaying seductively.  She was amazingly
different when alone with someone she was comfortable with, not at all
mousy.

   Her hands lifted his tunic and she pulled it over his head, smiling at
his broad chest and powerful arms.  "You know, grandfather would be vexed
if he knew of us." She said.

   Harlen nodded.  "Yet he will need to be told something, else word come
to him another way and make him even angrier." Harlen said, seriously, and
kicking off his high boots.

   She unfastened his pants and slid them down his legs and took them off
his feet as he lifted them.  She looked over his body, touching him here
and there with her fingertips, sending little thrills through him as she
did so.

   Wendy then regarded him curiously as he stood there, then he started
slightly.  He reached out and began to unbutton the blouse of her long
dress.  She watched his hands as he did so, smiling softly.  The dress fell
to the floor as he pushed the shoulders back and it slid down her body.

   Her form was lithe, almost elven, he thought, as she stood before him
nude.  She had shaved her pubic hair off at some point, apparently very
recently, judging by the smoothness of the skin.  He thought a moment, and
realized her hair had none of the blueishness it had before, it was now
plain light brown hair, still pretty, but not nearly as, well, colorful.

   She seemed to be waiting for something, and Harlen was not sure what it
might be.  "Is something wrong?" He asked.

   She shook her head.  "I was waiting to see what I was to do next." She
said.  "The water is surely not warm yet."

   Harlen nodded at that.  "Indeed, it's not." He said, reaching over the
side and testing it with his fingertips.  "Another ten minutes." He added,
looking back at her fair skin and gently pointing breasts.

   "Whether I'm clean or not, you certainly are." Harlen said, noting the
recently washed look of her smooth skin.

   She nodded as he walked toward her and put his hands upon her slender
waist.  Harlen pushed her gently to the smooth wall of the room, and she
leaned back against the sanded and varnished wooden panels.

   "What do you have in mind huntsman?" She asked playfully, looking up at
him like an innocent waif.

   He started to kiss his way down her, beginning at her tensed neck, then
down her chest.  He suckled one breast then the other, eliciting soft sighs
as his tongue and lips moved over the dark, pointed tips.

   Her fingers were playing in his hair as he kissed on downward, over her
stomach and then onto her thigh, kissing, especially, the place where her
thigh and body joined.  Then he followed that slight valley to her middle,
moving down over her shaved mound.

   She helpfully moved her legs apart as he knelt before her and ran his
hands around to palm the round lobes of her rump.  Wendy gasped as he slid
his tongue over her opening, and then into her some short ways, then out
again and over her hooded clitoris.

   The fingers in his hair twisted and entwined and pulled gently, forcing
his face with more pressure against her groin.

   As he began lapping more earnestly, he moved one shoulder up under her
and nudged her thigh backward, then the other, she was almost sitting on
him, her weight mostly resting on his broad shoulders.

   Once she was used to this position, he began to stand.  Her back, now
slick with perspiration from the rapidly warming room, slid up the
varnished wall smoothly as he lifted her up and up until he stood straight
with her slouched against the wall before him.  He continued to massage her
opening with his tongue, and would pause to suck and flick his tongue
across her clit for a few moments.

   She began to wriggle in his grip, his hands now supporting her more
practically at her waist.  Soon, though, she found the angle she liked and
simply began to move her pelvis around gently in a motion that amplified
the sensations firing up her spine from his gentle lapping.

   She giggled as she came, then smiled down at Harlen as he watched her.
Her hands ran over his skull and her fingers through his long, dark hair.

   "Wow." She said, as she grinned broadly.  "That was something else."
Wendy peered over her shoulder at the distant floor.  "Eep!" She exclaimed.
He felt her fingers tighten into his hair before he could begin lowering
her to her feet.

   After he had deposited her back on solid ground, she smiled up at him as
he stood.  "Sorry, I didn't realize I was up that high." She said.  "I hope
I didn't hurt you."

   Harlen grinned and took her small hand into his.  "No." He said.  He
began walking up the three stairs to the tub.  "The water should be warm by
now."

   She followed him, with her arm extended to his hand.  "Oh." She cooed.
"I've heard about your tub.  Grandpa told me about how you talked him out
of the old storage keg that got the leaky board." She dipped her hand into
the slightly steaming water.

   Harlen climbed into the tub, using the little ladder sitting at one
side, then helped Wendy climb over, lifting her the last part of the way to
the sweet sound of her giggles.

   She took up the large soap block and started lathering his hair and back
as he stood facing away from her.  "I wish Hyandai were here." She said,
her voice wistful.  "I truly wish to be with both of you."

   Harlen nodded, she did not see the subtle shift in his expression, a
sadness that came into it, just at the edges.  He liked the feeling of
Wendy's strong hands on his back as she massaged and washed his shoulders
and spine, but he wished the hands were smaller still, and not quite so
strong.

   "Harlen, if you wish me to simply stay here, and nothing else happen, I
can do so." She said, her voice small and quiet.  "I do not wish to hurt
you or Hyandai."

   He looked over his shoulder at her.  Her face was earnest, and somewhat
sad, as was his own.  Had Hyandai affected her so much in one night?  He
supposed it could be so, especially with the warmth in the young woman's
mind of two lovers at one time.  She probably felt very desired that two
people wished to caress her, and invite her into their private moments.

   "I don't know." Harlen said, his voice very low and quiet.  "Perhaps we
should wait for her to return."

   Wendy nodded.  "Then we will do so." She said, her face brightening
greatly.  "I wish for no strife between you two, or with me and Hyandai, or
with you and I." She sighed.  "I see now why it is not the normal way of
things to have two lovers.  It can grow quite complicated."

   He turned in the water and regarded her, a wide smile spreading on his
face.  "That's easy for you to say, you already had a release this night."
He chuckled and splashed water at her.

   Wendy giggled at the attack of water and splashed him back, pushing
herself to the far side of the tub and shrieking in delight as he pushed
her under the water with one hand on top of her head.

   They managed to finish bathing one another without any more aquatic
assaults.  They flirted openly, and even teased, but drew the line at
actually doing anything more than superficially sexual.

   Harlen watched the nubile woman dry off, smiling at him.  "The wait
shall make the receiving more welcome." She said as she scrubbed the towel
on her head, drying her hair.

   Harlen nodded, drying himself off and giving her a small kiss as he
passed her to start closing the shutters that would starve the fire under
the tub and snuff it out.

   Wendy wrapped the large towel about herself and gathered up her clothes,
and then his.  "What sort of sleeping arrangements shall we follow?" She
asked, her arms laden with their garments.

   "I suppose we can sleep together." He said.  "If you can manage to keep
your hands off of all this." He said, theatrically posing like a classical
Syrisian hero from some mistrel's reenactment play.  "What will you tell
your family?" Harlen asked.  By family, she knew he meant Tammer.

   She thought a moment.  "I can simply say I am comforting a miserable
friend." She said.  "Grandpa said you've been drinking yourself blind
almost every night since you returned from Windir." Her eyes held a small
measure of irritation with his embarrassing performance.

   Harlen had a sudden flash of insight regarding a major hazard of having
two lovers, the ire of two annoyed women.  He wrapped his towel about his
waist and unlocked the back door to the bathing room and then led her up
the stairs to the bedroom.  She smiled at the huge four-posted bed.

   "That's quite a bower." She commented, sitting on the edge.  "Roomy
enough for three, hmm?" Her grin was contagious, and he found himself
unable to not smile at her pleasure.  "Harlen, I assure you, being of good
cheer is not easy for me, normally, even.  And much less so with our
lover's absence."

   He realized how hard it probably was, and also why she was putting forth
that effort, simply to make him less miserable.  He looked in the mirror
and saw that misery etched deeply in his face, making him look older than
his twenty-three years.

   "I'll try to not be so long of face." Harlen said, sitting beside her.
"You merit a good portion of happiness by your company." He adopted his
lopsided smile.  "In days before, I would have been overjoyed to have such
a beauty in my bedroom."

   Her smile broadened.  "Yet, Hyandai is more so?" She said.  At the
subtle shift in Harlen's expression, she added.  "I know that is not what
you meant." She slid closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. 
"Thank you for the compliment." She said, batting her eyelashes up at him.
"I do like being told I'm pretty by a handsome man."

   Harlen chuckled and kissed her forehead.  "When I locate one, I'll tell
him." He said.

   Wendy got a look of mock shock on her face and punched him in the arm,
but softly.  "You stop that.T" She chided.  "If you can compliment me and I
accept it, you can do the same, barbarian."

   They crawled up onto the bed and tossed their towels onto the chair. 
Wendy curled up against Harlen's side, resting her head on his shoulder. 
He petted her hair as she sighed at his chest, washing over him with her
warm breath.

   "She is coming back, isn't she?" Wendy asked; her soft voice tinged with
worry.

   Harlen continued stroking her long brown hair.  "Yes." He said, closing
his mind to any other option.  "She's coming back." He hoped his voice had
more confidence in it than his head did.

   After a few minutes, she dozed off, in that way women seem able to do.
He regarded her slumbering face.  She really was very pretty, and looked so
innocent while sleeping.  He kept right on stroking her soft hair, though,
afraid if he stopped she would awaken.  What would he do if Hyandai did not
return?  Would he go after her?  Would he move on to another woman, perhaps
even Wendy?  Would he simply wander off into the woods and disappear?  He
did not know.  He hoped fervently he would not have to find out.

   He kept himself company with these dark thoughts for a long while into
the deepening night, before sleep crept up on him and carried him off, as
well, even as he resented its lack of arrival.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   "Leave me!" Hyandai screamed at Ceriandel.  "I will not see the healers.
There are people in greater need of their time." She stood up unsteadily
from her bed.  "I will be well, it is simply the load being thrust upon my
shoulders."

   Ceriandel backed out of the room, a look of deep worry lining his face.
"But . . .."

   She turned again, her eyes blazing bronze.  He backed on out and turned
onto the catwalk, walking around the high bower of Hyandai's room.

   Hyandai was not eating, and what she ate would not stay down.  She was
weakening fast, and given to fits of anger now.  How much of it was due to
the inner workings of her mind?  She was being forced to ram her mind
through channels foreign to her, channels laid down several years ago when
she had touched the mind of Abian Centurian.

   His name had been Verus, and he had been a good man, gratefully, else
she might have been driven insane by trying to call up his mind out of her
own.  The effect it was having upon her, even now, was terrible.

   She came out of the room, moving with a definite air of purpose.  "Send
for my aides." she told the handmaiden who waited outside her door as she
passed, walking across the long catwalk between her room and the higher
room that was her `command post.'

   She stood over the faintly glowing model of Embalis.  It was an
exquisite replica of the town, down to the tiniest feature.  She leaned
close, eying herself in the little room in the model.

   That always made her smile.

   The smile was short-lived, as most were these days.  As the first aide
came stumbling in, still pulling her tunic into place, it evaporated.

   "The Warleader summons me?" She said, standing at something of attention
and bowing her head.  They had originally genuflected fully to her, but she
had put a quick stop to the time-wasting formality for the nonce.

   "Yes, Ealina." Hyandai said.  "First thing in the morning, you will
gather a work team of twenty and begin pulling down those homes there on
the ground." She pointed to the map, where a row of small ground-bound
homes was located.  "Relocate the people to the guard barracks emptied by
the traitors who have left us."

   Ealina, a young elven lass, not even yet of age, nodded.  "Yes,
Warleader." She stroked her own blonde hair and blinked a few times at the
illusion.

   "There is a problem?" Hyandai asked, her voice sounding terse.

   "It is simply," the young elf said, "my home lies among those." She
said, her eyes tearing up a little.  "I will do as ordered, Lady Hyandai."

   Hyandai's expression softened a little.  "After the war, we will build
you new homes, in the trees, where you deserve to live." She said.

   Ealina smiled gratefully.  "Yes, Warleader." She said.

   "They need to be down by midday." Hyandai said.  "If you wish to wake
the people so they can get a head start on packing their goods, please do
so, I will exempt them from duty tomorrow."

   The girl dipped her head again and left the room, even as two more aides
came in, better dressed but less timely in their arrival.

   "Move more quickly next I call." Hyandai said negligently as they bowed
their heads.

   "Yes, Lady Hyandai." They said, almost in unison.  They were two young
lads, the same age as Ealina, or nearly so.  Hyandai at merely fifty-nine
regretted the necessity of putting even younger elves into harm's way the
way she was going to.  But there was nothing for it.  They were nearly
outnumbered two to one, even with the younger people in their ranks.

   "Amtharlian, you are to pass word to the captains that I want four
scouts sent out from each company immediately." Hyandai issued the terse
commands.  "They are to scour all about the town and try to get word of the
enemy."

   Amtharlian nodded and took off at a jog to do as she ordered without a
word.

   "Inlashe, you were charged with bringing in people from outlying homes
last day." She said, looking down at the map.  "Report."

   "We recovered fifteen, Warleader." He said.  "We found two homes empty
and ransacked."

   She looked at him.  "Those people are being kept separate from the main
troops?" She asked.  She suspected some might be Isolationist spies,
planted to get inside information from within Embalis.

   "Per your orders, Lady Hyandai." Inlashe said.  "Where should they be
stationed?"

   She looked at the map again.  "Put them upon the wall, as arrow carriers
and to assist with the wounded." Hyandai said.  "They are not to have
weapons issued.  Place some spears near to them.  If they are overrun, they
can flee to those.  Here and Here." She said this last while jabbing her
slender finger at two points near a proposed palisade wall.

   He nodded and fled the room.  She glowered at the model village again.
The sun was just barely hiding behind the horizon, and the sky was
brightening with the first signs of morning.  She rubbed her eyes.  Another
night without sleep, she thought.

   "Perhaps the Warleader is sleepy?" A male voice said from the doorway,
behind her.

   She turned with a bit of peeve in her eyes.  It evaporated as she looked
upon her father.  "Father." She said and smiled.  "Is it so obvious?"

   He nodded.  "You are working yourself to death, my daughter." He said,
walking toward her.  "You should at least take a nap." His hand touched her
shoulder.

   "There is still much to do." She said, turning back to the map.  "Things
to prepare, walls, trenches . . .." She said.

   "And they will be done." Emorianel said, interrupting her.  "For now,
you need rest and food.  You have lost over ten pounds."

   Hyandai shook her head.  "I cannot eat." She said.  "Keeping my mind in
the Centurion's paths makes me ill.  It simply does not stay."

   He nodded.  "I may know something that can help." He said.  "Come.  Take
a moment and sit down with your old father and try his remedy." His hand
was strong, like Harlen's but he held to her arm only enough to urge her
out the door.  She walked ahead of him across the footbridge to another
platform, on another ornthalion, then across yet another to his small home.

   She sat at the little table and smiled as he moved about the room.  Her
father had also been working hard these days.  Forging weapons and even
armor with incredible haste, leaving many items completely undecorated. 
She knew this pained him, but the items needed to work, and more
importantly, needed to be finished, not still being inlayed as the traitors
stormed the gates.

   "Tell me about this man you have plaited." Her father said, starting
something to boiling upon a small oval of stone that heated itself for
cooking.  His expression was not judgmental, simply interested.

   Hyandai thought a moment.  "He is much like you." She said, realizing
she had said this to Harlen, as well.  "Harlen is a man who does things for
himself.  He is also strong, maybe a little stronger than you, father." She
said diplomatically.

   "Is he then?" Emorianel said, with an expression of contemplation. 
"Should I challenge him to wrestling then?" He grinned at her.

   She giggled.  "He would lay you out like a sheet of steel, father, to be
honest.  He is huge."

   Her father smiled.  "I figured as much." He said.  "Your perceptions are
skewed by spending much time with humans.  They are terribly strong, even a
normal man is nearly my match." He flexed his impressively muscular arms.
"A strong man, to us, is mighty, indeed."

   Her eyes grew wistful.  "He is strong, and he is handsome." She sighed.

   An eyebrow raised on the elder elf's forehead at her amorous sigh.  "I
see." He said.  "And you know his feelings for you?"

   She nodded.  "I have seen into his mind, so he could not have lied." She
said.  "He thinks me the most beautiful of women, and the smartest, and the
most wondrous." She rattled off these traits to her father.

   "All things I already knew." Emorianel said, smiling at her.  He started
adding ingredients to the boiling water.  He thought a long moment before
breaching a subject elven folk were hesitant to bring up even among loved
ones.

   "And your fey?" He asked, stirring the pot.

   She blushed a little at the mention of her fey.  Of course her father
knew what fey she bore; it was part of their ceremony of acceptance into
the clan.

   "Harlen accepts it, though it troubles him." Hyandai said.  "He says
that it is the price of being blessed with my perfection." She tried
unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle.

   Her father turned, pouring the steaming brew from the pot into a
crockery mug.  He sat it before her.  "Let it cool a moment." He said.  "So
he knows how it may drive you from time to time?  Many elves could not
countenance that, and humans are often more jealous than elven mates."

   "We have spoken of it, and he accepted it, at least in word." Hyandai
said.  "It has yet to be put to a test if his will can follow his word."

   "I hate to council something like this, but you should make sure that
such a test is given before the betrothal is over, if you are set to marry
this man." Her father advised.  "It is too important that you know his
reaction, in his heart."

   She looked down at the cooling mug of liquid.  "I do not know if I can
do that consciously, father." She said.  "It would be a betrayal of his
acceptance to deceive him in such a thing.  I would never be able to look
at him or myself again."

   Her father nodded.  "I know, darling daughter." He said, sighing.  "I
knew I raised you too well, you have too many scruples." He chuckled.

   "Well, yes." She said.  "And I am glad for them, every day." She teased.

   She began sipping the broth he had made for her.  It had a sweetness to
it and a meatiness.  She swallowed a mouthful.  Then another.

   Her father stood back up and walked to the door onto the outer catwalk
of this platform.  "Your man sounds good.  I hear he is a huntsman of
Morrovale?"

   "Yes." Hyandai said between sips.  She found she really savored the
taste of this concoction of her father's.

   "Who mentored him?" Emorianel asked.

   "A man named Tammer." She said.  "Why would that matter, though?" He
could hear the curiosity in her voice.

   He kept looking toward the sun as it crested the horizon and began its
ascent into the new day.  "Tammer was a man I met.  He was here for a time,
in Embalis." He said.  "He was a good man, good enough that we taught him
many things.  Back in those days we fancied ourselves capable of
influencing men in subtle ways to make them better neighbors.  We tried an
experiment based on our learnings in the Windy Isles with the huntsmen of
Morrovale, or some of them." He started to turn about.  "I do not kno . .
.." He stopped speaking as his eyes fell upon Hyandai's form.  She was
slumped onto the table her fiery mane spread about her slumbering head.

   He picked her up gently and carried her to her old room in his small
home and laid her upon her bed.  She would accuse him of drugging her
later, which was patently untrue.  But the warmth and comfort of the broth
had given her the impetus she had needed to fall asleep.  She may be the
Warleader of the village, but for this moment, she was his daughter.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   He awoke in almost the exact position he had fallen asleep in.  His eyes
slowly opened and regarded the morning for the first time in two weeks
without the throbbing in the back of his head that would have reminded him
of the excesses of the night before.  Sun was streaming in the open
curtains of the eastward window.  The air had a chill to it, though.  Late
fall was definitely settling in.  He would have to start setting a fire in
the small fireplace at night soon.

   Harlen turned his head, noticing the weight on his shoulder.  Wendy was
still there, curled up against his side, with her hand upon his chest.  Her
brown hair covered most of her face now, but she apparently had not moved
much last night, either.

   Part of Harlen's mind rebelled against this other girl in Hyandai's spot
on the bed, he realized that, last night, he had unconsciously traded
places with his normal spot on the left side of the bed.  He was on the
right side now, and Wendy was in his normal place.  He smiled at his
subconscious for its kind job of keeping things in their place.

   Wendy stirred a few moments later, waking even more slowly than Harlen
had.  She blinked sleep from her eyes, and raised one hand to rub them.

   "Good morning." She said, quietly, a tiny smile on her lips.

   Harlen smiled back at her and ran his fingertips down her spine.  "Good
morrow." He responded.

   Sliding from the bed slowly, Wendy took to her feet.  She stretched
extensively, with a couple of pops of her spine as she did so.

   Harlen watched.  He was certainly not immune to a pretty woman
displaying herself in a show of languid stretching.

   She then sat upon the bed and began dressing, a short process,
considering it consisted of simply sliding into her dress and putting on
her soft shoes.

   By the time she had finished, Harlen was pulling his tunic over his own
head, and then rummaged in the wardrobe for some pants.

   She came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.  He started
slightly at the touch, turning his head to face her.

   "Breakfast?" She asked him.

   Harlen nodded.  "I will make some." He said.

   Wendy giggled.  "I was offering to make it." She said.  "But if you
insist."

   He pulled the pants on and slid his feet into a pair of low boots. 
"It's not a problem." Harlen responded.  "I like making breakfast."

   She followed him down the stairs into the common room.  Trevir was in
the kitchen, chewing on a chunk of jerked deer meat and eating an orange.
When he saw Wendy, his young face registered some mild surprise.

   "Trevir, good morning." Harlen said.

   An immediate look of suspicion came over the lad's expression.  "Morning
Master Harlen." He said rather stiffly.

   "So, you're Trevir?" She said.  "Hyandai has told me much of you.  I
think you're cuter than she says, though." She walked up to him.  "I'm
Wendy." She said.

   "Master Tammer's grand daughter?" Trevir asked, blinking between Harlen
and Wendy.

   Wendy nodded.  "Yes.  Actually." She said, smiling.  "I'm surprised
you've heard of me."

   "Hyandai told me about you." Trevir said.  "She said you were her best
friend among human women.  She called you an elven name, but I can't
remember it.  Miss Hyandai said it meant something like sister."

   It was Wendy's turn now to blink, as well as Harlen's.  Luckily for him,
he was facing the cabinets in the kitchen.  She recovered admirably
quickly, though.

   "Well, yes, something like a sister.  Yes." She said, trying to put a
face on her unique position in the couple's life.  "I'm sure you will
understand better after a while."

   Trevir nodded.  Most of the suspicion was now gone, but not quite all of
it.  "Miss Hyandai didn't come back with Harlen." He said, in case she did
not know.  "She's leading the loyal elves against the traitors in Windir."

   "So I have heard." Wendy said, taking a seat opposite him and taking an
apple from the fruit bowl.  She slipped a small knife from her belt and
began skinning the fruit.  "So, tell me, Master Trevir, what is it like to
be a hero?"

   He grinned broadly.  "I get lots of free pastries in town." He said. 
"And don't get chased out of nearly as may merchant's stores as before."

   She giggled at that.  "Well, that sounds fair enough." She commented. 
"No medals, though?"

   Harlen was again smiling.  He liked the sound of morning banter in the
kitchen.  He had not realized how much he had missed it, having slept
through so many mornings of late.

   "Nah." Trevir said.  "I'd need a uniform for a medal.  And huntsmen,
even apprentices, don't wear uniforms."

   Harlen looked over his shoulder.  "That wasn't always true, Trevir." He
said.

   The two looked at him.  "What?" Said Trevir.

   "Only about a hundred years ago, huntsmen did wear uniforms." Harlen
said.  "They all wore green tunics with black pants."

   Wendy looked at Harlen, with his green tunic and black pants.  "Did
they, then?" She said, smiling.

   "They did!" Harlen said, noting her look of skepticism.

   Trevir grinned broadly.  "I think uniforms would be very nice." He said.
"At least in town.  Then people could say `There walks a huntsman'."

   Harlen began frying bacon.  "Indeed they could." Harlen said.  "But when
the huntsmen became freemen, they weren't required to wear uniforms, and
they slowly stopped wearing matching clothes.  Now only the badge of
allotment remains." He held up the small metal disk that he wore when
hunting, and kept in his pocket when at home.

   "Why do the huntsmen in Morrovale act different from the ones in other
lands?" Trevir asked.  "Nadia says she met some a couple weeks back, and
they were rather crude and somewhat mean.  They picked on her, being a girl
and wanting to be a huntsman."

   He was speaking of a female apprentice, who was the understudy of
Relkan, one of the best huntsmen in Morrovale.  She was Trevir's age, and
he had held a crush upon her for a long while.  In fact, it had ended only
a few months ago, when Trevir had started speaking of the baker's daughter.

   "The duke allots the land parcels to huntsmen here through other
huntsmen." Harlen said.  "There is a council of three senior, and retired,
huntsmen, Tammer is one." He chuckled.  "They try their best to keep the
huntsmen they approve from year to year on the straight and narrow." His
face soured a little.  "They took my allotment for a year after the
`incident.' They told me that I could have it back when I had learned
discipline."

   Trevir winced.  "Tammer was upset?" He asked.

   "Extremely." Agreed Harlen.  "More in my lack of self control than over
doing away with the lout.  Let that be a lesson to you." He pointed an iron
spatula at Trevir.  "Keep your head at all times.  Even when your blood is
boiling."

   Trevir nodded.  "I know.  I'll try." He intoned.

   The breakfast went well, and Harlen managed to talk Trevir into doing
the dishes without too much fuss.  He and Wendy retired to the workroom.

   "I have no idea how much he should know." Wendy said.

   Harlen nodded.  "Me either." He said.  "But I think all the truth would
be a bit much for a lad his age."

   Wendy giggled.  "Yeah, I'll just tell one of the village's biggest
newsmongers that I am Hyandai and Harlen's bedmate."

   "Wouldn't that open a new world to his young eyes." Harlen said, looking
at Wendy.  "The lad's already confused enough from Hyandai's time here."

   An odd look came over Wendy's face.  "You know, I guess what I am is the
girlfriend of a couple, as if you and Hyandai were one unit." She said.

   Harlen though on that a moment, "That is a good way to view it." He
said. He had begun to scrape some skins, removing the fur in preparation
for the final parts of making it into leather.  After a short while, they
discovered Wendy was quite adept at this work, and she helped him through
the day.  It was not until they were done with the processing that he
realized that, naturally, she would be good at it, she had probably helped
Tammer prepare dozens, if not hundreds of pelts.  "Am I strange for finding
a woman so attractive?" Wendy asked.

   Harlen smiled.  "For finding Hyandai attractive?  I don't see how." He
replied.

   Wendy giggled.  "That is truth." She said.  "Hyandai was so pretty when
I met her, I couldn't believe she wanted to even speak to me.  When she
kissed me, I thought I might faint."

   A moment passed as Harlen mulled it over.  "I don't think you're really
very strange." He said.  "I have heard women oft kept each other company
when the men were off to war, back in the days when wars were more common
in the realms.  Perhaps it is a normal attraction, put there just for such
a reason." He gave things a moment to sink in.  "I think, also, Meagan and
Tessa are more than mere friends?"

   "It could be so." Wendy said, grunting as she heaved a stack of pelts
onto the mound he kept ready to be delivered to the merchants in town.  "To
both statements." She grinned back at him.  "The two are rather close, and
rumors in the company run rampant, though rumors do that of their own
accord."

   They finished up the chores.  Harlen then puttered around his workroom
for a couple of hours, straightening it up.  It has been sorely neglected
these last weeks and needed putting into order.  Trevir helped out with
sharpening tools and doing general running about, saving Harlen many steps.
Wendy mostly sat and talked with the two of them.  Learning more of Hyandai
and keeping the two men chatting away happily with her good humor.

   Wendy excused herself and left for the evening, telling Harlen that she
would stay at her home this night.  He gave her a little kiss as she left.

   Trevir cornered him soon after, catching him in the kitchen.  "She's
more than a friend, isn't she?" He asked.  He was not accusative, simply
asking.

   Harlen put down the pan.  "Yes, in a special way, she is." Harlen
answered.  "But believe me, it is something you will know more of when you
are older.  Trust me in this."

   "So long as it does not harm Miss Hyandai." Trevir said, his face quite
serious.

   A smile crossed Harlen's face.  "It does not." He said.  "I would never
do anything to betray her.  I think you know that."

   Trevir nodded.  He then set out plates for the two of them.  He was much
relieved to have his mentor sober for an evening, though the matter of
Wendy still bothered him somewhat.  All in all, he preferred Harlen sober
with mysterious companionship than drunken and alone.  While Harlen was not
a mean drunk, he reminded Trevir enough of his real father that it scared
him still, somewhere deep down inside.

   They ate in silence, the forks and knives the only sounds in the small
house.  Harlen even allowed Trevir a glass of some of the wine he kept in
the cupboard.

   The two then retired to the common room with large beer mugs.  Harlen
picked up the book on elven lore he had borrowed.  "Have you finished
this?" He asked Trevir.

   Trevir nodded.  "I've read it all." He said.  "Though I still look at it
to glean more from it, especially the etchings."

   Harlen thumbed through the book and found one of the illustrations.  It
showed a village, very much like Embalis.  Perhaps the artist had even used
Hyandai's home village as a model for this illustration.  It did not look
very defensible.  Oh, the platforms, high up the trees would stand against
a foot assault.  But he feared they would simply be burned in, or down.

   No, trapping oneself upon one of the platforms, or flets as the elves
called them would not do during battle.  It would be upon the ground the
fight would happen.  The beautiful, wide-open plan of the town would work
against it, making for a very long defensive line.

   Or would it?  He looked closer at the etching, even more convinced now
that it was Embalis he was looking upon.  The creek on one side, and those
tall, colorful brambles, even one building with an oddly solid stone wall
on one side.  There were defensive lines built into the very terrain and
landscape of the village.  He wondered if that were all intentional.

   Tacticians or not, elves understood defenses, and understood them well,
if instinctively.

   "Fine, don't answer me." Trevir said with mock petulance.

   Harlen started.  "Hmm?" He asked.

   "I asked if the village really looked like the one in the picture?"
Trevir asked, apparently repeating a question Harlen had not heard.

   "Yes, actually, perhaps even the very village." Harlen said, looking at
the etching again.

   Trevir got up from the rocking chair.  "Really?" He asked, peering over
Harlen's hand at the picture.  "That's Embalis?"

   "I think it is, at least it was, fifty or more years ago." Harlen said.

   Harlen closed the book and handed it to Trevir.  "I must go to
Tammer's." He said.

   Trevir's face fell, saddened at the sudden and obvious relapse in
Harlen's problems of late.

   "No, not to drink, Trevir." Harlen said.  "That is done with." He looked
at his half-empty mug.  "Drink that yourself, if you've a mind, or dump it
down the sump.  I go to speak with my old mentor, not buy rum from a
barkeep."

   Trevir smiled at that.  "Good, then." He said.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   "I don't care how old those buildings are, or who owns them." Hyandai
said, looking down at a shimmering illusion of the village hovering over a
tabletop in the chamber atop the master tree.  The room was otherwise dimly
lit and elves came and went constantly, carrying messages to and from
Hyandai, now the Warleader of Embaris.

   "But Lady!" The elder elf said.  "They are . . .."

   "Going to provide cover for the enemy outside THAT section of
palisades." Hyandai bit out, pointing to a section of the map.  "Making our
archers useless.  Burn them down, and do it now!  Else I will relieve you
of duty and find someone who will." Her eyes were flaming golden now, and
flashed in the torchlit chamber.

   The aide scurried out of the door to enact her commands.  She watched
after him, shaking her head.

   She was convinced the attack would fall from the north, and was ensuring
the enemy would find little cover of any kind.  She had the most recent
reports flowing in from their scouts - Those that returned, anyway.  She
had just ordered that no more were to be sent out, as fully half of them
were not returning at their assigned time.  The enemy outnumbered them
almost two to one.

   This bodes not well.  She thought to herself as she glowered at the
illusory village on the tabletop.

   One of the captains came up to her.  She thought his name was Therann.
"Why are you so sure they will attack at night, Warleader?" He asked.

   She looked over the miniature village at him.  "Because, they fear we
will have human assistance from the Windy Isles." She said.  "They will try
to minimize human capabilities, nighttime is very crippling for human
troops, their vision is very poor in near darkness."

   "But we have no human troops." Therann protested.

   Hyandai regarded him again.  "I know that and you know that." She said.
"But, unless they have some very good spies in our midst, they will not
know it."

   The captain looked at her curiously.  "I fear they do." He said.

   Hyandai nodded.  "I do, as well." She said.  "That is why I have had
several of the people I trust spreading rumors that a company of rangers
from the Windy Isles are marching toward us now."

   Therann smiled.  "Very nice." He said.  "I take it I am one of those
trusted folk?"

   A long, uncomfortable moment passed while she blinked at him.  "I do not
know that for certain, Therann, I am sorry." She said.  "But I deem it is
now too late for new information to reach our enemies.

   He actually looked a bit crestfallen, but she could not afford to trust
anyone whose loyalty was not definite.  Even her brother had apparently
defected, as he had left three days ago, stealing a horse to do so.  She
knew that this war was pitting clansman against clansman, but for her own
brother!  She seethed inside at the betrayal of her own blood.  The captain
came up with some excuse to leave as her eyes turned bronze.

   The smell of burning wood reached up into the chamber from the many
small fires below, as the people enacted her orders.  She walked out onto
the catwalk around the room, surveying the real village below.  Teams of
elves were erecting another section of palisades.  It grieved her to kill
so many trees, but without the walls, the enemy would overrun them in
minutes.

   As she watched, a great oak near the edge of the village fell.  Another
team descended upon it with axes.  She shook her head.  They had to even
craft some axes, as they only had a very few.  There would be many prayers
tonight begging the spirits to forgive them.  Not the least of which would
be Hyandai's own.

   She looked down at her arms.  The muscles showed clearly on them, she
had lost almost fifteen pounds in the last two weeks, she ate little and
often could not keep down even that.  She had recently settled on drinking
a broth-like drink that her father had come up with.  It gave her some
energy, but did not sate the hunger that gnawed at her gut.

   Her eyes flicked to a company of elven militia, practicing with spears
in ranked formation.  They were competent, she supposed, but needed to be
good.  Hyandai reminded herself to have them drilled with mannequins.  They
had to get it through their heads that there would be people in front of
them when they wield those spears in combat.

   There was no satisfaction in her eyes as she surveyed Embalis.  In its
place was a grim determination.  This town would not fall to the traitors,
not if even only she defended it.

   She feared it would come to just that.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   "You've been to Embalis?" Harlen asked his former mentor.

   Tammer nodded.  "Of course, the border was more open in those days." he
said.  "We could come and go freely, if we had a mind, and minded our
manners in the wood."

   Harlen shook his head.  "No." He said, almost accusingly.  "There is
more to it than that." He added.

   The look on Tammer's wrinkled old face became a little worried, or
embarrassed, or both.  "It was a long time ago, Harlen, let it rest."

   "I cannot." Harlen said.  "It's important."

   Tammer sighed mightily, looking over at his former apprentice, their
eyes locked for a long moment.  "If I tell you, you shall not go brooding
it about."

   Harlen nodded agreement to those terms.

   "Okay." Tammer said, steeling himself.  "Back when I was a young buck,
like you." He poked Harlen's chest with a gnarled finger.  "The elves were
here aplenty.  They came and went pretty regular, to the point where you
could expect to see a half-dozen of them any old day." His eyes defocused,
he was no longer in today, Harlen knew.  "The huntsmen, like myself, were
still a somewhat organized lot, like part of the militia.  We even wore the
uniform, in town, though it wasn't very uniform by then, just had to be
green and black."

   "Well, the elves approached the lot of us, and talked to us about being
trained by them as `rangers,' and coming back to Morrovale and having that
extra knowledge with us." Tammer said smiling.  "Well, about forty of us
agreed to it, and they took us to Embalis.  That's where I met Loskenaur.
They trained us for two years, teaching us elven ways and tricks, and other
stuff, some of us even picked up a touch of their religion, though they
never forced it upon us." He chuckled.  "Hell, some of the elves became
Oneians while we were there.  It was considered quite the coup to have a
firstborn ask you about becoming one with the One."

   "When we came back, it was pretty interesting." Tammer said.  "But we
found we didn't share quite the same values as the other huntsmen anymore.
Money meant less; order and ecology meant more.  Being among the elves for
a long time changed us, all of us." He thought a moment.  "We were all
forty the best of the best huntsmen, too, using elven hunting tricks and
archery techniques.  Naturally, we were the men who aspiring apprentices
came to more and we eventually came to be the ones who trained all but a
handful of the current generation, either us or one of our students."

   Harlen nodded.  "That's why Hyandai said we Morrovale huntsmen were
somewhat, in manner, to rangers from the Windy Isles." He said.

   A sardonic look came over Tammers lined face.  "We once were, maybe. 
Today, we're just huntsmen, once again." He said.  "Perhaps better than
many in the Realms, but still huntsmen."

   There was a long pause as Harlen and Tammer both ran through their
minds, both looking into space rather indistinctly.

   "Drink?" Tammer finally asked, breaking their joint reverie.

   Harlen shook his head.  "No, I think I've had enough for now." He said.

   Tammer smiled.  "Good." He said.  "I'm almost out of Coghlandish rum
anyway.  I guess Wendy got you straightened out, then?"

   A moment of blank staring met Tammer's eyes, then Harlen reanimated. 
"Oh, Yeah!" He said.  "She talked me out of drinking last night, mostly by
making sure I kept flapping my jaw all night."

   "She's a grown woman, Harlen." Tammer said gently.  "You don't have to
play semantic games with me.  If you two like each other, then I am well
pleased.  She could choose somewhat worse in these parts." He sat a glass
of grape juice before Harlen.  "And I know of elves and their tendencies.
Again, she is a grown woman." He winked and headed down the bar to tend to
other patrons as Harlen sipped the tart grape juice.

   Harlen again had to mull matters over, and sipped slowly.  People came
up to him, mostly other huntsmen and spoke to him briefly, mainly offering
sympathy for his separation from Hyandai, others just to gossip of matters
important only to huntsmen.  He noted that Maegan was present, sitting with
a couple of men from her company.  They were drinking lightly, but engaged
in a spirited game of pig's knuckles on their little table.  Harlen chose
to leave them be.

   Finishing his drink, he left a penny on the bar and headed out, nodding
to a busy Tammer as he went.

   His house was mostly dark as he entered, as it usually was after Trevir
had gone abed in his little room out back.  He carried the single candle
that had been left burning in the entry foyer up to his room with him, not
wishing for the stark light of the orb.

   He felt a twinge of alarm as he entered his room, and there was a very
faint scent of cinnamon.  The room was cold, and he saw a window ajar.

   "I grow weary of uninvited elves in my home." Harlen grumbled, sliding
his sword out of its sheath.

   The large chair was facing away from him, and Harlen was sure someone
was in it.  There was no movement, though.  He walked around the chair,
giving it wide berth.  To his amaze, when the features came into view, it
was Ceriandel, Hyandai's brother.

   He was injured.

   "Ceriandel?" Harlen asked as the elf grimaced at him.

   "I have come to collect you." The elf said, gritting his teeth and
holding a hand over his ribs under his arm.  "Hyandai is lovesick, and
grows weaker by the day."

   Harlen gaped at him.  "What?" He asked, sheathing his blade and kneeling
before Ceriandel.  "What happened to you?"

   "I ran into some of the traitors on my way here." He chuckled bitterly.
"They thought I was going for help from Morrovale, as if you would give any
after these fifty years.  I managed to elude them after they shot me."

   Ceriandel uncovered his ribs, an arrow shaft poked out, he had snapped
the longest part of it off, but the head was still buried between his ribs,
blood was covering his tunic around the wound.

   "You need a healer." Harlen said, looking at the wound.  "I cannot
repair such an injury."

   The elf chuckled again; there was wetness in the sound of his harsh
breath.  "What I need is for my sister to be well." He said, locking his
silvern eyes upon Harlen.  "If that means getting you to her, then so be
it." Ceriandel started to rise from the chair, but fell back.  "Or perhaps
I will sit here and die."

   Harlen opened the back window of the room and yelled for Trevir.  Two
calls brought the lad's blonde head out of his own window.

   "Fetch Father Tegmar with all haste!" Harlen yelled at the lad, who
immediately pulled his head back in and was out his door and running around
the house in mere seconds.

   "A healer is coming." Harlen said, patting Ceriandel's shoulder.  "Tell
me more."

   Ceriandel looked up at him.  "She was fine for a few days, and very
involved in her duties as the strategist for the village." He coughed. 
"Then she started taking ill, and crying for you.  She still does her
needed job, but is now quite ill, she cannot keep food down, and she is a
disaster, emotionally." He smiled another bitter smile.  "She refuses to
see a healer.  We're already getting injured people in from outlying places
and she says they need help more than she." He had a very upset look in his
eyes.  "She has lost weight, and she grows weaker daily."

   Harlen's hands were shaking as he found some clean cloth to press to
Ceriandel's wound.  "She refuses to see a healer?" Harlen asked.

   Ceriandel nodded.  "Absolutely.  She flew into a rage when I brought one
to her chambers." He said.  "As I said, she is very unpredictable."

   It was almost fifteen minutes before Father Tegmar arrived, under tow by
Trevir.  As he came into the room he sighed.

   "You have a knack for providing me with injured elves." He said with a
smile.  "At least this one still breathes."

   Ceriandel got a very inquisitive look on his face and raised an eyebrow
at Harlen.  The huntsman simply shrugged.

   The priest examined the wound.  "Easily enough repaired, once the arrow
is removed." He declared.  "Would you like me to do it?" He solicitously
asked the elven blade dancer.

   It was a moment before Ceriandel answered.  "Yes." He finally said,
having weighed the options.  "If you are certain you can mend the wound."

   Tegmar chuckled.  "Of course, I can, unless you be unholy." He said. 
"Which I sincerely doubt." He put one hand upon the shaft, wrapping his
fingers with the clean cloth.  He gripped the arrow firmly with his fingers
and thumb.

   "Harlen, please hold his arms." Tegmar said.  "This will hurt mightily."

   Ceriandel suffered Harlen bear hugging his arms to his side, though
slightly modified by the odd angle his right arm had to lie due to the
arrow's location.  "I shall likely be loud." Ceriandel said, with wry
humor. "Think little of it."

   With a grunt, Tegmar yanked the arrow free.  The head was barbed and
tore more skin on the way out.  Blood flew in a fan hitting the wall and
floor.

   True to his word, Ceriandel yelled loudly; a pained exclamation of agony
and forewarned shock.  When Harlen let his arms go, he was sweating
profusely and shaking.  His skin was clammy to the touch.

   "I must heal him now, else he may die of shock." Father Tegmar said.

   The priest grabbed his holy symbol that was lying upon his breast and
clasped it in his hand.

   Harlen had seen this little miracle before, but it still amazed him as
Tegmar called upon the power of the One, through the blessed Saint Uriens.
His hand glowed, as it had before, but not nearly so brightly as it had
with Hyandai's mortal wound.

   As before the wound simply ceased to be.  It did not mend or reverse, it
just wasn't any more.  There was a hole in Ceriandel's tunic, and blood on
skin and cloth, but no wound of any kind to be found.

   Ceriandel looked appraisingly at his healed side, quickly recovering
from the impending shock he had been falling into.

   "I've never been healed thusly." He said, eyeing the priest.  "Very
interesting sensation."

   Harlen smiled at the blade dancer.  "Tegmar is an excellent shepherd for
the flock of Morrovale." He said.

   Father Tegmar grinned back.  "A shepherd who is becoming used to being
dragged out of his home in the wee hours to tend to people whom Harlen
comes across injured." He said.  "But it appears to me that this was an
elven arrowhead." He looked at the bloody stub of an arrow lying on the
cloth.  Is it becoming common for elves to attack one another these days?"

   Ceriandel stood up.  "It would seem so, Father Tegmar." He said.  "But
that is an aberration we hope to stop soon."

   After a few more questions and semi-answers, Father Tegmar took his
leave.  Harlen looked down at Trevir.

   "Sorry, Trevir, but Ceriandel and I have matters to discuss." Harlen
said.

   Trevir looked disappointed, but left quietly, and went back out the back
door.

   "How do you propose to get me to her?" Harlen asked.  "Aren't there
enemies in the wood, as your state upon arrival points to?"

   Ceriandel looked at his bloodied tunic.  "There are, but they are few
now, I was simply unlucky." He said.  "They have amassed their forces in
preparation of attack."

   "So the war has not started?" Harlen asked.

   "Mercifully, no." The elf replied.  "They were waiting on more of their
number to form.  It seems they wish for a quick and decisive victory.  The
better to send a message to the throne that they say the times are
changing. I fear when the hammer falls, it will smash Embalis flat."

   "How many?" Harlen asked.

   Ceriandel thought a moment.  "Seven hundreds, at least, maybe eight."

   "And in Embalis?" Harlen continued.

   A long moment passed.  "Four hundreds." Ceriandel finally said. 
"Including the populace that is of age to fight."

   Harlen nodded.  "I know little of magical effects on fighting." He said.
"But those do not seem good odds."

   Ceriandel.  "Magic or no, they have mages and we have mages, that will
balance, more or less." Ceriandel said.  "We have more archers, they have
better assault capabilities." He looked at his hands for a moment.  "Many
of the <I>ehladrim</I> went to their side."

   "Cavalry?" Harlen asked.  "Do they have much?"

   "No." Ceriandel said.  "The cavalry has stayed loyal.  They are more
thoroughly trained than the line soldiery.  But they are only forty
strong."

   Harlen was leading Ceriandel down the stairs to his workroom, and began
packing his things.  "I have thought much of your town's defenses, such as
they are." Harlen said.  "I assume you have been bolstering them?"

   The elf nodded.  "Hyandai, as the Warleader, has been ordering palisades
constructed in weak spots and such." He said.  "I do not rightly understand
matters of massed warfare." Ceriandel admitted.

   Harlen soon had himself packed and slung his bow and three quivers of
arrows over his shoulder.

   He looked at the elf.  "Are you fit to travel now?"

   Ceriandel nodded.  "If it means beginning the trek back, yes." He said.
"I will have been missed, and perhaps thought miscreant, or cowardly."

   They both went out the front door.  "I will collect my horse from the
stable in town, I had not the facilities or knowledge to care for such a
fine beast on my small bit of land." Harlen explained as Ceriandel mounted
a large elven horse.

   A nod was his answer.  They walked past the gate then to the stable
across from the Pierced Boar.  Harlen managed to rouse the lad who slept
there for latecomers to the stable.  Within minutes, N'umessa was brought
forth with tack and saddle upon him.

   Ceriandel chuckled.  "N'umessa?" He asked.  "An interesting choice of
names."

   Harlen smiled at him as he mounted the beast.  "He wouldn't tell me, so
perhaps it is true."

   "I could believe that." Ceriandel said.

   They both sat for just a moment, then Harlen clucked at the horse
beneath him and he began a trot toward the south gate.  Ceriandel followed
behind.

   Behind them, Trevir emerged from the shadows of the house next to the
Boar.  He looked panicked and worried.  Only one course of action stood
forth in his mind, the one Harlen always advised him.  He ran to the
Pierced Boar and began pounding upon the door.

   A few minutes later, a roused and very irritated Tammer answered the
door.  "What the blazes is it, lad?" Tammer said, his voice hoarse and
tired-sounding.

   "Master Harlen has ridden off with Hyandai's brother to Windir, the war
is nigh." Tammer blurted out in a rush of words.  "The good elves are
outnumbered two to one!"

   Tammer thought a moment, then told Trevir.  "Go roust Balchek and
Stimms." He said, naming the other two senior huntsmen, that formed, with
Tammer, the committee that approved all the huntsmen in Morrovale.

   Trevir nodded and took off at a run for Balchek's home on the west end
of the village.

   Tammer looked about, then up and down the street.  He turned about and
shut the tavern door.

   Descending the stairs to his wine cellar, Tammer held forth a candle. 
By its flickering light, he reached behind one of the large beer storage
kegs and pressed there.  There was a loud click from well-oiled machinery
and the keg lifted from the floor, revealing stairs downward.

   He descended those stairs.  As he gripped the door handle at the bottom
he blew out the candle and opened the door, bright light filled this
chamber, and two long rows of shelves.

   "It's come to it, then, hasn't it?" He asked no one in particular.

   ********** Author's Notes **********

   I would like to thank all the readers of The Solitary Arrow for their
ongoing commentary and criticism regarding this work.  I am constantly
striving to better the quality of this tale and welcome all constructive
criticism, suggestions, and corrections.  (EDIT 1.0)