Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. The Solitary Arrow by Mack the Knife Part Twenty-One Harlen awoke with a start, realizing that he was alone in the bed. He sat up, casting his eyes about searching the darkened room for Hyandai. When his eyes fell upon his beloved, standing in a long, flowing gown of rich blue silk, they stopped and widened. Hyandai radiated beauty and affection toward him. She was just standing from a small desk in the corner of her room. A miniature calyondo shone light down upon the desk from a wooden stand. She had been writing. "Harlen, all is well," Hyandai murmured to him in a soothing tone. She crossed the floor, seeming to float without moving her feet in the long gown. "Why the panic, beloved?" asked Hyandai. He turned and let his feet touch the floor. "I don't know," replied Harlen. "It just seemed something was wrong, and I wanted to be sure you were safe." Her lips parted in a wide smile. "Of course I am safe," she said, soothing him. "You and your fellow men of Morrovale have made us all safe for now." Hyandai held out a leather cup to him. "Drink some of this. It will calm you. I understand humans take a while to soothe their nerves after a battle." "And elves don't?" asked Harlen, then took a long sip from the cup. He felt something cool, but with the slight burn of alcohol sliding down his throat, leaving a fruity aftertaste. Hyandai grinned. "Of course we do," she replied. "But I have an excellent lover who soothed my nerves quite well, and with admirable enthusiasm, I might add." She sat upon the bed and touched his chest. "Your heart still races," she observed. He smiled. "That's not battle-worry," replied Harlen. "That's you." He stroked her silken hair, unbound on her cheek. The strands of his own hairs mingled with hers there causing an interesting mixture of texture and color, where she had magically transferred their locks to one another. She nuzzled toward that contact. "It is me?" asked Hyandai. "I cause such distress in your heart?" "You cause such excitement," replied Harlen. "If distress I would gladly endure daily, forever." Hyandai's face grew very solemn. "Then we must care for your health carefully, else we might cause your early demise," she said, feeling his brow with a slender hand, as if checking for fever. Harlen chuckled and grabbed her about her tiny waist and lifted her to his lap, where she curled tidily against him, kissing his neck and chin, cooing. There was a light rap upon her chamber's door, then it opened, and Wendy peered in. "So, you two are awake," she observed. She was holding some cloth folded in her arms, stepping through the doorway. "I bear gifts from the folk of Embalis for Harlen, the hero!" declared Wendy, unfurling one piece of the cloth with a flourish. It was a silken tunic, of a deep green hue, with silver trim about the hem, throat, and cuffs. "What's this?" asked Harlen, still sitting with his pleasant burden upon his lap. The elven maiden reached out and took it gently, then looked at it. "It is something to wear for the festivities tonight," she said. "And you will be marked as a `taken' man, I see." She smiled at Wendy. "And where is your gown, soldier of Morrovale?" she asked. The petite human handed Hyandai the matching pants that went with Harlen's new tunic. She then unfurled a third cloth bundle; a long blue gown, identical to Hyandai's, of shimmering evening blue silk, with the slimmest of silver trim about the collar, hem, and cuffs. "You are marked?" asked Hyandai. Wendy gave an embarrassed smile. "In a manner, yes," she said, eyeing the couple. "Until you two tire of my company, I doubt I will be seeking a lover." Hyandai's eyes grew soft and she uncurled from Harlen's lap, embracing the young woman. She kissed her, gentle at first, then with more passion. "Do not deny yourself for our benefit," she murmured into the girl's thick, dark hair. "We would never ask it of you." Wendy took on a look of thoughtfulness. "And give up two lovers for one?" she scoffed. "I think not. No, you will have to send me away." She adopted the air of a petulant child, crossing her arms and sticking out her lower lip. Hyandai giggled at this display, and kissed the distended lip. "You are not going to be sent away, and I think we will all have to speak long on this matter," she announced. "But, tonight, we will feast and revel in our victory. Tomorrow, we will mourn the passing of the fallen, and give honor to their spirits." "Do I have no say in this?" asked Harlen, eyeing the two lovely women dubiously. "Or am I simply outvoted?" Hyandai adopted a conspiratorial tone and tilted her head toward Wendy. "He has just heard of being claimed by two of the prettiest women in Morrovale. Yet, he wishes to discuss terms?" His dubious expression cracked within seconds. "Not so much terms, as privileges," said Harlen. "I would know whence I stand." "You, Harlen, are betrothed," explained Wendy, "to the Lady Hyandai." She gave a playful and graceful wave toward Hyandai, who bowed with a flourish. "However," Hyandai interrupted, "WE have a girlfriend." She pointed to Wendy, who also lowered her trunk in a playful bow and flashed a broad smile. Harlen smiled, but retained a somewhat confused expression. "And if something happens?" he asked. "Such as, perhaps, a child?" Wendy blinked a moment, but Hyandai stepped in helpfully. "Such a blessing would be most welcome," she said, "would it not?" Harlen and Wendy both rather gaped a moment, then Wendy spoke first. "I love both of you. As you suspected, Hyandai, I longed for Harlen long ago," she said, "and would now, were he available to me." Her brow wrinkled with thought. "I also love you, now, Hyandai," she added, "and would not wish to lose either of you. Of course, I wish to bear children one day, and would not mind that day being soon." She smiled sheepishly at Harlen. "One willing." Hyandai smiled. "This is foreign to you two, is it not?" she asked. "Perhaps I ask too much, oddity, in our relations." She sat in the chair again. "Or too soon, at the least," she concluded. There was a long pause while the three took counsel with their individual thoughts. Then Wendy spoke. "What is the elven way of it?" she asked. "When an elven couple has one that is melethan, or dual-natured, as I am," said Hyandai. "They often take in a third partner of a compatible nature as a ledet'saerunim. A `third lover.'" She looked at Wendy, then at Harlen. "The ledet'saerunim is a full member of the partnership, at that point, and there is a ceremony among the three." She smiled wanly. "It is a binding thing, like a marriage, well, I guess it IS marriage." Harlen had risen while she spoke, listening with alert ears, while also donning his new finery. "Do they work out?" he asked. Hyandai smiled. "Of course," she said. "They simply take a bit more effort, as there are three egos at play." She looked at the two. "My question is this: Would your people in Morrovale accept such a union?" "The church, no," said Harlen, "the people, yes, conditionally." Wendy nodded agreement. "There are some nonstandard `arrangements' in Morrovale already, and they are accepted," she said. "The people, I suppose, were exposed to such three-way relationships in the past." Wendy chuckled. "Probably by elves, come to think of it." Again, she looked at Hyandai. "The third is euphemistically called a handmaiden." Harlen chuckled. "You mean that those aren't really handmaidens?" he asked. Eyes wide, Wendy regarded him. "You are joking?" she asked. "Yes," replied Harlen, "I am. I simply wonder if you are able to live with such a title?" "If being a `handmaiden' is what it takes to retain my two newfound lovers," said Wendy, "then a `handmaiden' I shall be. At least then the rumors of my being a lesbian will be laid to rest." Her face grew somewhat sour. "Or so some men have been saying since I returned from Ghant and did not immediately accept their advances." Hyandai giggled. "By confirming you are melethan?" she asked. Wendy placed a series of gentle kisses upon the elf's neck, at the same time, she ran one slim hand down Hyandai's belly toward the joining of her long legs. "Somehow that will only make men more interested in me, rather than scare them off," she said, laying her head upon Hyandai's shoulder. Harlen's eyes widened at her forwardness. "I can see why," he said in a soft voice, his organ stirring in his pants. Wendy and Hyandai both looked at him with half-lidded eyes. The two looked more like sisters than Hyandai and Loskenhaur did, in reality. "So, Harlen, would you accept me as `handmaiden' and ledet'saerunim?" asked Wendy. A moment passed while he thought. "I would be foolish not to," he concluded. "As Hyandai pointed out, you two ARE the most beautiful women Morrovale has to offer, and impressive, even without that beauty." Hyandai reached out, took his hand, and pulled him toward them and they embraced each with one arm about the other two. "Then we will do so," she said. "It is good to have a plan." Wendy pulled back. "I need to dress for the festivities," she said with sudden worry. "They will begin soon, and we've spent the time babbling." Her chain mail hauberk was shed almost in an instant as she began disrobing in a flurry of activity. It was amazing how much clothing someone going to war tended to wear, Harlen noted, watching her shed layer after layer of armor, padding, vambraces, grieves, and clothes. At last, though, she was nude, and Hyandai gasped at her shaven privates. "When did you start that?" she asked, smiling. "The day after you and Harlen and I met," said Wendy, looking down at where Hyandai's focus was. Hyandai nodded. "Interesting," she observed. Wendy slithered into the form-fitting silk gown and ran her hands over it, settling the garment into place over her slender body. She wriggled in a sultry manner. "Wow," she said, "this thing really shows a girl off." She peered down over her slender body and at how it hugged every curve and sank into any low areas. Her prominent lower abdomen was displayed very sensually. Hyandai clucked at her. "Well, you are slightly more, well, formed, than an elven lady of your years," she said, trying in vain to put a sound of jealousy in her voice, it sounded rather more like desire. Harlen blinked at the two of them. "I'd be happy to hold the arm of either of you," he said, sitting and admiring their long forms covered in clinging silk. Elven fingers flitted through Wendy's hair, untangling knots that the battle had wrought upon the girl's dark tresses. Within a few brief minutes, Hyandai had woven her hair into long braids that ran around the curve of Wendy's skull and formed long, slender ropes down the back of her neck. Wendy giggled. "By the One, you're quick with those fingers!" she exclaimed, looking at herself in a hand mirror. Hyandai kissed her bared neck. "You have no idea." She said in a deeper tone, with some small measure of menace to it, then she looked up at Wendy with deep green eyes. They groomed themselves for a short while; preparing to go forth to face the music they heard drifting up from below. Soon, they were ready, and Harlen opened the door and watched the two appealing visions in blue silk float past. They preceded him down the narrow stair to the ground, with Wendy hugging the inner side of the staircase where it spiraled down the thick tree's trunk. From the rather short-breathed way she sighed upon reaching the ground, Harlen realized how much effort it must have cost her to even come up the tree to them. At the base, he stood confused for a moment while the women sorted themselves to either side of him and took his arms. "But how will I drink?" asked Harlen, looking with concern down at his two occupied arms. "Very little," said Hyandai. "You need to keep your wits about you, you shall have great demands put upon you this night." She winked across his chest at Wendy, who raised her eyebrows and brought her head up and down, like an elven head bow. Harlen made a slight whimpering sound while they manhandled him and aimed him for the festivities, a glowing area toward the center of the village. They arrived at the edge of the gathering at the same time the music was changing. The dance area cleared, and the music settled into something that was meant to be heard and appreciated, but not danced to. People milled about the tables, laden with a huge supply of foodstuffs, elven delicacies, Harlen assumed, and even many varieties of Morrovalian fare, like a rather ostentatious roast boar on a bed of sliced apples. In normal circumstances, elven folk were not overt carnivores, most often, they consumed their limited meat intake in stews, and less often, pies. However, after the fever of battle and the strong emotions of the day, the boar was showing much sign of depletion. Many elves were seen with chunks of the meat upon their platters, just as often as the humans at the gathering. Despite their best efforts, different people seemed to contrive to split the trio up, engaging them in cross-purpose conversations and random interactions of newcomers and outgoing participants. Harlen soon found himself facing Tammer and the Lord of Embalis, Ircandann. "Master Tammer here has informed me that he has gotten, already, over two dozen requests from various huntsmen to stay and study our ways," said Ircandann, smiling. "I suppose, it may be high time that the training of rangers recommenced." Harlen chuckled. "I imagine that a majority of those `volunteers' were also single males," he said. Ircandann blinked a couple of times. "Yes, I believe most of them were," he said, then paused again. "Ah," he sighed. "I see." He leaned in close to the two humans and, in a confidential tone said, "That will not be so bad, either, then, for truthfully, we have not nearly as many men, after the battle, as women." He stood upright again. "While not a mournful first thought, a leader must also think of the pragmatic points." Tammer smiled. "Why do you think I volunteered, back in my day?" he said. "Nothing like young women to attract young men." "So long as they are not thought opportunistic." Harlen said, looking at Lord Ircandann with appraising eyes. Lord Ircandann's expression bordered on shock. "Never!" he said with certainty. "They are heroes to the people of Embalis. They have risked their very lives to protect ours." He shook his head. "It is reasonable that they should wish to feel welcome in a town that would not exist if not for their actions." He smiled. "I am certain the people of Embalis share my feelings in this." Ircandann pointed to Harlen's left with his chin. Following the lord's gaze, he saw Regas, one of the more eligible bachelor huntsmen standing nearby, with three young elven ladies speaking to him in a tight knot. Harlen nodded. "I see," he said. He caught sight of Hyandai for the first time in several minutes. She was conversing with her sister and two other elven women, who were giggling while Loskenhaur was busy blushing and covering her eyes. Harlen smiled and waved when she looked up and caught sight of him. Hyandai, for her part, made a very subtle gesture to his left. He looked that direction to see Wendy, standing alone. It seemed that the elven lads were frightened of the human women, unlike the human males' fascination with elven women. He glanced back at Hyandai, and was rewarded with a look of undeniable clarity informing him to go to Wendy, now. A dutiful mate, to both women, no less, Harlen went to Wendy's side. He slipped an arm around her and kissed her smooth shoulder. "Hello, beautiful lady," he said, placing much softness into his voice. She smiled up at him. "I'm okay, Harlen," she said. "Don't let me interfere with the revelries." "You cannot," said Harlen, his expression earnest. "That would imply that you could, in some way, diminish a good thing." He shook his head. Wendy pressed into him and put one hand upon his encircling arm. "Hyandai certainly has taught you smooth words," she said with an appreciative sigh. "I cannot wait to hear them in elven." "Probably not too long," ventured Harlen, "before you can do just that." He looked around the crowd. "I've been learning quite a lot of elven from Hyandai." A slow nod from Wendy was his reply. "I wish to learn it, as well," she said. "It's a lovely language." "Are you really happy with the `handmaiden' arrangement?" asked Wendy. Harlen blinked at her, having, himself, for once, been caught flatfooted by a non sequitur. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked. "I mean it when I say you two are the most desirable women in the land." Wendy chuckled. "That would make me a distant number two of the top two, then," she murmured. "Hyandai is gorgeous." "Bullshit!" spat Harlen. "You're extremely pretty. Hell, had I known you were in town, I would have come to see you right off, even if Tammer had tried to bribe me away." Harlen let out a low laugh. "I thought, when I was fourteen, that my heart would break in two when you left." He paused a long moment. "It rather peeves me a bit, actually," said Harlen, "that there is not a bit more difference in the looks of you two, Hyandai and you. A bit of variety, if you will." She giggled at that. "Well, I have round ears," offered Wendy, "and a bigger bu . . . " Wendy was interrupted by Tammer mounting a table and ringing a small bell. The old ranger reached into his pocket and pulled out that odd glowing green stone that Harlen had seen before the battle. He held it to his throat and began speaking. "People of Embalis!" pronounced Tammer. "Hear me. This day, a glorious day, where an old alliance of men and elves has been tried once again, and has been shown to amount to more than the sum of its parts." He was turning to take in the gathered folk about him, revolving in a slow circle. "I have been asked to give leave to allow some portion of the company of Rangers of Morrovale to stay in Embalis, for manifold reasons. This I have the authority to do, but only for a year and a day, as stipulated by the old agreements." Harlen felt Hyandai's hand upon his arm. He turned to look at her smiling face. "Fifty volunteers have offered to stay, and I feel that is a manageable number that the duke will not be too wroth to surrender," continued Tammer. "However, it is necessary for the people of Embalis to provide them with training in exchange for the time they sacrifice from their professions." "Among other, less tangible, benefits," said Hyandai, in a low stage whisper at Harlen's elbow. Harlen put his arm around his betrothed and pulled her to him. "Shush," murmured Harlen, pulling Hyandai close, "you'll ruin his moment." Hyandai whispered into his ear. "The elves are eager to have them, Harlen, let them not fool you," she whispered. "There is already a bit of hen squabbling going on between some of the women over the fifty that are staying." "Did so many men die?" asked Harlen in a low voice. "Not quite," replied Hyandai. "Those men are heroes right now; a very desirable commodity. There will be elf-lads unaccompanied to bed tonight, though, admittedly, not many. The fool Isolationists forced many more people into the Warwolf camp, though. Most of them would now be either dead or displaced, were it not for human assistance. It rather drives the point home." Harlen thought a moment. "And a Warwolf precept is the intermingling of human and elven bloodlines and cultures," he said, his eyes widening in recognition. "Exactly," said Hyandai, with a smile. "Why do I feel I may have been manipulated?" accused Harlen, his eyes gaining a small measure of real suspicion. "No, beloved," replied Hyandai, stroking his arm. "You have not been used. Perhaps I was, but given the outcome, I resent it not." He looked down at the exceptional woman on his arm and at her deep green eyes. There was no duplicity there; all he saw was affection for him, and for Wendy, when Hyandai turned her eyes to the younger woman. Wendy had been listening to their conversation and leaned in. "Will not the elven blood thin among us more numerous humans?" she asked. "Somewhat," said Hyandai. "But not utterly. Elven blood is thick, indeed, and signs of it may appear far into the depths of even the most dispersed bloodline." Tammer had finished his speech to a polite applause from the humans and elves about him. He stepped down from the table and put the green stone in his pocket. "What is that thing?" asked Harlen, looking at Wendy. "The glowing stone." "It translates words into the native tongue of the hearer," replied Wendy. "I used it when we were moving alongside the traitor forces before the gates to speak with their commander's aide." Harlen nodded. "I saw that," he said. "You would be the only human among the lot who could pass for an elf on sight." "It is a tana'yondo," said Hyandai. "A speaking stone." Then she giggled. "We used to sell those to humans, as well, like the calyondos. They were quite dear, I am told." After the speech, the festivities moved into gear again. Most of the underage participants, with the exception of a few of the eldest juveniles had departed for bed, and the revelries moved to a more mature level. Dance music was again played, and the clear patch of ground amid the glowing lamps filled with people moving with slow grace. A majority elven, but no few humans attempted the complex and rather demanding steps. This entertained the elven folk a great deal, though the humans were quick studies, and the dance looked more complex than it, in actuality, was. Hyandai grabbed Wendy's hand and pulled her toward the dance area. "You dance, too?" asked Harlen. This question was rewarded by a look from Hyandai and Wendy both of profound disbelief. "Harlen," said Wendy, with infinite patience, "she's an elf." Hyandai giggled. "Yes, Harlen, of course I dance," she said. "And you will too, very soon. For what man betrothed to an elf cannot dance?" They ran into the dancing area and moved together, bodies held close and spinning about. Harlen soon figured out why this portion of the celebration had been saved for after the departure of the junior attendees. The moves were very sultry and some would have scandalized Morrovale society for weeks. "If you hurt her, I will turn you into a fine stew," said the voice of Tammer from just behind Harlen. The huntsman turned to regard his old mentor. "I would never consider it," he said. "Your granddaughter is as precious to me as Hyandai." "I know," said Tammer. "That is the only reason I give you three my blessings." His old eyes were misty. "And even then, Harlen, it is not easy to say. My Oneian teachings scream that it is not quite right." He paused a moment, watching the two beautiful women dance. "She seems very happy, though, happier than since she returned from Ghant." His face took on a rather feeble stern look. "She moped for most of four months, since that day. I am gladdened to see her smiling and laughing, even if it means welcoming a lout into my family." "And an elf," added Harlen. "Yes, and an elf," repeated Tammer. "My poor family tree will be chock full of vagabonds and forest frolickers." His face took on a sudden look of hypothetical alarm. "Just how the hell does one represent a three-way arrangement in a family tree, tell me that, Master Harem?" "More branches?" replied Harlen, shrugging. "Ask Hyandai, she's a scribe and an elf, and she says it's not all that rare in their communities." "I'll do just that," said Tammer, his face now adopting a satisfied air, having been handed a quite sensible solution. "I only somewhat envy you, boy. You have heard the old saw about `serving two masters'?" The elder huntsman chuckled. "You may find two Mistresses an even sorer trial," he concluded. Wendy was fast approaching Harlen, and Hyandai was now twirling off with her brother leading, they seemed deep in discussion even while they executed the graceful motions of the dance. "I cannot fault you, my sister, for your choice in a man," said Ceriandel. "He is a good man, from all I hear, and I will welcome him as a brother, should that be your choice." He dipped Hyandai with the grace and practice of two who learned to dance together. Hyandai smiled. "Thank you, dear brother," she said. "He is a good man, and I love him, I will be wedding him after the year." Ceriandel looked over at Harlen. "Why do you wish to wait?" he asked. "The year is a simple formality, one that is oft disregarded." She spun away from him, then back, stopping with expert grace just short of slamming into him with her back. "There is much non formal in our relationship," said Hyandai. "I wish for as much to be `by the rules' as I can manage." Wendy took Harlen's hand and guided him onto the floor. "Now, your turn, lover," she said, giving him a toothy, predatory grin. Harlen was not much of a dancer, but he was agile enough and learned the mechanics within minutes. Soon, he was making passable, if not graceful, motions that resembled the dance steps to a large degree. It helped a lot that Wendy was quite good, and had learned the dance well already. She was also quick-reflexed and avoided any missteps that Harlen committed that might have resulted in crushed feet. When Harlen spun her back in from the extended outward fling, he used a bit too much force, though, and they both went stumbling when she slammed into his chest at speed with her back and shoulders. This drew a smattering of applause from other dancers nearby and a few catcalls from other huntsmen declaring Harlen the `night's most graceful moose'. Harlen long ago learned that women responded quite well to the attempt of a man to dance, something most men were just not trained to do. If a man danced well, he would find himself at the end of a long line of women waiting to dance, and never be able to spend any time with any one of them. However, if he was JUST good enough, he would manage to keep a partner for several dances, and then resulting conversation and, with luck, companionship. Most of the elven women seemed to have no compunction about dancing with one another, even the stimulating `high contact' dances that were more intimate than some. This led to much muttering among small knots of huntsmen. At least, until Tammer explained that it might just be better for one or two men to get in there and wedge themselves between the women before they get too interested in one another. Then the huntsmen find themselves keeping their wineskin company for the night. Hyandai had managed to cut in on Wendy and was now facing Harlen. They moved over the soft grass. "My brother approves of you now," she said, smiling up at him. "I'm glad. I was hoping I wouldn't have to tie him up for the wedding," replied Harlen, glancing over at Ceriandel, who was speaking to Maegan and Tessa again. He appeared to be unsuccessfully avoiding being fussed over by the two much-taller women. She giggled. "I might pay good money to see that," admitted Hyandai. The tempo of the gathering dropped down a notch. Many of the revelers broke off to watch the prisoners being escorted into a makeshift stockade by their huntsman guards. The added fifty humans among the gathering shifted the numbers where the human attendees outnumbered the elven now. Ten humans and ten elves were assigned to keep watch over the prisoners, and they rotated out every hour to ensure that everyone got a chance to enjoy most of the gathering. The imprisoned Isolationists were beside themselves at the sight of humans and elves intermingling in a large group. They hurled curses and insults until a loyalist wizard silenced the lot of them with a well-placed spell that knocked them all unconscious. This drew cheers from all assembled for the somnamancer, who was given a hero's welcome back to the festivities. By the time the moon was at the peak of its path, the number of celebrants was much reduced. Some were to be found scattered about the grounds, in various states of repose. More, it seemed, had wandered away from the main gathering in pairs. Hyandai bit her lip while she guided Harlen and Wendy up the stairs toward her chamber. "Something bothers you, beloved?" asked Harlen. She gave a hesitant smile. "I was just doing some calculations in my head, dear," she replied. "I hope the village will not mind about half a dozen births in about nine months, perhaps more, given human fecundity." Harlen blinked at her a moment. "Humans get pregnant easier, or rather," corrected Hyandai, "make elves pregnant more readily than other elves would." "A half dozen, half elven children?" asked Wendy. Hyandai nodded, and smiled. "Only we call them half human." "Perhaps that is one of the obstacles that needs to be overcome," Harlen said, his eyes distant. "They won't be half of anything. The name is misleading, from both sides." Hyandai shrugged. "Things cannot be changed instantly, betrothed," she said, then kissed his neck. They had reached her chamber, and Hyandai opened the door. She let Wendy and Harlen pass in, and looked about, and down at the remaining revelers and smiled before following them. Harlen snatched her from behind when she passed him, causing her to emit a happy squeal. Wendy, for her part came at Hyandai from the front and pressed her own slender body to the elf's even slimmer form. They exchanged a soft kiss, but a thorough one, while Harlen kissed her long neck, running his hands down her sides. Wendy's hands were on Harlen's arms, feeling the motion of the muscles under the skin. Hyandai sighed when she felt the younger woman's lips move to her throat. "So, this is what it felt like that first night?" she asked, watching Wendy. Wendy nodded and smiled. Moving her small hands to the hem of Hyandai's silken dress and taking hold of it. She stood back up, lifting the dress and baring Hyandai's compact body as she did so. Wendy brushed her full lips over Hyandai's thigh, her hip, her belly, one breast, and to her shoulder, moving to each as it was bared. Before Wendy could begin to kiss her way back downward, Hyandai took hold of the waist of the gown the younger woman was still wearing. As the girl kissed her way down Hyandai's body, this time, more thoroughly, the dress inched upward, until she reached Hyandai's navel, where the elf lifted her arms and the dress over Wendy's head. Wendy then knelt and moved her head forward, between Hyandai's slender thighs, pressing her open mouth to the elf's entrance, and sliding her tongue inside. Hyandai moved her legs apart and gasped, then felt Harlen's kisses on her neck. She reached up with both arms and each hand grabbed her other wrist upon wrapping them around his neck. "Stand up, beloved," whispered Hyandai. Harlen stood, holding Hyandai by her slim waist. Hyandai's feet left the floor, and she moved her legs apart. She bent her knees back to wrap her shins around Harlen's powerful legs, and then turned her feet inward, to lock them behind his knees. Wendy now had total access to Hyandai's innermost places, and made good use of that, burying her tongue inside the soft folds of flesh, then into the tight slit, opening her mouth wide and sucking as she ran her tongue over the moist entrance. Hyandai groaned into Harlen's ear and kissed it, feeling his stiffening cock against her taut backside while he held her aloft for long moments without complaint. She could hear a soft, wet sound from below and looked down to see Wendy sliding two fingers into herself, then move her other hand to Hyandai's entrance, feeding Hyandai's opening two fingers, as well, even as Wendy continued to lap and kiss her. Hyandai bucked against the intruding digits, and pushed outward from Harlen's body. She could feel Harlen's grip tighten and knew he would hold her through her impending climax. Wendy kept at it, locking her lips to Hyandai as if she were feeding, her small, quick tongue moved faster and her fingers began to curl and move inward and back out inside the elf. The tension in Hyandai's body built and mounted until she neither could, nor desired to constrain herself. Every muscle in her arms, legs, and back flexed with impressive power, causing Harlen to tighten his grip to avoid dropping Hyandai when her arms unlocked from his neck. She screamed, calling out some elven phrase she had not taught him yet. A few seconds later, her body went limp in his hands, her legs let loose his knees and drooped together as Wendy moved back, with a self-satisfied grin on her pretty face, along with a glistening sheen of Hyandai's juices. Hyandai gasped. "Spirits save me," she whispered. "I may have taken on one human too many." Harlen walked over to her bed and, with reverence, placed Hyandai upon it, cradling her head onto the soft pillow. She stroked his face with her fingertips while Harlen stood back up. "A moment only, beloved," she said, sinking into the pillow and sighing. Harlen stood upright again, and Wendy's hands appeared around his waist, unfastening his belt. "We mere mortals can entertain ourselves for a nonce," said Wendy, lowering his trousers as Harlen kicked off the soft shoes the elves had given him. Hyandai's eyes widened with interest. "I am going to be startled every time I see your manhood," she murmured, reaching out and stroking the upright member with a very soft touch. It twitched visibly at the contact. The small, slim hands of Wendy then returned and lifted Harlen's tunic over his head, while she giggled. "Is that elf taking advantage of things I uncover?" she complained in a playful tone. Harlen nodded and Hyandai smirked, leaning forward and licking the hard cock in her hand, running her tiny tongue over the round head. Wendy moved around. "Ah-ha!" she exclaimed. "Unmouth that prick, temptress!" she said even while she was moving to sit beside Hyandai on the bed and using her mouth to kiss and lick the long shaft behind Hyandai's hand. Hyandai pulled her mouth from around the wide head, with an audible pop. "I wager I can consume more than you," she said with an almost snide tone. The human girl's eyes widened. "Bested by a tiny elf-girl on a contest of dimensions?" she scoffed. "I think not." The elf held Harlen's cock toward Wendy. "Vanquished first," she said with half-lidded eyes and looking down her nose toward the human. Harlen watched on with great interest registering in his blue eyes. Wendy made great show of preparing herself for her attempt. She brushed her silken hair from her brow and behind her ears, which were somewhat extended from her head and made a handy place to wedge errant strands. She then examined his organ with an air of detachment, taking great care in measuring its girth and length. "Here we go," she said in a hushed tone, moving forward and then opening her lips wide to take the thick pole in. Her head moved forward for almost half the length of his member, then ran into the back of her palete. She forced more inward, lifting her body upward to straighten her neck, giving his cock a direct passage down her throat. Wendy moved forward another two inches, then coughed, pulling back with watering eyes. Wendy rocked back onto her heels and giggled amid more coughing. "Mark my spot!" squealed Wendy, still giggling between coughs. "No cheating." Hyandai assumed a very professional look as she took her quill from her desk and marked the side of Harlen's shaft with a narrow black line. She was very thorough, and moved the quill all the way around his shaft until it formed a black ring about his organ, only two inches from its base in the nest of dark curling hairs. Wendy leaned back in. "Wow, I took that much?" she wondered. "Indeed, a worthy attempt," complimented Hyandai, "for an amateur." Harlen managed to keep a straight face throughout all this. "Amateur?" shrieked Wendy. "Let's see you do better, with that willowy neck, you'll be lucky to take even half of him." "We shall see," said Hyandai in a dismissive tone. She took his stiff organ, giving it a few long, slow strokes to ensure fairness and full erection. Hyandai began taking him into her mouth, moving in one even, slow motion. When his swollen head pressed against her throat, she swallowed while she continued moving, and swallowed again and again, it slid down her stretched throat with slow certainty. Wendy gasped. "By the One, Hyandai!" she said, amazed. His thick cock was causing her slender neck to distend a bit. However, she pressed on downward until his entire length was buried in her mouth and throat, his pubic hairs about her slender nose and his heavy testicles pressed to her chin. She then shoved her head forward, taking a remaining half-inch of `nose room,' flattening her nose into his pelvis. "I am bested." Wendy said, hanging her head down in mock shame. Hyandai pulled back in another long even motion, his bulbous helmet popping out lastly, the entire length of the shaft glistening with moisture. "Why could you not do it?" asked Hyandai. "I saw you do so that first night." "His manhood curves upward, when he did it before we faced opposite directions, and it went down smoothly," explained Wendy. She showed Hyandai his curvature by gripping his cock in a fist and pulling on it and stroking the top with her free hand. Hyandai nodded with a look of interest on her face, also reaching out to stroke Harlen's organ as they spoke. "Well, I rather owe Harlen a release," Wendy said after they spoke a few moments. "He satisfied me quite thoroughly the other day prior to us deciding to wait for you." Hyandai looked up at Harlen with accusative eyes. "Wait for me?" she asked. "I explicitly gave you two permission to make love in my absence." Both shrugged. "We wanted you with us," said Harlen. She giggled. "Well, then, I will watch you two now," said Hyandai. She scooted back onto the bed, sat with her back to the headboard, and crossed her arms over her knees. "Go on," she goaded, watching them with her large green eyes. Wendy leaned forward with no hesitation. "This first, then," she said, taking Harlen into her warm mouth. Harlen groaned in time with Wendy's movements. Her lips formed a tight seal around the middle of his thick shaft. She then began to move back and forth, with enough speed and enthusiasm that her hair moved into disarray within seconds. Harlen groaned and put his hands upon Wendy's small skull, pulling her inward with a bit more force. Hyandai smiled, and uncurled from the headboard and moved off the bed, behind Harlen. She reached between his thick legs and palmed his scrotum with her hand, squeezing his testicles in a soft grip, then rolling them around each other with her cool fingertips. With a massive grunt, Harlen came into Wendy's pumping mouth, filling it with his seed, her eyes opened wide at the sheer volume of semen that flooded into her. She gave forth a small squeak before taking a long swallow, finally pulling back, and smiling up at Harlen. "Backlogged?" Wendy asked, gasping for air. "Or just making up for us waiting?" Harlen wore a blank stare for a moment, then blinked. "Um. Yes?" he asked. -- "You're certain?" asked Tammer, looking at the prisoners' paddock, and at the slumbering Isolationists. Warrik nodded. "Yes, Master Tammer," he replied, "there were two-hundred and twelve at the traitor camp, and there are only two-hundred and three now." A moment passed as the old huntsman thought. "But none of the escort is missing?" asked Tammer. "No," the huntsman shook his head. "We're all accounted for." "Right," said Tammer. Then he turned to Lord Ircandann. "You should inform your patrolling scouts, if I may advise milord. Those nine don't know the Isolationists lost. They may try something foolish." Ircandann gave a quick, curt nod and murmured something to his new aide. That worthy took off at a jog toward the throne pavilion with a quick head bow. "I only hope that those who left the festivities and went into the wood are safe," the elven lord said, his face marked by deep worry. "Me too, but short of panicking the whole village," said Tammer, "I don't see how we can recall them quickly." -- The urgent pounding upon Hyandai's chamber door caused Harlen to turn suddenly in his sleep, this pushed Wendy, who was between Harlen and Hyandai, and caused Hyandai to flail about when she awoke tumbling off the small bed. She landed on her rump with a solid thunk onto the hardwood floor. "What is it?" asked Hyandai, a tone of massive impatience in her normally placid voice. An elven voice responded, "Lady, there is a small problem that needs Master Harlen's attention." Harlen sat up. "Speak Westron, please," he said, having picked his name out of the elf's melodious babble. "Master Harlen," came the accented reply, "Master Tammer would see you, as soon as may be." Harlen emitted an immense sigh. "Very well, where do I meet him?" he asked. "In the Royal Pavilion," the voice replied, muffled by the door and by the sound of Hyandai crawling back into the bed. The three had played a roughy, and for a long while; she was very tired. Harlen slipped on his pants and boots while Hyandai watched with a worried expression. Wendy seemed to be able to sleep through almost any amount of noise. "I have no idea," answered Harlen to Hyandai's unspoken question. Hyandai's lips formed into a wan smile. "I know, beloved," she said. "Send for Wendy and I if you need us." Nodding, Harlen pulled his tunic down over himself and grabbed his cloak and sword belt in passing toward the door. He slipped through the door and was belting the broadsword to his waist while walking the catwalk toward the ramps downward. He had managed to don the cloak against the morning chill before he had reached the stairs for the last leg of his vertical trek to the ground. The sky was just beginning to brighten the eastern sky, and that sky promised rain this day, with heavy-bellied clouds looming low as they moved in from the south. Harlen crossed the field between the bottom of the stair and the pavilion at a jog to find Tammer, and over a dozen huntsmen, most of them the seniors among Harlen's profession. Ircandann was also there, along with a half dozen elven scouts. All the huntsmen and scouts were armed. "What passes?" asked Harlen, approaching the large group of people. Tammer smiled. "Good, you're conscious," he said, only half joking. The huntsman pointed to the assembled men. "Trouble?" he asked. "Of a sort, yes," replied Tammer. "Not that we know for sure there is any at all. Some of the prisoners from the Isolationist camp are missing. And we've some people who left the party to `walk in the woods' last night." He chewed his lip. "We think they all had elven `guides' for their little foray into the wilds, but we need them back in town, for their own safety." Harlen surveyed the assembled huntsmen. Of course, they were the elder huntsmen, and all married. It made sense, decided Harlen; they would have been the first to bed down and would have done so in the barracks that had been provided for the `rangers.' The alarming thought that crossed his mind next was that now HE was one of them. A wry smile crossed his face. He supposed it was not so bad. The huntsmen and elves gathered into groups of one elf and two huntsmen and headed in different directions, planning to canvass the forest near the village. Harlen was with one such group, along with a huntsman named Krieger. Krieger was a good enough fellow, but spoke horrid Westron. He was an immigrant from the Southern Realms. Big, broad-shoulders, and a massive appetite for beer. His florid, broad face, and shock of thick blond hair always made him look like he had just been awakened from the floor of a bar. Their elven guide introduced himself as Ithiovol. He gave a curt nod and then turned and headed for their designated search area. The elf spoke over his shoulder at the two following humans. "We have a particularly tricky area," said Ithiovol. "The wood around Tervilith Pond. There are many grottoes around it and it is a favorite trysting place for lovers." This last statement was accompanied by a slight turn of his head and a knowing grin. "We will have to use discretion as we search." Harlen realized he had not picked up his bow. With any luck, he would not need the thing, anyway. Somehow, that thought did not comfort him. They reached the lake and, within minutes, found a couple nesting in the tall grasses near the shore of the glittering lake. A quick conversation from Ithiovol with the elven woman and the couple was dressing and heading toward Embalis. He smiled upon returning to the pair of humans. "I knew this spot would be occupied," said Ithiovol with a gleam in his eye. "I once courted that lady." He giggled while Harlen and Krieger laughed, and they headed around the lake, moving clockwise down its shore. Next, they came across a couple that was cuddling beneath a small tree, a white gown fluttered in the breezes of morning from one branch. Ithiovol and Harlen were both prepared to extract answers as to why someone had violated the age limits the elves had placed upon willing participants in the night's revelries. Up until they saw a likewise white tunic lying in the grass nearby. It was one of the elder apprentices, not a huntsman. According to the laws, if both were under their legal ages, all was fair. The elf called to them in a quiet voice until a pretty face and a less pretty but equally alarmed face popped up from the grasses. "Get yourselves dressed and back to town, immediately," said the elven scout. "There may be trouble about." The trio of searchers then moved off, giving the youths privacy to don their clothes. They managed to roust a half dozen couples before the sun lifted its glow over the horizon, just in time to be blotted out by heavy rain clouds. The second half of their warning and search mission was miserable. The clouds then let loose and rain poured forth in soaking torrents. "I hope they're smart enough to go home now, at least," said Harlen. It was cold rain, and chilled him to the bone, even through his cloak. Chuckling, the elf nodded. "Young lovers are oft fools, Master Harlen," he said, as if imparting sage advice. Harlen agreed and the three sheltered under an wide elm for a short while, trying to warm up in vain. If the Isolationists were out scheming and plotting in this downpour, then they were the more dedicated and deserved to win was the general thought in Harlen's mind. -- "Hyandai of clan Yavanaur, traitor to her people," the cold voice said, rousing Hyandai from her sleep with a shock. She blinked and looked down toward her feet, where the voice had come from. An elf stood there, a sword in hand, with an expression of utter disgust on his face. "And bedded down with a human woman, additionally," he said, sneering at Wendy. She looked down at him with bleary eyes. "You really are a whore, are you not?" he asked, his face making a mock expression of incredulity. "What the hell?" asked Wendy, finding her voice and blinking her eyes wide with realization. The elven man yanked the coverlet from the bed. "Get up!" he said in a commanding voice, speaking Westron now. "Where is the Ehladrel?" "I do not have it," said Hyandai standing in her nakedness before the hateful elf. Wendy stood on the other side of the bed, also nude. Neither woman tried to cover herself, knowing that he would just derive some sick pleasure from their attempt. "Rather attractive, for a human," said the elf, appraising Wendy with his eyes. "Not a hulking brood bitch at all." She stared at him with simmering eyes. "Have a good look, pervert," said Wendy. The elf smiled and turned half toward Hyandai. "She breeds outside her species, and I am the pervert," he said, pointing with the sword at Hyandai. Wendy moved with a speed that surprised even the two quick-witted elves. Her foot jerked upward, and from what looked like nowhere, a six-foot fighting spear appeared in her hands. The elf tried to react to the sudden motion, as Wendy let loose with a bloodcurdling war cry. If nothing else, this elf's plans of quiet subtlety were now ruined. He turned to face her, bringing the sword up in a defensive motion and batting the point of the spear aside with a flick of the blade. He was good, and that was bad. What he had not faced, though, in combat, was a woman willing to do anything to put her opponent down. He smiled and stepped in toward her, inside her spear's effective reach. In that same instant, she brought her foot up in a smooth arc. Up, beneath the skirt of his chain mail hauberk the foot went, lifting the hem and impacting his genitals with all the force Wendy could muster, which was considerable in her heightened state of alarm. The elf heeled over at the waist, screaming in pain as his testicles were brutalized by the woman's tes. There was a hollow snapping sound from beneath his hauberk and Wendy screamed, too. Hyandai moved then, pulling the Ehladrel from behind the headboard of her bed and letting it take her, fill her, and guide her. The elven warrior started to lever himself upright with visible effort, and Wendy was trying to back up, limping, favoring her injured foot. He had no eyes for Hyandai right now, only for the naked human wench who had caused him great pain when he had all the advantages; she had ruined his plan, and he was going to kill her for that. The Ehladrel hummed as it severed his arm at the shoulder. His slanted, silvern eyes widened, turning to face Hyandai. He croaked out half a syllable of something; it might have been a plea for mercy. But it was cut short by the point of the weapon piercing his sternum, rending through the chain mail as if it was just another layer of cloth and splitting his traitorous heart. Wendy dropped the spear and grabbed for the post of the bed's footboard, trying to stay balanced with several broken toes. She looked up at Hyandai, and witnessed hard, callous eyes looking back at her. "Are you well enough, human?" asked Hyandai. The young woman blinked at the elf. "What?" asked Wendy, worried now. "What's the matter with you, Hyandai?" She was now trying to back away from the naked elven girl, coated in droplets of blood, and holding a long, beautiful, and bloody weapon of obvious power. Hyandai blinked and dropped the Ehladrel upon the bed. Her eyes, in an instant, softened and she ran to Wendy, embracing her. Wendy began to cry. "You had almost the same look that elf had when you looked at me," she said into Hyandai's hair. "So cold." Stroking Wendy's hair, Hyandai said, "I'm sorry, beloved Wendy. It was not me, it is the Ehladrel." "It hates humans?" asked Wendy, her voice high and frightened sounding. Hyandai shook her head. "I do not think it cares one way or the other about humans, actually," she said at a near whisper. "It only cares about elves." The door to the room burst open, causing both women to jump and begin reaching for their weapons again. However, it was Tammer this time, with three huntsmen behind him, and a handful of village guardsmen. "What the hell?" asked Tammer, echoing his granddaughter's sentiments from just minutes before. He looked down at the corpse of the Isolationist on the floor, and at the two nude women, then back at the corpse. "Make yourselves decent so we can clean this mess up," he groused, then smiled. "Glad you two are okay," he added, pulling the door shut. Hyandai went to her small wardrobe and gave Wendy a skirt and half-tunic from within. "Here, I am sure you can wear my clothes," she said, smiling. "We can truly share everything." They soon dressed and Hyandai helped Wendy to the door, holding up her right arm and keeping the young woman from having to use her injured foot. The elf maiden opened the door, only to find Tammer still there, talking to the other huntsmen and the elven guards, too. The knot of soldiers and rangers passed into the room, past the two women. "So, what's this about?" asked Tammer. "He was an Isolationist," explained Hyandai. "I suppose they were trying one last time, to seize the Ehladrel." The elder ranger nodded. "And your foot?" asked Tammer, eyeing his granddaughter's swelling appendage. "I kicked an armored man in the sack," said Wendy in a proud tone. "Just like you taught me to." Tammer patted her head. "Now if only you'd do that to men who try to seduce you," he said, grinning. "But still, well done. If a broken foot is all you suffer in taking on an armored man in the nude, you're one hell of a fighter." Wendy beamed under her grandfather's praise, and Hyandai smiled at her. The soldiers and rangers lifted the body out of the room, with one carrying the severed arm. Hyandai stopped Tammer as he passed out the door. "Tammer, can you teach me to fight?" she asked. "I grow tired of being rescued by humans, I would like to be the heroine at some point." Her mind mulled over the fact that most of the threats to her life have been her own kind, elves, and her saviors, of late, have all been human, first Harlen, then Trevir, then all the huntsmen of Morrovale, and now Wendy. The old ranger nodded. "I can teach you a few old tricks," said Tammer, patting her shoulder. "Though, from what Harlen says, when you have that thing," he pointed toward the Ehladrel, "you hardly need training." Hyandai nodded. "But it is not something I relish, handling that weapon," she said. "It does not like humans much, and I, well, rather love them." She turned and kissed Wendy's brow. Wendy smiled and said. "Can you heal my foot?" she asked. Hyandai shook her head, still smiling. "Not unless you wish me to cut your foot open to breathe onto the bones," she replied. A grimace crossed the young woman's face. "Um, no," replied Wendy. "I will take you to the healers, we have a few for just such injuries, and other ailments," said Hyandai. Wendy smiled. "First, I want some food," she said. "I am famished." Hyandai's stomach emitted a rather alarming sound, and Wendy looked down at the elf's smooth belly with wide eyes. "Sounds like you could use food, too," she said. The expression on the pretty face of Hyandai was far from amused; she looked alarmed. Without warning, she ran for the catwalk railing, and then threw up over the side. A small part of her mind prayed that no one was below. She turned about afterward and faced Wendy. "I thought surely that the nausea would pass when I let Verus go from my mind," said Hyandai, shaking her head. "I do not understand," her face wore an expression of immense worry. Wendy looked at her, wearing an odd expression. "Nausea?" she asked. "As in vomiting every morning?" Hyandai nodded, her expression miserable, and moving back toward Wendy. "Yes, most mornings, and sometimes other times of day," she said moving toward the pitcher of drinking water on the table. Wendy began giggling. Rinsing her mouth out with the water and spitting it into the washbasin, Hyandai turned and gave Wendy a peeved look. "I am glad you find my infirmity humorous." She said, with a measure of hurt in her voice. Wiping tears form the corners of her eyes, Wendy stood upright with the assistance of the doorjamb. "I don't find your infirmity humorous, honey," said Wendy. "I find it humorous that you don't know what morning sickness is." Hyandai blinked at her a moment. "What is morning sickness?" she asked. Wendy fell into a fit of giggling for a moment again, then once again straightened. "Hyandai, you're pregnant," she said, stopping her giggles with an effort. Still blinking and giving Wendy a dubious look, Hyandai asked, "How is me being ill related to being pregnant?" "Don't you elves get morning sickness?" asked Wendy, eyes widening. "Lucky." Shaking her head, Hyandai asked, "No. What is it?" "Just part of being pregnant," answered Wendy. "Maybe it only happens to humans, or people with at least part human children." "Why is this not common knowledge?" asked Hyandai, now upset. "A girl should know these things." "I suspect human men don't go spreading it about to elven women, might scare them off," said Wendy, still stifling giggles. "I bet your healers know of it." Hyandai looked down at the floor. "I have been refusing to see the healers," she said. "Foolishly, I thought it was disorientation from having another person's mind masking mine." She then looked up at Wendy. "You are certain of this?" asked Hyandai. "Pretty much, yeah," replied Wendy, smiling. Hyandai's face took on a broad smile. "Oh, my," said Hyandai, "I am with child." The young woman nodded. "Probably," said Wendy. "Now, do you want to go see the healers, or midwives, or whatever you have here in Embalis?" "Yes, very much," answered Hyandai, taking Wendy's arm again and draping it over her shoulder, then escorting her out the door. -- Krieger grimaced at the downpour. "I am glad it is warmer in the wood," he observed. "This would be bad if in Morrovale, probably freezing rain." He pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders and moved back toward the tree trunk, where Harlen and Ithiovol crouched. "That's true," agreed Harlen. Ithiovol just nodded. The trio had searched almost halfway around the remaining half of the lake before being driven into cover by hail. They had found one couple hiding under the boughs of a large beech tree and still entwined with each other, using a blanket for cover. Harlen told the couple to brave the storm and get back to Embalis, using the blanket to shield them, if need be. Harlen very much doubted there were any more trysting couples to find this far from Embalis, but wanted to make sure. They would finish the circuit of the lake. "What is that?" said Ithiovol in a whisper, pointing off to their right, away from the lake. There were a dozen shapes, moving with silent motions beneath the trees, amid the underbrush. The shapes were hard to make out, the eye refused to focus upon them. Harlen blinked a few times, then looked at his own camouflaged cloak. "I don't know," replied Harlen, "but I aim to find out." He rose from the crouch they had been in and moved off among the trees. "Stay put," he whispered to them. Krieger and Ithiovol watched him, and drew arrows, placing them to the strings of their bows. Harlen moved as fast as he dared among the shrubs, though it was easy to be quieter than the background noise of the rain. The shapes had stopped moving, and were gathered under another wide elm. He approached as near as he thought safe and cupped his hands to his ears, trying to pick up on any sounds coming from the group. He could see them now, but the cloaks hid their forms. A voice came back to him, then an answering voice. It was not elven they were speaking; it sounded much like the rather strong speech of the Abians, to the north of the Western Realms. What the hell would Abians be doing here? Harlen thought. One of the voices cried something out to the others. He had been found out. His eyes widened when the dozen shapes all moved with amazing speed, arms came up with bows in them, and arrows flew from quivers onto strings. Harlen had not even fully turned, and knew it was a hopeless cause. One of them shouted something, and Harlen knew full well it was `STOP!' no matter the language spoken. He stopped and began lifting his arms out from his body, in the universal gesture of surrender. He started to turn back toward them, but the word was shouted again. Harlen heard footsteps behind him, then felt hands come from his side and move over his belt, drawing his sword. The speaking person said something else, and the hands spun him around, turning him toward the group of cloaked shapes. There were still a dozen of them; one was walking back to them from off to the side. They were professional enough that the one who had disarmed him had stayed clear of the archers' aiming line. "Okay, you got me," said Harlen. Keeping his hands up and pushing his head back to cause his hood to fall from him. One of the shapes, the leader, from what Harlen could tell, stepped forward and tossed back his hood. He was human, as Harlen had expected. He said something else that Harlen recognized; it was Ghantian speech. In an instant, he was very worried. The man moved still closer to Harlen, staying off to the side, again. He smiled and nodded, saying something else in Ghantian. Harlen said, "I don't speak Ghantian." The man stopped smiling, and looked rather confused for a moment. He said something to the small group and one of the others lowered his bow and moved up beside the leader. They spoke for a moment, then the other man, a smaller man, and much younger, no more than twenty, turned to Harlen. "You are Westron?" he asked. Harlen nodded. "Yes," he replied. The young man smiled and turned to the leader, speaking in that formal-sounding Abian language again. The leader looked at Harlen a moment, then said something back to the youth. "Why are you here?" the young man repeated his leader's question. Harlen pointed toward the elven village. "Helping defend Embalis," he said. The translator repeated this in their language to the leader and there was an immediate animated discussion among the group, several of them dropped their aim on Harlen while they talked among themselves for a long moment. At last, the young man turned to him again and opened his cloak. He was wearing a green tunic; almost identical to the one Harlen wore beneath his own cloak. "We are Windy Island Rangers," said the young man. "Coming to help Embalis, as well." Harlen felt a massive sense of relief overcome him. "I'm glad you're not Ghantians," he admitted. "We are also glad you are not a Ghantian," said the youth. "But why is a Westron defending Embalis?" The other men were much more relaxed, though two did keep their bows up, but not drawn. Harlen's mouth quirked up on one side, forming a very lopsided smile. "Because we were closer," he said, letting his cloak slip open, revealing his own green tunic. There was an immediate reaction from the men, cries of disbelief predominated, though there was also some laughter. The youth translated Harlen's words to the leader who grinned a wide smile. "You are a ranger?" asked the young ranger. "We were not aware that there were others." Harlen shrugged. "We only just recently found out ourselves," he said. The leader said something officious-sounding and one of the men came forward with Harlen's sword and handed it back to him. The other man gave him an apologetic smile. A few suspicious looks still came from the group for another moment, until Ithiovol and Krieger approached in a cautious manner from behind him. He was glad to know that they had been backing him up, as best two could against a dozen. Ithiovol said, "Well met, rangers," in elven. Harlen nodded. "Yes, well met," also in elven. The leader turned toward Harlen and Ithiovol. "I am glad to find there are more allies of the Windirii in the world," he said in elven, and bowed to them. The group took them into their midst and there was much talking through the two who spoke Westron. Poor Krieger had a hard time of it since even Westron was a second language to him, and none of them spoke Southron. Ithiovol regaled them with a much-abbreviated tale of the battle that had happened just two nights ago. The assembled dozen laughed at the utter surprise that the appearance of two hundred rangers right among their ranks caused the traitor army. "It is good that we come in time to honor the fallen," said the young ranger, a youth named Rigilus. "Our fellow rangers and the elven folk, too." He then repeated those words in Windy Islander, and the assembled men nodded and murmured agreement. With the help of the rangers, Harlen, Krieger, and Ithiovol finished circling the lake, not finding any more couples and headed back to the village. The rain started to break and tendrils of sunlight pierced the low cloud cover.