Chapter Eight: The Tale of East Bank

Tranith Argan: Book 4

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One of the elders of this village explains their feelings about the elves.

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“Your willingness to listen speaks well of you,” began Lemual. “Let me tell you how we came to call this place East Bank. Why do you suppose we called our village by this name? I think it is obvious, is it not? We are situated on the east bank of the Arenton River. From it we derive water and fish to supplement our farm land. It is the farm land that brought us to the east side of the river.

“We used to live on the other side, you know. Once we were wanderers, chasing fertile soil as the Great Plain’s barren fingers reached ever eastward. Each season saw us moving, until finally the Arenton’s waters promised sanctuary. There we were able to plant our crops and have enough water to sustain our lives. We were happy. We had no enemies.

“In time, however, we found that the land was not as rich on that side of the river as we would like. It was hard to work the land, and very difficult to raise enough food to completely sustain us. There were winters when we had to live on very little food in order to see spring.

“Our fishermen, however, began to report that on the eastern banks was a lush farmland that could easily sustain us and many generations to come. The elves had cultivated the land long ago and it still held within its soil a love of growing things. It would be ideal for us. After all, the elves no longer lived there. It was on the fringe of the Elven Plain and no one was making use of it. An occasional elven troop of knights would pass on patrol, but no one lived on the land. It seemed obvious to us that the eastern bank of the Arenton was the place for us. Even our new village name showed our destiny.

“At first we were happy. We had our central village here, but most of our people lived on farms spread around us. We grew our crops, we raised our families, we harmed no one and nothing. We were alone. But it did not last. When I was a child, the elves came.

“At first they came to us with words, knights met with our elders and they told them that no one but elves could live on the Elven Plain. The elders argued that no one was living on the Plain and it was a waste to let such lush land near the river go to waste. The elves said it was lush because of what they had done and we were now taking advantage of it. Both sides grew stubborn and no agreement was reached. The elves left and we thought nothing of it. They would occasionally patrol past our borders but they left us alone, and we certainly left them alone.

“Then we realized that while they were not going to forcibly remove us from the land, and really we hardly amounted to a speck on the side of the river to them, they intended to make sure we would never expand beyond the land we had already settled. When a farmer tried to extend his field to the north one day, a band of knights appeared and forced him back. This farmer came to the elders, and the elders called upon the elves, but no appeal could be heard. We were to go no further.

“There it sat for a generation. The knights would patrol our border, ever increasing their frequency in doing so, but otherwise left us alone and we left them alone. We could not expand, but the land was still rich and we were happy. But not too happy. Our people began to feel in time almost like cattle being watched by farmers. The patrols stepped up in pace and it began to feel like harassment. Words were shared between farmer and elf at times and some of the younger elves seemed to view us with great disrespect.

“Frankly, the feeling grew to be mutual. Our young people began to resent being overseen by the elves and there were incidents along the border. What began as occasional border disputes festered into something darker. Each incident left deeper scars, each patrol more resentment, until hatred took root as deep as our crops.

“Our people swore they did not start the violence, and the elves to this day swear they did not start it, but know this for a certainty: however it was started, it is today carried out by the elves far more than by my people.

“Once the violence began, it seemed to feed upon itself. The elves viewed us with great disrespect when all we wanted was to be left alone. But when violence began, we did not shrink back. When they attacked us, we attacked back. One blow led to another and soon there were bad feelings on all sides. I was an elder by then and I heard stories that filled me with anger.

“Soon the farmers on the borders drew closer to the village, and as they drew back, the elves pressed forward. Our borders began to shrink and more and more of our people moved into the village itself. Soon we were all in the village and still the elves pressed forward. Those on the edge of the village felt scared for their safety and that's when the stakes began to be raised as protection.

“The elves grew to hate us so much they would fire an arrow at one of us and think nothing of doing so. I was of the belief that elves respected nature and life, but our lives were not included. And now we huddle in East Bank, cut off from most of our farmland, struggling to survive on fewer crops. We have nowhere to expand and our women despair of having children.

“People talk of moving back across the river, back to the hard lands of the west, just to escape this trap in which we find ourselves. The elves don't mind if we travel west to the river, or southwest to Majestic. It is only north and east and south that they guard jealously.

“But as many who talk about leaving, there are just as many who say we should stay and fight. That we have lost too many of our people to just abandon this home they fought to keep. That to give in to the elves, after what they have done to us, would be unacceptable. The loss of their husband or their wife or their children would then be meaningless. I do not mind telling you that Rutond is in the second camp, while I am in the first. I do not know the best answer, but you have listened well and now I have explained my story, and I hope now you understand how it is that we find the presence of an elf in our village so distasteful.”

Lemual sat back down.

“I thank you for explaining these conditions,” said Felanar, who then turned to Alessa. “What do you think?”

Alessa, who had started by being angry and had by the time Lemual finished grown pensive, stared at Felanar with eyes that spoke of a deep sadness.

“I do not know what to think,” she said quietly, “so I will say nothing for now other than that I will speak with my father about this matter and hear the other side. That is all I will say.”

Rutond harrumphed but the elf made no reaction. The elderly man stood back up and glanced back at Lemual.

“You have succeeded in shutting the mouth of the elf,” he said, “and for that I thank you. But you seem to trust these spies more than is warranted. I see no reason to trust them.”

“They are ignorant of our ways, Rutond,” said Lemual from his seat.

“Or they pretend ignorance to lower our guard,” Rutond said.

“You say this without evidence,” responded Lemual with a slight rolling of his eyes. “By that measure, any stranger could be a spy.”

“You judge from your heart, and I from my head,” said Rutond.

“And Tremens is not here to balance our views as he normally would be,” said Lemual.

“Yes,” said Rutond, who turned around to face the prisoners, “our third elder is out of the village this week, so we find ourselves at an impasse of judgment. What shall we do with you?” He turned to the guards. “What would you do with them?”

“I object,” said Lemual quickly rising from his chair, “they are not elders and they have an obvious prejudice in this matter.”

“I note your views,” said Rutond with a narrowing of his eyes, “but I choose not to follow them, and I have seniority here. Come, guards, what shall we do with the prisoners? Since the elders cannot make up their minds, we seek your wisdom.”

The guards shuffled their feet as they pondered this request, but the one who had told his story had his mind made up already.

“Kill them. For my sister.”

Jela squeezed Felanar's arm tight as she drew herself as close to him as she could manage.

“Lock them up,” said another guard across the way.

“Throw them out of the village,” said a third.

Rutond turned toward Lemual with a smile of triumph. “You see? Not one of them thinks your tale is likely. These are spies who mean us harm and should not be befriended.”

“I said nothing about befriending them,” countered Lemual, “just that we should listen to their words in order to understand their motives. Send them out of the village, by all means. This would serve our needs, and it sounds as if this would serve theirs as well. Everyone will be happy.”

Felanar smiled at this, and Rutond noticed.

“No, I do not think we will make these spies happy,” he said. “This is just what they want, a chance to return to their friends and report on their spy activity. They will tell all about our defenses!”

“Our defenses are hardly a secret to the elves,” said Lemual with a sigh.

“Nevertheless, I will not let them go so easily. Guards, lock them in the stockade until I think of the best way to deal with them.”

“I really must object to this treatment,” said Felanar as a guard approached him. “We mean you no harm, we have told you the truth, one of your own understands that we are being sincere, and if the elves are behaving in a way that is wrong I can assure you that we are the ones who will set matters right in a way that you will find beneficial. Did you not hear Alessa's words earlier that she is the sister of the elf in charge of these border knights? Do you not realize the influence she could have with her people? Why do you wish to throw this opportunity away that could lead to peace for your people?”

“Lies,” said Rutond dismissively. “Nothing she said is worth listening to, for that is the ways of spies always. But even if it were true, what she said, it would just mean she makes an ideal hostage, someone we can use to barter for peace with the elves. No, she will not go back to her people freely to spread her lies, but we might find use for her as a prisoner.”

“And my friends,” asked Felanar gesturing around him, “all these non-elves? Are they to be held prisoners too?”

“Friends of elves are my enemies,” said Rutond simply.

The guards pointed their spears at the group and indicated they should march out of this building and toward a circle of tall spikes of sharpened logs. It was near the north edge of the village, and it served as a stockade for prisoners. There was room enough for the six of them to sit, but barely. The bare dirt floor was the only thing of note inside the enclosed area. The sky was open to them above, but all around them were the logs that stood ten feet high. They were prisoners again.

They spent a glum evening and night in that place, carefully arranging their bodies in order for everyone to lie down for sleep. Everyone except Alessa, who volunteered to stay awake and on her feet during the night in order that there might be room for the others.

“I do not mind,” she said with a smile, and the others, in their tiredness, agreed. Alessa turned her head toward the north.

The next morning dawned bright and the light from the blue sky awoke everyone. Guards brought a meager breakfast for the prisoners. Otherwise they heard nothing or saw anyone other than an occasional scrap of conversation from someone in the village who was near enough to the stockade for their voices to carry. Alessa, in contrast, heard much of the conversation in the village and reported that they were the talk of the community.

“They hate us,” she said glumly at one point. “They say such vile things about us and my people. It makes my heart cry.”

Felanar walked over to her to put his arm around the elf but she dipped her shoulder to avoid this contact and moved away. Felanar was puzzled by this but let it drop in the assumption that she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. It did bother him, though.

Pross and Jela praised Felanar for his eloquent words the night before.

“I feel safe when I am with you,” said Jela with eyes full of Felanar. Kara glanced at Alessa as this was happening and saw that the elf's mouth tightened but otherwise she did not respond outwardly. “I feel as if nothing bad can happen to me when I am with you,” Jela continued.

“Since you have been around me you have been whipped by saarks and been taken prisoner by men,” said Felanar brusquely, “so I fail to see how my presence has helped you in any way.”

“Do not say that!” cried Jela. “You stopped the saarks from whipping me further and you rescued us from slavery. That we are now prisoners is not your fault from what I can see. If anything, your words almost got us free. It was this elf who caused all the problems.”

“Jela!” cried Felanar. “Are you forgetting who healed your wounds in the saark cave?”

Jela blushed and looked down.

“Don't start taking the sides of the people of this village,” he continued while glancing at Alessa. She did not return his gaze, but kept her eyes on the ground. “You owe her an apology, Jela.”

“I'm sorry,” she said to Alessa. The elf raised her arm in acknowledgment but otherwise showed no emotion.

“I am used to fearing elves,” Jela said to Felanar, “it is all I have known my whole life except in the caves. I forgot, that's all.”

“I understand,” said Felanar, “we are all on edge here.”

Jela beamed in relief that he spoke kindly to her.

Just then a loud crash rang out beyond the north side of the stockade. It was the sound of splitting lumber, and while the others looked around in confusion, Alessa sprang to attention and warned everyone to get to the south side of the enclosure and to crouch down in a protective pose.

“What is going on?” asked Felanar in alarm at this sudden turn.

“Just do what I say if you want to be safe!” cried Alessa who forced Felanar to the ground and then crouched beside him.

Yells were heard in the village behind them, and in front of them was the sound of activity on the other side of the stockade. Ropes suddenly were flung up over the top of several of the stakes.

“What is happening?” asked Felanar.

“We are being rescued,” said Alessa.

“You knew of this?” he asked in alarm.

“Of course,” said the elf.

“How?”

“I spoke with my brothers last night while you slept. We are close enough to the outer walls of the village that I could project my voice to them after I called them to the walls.”

“We heard nothing,” objected Felanar.

“You wouldn't even if you had been awake,” said Alessa. “We spoke in a high-enough pitch that no man could have heard. The dogs of the village heard it, though, and for a while I thought their barking would alert the guards. I called to my people, they heard my cry and came to the village walls, I explained our situation and they said they would be back with a band of knights today to rescue us.”

Crash!

The northern wall of the stockade came crashing down, the logs splintered by the elves pulling on the ropes with great strength. Only the elves had the strength to do something as straightforward as this rescue. Walls in the way? Pull them down!

Half a dozen elves gestured for the prisoners to follow them. Behind them they saw the village wall was destroyed for a length of twenty feet, causing the cracking sound they had heard a few minutes before. Another dozen elves stood guard at the village wall. Villagers were yelling and running for weapons, but this rescue had been sudden and swift. The prisoners were beyond the outer wall before any villagers could reach them. They were free.