Chapter Seven: The Borderlands

Tranith Argan: Book 4

---

The travelers, and Pross and Jela, are captured by the people who live in the village on the Elven Plain. They are now in the Borderlands.

---

Once again prisoners, the six of them were taken to the long house in the middle of the village where they were told to wait under guard. The long house served as the village meeting hall, its single room dominated by rough-hewn benches and tables arranged in rows before a raised platform containing three chairs.

As with everything else in this place, the house and the furniture within it were of modest quality and craftsmanship. It seemed to Felanar to be more like a frontier town than a long-established village. Alessa found it utterly primitive. Pross and Jela noticed little of their surroundings for they were in a state of confusion and anxiety.

“What will they do to us?” Jela asked of Felanar. “Will they beat us?” She had sat down on the ground next to him as they were placed in front of the raised platform. Guards stood on either side of them.

“No,” said Felanar softly, “I do not think they will beat us. They seem to fear us more than anything, or fear Alessa, and I do not know why this would be the case. I think it is more of a misunderstanding. Do not worry.”

“I won't,” she said, “as long as I am with you.”

“Alessa,” whispered Kara, “why do they dislike elves here? Helóne warned us of that but she never explained why.”

“I do not know why,” whispered Alessa who kept her eyes trained on the guards, all of whom stared right back. In the dim light within this house the light in her eyes shown brighter. “They have no need to fear us, that much is certain.”

“Yet they do,” said Kara, “so I think there is more going on here than we know.”

“I agree,” said the elf.

“And I for one am tired of being taken prisoner at every turn,” grumbled Dolen. “Just once it would be nice to meet a people who wish to feed us, not imprison us. I have had enough of these western lands.”

More guards approached accompanied by two older men of the village. These two climbed up on the raised platform and sat down in two of the three chairs. Jela grabbed Felanar's arm and held tight. The guards near the prisoners indicated they should stand up and so they did. One of the seated men pointed a finger at Felanar.

“They tell me you are the leader,” he said, his aged hand struggling to keep his finger steady. “Why do you seek our enemies? What is your real purpose in coming to our village, for I am told you marched right up to our gates as if you expected to be received hospitably. This is not the ways of spies unless spying has become more sophisticated in modern days. Maybe this is how you calm the fears of your enemy before you call in reinforcements for the slaughter. So explain yourself. Tell me why I should trust you for you have shown yourself to be most untrustworthy so far, wouldn't you agree?”

Felanar blinked as he tried to figure out which question to answer first. Then he decided to go in a completely different direction.

“I bring you greetings from eastern lands, sirs,” he said, and he smiled to indicate his peaceful nature. “We are strangers here – well most of us are, but my friends here, Pross and Jela, they come from the far west of this land and have lived their lives in isolation and know nothing of conditions in this realm. The rest of us live in far off lands and mean absolutely no harm. Yet harm we seem to be assumed to be carrying, and if we understand correctly, your concern is with my elf friend, Alessa.”

“You call her friend!” cried the village elder in more of an accusation than a statement.

“Yes,” said Felanar forcefully, “I call her the best friend I have ever had for she is loyal and true.”

“She is my best friend too,” said Kara from behind Felanar.

“You seem to fear this,” Felanar continued, “and to be honest, Helóne, the old woman of the mountain, warned us that you might not be hospitable to elves. She did not explain why, however, and I am genuinely interested in learning the reason. We are not from this land, as I said, so it may well be there is local knowledge that we do not share about elves and I would be glad to learn it.”

Alessa shifted uneasily but said nothing out of loyalty to Felanar.

“You speak smoothly, man of the east,” said the village elder. “Smooth words meant to soothe, and to be sure I find your tone agreeable, and your words good ones, but only are they good if true they be, and true they be only if you be not false. So again I put it to you that you collaborate with our enemies. How do you respond to such a charge when it is clear that I view you this way, and this means you find yourselves at a disadvantage, do you not?”

“Who are your enemies?” asked Felanar, cutting to the core.

“The elves, of course.”

“Why?” asked Felanar, again trying to simplify matters.

“You ask 'why' when the answer stares at you from throughout our village! Can you not see with your eyes or are they as faulty as your judgment in friends? Do you not see the stakes behind which we hide in this village? Can you not see my necessity in calling those creatures our enemies?”

“I am afraid I do not yet understand,” said Felanar, “for I have never known elves to act in a way that requires a defense against them unless they were attacked first.”

“Lies!” cried the elder, standing up, his face reddening. “You tell lies or you know nothing of elves, which is it?”

“Neither is the case, sir,” said Felanar calmly, hoping it would be keep the old man from growing even more animated.

“If you be not a liar then you be ignorant, there is no way around that, would you not say?”

“I would not say, and I ask for more clarification. How are the elves a threat to you?”

The elder pointed at one of the guards. “Tell him your story.”

The guard looked uneasily at Felanar while shifting his eyes toward Alessa from moment to moment. He cleared his throat.

“My sister was killed by the elves, not six months ago, while she was out in the fields.”

“Tell him what she did to deserve this fate,” ordered the elder.

“Nothing, my lord,” said the guard to the elder, and then turned back to Felanar. “She did nothing to deserve death. She was farming our land when she was attacked without warning. An arrow to the neck and she was dead. It almost killed our mom when she got the news.”

“So are the elves our enemy?” prompted the elder.

“They are my enemy,” growled the guard.

“This it outrageous!” cried Alessa. She had felt anger building within her during this conversation and several times had seemed to be about to say something when Felanar had given her a look to keep her quiet. Now she burst out and nothing he could do would hold her back. “These are lies, Felanar, do you not see that? This is unlike my people in every way! We cherish life, not take it for no reason. My brother is in charge of the knights of the Findára, and if this were going on he would know about it. If this man's sister was killed by elves, she must have done something to bring it upon herself. I will not be lectured to by liars!”

All the guards raised their spears or swords in Alessa's direction, and the guard who had been telling the story looked ready to run Alessa through with his sword right on the spot. His eyes burned with anger, though Alessa ignored him and directed her gaze at Felanar.

“This is unlike any story I have ever heard about the elves,” Felanar responded, putting his hand on Alessa's arm to calm her, but she stiffened at his touch. “There is clearly more going on here than any of us know, and I would not casually throw out the charge of 'liar' – on either side – until I knew more about what is actually happening. Alessa,” he continued with voice rising as the elf prepared to say something else in obvious anger, “let it rest for now. Let them tell their story and be respectful. We are in their village, let them have their say.”

“Do not take their side!” cried Alessa.

“I am not taking anyone's side,” objected Felanar. “I just want to hear what they have to say so that we can solve the mystery of why elves are so feared in the western lands to an extent that surprises both you and me. Please, be patient.”

“You take their side, not mine, if you listen to their lies,” Alessa said as she wrenched her arm from his grip and stepped back.

The elder motioned for the guards to lower their weapons.

“This eastern man clearly knows how to keep his elf under control, so we have no imminent need of your weapons.”

Alessa glared at the elder.

The younger elder stepped forward and gestured to the first.

“May I speak, Rutond?”

The older man made a resigned gesture that indicated he could do so. The younger man turned to the prisoners. He might have been younger than the other, but he was also old. He wore a woolen tunic with a leather belt and a cloth hat over his greying hair.

“My name is Lemual,” he said, “and I also am an elder of East Bank. I hear your words,” he pointed at Felanar, “and judge you to be a honest man who does not understand his surroundings.” Rutond sighed behind him but Lemual ignored it. “You speak good words and you act in a way that makes me think you are true to those words. Yet you clearly do not see the danger of the elves – stay, do not strike out in anger again, lady.”

Alessa had begun to speak but Lemual cut her off.

“I have had enough dealings with the elves that I judge you, if I not be mistaken, as one who is young among your people. Is this correct?”

Taken aback by this turn of interrogation, Alessa paused for a moment and then nodded.

“Then perhaps you too are being honest. Let me be frank, I find your presence here threatening, and yet this seems to puzzle you. I have been watching you carefully and I think your feelings are genuine. It may be that you have not been told of the conditions here on the borderlands. Will you allow me to tell you about them without anger or interruption? I promise that what I will tell you is true.”

Felanar glanced at Alessa who still seemed angry but more controlled. She nodded faintly at Felanar and sat down. Felanar turned toward the elder and nodded more forcefully. Lemual began his tale.