Bren told Felanar that he will be visiting Elaria, the home of the elves, and in the company of the Guardian of Tranith Argan.
The next two weeks were filled with anticipation. Felanar and Kara spoke of nothing else, spending hours imagining Elaria. Their limited knowledge of the Llaráin (as the elves called themselves) came from some old history books from Sera’s family. Kara loved to pore over the pages and imagine the green hills of Elaria and its strange people and odd ways.
Felanar and Kara discussed the wood elves, the Llaráin Findára, and the water elves, the Llaráin Erenár. Did they look or act differently from each other? Both groups lived in or near Elaria, the vast island north of the Elven Plain in the western lands, as the charts in the old books showed. Kara would have loved just to meet an elf, but the thought of actually traveling to their homeland inspired awe within her.
As the two weeks ended, the family began to anticipate Bren’s return until one morning two horsemen rode up to the house. The children eagerly peered out the windows and saw that Bren was on his dark brown horse and Ravesfel rode a silver-white one. A third one, smaller and charcoal-grey, was tied behind Bren’s horse. As they reached the house, they alighted from their steeds, Bren with a leap and Ravesfel somewhat more carefully. They walked up to the door but before Bren could knock, Chafrar had opened it and, bowing, welcomed the men inside.
With the children lined up by Sera, Bren stepped forward and introduced Ravesfel to everyone. Bren knew Felanar had met the old man before, but he was surprised when Chafrar brusquely announced that Ravesfel was no stranger to Sera and himself. Bren looked over at Ravesfel but got no response. Ravesfel looked at Kara cheerfully and absently, then at Felanar and smiled. “Well, well, here’s the young man,” he said.
Felanar, not knowing quite how to respond, bowed stiffly and said, “It’s good to see you again, sir.”
“Is it? Well, good . . . good,” Ravesfel’s voice trailed off. He glanced out of the window at the sun still rising in the sky and turned back to face Chafrar. “Is your boy ready to go?” he asked. “We’ve a long road ahead.”
Chafrar seemed surprised at his haste. “Yes, the boy is ready but I would have a word with you first. And my wife has prepared a fine lunch and would be hurt if you didn’t stay and enjoy it with us.”
“I don’t mind, dear,” Sera said. “If they are in a hurry, I’ll just quickly pack some lunch to take with them.”
Without taking his gaze from the old man, Chafrar responded, “You’ll do no such thing, for there’s no sense in running off on some strange errand on an empty stomach. It’s a journey of several days, I’ve been told, so I’m sure an extra hour won’t make a difference.”
The old man returned Chafrar’s gaze, and then looked down at the children. Alak was full of curiosity. Kara looked away shyly. Felanar stared at the old man in anticipation. Bren looked quietly on, comfortable with the ways of the house, having been there often. He thought a lunch would be just the thing for such a journey.
“A quick lunch would be acceptable, and I thank you for your offer,” Ravesfel continued with a smile. “You must think me strange and discourteous to be this way, and I’m sure it is rude. I’ve much on my mind and much to plan. Please excuse me and let’s have this word, Chafrar. I would hear what you have to say while your excellent wife sets the table for us. Come.” He gestured toward the front door and Chafrar followed.
As they strolled outside, Felanar could barely make out his father saying, “Ravesfel, I’ve not doubted you in all the time we have helped you, but I’ve –“ and then the words became just a murmur as they walked further away.
The boy wondered if he had heard correctly. His father had had dealings with the Guardian before? Why had he never heard of this? His thoughts were interrupted by his mother’s call to help set the food on the table.
The two men reappeared and Felanar saw that his father’s face was flushed from frustration. Ravesfel, in contrast, looked as distracted as before. Both sat down at the table and Sera began serving steaming bowls of broth. Ravesfel snapped back into focus as the food was served and he displayed a hearty appetite.
Bren, as always, appreciated Sera’s cooking and was never too shy to say so. Kara had grown to like Bren very much and always laughed at his jokes, as did Felanar, who was now quite at ease around the High Man. Bren was just finishing a long anecdote about an errand he had to run for the Regent, and how one mistake led to another and misfortune resulted, when Ravesfel cleared his throat and said to Felanar, “Best get your bag, boy, we’ve got a full day ahead of us.”
Felanar jumped up from the table as the others cleared the dishes. Kara ran into Felanar’s bedroom as he finished packing his clothes. He saw her looking at him with admiration, love, and envy all at once. He smiled and said, “I wish you were coming with me. It would be wonderful to see the elves together.”
“I so want to!” she said. “Who will look after you if they use some elven magic on you?” she continued in a concerned voice. They had spent hours talking about the wonders and dangers of elves. Everyone knew, or had heard, how quickly elves could change from friendly to hostile. What if they turned on her brother if he said a wrong word?
Felanar looked momentarily grave at this reminder of old conversations, but he put on a brave face and said, “Oh, I’ll be all right. Bren will be with me. Ravesfel will be there, too, and I’m sure he can tell the elves what to do.” In truth, the boy was still feeling apprehensive about the old man, but he didn’t want to let his sister know he was scared.
They left the bedroom and found the family gathered around to see him off. Felanar was calm as Alak said goodbye and Chafrar told him to obey both Ravesfel and Bren and to behave like a man. His emotions rose as Sera hugged him and told him how much she loved him. Finally he burst into tears as Kara rushed up and hugged him tight and told him to learn all about the elves and bring her back something from them.
He walked out to join Bren, who placed him upon the small charcoal-colored horse. Bren adjusted the saddle, and then he and Ravesfel mounted their horses and off they went. The early afternoon sun shone brightly on this summer day and the sky was bright blue with only a few scattered fluffy clouds. Felanar looked back frequently as his home receded from view. His parents and Alak were gazing back and waving their arms in wide, easy arcs. Kara was waving hers back and forth rapidly and jumping up and down. Felanar smiled at her exuberance and tried to wave back but felt himself shift on the saddle, so he quickly turned forward again, gripping the reins tightly.
The three travelers headed north and west, skirting the eastern edge of Lake Brindle. They were making for Upton eventually, that little village at land’s end by the Straits, but this was a journey of at least two days on horseback. That night would be spent outdoors and then perhaps they could make Upton the next day. At least they would reach Middleton after crossing the King’s Bridge over the estuary that fed the vast lake. It was possible to travel the other way: south and then west, thus eliminating the need to cross the bridge, but it was a much longer journey.
They rode in silence at first, trying to make good time and riding (at least in Felanar’s view) very hard. The land they were riding through was mostly grassy and soft, with occasional houses interrupting the fields. They rode near Brindledown but did not actually take the road into town, instead they rode along a grassy plain on its outskirts. Felanar looked at the houses and shops of the village and thought he could make out the Slumbering Dragon but couldn’t be sure if he had the right building at that distance. Then the village was passed and by late afternoon they were heading west with the lake to their left.
Bren had taught Felanar to ride a horse, though never for this long a journey. He enjoyed seeing a part of the lake region that he had rarely seen before. Every now and then he would see a farmer or a fisherman traveling the other way. They inevitably stared at the sight of two High Men and a boy riding together, and Felanar felt proud at the company he was keeping. Once or twice they passed a villager who knew Felanar and the look of astonishment on their faces gave the boy something to smile about for some time afterward.
They didn’t stop for supper at the usual time, as Ravesfel wanted to take advantage of the summer light and go on until dusk. They would make a fire and have supper then, but in the meantime Bren shared some provisions with Felanar and they chewed as they rode. By now the novelty had ended for Felanar, and honor or no honor, he was growing tired of riding. But onward they went until the sun lowered in the sky and turned the horizon crimson. They finally stopped when it was dusk.
It was reasonably safe to sleep out in the open in the lake region. Robbers tended to target the Old Highway. Looking for pickings in the fields around the lake would leave a thief with only a few odd coins, for there just weren’t that many travelers who rode over the fields and plains. Any he did find would most likely be poor farmers or fishermen. Bren and Ravesfel certainly didn’t seem to feel any alarm, so Felanar felt safe in their presence. Felanar felt Bren could do no wrong, so if he felt it was safe, then Felanar was sure it was absolutely safe.
Bren asked Felanar to show Ravesfel his fire-making skills. This made the boy nervous, but he did well and soon there was a crackling blaze. Bren brought out some food for supper and began to prepare it over the fire. After supper Ravesfel suggested that they sleep right away so they could be off by dawn. Felanar, tired out from the long ride, was asleep in a few minutes.
“He seems to have learned well,” Ravesfel said after Felanar was asleep.
“Yes,” replied Bren, “he is as good a pupil as you had hoped. I will admit when you first told me of this assignment I expected I would find an excitable young boy who quickly tired of the hard work involved. Your instincts about him were correct, however.”
“There is more to him than one would expect,” Ravesfel murmured with closed eyes.
“One could say the same about his sister,” Bren said.
Ravesfel opened his eyes and glanced curiously at Bren, and then, quietly: “One could.”
At this Bren put out the fire but left the stones and embers hot, and both men prepared for sleep.
It seemed to Felanar he had just closed his eyes when Bren awakened him next morning. Light was breaking across the eastern horizon and it was time to ride again. They had a quick breakfast of bread and fruit and then mounted their horses. As the light increased, Felanar noticed their path curved around the lake as they began to head south. By midday they could see a bridge in the distance. This was the King’s Bridge, built many centuries ago to speed the business of the King to the towns of Middleton and Upton. The bridge made it possible to cut across the estuary that fed into the lake from the sea, cutting three or four days’ travel by horseback for someone from Tranith Argan.
Over its long history, the bridge had occasionally fallen into disrepair and then had been restored by workers from Tranith Argan. Low Men from Middleton and Brookhollow now kept up the repairs, for they used it more than any servant of the Regent did. As they crossed over the curved stone structure Felanar wondered what sights these stones had seen. He thought about distant Kings and Regents and High and Low Men and how small he seemed in the march of history. He mused about this until the sound of the horse's hoofs clip-clopping across the worn stones brought him back to the present.
On the other side they stopped briefly for lunch. Nearby was a family heading in the opposite direction, traveling toward Brookhollow. The family nodded in greeting as they passed. Lunch was quickly finished and they mounted up and rode onward. They rode harder now as the ground was more firmly packed, and they made better time.
It was not quite dusk when they approached the outskirts of Middleton, but Ravesfel decided to press on to Upton and so they rode right through the small village and kept going. An hour after passing Middleton it became dark, but the moon was nearing full and they could follow the road that stretched between Middleton and Upton. After three more hours of riding, they finally saw the twinkling lights of Upton in the distance.
They followed the road into the little coastal village with its weathered houses. Indeed, the wind had risen as they approached the coast, and Felanar could smell the sea air. It stirred his spirits despite his exhaustion. He looked at the homes and shops that lined the cobblestoned street. There were lamps burning in the upper windows of the homes, but not many other indications of life. Upton was very small, and very remote. There was no reason to be here unless you lived here or were heading out to sea and passed through on your way, and the town displayed all the charm of that sentiment. Felanar noted that the houses weren’t as nice as they were in Brindledown and he wondered if it was because the people here didn’t care about such things as much.
They stopped in front of a small inn on the far edge of town, in sight of the water’s edge. It was a cheerless little inn, with dilapidated shutters on the windows, one lazily swinging in the breeze and making an occasional smacking sound against the wall. The windows were grimy and salty, with lamplight dimly seen from within. The hitching post in the front was falling apart but it served its purpose enough for them to tie up the horses.
With Ravesfel and Bren in the lead, Felanar looked around at the common room to the right as they entered. This was the room they had seen through the dirty windows, and now he could see that it was a gloomy alcove with dark walls and an empty fireplace. Perhaps in the cold weather there was a fire, but not tonight. There were a couple of elderly patrons in the room, one sitting at a small circular wooden table right at the fireplace and one sitting against the wall by the window. They both glanced at Felanar and the boy hastily turned away. He looked up at the man standing behind the front counter, the man who appeared to run this inn.
He was a balding man with deep wrinkles on his face matching his scowl. This was clearly his usual expression, Felanar thought, and he found himself taking an immediate dislike to the man. The proprietor was arguing about the price of a room and Bren was handling it with his usual grace, though it was clear that he was irritated at the man. Finally a price was arrived at and they went up the staircase to an uneven landing with creaking floors and then walked down a hallway to their room.
The room was as cheerless as the rest of the inn. Two low beds with thin blankets lined one of the walls, and a small table and two chairs sat in front of a shuttered window.
"Bren," said Ravesfel as he looked around the room, "why don't you and Felanar share the bed by the window. I’ll take the one by the door."
That suggestion was followed without comment and Felanar gratefully climbed into the far bed after removing his boots. He was so tired he was asleep almost immediately.
As had happened the day before, it seemed just a moment had passed when Felanar felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw Bren standing above him.
“Come, Felanar, we have another long day ahead. It’s time for breakfast. Come. Ravesfel’s waiting.”
Getting dressed in the dimly lit room, and noticing that it was still dark outside, Felanar wondered if these two ever slept past dawn. He rubbed his eyes and shuffled out the door and down the creaking hallway and the stairs to the common room.
Ravesfel and Bren were waiting, seated at a long wooden table. They were on low seats near the fireplace, though the fire was still not lit despite the coolness and dampness of the predawn air. The proprietor, Felanar reasoned, was a bit miserly about his fires and lit one only if he absolutely had to. Felanar sat down next to Bren, who smiled at the boy and called for the innkeeper’s wife.
After seeing the innkeeper the night before, Felanar had formed a picture of what his wife must be like, but she turned out to be quite unlike his expectations. She didn’t seem to mind getting up early for her guests. She was tall and slender, with a very kind face. Her dress was worn but clean, with a pattern of little flowers of red and yellow on a white background. Felanar noticed the flowers were faded. Seeing the boy stare at her, the woman smiled and served the food. How could the proprietor be so surly and his wife so pleasant, thought Felanar as he ate his steak and toast quickly. The innkeeper’s wife seemed pleased with his appetite and kept bringing more food and drink for him. Felanar looked around the room as he ate. He had never traveled much so anything outside Brindledown was a novelty to him. The old inn seemed very sad, neglected by time, and empty. He wondered if that was how the innkeeper’s wife felt when guests were gone. Did she feel sad and empty, cooped up in this old, run-down inn with a scowling husband?
As they got up from the table, Felanar thanked her for breakfast. She beamed and Felanar blushed and looked away – for in that brief glance she had made the young boy's heart break. Her smile was so honestly warm and open, even to a stranger, that Felanar knew the glance had been genuine. He felt very sorry for her, someone with such natural cheer, having to live in such a musty old place, married to the man who let it get that way.
Good chapter, off into the world. It was interesting to see more of the world your creating. I'm really enjoying this story so far.
Another great chapter, am really keen though to see the adventure start up (though that might be hypocritical for me to say). Eagerly moving to the next chapter.