Chapter Three: Royalty at the Festival

Tranith Argan: Book 1

After Felanar faced down the dragon, without understanding why he was successful, but the thought of Alessa the elf gave him strength, let us take the next few chapters to turn back to his childhood, meet the guardian of Tranith Argan, meet the elves, meet his family, and then the story will make more sense. And I promise, once the momentum post dragon attack begins…

It was fifteen years prior to the dragon attack that Felanar, then a boy of ten, met Ravesfel, and with that introduction came a new direction to his life. It was an autumn day in Brindledown and the town was celebrating its annual Harvest Festival. Felanar, his older brother Alak, and his younger sister Kara ran ahead of their parents through the woods and into town. The Harvest Festival was one of the rare times they got to see anything out of the ordinary in their little village.

Brindledown lay at the end of the Old Highway coming down from the north at Larmoth Bay. Tranith Argan, the capital city of the land of Arenar was situated in the Lofty Mountains to the east of Larmoth Bay, and the Old Highway was the only way through western Arenar. Most of the population of Arenar lived east of the Lofty Mountains in the Golden Lakes district around Delendor. West of the Lofty Mountains was now mostly wilderness until you got to the southern region around Lake Brindle. Indeed it was now said that very few walked the Old Highway north from Brindledown and most folk would not travel along it now unless necessity forced it upon them.

Brindledown was framed on either side by Lake Brindle and the Heatherwood. Unlike the small villages on the western side of the lake, Brindledown, at least, held some importance by being at the end of the Old Highway. In the days of the king, long ago, traffic and trade were steady between Tranith Argan and the lake region, and Brindledown was the hub. Upton, Middleton, and Brookhollow, to the west of the lake, were never considered traveler destinations even in the busiest of times, and now they lay nearly isolated amidst the wilderness. Brindledown, though much less busy than in earlier days, still was viewed as central to the region and still hosted the occasional visitor from the northern towns and regions.

Brindledown was primarily a fishing village but it also served as a trading center. Local farmers, herders and fishermen came to Brindledown to trade for items they could not grow or catch themselves. It also served as the trading center for Upton and Middleton and especially Brookhollow. As a result, although the entire region was generally regarded as Low country by outsiders, within the region it was viewed that Brindledown was significant. Residents of Brookhollow gave that opinion grudgingly, but they could hardly deny the fact that High Men were seen in Brindledown but almost never in their little village. The Harvest Festival was just such an occasion when High Men from the north might be seen in the town.

Felanar ran along the bend of the path and headed into town. He was dressed in his play clothes, rough and earthy in tone, complementing his green eyes. His dark brown hair was tousled from running. He was tall for his age, a fact often noted by his older brother Alak, who was even now running behind him trying to catch up. Alak may have been a couple of years older, but his legs were not as long as his younger brother’s and it was beginning to bother him how often he lost these races. Kara ran after both her older brothers and, having long legs herself, could almost keep up with Alak. Chafrar and Sera strolled behind the children as they made their way past the workshops and homes of the village along the wide lane through the center of town. On the far side of Brindledown lay the village green which served as the market and meeting place for the villagers.

Most of the villagers were already on the green that morning. The usual shopping stalls had been replaced by new ones displaying a greater assortment of food and other items. Various games had been set up. Some, such as scavenger hunts, were for children, and others like the archery range, for adults. Many villagers seemed just to enjoy sampling the various food vendors, finding satisfaction in the hunt for some treat brought out for the occasion.

Alak and Felanar had little desire to follow their parents from stall to stall, and so found themselves watching the games of skill in progress. Felanar looked with some longing at the younger children’s games, but he also felt that it was better that he take some interest in the more mature games, especially around his older brother Alak. It was a point of some frustration to Felanar that Brindledown boys did not begin apprenticing the fishing trade until age twelve. As Alak was twelve, he spent most of his time with Chafrar on the fishing boat. Felanar yearned to be able to join them. The few times he got out on the lake it was for pleasure, with the family, and not for work. It was work he wished for most of all. Schoolwork was easy enough, but his future lay in fishing and it couldn’t come soon enough.

As the day wore on, they eventually made their way over to where the archery contest was in progress. The boys and Kara watched with fascination as the archers took part in tests of their skill. These archers were mostly local villagers or from nearby farms. High Men, if they happened to be in the vicinity for the occasion, rarely entered these contests. It was considered rude to do so, as they had far more opportunity to hone such skills, and it would be showing off to enter the contest against mere Low fishermen. There was one year when a particularly arrogant High Man did enter, won with a flourish and flaunted it in the local pubs that night. It caused bitter feelings among the regulars and an ugly situation was avoided only when the High Man decided, after all, that he was not quite as superior as he may have claimed, and backed away from the crowd and fled on horseback, back up the Highway. That was a rare occurrence, however, as High Men mostly showed respect, if not quite deference, to the Low Men.

Low Men, for their part, accepted their place, with rare dissent. It was how things were, and that was all there was to it. Their grandfather’s grandfather had lived this way and who was to say it should be otherwise? There was no real animosity between the groups. A High Man, for instance, would have been allowed to live in a Low village. A Low Man would be welcome in any city. Few could ever think of a reason to do so, however, and each would have felt more than a little uncomfortable outside their familiar element. Things just were the way they were.

So it was with some interest that Felanar noticed a High Man at the archery event. Even he had heard of the excitement some years back when that High Man won this event, and perhaps this would be another exciting day! A closer look at this gentleman showed otherwise. He was an elderly man, dressed in a dark brown tunic and black boots. How old he might be, Felanar was too inexperienced to tell, but he certainly seemed too old to take part in this event.

Losing interest in this stranger, the boy turned back to watch the event. Jalek, the innkeeper at the local Slumbering Dragon, was the next archer and a skilled one. He was celebrated among the villagers for his archery, using it to good purpose in hunting local game for guests at the Inn. It was said Jalek had once taken part in a contest against a High Man and had actually beaten him. Some disputed this, saying that he had merely shown respectably in the contest. Jalek himself was hardly a reliable source of confirmation, as the story from him grew in the telling and by now opinion was thoroughly divided. Opinion on his skills, however, was not at all divided. The boys watched with growing anticipation as Jalek strode forward. With a glance at the target, his eyes narrowed as he drew the bow. For a brief moment he held the tension and the crowd waited. Then the string was released and the shaft arced to its target. An almost perfect shot brought applause from the crowd.

A few more contestants had their tries, but in the end Jalek had won another championship and hearty congratulations. The crowd drifted away, many following Jalek back to his pub knowing how generous he could be when he was in a good mood. The way clear, Felanar approached the empty field and imagined himself a great archer. In his mind’s eye, he saw a crowd watching him intently as he too drew back his bow and paused. Wanting all to admire his form, he held his pose a little longer than required, and then released. As he pictured the arrow sailing true, he heard a deep voice behind him say, “Too high by a foot!”

Felanar jumped back and turned around to see the source of this judgment. It was the stranger, the High Man, and that made the boy feel intensely uncomfortable. It was bad enough that someone had seen him pretend to shoot, but to have his audience be someone of high station embarrassed him greatly. He stood there, red of face, and didn’t know whether he should look the man in the eyes, look down, bow, or run away.

“If you’re going to serve the Regent, you’ll have to do better than that,” the elderly man continued, this time in a softer voice.

“Yes, sir,” was all Felanar could say. Alak, who had been watching, didn’t know what to do either. He found this all very confusing, and especially talk of the Regent. What would the Regent want with Felanar, anyway? Kara just stared wide-eyed at the unusual sight, her glance flicking from Felanar to the stranger and back again.

“What is your name, young man?”

“Felanar, sir.”

“Mmm . . .” said the old man thoughtfully, “Felanar is it? My name is Ravesfel, do you know it?" The last was said quickly with a sterner voice, almost a command that the boy should know the name even if he didn’t.

In fact, the name Ravesfel was well known, even here, even to the children of the village. Guardian to the Regent of Tranith Argan was a person known to all, if only by reputation. This bit of news did nothing to ease Felanar’s unease; indeed, it became more acute.

“Yes, sir, I have heard of you, that is, I know you. Your name, I mean. I know your name, sir.” The boy felt even more uncomfortable at not knowing the proper way to speak to such a High Man.

Ravesfel’s brow creased at this and he seemed to stare right through the frightened young boy. As he paused, Felanar thought to himself that the old man wasn’t as old as he had first surmised. He had a full head of grey hair, but his face was remarkably wrinkle-free and he seemed to possess more strength than could be seen at first glance. He wasn’t the tallest of men, but he had a way of standing erect and strong that gave him a physical presence that was intimidating. Especially intimidating to Felanar, who began to squirm as he endured this stare. Finally the old man spoke again, but his voice was changed and indicated that his thoughts were far off.

“Would you enjoy serving the Regent?”

“Oh yes, sir! Very much so.” Felanar’s words tumbled out. He paused and changed from eagerness to shyness again as he said, “But I don’t know what I could do for him. I’m not even allowed to be a fisherman yet.”

“What? A strong young man like you!” Ravesfel boomed as he focused on the boy in front of him. “You know how to use a bow and arrow, don’t you? And a sword, of course!”

“No, sir,” replied Felanar, feeling very ignorant and unimportant indeed.

“And why not?” asked Ravesfel gruffly.

“There’s no one to teach me, sir.”

“Hmm,” said the old man. “Would you like to be taught? Would you apply yourself with diligence? Would you prove yourself an apt pupil?”

“Yes, sir, I would. Really, I would try very hard. I promise!”

This was almost too much for Felanar. Not being old enough to be a fisherman was hard to bear. He never could have dreamed, however, of what Ravesfel seemed to be holding out to him. Could it be that he was really going to learn to use a sword? And be an archer? The unlikely aspect of a total stranger offering these treasures hardly crowded into his mind, too overwhelmed was he at the prospect opening before him.

Alak was beyond mystified at this turn of events, and couldn’t make out how his younger brother was getting these privileges without so much as a nod in his direction. He wanted to blurt out a “What about me?” but Ravesfel had too commanding a presence for Alak to dare to utter a word. He had heard stories about Ravesfel, rumors told by men at the Inn, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to check the veracity of the rumors at his own expense.

“Harrumph,” replied the old man. “I suppose I’ll have to see if that is true or not. You just remember now, you promised to be diligent. The Regent doesn’t want servants who aren’t diligent!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well,” said Ravesfel with a smile, “it was good to have met you, Felanar. We’ll be seeing each other again, no doubt.”

With that, the old man walked off with a surprisingly strong and rapid gait. Again Felanar thought to himself that he was not as old as he seemed. For a long time he stared at the retreating figure and marveled at their conversation and wondered what it all meant. What a curious man this Ravesfel was! Did he mean all those things? Was he going to be taken from his family to serve the Regent? Was he really going to get that training?

Further reflection was cut short by Alak’s voice. “What did he want with you? You’re too young to be of any use to the Regent.”

“No, he’s not,” said Kara.

“What would you know?” snapped Alak back at her.

Felanar responded, “Honest, Alak, I never met him before! I don’t know why he said those things.”

“Low Men don’t serve the Regent anyway. Except for catching fish for him, or farming for him.” Alak paused a moment and then addressed his little brother with “Besides, I could shoot a bow and arrow better than you, I bet.”

“But I can beat you at racing,” cried Felanar as he flew down the field in the direction of his parents, who were now at a far-off stall talking with some friends. Alak followed after his younger brother as fast as he could, but by the time the parents were reached it was Felanar who had again won the race. As the boys caught their breath, Alak blurted out, “Father, guess who spoke to us! It was Ravesfel!”

With a sudden sharp glance at Chafrar, and with concern in her voice, Sera responded, “Ravesfel spoke to you? Whatever did he want with you? I hope you boys weren’t causing trouble.”

“No, mother,” said Felanar. “We didn’t do anything. Honest!”

Chafrar looked carefully into Felanar’s face to see if he could catch any deceit, and then said, “All right, son, I believe you didn’t do anything wrong. Still, Ravesfel spoke to you, and such a man as that doesn’t take notice of those like us for no reason. Tell me what he said to you and don’t leave anything out. Do you understand?”

"Yes, father," Felanar nodded. "I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was pretending to be an archer in the contest and Ravesfel asked me if I wanted to serve the regent."

"He said you had to do better than that to serve the regent," interrupted Alak.

"Yes, but he said he would train me," shot back Felanar. "And he asked me if I would be a good pupil, and I said I would and I meant it too."

"Not as good as I will be," said Alak, "which is why he made you promise to be diligent, and not me. He knows I will do well."

"He didn't say anything about you, Alak," said Felanar with annoyance. "He said I was going to be trained and serve the regent, not you."

“Enough!” cried Chafrar. “I asked Felanar, not you, Alak.” He paused for a moment, glanced over at his wife, and then continued.

“Well, it may be nothing at that, son,” said Chafrar, forcing a smile. “I’ll warrant he was just having a little fun with a gullible young boy. Mark my words, we’ll not see his face any time soon. Now then, help your mother with her bundles. We have a long walk home and it’s time we were going.”

Felanar found the whole experience confusing from beginning to end. Maybe he was expecting too much to think he was going to get such training. Maybe his father was right. That thought made him depressed. Finally a chance to do something Alak hadn’t done before him, and now it sounded as unrealistic as he'd first thought. He took the basket of food that his mother handed him and the family crossed the field to get back onto the main road.

As they passed the Slumbering Dragon they could hear the raucous sounds within: a snatch of singing and much laughing and clattering of cutlery. They walked on past the houses and cottages at the edge of town and then up the little hill and into the woods. These were just an isolated patch of trees on the fringes of the great Heatherwood. Shortly beyond this lay the vast reaches of the woods, stretching nearly fifteen leagues from west to east.

Twilight was upon them by the time they reached their house. It was a simple house, typical for the area. Built of limestone bricks with a tile sloping roof, it had a solid, homey feel. Tilled green grass and gardens, both food and flower, surrounded it. Green ivy climbed the walls of the home, matching the green of the windowsills and front door.

The children hurried inside and placed their packages on the kitchen table. It was time for dinner preparations and Sera got to work. A fire was started in the fireplace and soon the family sat down for their meal, tired out from their day’s activities but satisfied. The fire crackled and kept out the encroaching coolness of the outside air. The autumn days were getting shorter and the nights colder. A fire felt good and drew the family around it. Chafrar had his mug of ale and the boys sipped hot cider.

Normally the children would go outside to play. In colder weather, however, they would usually read or play games by candlelight while the parents talked together. Sometimes Chafrar would go to his workshop to fix some tools and fishing gear. Tomorrow was a fishing day as usual. Chafrar and Alak would rise before the sun and spend all day on the water. As a result, it was soon bedtime for the children.

That night, with the children asleep, the parents discussed the day’s events.

“Chafrar, what do you make of Ravesfel’s offer? Do you think he means what he says, or do you believe it was merely talk?”

“I can’t rightly say, love. He’s an odd man, that he is. We know he means well, and he’s been good to us; don’t misunderstand. But he’s a curious one, he is, and I don’t like it when he takes an interest in my boy.”

Sera looked at him and said tentatively, “He has every right to take an interest, don’t you think?”

Chafrar looked at her harshly and then softened his glance and nodded. “I know, love, I know. He has the right, I can’t say otherwise, though I would if I could, if you get my meaning. We have a nice life for Felanar here, a good and decent life for him. One with a future. The fishing business is doing well and I’ll be using him soon, and giving him a trade. I don’t see what he wants with all this High Man foolishness. Something bad is going to come of it, you mark my words!”

Sera quickly glanced over at the children’s bedrooms as if her husband’s rising tone might have disturbed their sleep. She looked back at him now and said, “We don’t know what he wants, dear. It may be as he said, for whatever purpose that may be. Or it may be as you told the boy earlier and not amount to anything at that. Let’s wait and see what may come of this and not be hasty.” She paused and looked at the fire. “Besides, we know nothing but good of Ravesfel. He may be odd at times, but that’s his own business, isn’t it? He’s never done us any harm and he did us a wonderful turn once. Let’s just wait and see.”

Chafrar looked at his wife and smiled. He drew the last of the ale and placed the mug down. “You’re a sensible one, love. I’ve said it before, I have. You’re probably right and I’m too dense to know it. I just love the boy and want what’s right.”

“I know you do, dearest. You’ve been a good father for Felanar, and you should be proud of it. I’m proud of you, at any rate.” She smiled as she said this, stood up and took his empty mug and went into the kitchen to clear the rest of the dinner dishes. Chafrar rose slowly from his seat and headed into the bedroom.

That night Felanar had splendid dreams of adventures in which his skills with the bow and sword proved most handy.