Blade of Erogrund

Dreams are things in and of themselves. The peculiarly ethereal matter that dreams are woven of cannot be placed by the fingertips of Men, though it is said that the Elestil may manipulate its ways. Completely singular are dreams’ ability to both captivate the mind and free it of the burdens that it is cursed to carry.

But no such solace was given to Godric. Scarcely more than a moment seemed to pass before Aeis’s screams melded into the howling of the winds outside Biren-Larath.

His eyes fluttered open to look up at the slate-grey sky above. Rolling clouds blew calmly over him on the forefront of mighty winds. His conscience told him that something had woken him, though what it was, or even where he was, stayed as murky as the misty clouds.

That is, until a familiar face looked down at him.

“You’re going to want to brace yourself.”

“Huh?”

Pain lanced through him as he felt a blade being yanked from his stomach. The frosty wind filled the wound, only adding to the searing agony before slowly numbing it.

The breeze carried a sickening scent of burnt flesh and blood for a moment before that too was whisked into the air.

Godric nearly screamed in surprise and pain. Sitting up, he saw Hilthwen kneeling next to him on the grassy ground holding a vaguely smoking short-dagger.

From the looks of it, he lie in a collection of boulders on a hilltop somewhere. Not far away a scrawny bunch of trees lashed against the bellowing breeze behind a tall figure in a billowing cape.

Godric was still panting in shock when the figure came close enough for him to recognize it as Matthias.

“So the bastard’s awake, huh? About time,” he growled through fiery eyes.

“Knock it off, Matthias.” Hilthwen fired back. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Like dragonfire we don’t. Just so we’re clear,” the young knight barked, grabbing Godric’s collar, “if you want to kill yourself, fine, but at least deal the rest of us the courtesy of waiting until we don’t need you. Hell, pull another bloody stupid stunt like that and I’ll take your head off myself.”

“I said knock it off,” Hilthwen hissed. Matthias looked like he was about to strike her but spat into the dirt and turned around.

The girl shook her head and stood to examine the dagger. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “I’m no cleric, but as near as I can tell, you’re fine.”

Godric coughed. “Aw, Nine-Halls, it doesn’t feel like it.”

Hilthwen gave him a strange look. “Do you know what the ‘Nine-Halls’ means?”

“No. Just - ahh! -just heard it from Thain.”

Matthias scoffed. “You might learn what some of those phrases are before you use ’em, or you’ll end up sounding as stupid as you look.”

The words came out colder than the icy wind, yet they succeeded in setting a fire in the wounded boy.

Despite his injury, he pulled himself up. “You must be as filthy stupid as Caeros if you think I’m just going to sit here and take this.”

Matthias turned around, sneering. “Then stand if you like. I couldn’t care less.”

“Shut up.“Godric growled.

“Who’s going to make me?” Matthias scoffed. “You?”

Hilthwen’s hand cracked against the back of his head as the words left his mouth. The pleasant smile she had worn at the ball had turned into an angry grimace. “Both of you shut up. There are enough people trying to kill us without adding each other to the list.”

Matthias grabbed her arm and pushed her away before turning around and marching back toward the ravaged trees.

Hilthwen shook her head and sat back on a rock to examine the dagger.

Godric took a deep breath and coughed as the wind threatened to force its way into his lungs. With every cough his chest ached even more. The pain still ebbed away.

Nevertheless, he was soon out of breath so he took a seat next to Hilthwen to see the weapon.

“You said I’ll be okay?” All he could think about was the time one of his father’s friends had been shanked in a fight. It had been almost a full week before the weakness from blood loss and infection took him.

Hilthwen cocked her head. “I’m not sure. As far as I can tell, the wound is quite deep but didn’t strike any organs. How that’s possible, I’m not sure.

“Plus, whatever the girl put on the blade effectively cauterized it. From the looks of it, it must have hurt like fire, but just might have saved your life.”

They were silent for a moment as the wind tore the dull landscape carrying the vague scent of the sea on its rolling shoulders.

Finally Godric asked the question that had been burning in his mind. “What happened last night? Ennor is okay, right?”

It took a second for Hilthwen to answer. “Honestly, I don’t know. We had to leave to come find you before the fighting was near to being over. Matthias killed Aeis when he saw him with a blade at your throat, and the girl was taken by the guards. We took you down through the Arena to the stables and left from there.”

“Great,” Godric coughed. “Now I can die out here.”

The girl gave a small smile. “Don’t mind Matthias. He’s got a lifetime of reasons to be bitter, not that it’s any excuse.”

“No, it isn’t an excuse. What are we doing out here, anyway? You said it yourself, we’re just as likely to die out here as in there. Niron, more so if we actually go to the Draeknol. We should be in there,” he said, pointing toward the cliff that stood a half-mile or so away, “helping Ennor.”

Hilthwen gave him a pleading look. “We’re waiting. That was supposed to be the easy part, I might add. Ennor expected something like this would happen. He heard whisperings. We all did.” She tucked the dagger into a small pack beside her. “Word is supposed to come by tomorrow afternoon if it’s safe to go back or continue with the patrol.”

“And if it isn’t?” he asked, perhaps harsher than he intended.

She shook her head. “We never got that far.”

The dismality of the day was crippling. Sometime during the afternoon - if it truly was the afternoon - Hilthwen led him to the small grove of trees where Matthias stood stoically with the horses. Few words were exchanged and the several that were quickly got stolen by the tongue of the wind. The groaning of the battered trees whined against the whipping breeze as the only consistent break in silence.

From where they sat Godric could gaze up the steep hills to the inconspicuous gates of Biren-Larath. On the cliff face far above a divot that may have been Iris-Ithil frowned down at them.

Finally as the sky darkened in a gracious variation to night, Matthias moved from his place by the horses.

“I’m going to check the perimeter. Hopefully none of those pathetic bandits have come ’round. Start a small fire; the timber wolves will be out before long. Make sure it can’t be seen by anyone outside the grove, though.”

Hilthwen’s only response to his departing steps was the breaking of a dry branch over her knee in a startling crack.

Even as the murky night began to shroud their camp, she carved wood shavings off with her knife and elicited sparks on the kindling with a small flint-and-steal. The bright red shards of heat brought flickers of life to the tinder until a miniature fire crackled threateningly.

“That’ll do,” Hilthwen sighed in the frosty air.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Godric commented skeptically.

“Doesn’t have to for a timber wolf.”

“What is -”

“- a timber wolf?” she finished for him. He gave her a quizzical look. “Sorry, but you ask lots of questions. They’re great big wolves from the southwest. Big as horses, some of them at least, with teeth like half-daggers. Legends say they used to be the allies of an ancient Elven kingdom called Remistir. Actually, one used to walk the streets of Biren-Larath.”

“Narn?”

It was Hilthwen’s turn to look quizzical. “How’d you know that?”

“I met him,” Godric murmured.

“I see. I suppose I should have known that, see as he went with Ennor. Anyway, he died not long after Ennor returned.”

These words struck Godric more coldly than the howling wind. “I didn’t know that.”

Hilthwen knelt by the fire and put her hands next to the burgeoning flame. “Yes. Just one of many casualties.”

“What’s the deal with that anyway?” Godric said in disgust. The news of the large wolf’s death pulled at his heart with surprising strength, unleashing a fleet of doubts that fluttered through his mind like flocks of bats. “I understand that Ennor is king and appreciate his not killing me. But this is pathetic. Armies out in the wild. Patrols. What’s the point?”

“You’re awfully discouraged for being a day into your first,” she answered evenly. Picking up a stick, she tossed it into the flames to a symphony of crackling and the pungent smell of smoke. “The point is to keep going. We keep learning. Keep fighting.”

“Maybe it’s just because I’ve been attacked, stabbed, and practically kidnapped in the last twelve hours.” She looked at him questioningly. He knelt across from her and breathed tightly as his wound pinched. “But why is Caeros so wrong?” She shot him a dark look. He hastened to elaborate. “From what I understand, he wants to attack the dragons. Deal a blow. Cease these foolish patrols. Why not?”

“Because there wasn’t a point until you came along. I’m assuming you have some idea of Ecthion’s heritage?” Godric nodded. “Then you know Eroth led an entire army against a single dragon and fell without the sword. Now you’ve found the weapon and we are preparing for war. That’s what this entire patrol is for.”

“Guess that makes sense.”

“You sound disappointed?”

He shrugged. “Just was hoping to have made something of this jumbled mess. Guess it’s better that I was wrong, though.”

“You know what doesn’t make sense?” Hilthwen asked in a lighter tone. “Stars.” Godric glanced at her, not sure whether to be annoyed or curious. She just laughed and leaned back on the ragged bark of a tree trunk. “According to Saraycir, they’re the souls of Elves watching over Niron. The legends say that each star will burn only as brightly in death as they did in life.”

“It’ll be awkward when the North Star is forgotten,’” Godric muttered glumly.

Hilthwen wasn’t fazed, her eyes still gazing into the night sky. “No, it will never pass away. It is Testäen, the Watchman. That’s why you always say Vailmor Taeris when setting out on a journey, so he remembers. Testäen Watch Me," she said with a sigh.

“And does he?”

She shrugged. “For the most part. These are just legends, mind you. Saraycir has many more, but I don’t have the mind for remembering them all.”

“She must be a legend in herself at this point. She seems normal enough, though.”

Hilthwen smiled. “Maybe so, but people say she has seen the Scourge and even the Fall of the West. Last of the elves.... I should think it would be quite lonely.”

“So she is the last of them?”

“Who knows,” Hilthwen said, tossing another stick in the crackling fire. “The last of them around here, at least.”

“No more of them hiding in the surrounding grounds at least,” Matthias’ voice muttered from the shadows around the fire. He stepped into the flickering light and dropped cross legged next to them. “We should be clear for the night. Didn’t see any signs of anyone.”

Hilthwen pursed her lips and nodded. “That’s good. Say, do we have any food?”

Somehow this managed to elicit a half-smile from Matthias. “Yeah, it’s in Greyback’s saddlebag. Take it easy, though, won’t you? We still don’t know how long it has to last for.”

“Yes, yes.”

Godric smirked. “You two make an interesting couple. Never would have guessed it, honestly, but stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

Hilthwen broke into laughter from where she stood next to the horse, to which Matthias responded with a dark chuckle. “We’re not together. Never have been, and Ecthion willing, we never will be,” Hilthwen explained.

“That’s a little harsh,” Matthias murmured. “Not that it isn’t true, just a little harsh all the same.”

The girl finished fishing through Greyback’s saddlebag, pulled out a small package, and returned to her place by the fire in the dancing light. “I guess you’re right. As it happens, our stories have intersected enough that we’ve gotten to know each other quite well. Nothing more.”

“That must be quite a story,” Godric murmured.

“Most are these days,” Matthias answered coldly. “Everyone’s got one, especially the bloody fools like us who wander out here in the wilderness willingly.”

“I’d be interested in hearing yours,” the other boy said.

Matthias just raised an eyebrow and shifted his seat. “I’m more interested in hearing yours. You survive a raid against a Dragon, manage to not only find but use Erogrund, which has been lost for nearly as long as anyone can remember, and make it back here in time for a coup that, debate-ably, was caused by you . You, my friend, have been busy.”

“Yes, well, wrong place wrong time, I guess,” Godric grumbled, throwing more sticks onto the fire.

“Got that right. Niron, you’ve caused more upheaval in this land than practically anyone else from the last several decades.”

“Through no fault of your own, I’m sure,” Hilthwen cut in sharply. Matthias shook his head quietly, but refused to interrupt the subtle crackling of the humble fire. “We should get some sleep,” the girl finally said, breaking the disrupted stillness of the night.

Matthias nodded. “True. I’ll take first watch.”

Hilthwen gave a small laugh. “No you won’t. You’ve been more strung up than a thief in a stockade today. You need to rest. I’ll take first watch, Godric’s got second, and you’ll have third.” Matthias opened his mouth to protest, but Hilthwen silenced him by crossing her arms stoutly.

“Fine,” was his only answer. He walked a short distance away from the fire until its light was just barely penetrating the shadows that were his only blankets as he laid to sleep.

Godric hesitated to find a similar place, but something about the fire drew him in. The constantly changing flames contorted and danced into every shape and design that could dazzle or devastate the mind. The ever brightening and dimming yellow tongues writhed in such beautifully terrifying chaos that he could scarcely pull his eyes away even when Hilthwen whispered to him,

“I love them too.” After a second he saw her gazing similarly into the small fire. “Strange, isn’t it? That something could provide so much and yet be such an insatiable destroyer when given the chance.”

Godric nodded wordlessly.

Something about the girl that sat across from him got under his skin. Not like Mira or Agatha had or how anyone he had ever met had. Never could he recall reading a book, but it felt like what he imagined looking at the cover of an enthralling book might. The casual way she grasped the handle of her sweeping, powerful bow betrayed the many times she had drawn it. The fire reflected in her eyes seemed to be fueled by every manner of memories.

“I imagine you have quite a story too,” Godric finally ventured quietly.

The girl just shrugged. “Not really. My parents fell a long time ago. I still have two little sisters in there,” she said, nodding toward the hill where the cliffs still stood imposingly in the mid-night darkness. “I just do this so that by the time they reach our age they will never have to worry about going on patrol. Never have to worry about being woken up by dragonfire or the sounds of fighting.”

“That’s very noble of you...”

Hilthwen smiled. “We’re all noble in our own ways, yourself included.” She shifted positions with a soft rustling as the frozen leaves they sat on were displaced. “Ennor told us about what happened. Couldn’t have been easy, what you did.”

“What I did? I just cut the foot off a Hatchling. That’s nothing compared to what needs to be done. You might has well try and throw down a cliff by chipping off a rock.”

“Never let the size of the mountain keep you from taking the first step,” Hilthwen recited. “It’s an old saying.”

“Good advice, I guess,” he answered slowly. “But I can’t help thinking this is all for naught. The Dragon said he would see me again. Said I was the ‘champion’ and that we would meet again, but I don’t think I can.” At last he met her gaze. “It’s like trying to stem the Sea by holding out your hands. Everyone keeps talking about how great this sword is and how it is the answer, but what about me? I just let myself get stabbed and almost die not a day ago. A sword is only as good as its wielder, after all. I’m not the answer to this challenge.”

“That’s enough of that,” Hilthwen said, giving a small smile. “You’ll get through it. We’ll all get through it.”

“Maybe not all of us,” Matthias’ voice called from where he had lain, “if you don’t quiet down.”

Hilthwen grinned ruefully. “He’s right. You should be sleeping if you are going to take the next watch.”

Reluctantly Godric complied, rising from where he sat to a place in the shadows. Pulling his cloak around him, he let the darkness knit itself around him into a swath of nightmares that burned as brightly as the dying embers of the fire.