When last we left our intrepid Jarthen, he was conversing convivially with the giant, Zartheim, while Jellihondor asked Rethnaki to find the blue elf, Benno. Bertronius, in the mean time, arrived at the Imperial Army camp to rouse a dozing Clemhand from dreams of forest specters.
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With a belly full of mush, and the noise and anarchy of the huge mass of Imperial soldiers all trying to get their morning meal around him, Bertronius recounted his tale to Clemhand. Clemhand sat with his chin supported by his right arm and surveyed Bertronius while the boy spoke. While Clemhand did his best to show no reaction to the strange account, Bertronius could not help but notice how wide eyes grew when he described the Rebel Army camp.
“I know you told us all a story wouldn’t be worth anything,” Bertronius continued, “so, I stole this from a gnome to bring back.” At this, he grabbed the short blade from under his tunic and laid it on the table in front of Clemhand. Clemhand gasped in surprise stood up so sharply he knocked over the bench upon which he had been sitting. He scooped the sword up and began looking the sword over with a sharp and methodical eye.
Still standing, Bertronius spoke again in a nervous, tense voice. “Lt. Clemhand, sir, I know the rules were clear, and that I was to be back out of the forest by nightfall. I don’t mean to be impudent sir, but I think…well given the circumstances, I think I’ve earned a spot in the spy corps.” Betronius, convinced he’d offended the spy to no end with his impertinence, stared at his feet. Clemhand glanced up from the gnome’s sword and chuckled. “Look up boy! I dare say yer to be a spy! And a fine one, by the looks of it. Plucky one, you are.”
Bertronius’ head snapped up in surprise. He was about to thank the man, but got the wind knocked right out of him instead. Bertronius, flat on his back on the dusty ground, looked up and saw Nelhoepher’s grinning face above his. “Bert! You made it back! I was worried summat had happened to you!” With that, Nel gave Bertronius one more squeeze and released him. Bert sat up and rubbed the back of his head lightly.
“Well I wasn’t worried,” said a voice Bertronius recognized to be Lem’s. Lem leaned down and extended his hand to Bertronius. As helped the younger boy up, Lem continued, “I says to Nel, I says, ‘Nel, that Bert, he’s a smart one. Where you ‘n’ I, well, we get by on heart ‘n’ luck ‘n’ the like, well, that Bert….that Bert, he gets by on a keen mind ‘n’ a quick wit. He’ll be back safe ‘n’ sound, he will. Bet on it, I would.”
Lem smiled and dusted the dirt off the back of Bertronius’s clothes. At this, Bertronius noticed that neither Nelhoepher or Lem were sporting the infantrymen’s tunic as he himself was. Instead, the two older boys wore a long, purple tunic emblazoned with a single silver eye – the uniform of Imperial spies! “You – You’re both – You’ve both been made spies!” Bertronius cried excitedly.
“Aye, all t’ree of ye are spies,” said Clemhand. Bertronius had forgotten that the spy was there, and quickly wheeled around to face him. Bertronius started apologizing, while Nel and Lem giggled quietly, but Clemhand held up a hand to silence them. “Boy, I’m goin’ to have to take this sword with me and confer with me colleagues. We’ll need to be bringin’ you in fer more information, I’m sure, but it’ll be awhile. In the meantime, why don’t you two dunces show Bert aboot and get ‘im settled. Make sure he gets to that twit Flumpert, since he’ll need to be reclassified.” Clemhand turned then and left, leaving the three boys on their own.
*******
Rethnaki found the blue elf, Benno, packing his belongings into a rucksack at his tent. He was older than Rethnaki—perhaps 250 years of age—with a very pale complexion undercut by subtle violet tones, while his hair was a beautiful bright blue color that made for a striking contrast with his skin. Perhaps because of a long jagged scar that ran down one side of his face, Benno had a much fiercer aspect than his red-elvish counterparts, but Rethnaki believed there was more to this than old wounds alone. Though Rethnaki generally felt comfortable with almost any creature whatever they might be, he found that the blue elves often sparked a profound feeling of unease in him at a very deep level.
Benno, an imposing blue elf member of the Rebel Forces
Rethnaki approached Benno from behind, watching him for a moment before making his presence known. “Hullo there Benno,” he said in a jovial manner—he hoped that he had been able to mask the apprehension he felt about approaching the blue elf. “Jelli’s asked me ta ha’ ye come see him. 'Tis about this expedition up North we’re plannin’ fer—I’m sure ye’ve heard word of it already.”
Benno turned around and gave Rethnaki a piercing stare that seemed to cut through him to his very bones before answering. He was clearly suspicious of Rethnaki and Jellihondor’s intentions behind their request for his presence. “Vhat do ya two vant of me?” he asked Rethnaki, his eyes continuing to search the red elf’s face.
Rethnaki took a moment before responding, considering his options. Because of the intensity of the blue elf’s gaze, he elected to remain vague in his response. “I…I think it’d be best, if Jelli himself explained it ta ye,” he said, his façade of joviality wilting under the blue elf’s gaze.
Benno maintained his intense gaze, and responded with a curt “yah.” He laid his rucksack down in his tent, and let Rethnaki lead him to Jellihondor.
Benno, an imposing blue elf member of the Rebel ForcesRethnaki approached Benno from behind, watching him for a moment before making his presence known. “Hullo there Benno,” he said in a jovial manner—he hoped that he had been able to mask the apprehension he felt about approaching the blue elf. “Jelli’s asked me ta ha’ ye come see him. 'Tis about this expedition up North we’re plannin’ fer—I’m sure ye’ve heard word of it already.”
Benno turned around and gave Rethnaki a piercing stare that seemed to cut through him to his very bones before answering. He was clearly suspicious of Rethnaki and Jellihondor’s intentions behind their request for his presence. “Vhat do ya two vant of me?” he asked Rethnaki, his eyes continuing to search the red elf’s face.
Rethnaki took a moment before responding, considering his options. Because of the intensity of the blue elf’s gaze, he elected to remain vague in his response. “I…I think it’d be best, if Jelli himself explained it ta ye,” he said, his façade of joviality wilting under the blue elf’s gaze.
Benno maintained his intense gaze, and responded with a curt “yah.” He laid his rucksack down in his tent, and let Rethnaki lead him to Jellihondor.
*****
Nelhoepher and Lem sat down at the table, and pulled Bertronius down in the space between. Nelhoepher stretched a comradely arm around Bertronius’ shoulders, and with an easy, friendly smile said, “So, Bert, what’s up with the wee sword?” Bertronius opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly Nelhoepher let out a loud yelp of pain.
“Oi, you daft? Was a gnome’s sword, it was! What else’d be wee enough to wield it!” said Lem jokingly. Nelhoepher, still rubbing his skull, was now grinning from ear to ear.
“Fine, fine, I’m daft as yer Auntie Clara….but, why’d you feel the need to hit me Lem?”
“’Cause we’re spies, now, mate! And spies got a not-at-all-daft reputation to be upholdin’!” Lem retorted.
Nelhoepher paused a second and then began laughing uproariously. Bertronius thought Nelhoepher possessed one of those rare laughs, which when pushed to its loudest limits did not turn into a manic cackle or inebriated bray, like most of ours do, but instead remained hearty and melodic. It was a laugh that wraps you up, and makes you feel welcome and comfortable. After a moment or two, Lem needled, “What you laughin’ at, Nellie?”
Between shudders of laughter, Nelhoepher said, “At you, pal! I do see yer point, regardin’ me and all, but tell me: who looks smarter, the handsome lad who don’ know a gnome sword when he sees it…or the wee little heartbreaker who got to be a spy by stealin’ a pair of GIANT'S BRITCHES!” At this Nelhoepher burst into golden gales of laughter again, and Bertronius turned to look at Lem and raised his eyebrows.
A look of slight embarrassment had creeped over Lem’s face. He spoke in a sheepish tone, and said, “Alright, good point. Yeah, Bert, only reason I be a spy’s ‘cause of a massive pair of giant’s underpants. ‘Tis true.” He jokingly hung his head in shame. Nelhoepher, having recovered from the spasms of laughter, stood and walked over to his friend. Nelhoepher clapped a hand on Lem’s shoulder and gave his friend a quick squeeze before saying, “Ah yes. But tell our young friend how you found them, Lem.”
Lem glances over at Nelhoepher and, with a small sort of rueful smile, shrugged Nelhoepher's hand off his shoulder and sat next to Bertonius. “You really don’t have to explain, Lem! I’ll just pretend I didn’t here about the giant drawers,” said Bertronius, trying to help. Nelhoepher snickered in the background.
Lem shook his head softly. In a resigned voice, he said, “Nah, Bert. Nelhoepher’s just being true…and he’s right to bring it up, y’know, fer it do make a fine funny tale. So here’s what happened: once old Clemhand’s purple handkerchief fell to the ground, I pushed meself through the bushes and such into the forest. I tell ya, I never been so cared, never, in all me life! But, I did want to be a spy and all, so I just plunged ahead. I walked a little ways, no more than a mile I’d say, along the animal trail I’d-a come in on and saw a most curious sight: ‘twas a wee little man, gnome, really, I’d say, all sittin’ up and a-blinking at me. He look scurred, so I tried me best to be most soft and careful-like, but apparently it wasn’t soft nor careful enough! That little bloke jumped right up and started kickin’ me in the shins!” At this, Nelhoepher, who’d been trying to suppress his giggles, broke out once again into gales of laughter.
Bertronius, sensing Lem’s annoyance at the interruption, turned and addressed Nelhoepher. “Nel, can it! Lem’s got to finish the story!” In response to Bertronius’ chastisement, Nelhoepher nodded good-naturedly and urged Lem to continue with the yarn.
“Thanks, Bert, I can never make that blond git shut it!” Lem grinned and ruffled Bertronius’ auburn locks as he resumed his tale. “Right, so this gnome, right, he kicks me shins and then starts hollerin’ at me in this odd tongue. I didn’t know what to do, and I felt bad for intrudin’ and being so rude in any case, so I…well, I asked him directions to the rebel’s camp.” Bertonius chuckled in spite of himself.
“I know, quite daft, right?” Lem asked.
“Aye,” responded Nelhoepher, “quite daft indeed, friend.”
Lem nodded and continued. “Yeah, daft. Anyway, the gnome actually did give me directions, well, in a sense, such that he pointed in a direction the rebels’ camp happened to be in. Can’t say he was pointing at the rebels for sure and true. Luckily, I took the direction the gnomish creature’d pointed in, and after walkin’ no more, I’d wager, than ten minutes, I found the camp. Maybe not the camp proper, but leastways where them beasties be hangin’ their clothes. I glanced around ‘n’ grabbed the first thing with the rebels’ symbol on it and ran back the way I’d come.” Lem paused for a moment for dramatic effect, and then continued, “It wasn’t until I was out of the forest, huffin’ and puffin’, and Clemhand went to look at me prize, that I had gotten a pair of giant’s underthings.”
Rebel Army standard issue giant's underpants stolen by Lem
“That was amusin’, Bert, watchin’ this one here realize that that’s what he’d been carrying all through the Erkenheld,” said Nelhoepher while lightly punching Lem’s arm.
Bertronius turned to Nelhoepher, surprised. “Wait, Nel, you were already back when Lem returned? It sounds like it took Lem no more than two hours!”
Nelhoepher turned a bright red and cleared his throat, preparing to speak. Lem, in an attempt to ease his friends’ anxiety, patted Nelhoepher’s arm and spoke to Bertronius instead. “Well, Bert, Lem here was in ‘n’ out of the damn forest in ten minutes flat. He skipped in there, found one of the rebel’s arrow, which are quite, you know, distinctive looking. Nel grabs it, he does, and skips right back out again, presentin’ it to Clemhand, afore Clemmy can even pick his handkerchief back up, if ye catch my meanin’. See, Bert, if yer to run with us, ye should know that, though I be daft, Nel here is the luckiest bloke you’ll e’er meet.” Lem faced Nelhoepher, then said to him, “Damned near charmed, you are, mate.”
Nelhoepher gave Lem a playful shove. “I know, Lem, I know. And you ain’t daft.”
“I know, couldn’t be a spy if I was! So, Bert, let’s get ya to Flumpert: he’s the clerk, the one Kinnons left us with when we first got here, let’s get you to him so’s you can join the spies official-like, shall we? And you can bed down in our tent.”
“Oi, you daft? Was a gnome’s sword, it was! What else’d be wee enough to wield it!” said Lem jokingly. Nelhoepher, still rubbing his skull, was now grinning from ear to ear.
“Fine, fine, I’m daft as yer Auntie Clara….but, why’d you feel the need to hit me Lem?”
“’Cause we’re spies, now, mate! And spies got a not-at-all-daft reputation to be upholdin’!” Lem retorted.
Nelhoepher paused a second and then began laughing uproariously. Bertronius thought Nelhoepher possessed one of those rare laughs, which when pushed to its loudest limits did not turn into a manic cackle or inebriated bray, like most of ours do, but instead remained hearty and melodic. It was a laugh that wraps you up, and makes you feel welcome and comfortable. After a moment or two, Lem needled, “What you laughin’ at, Nellie?”
Between shudders of laughter, Nelhoepher said, “At you, pal! I do see yer point, regardin’ me and all, but tell me: who looks smarter, the handsome lad who don’ know a gnome sword when he sees it…or the wee little heartbreaker who got to be a spy by stealin’ a pair of GIANT'S BRITCHES!” At this Nelhoepher burst into golden gales of laughter again, and Bertronius turned to look at Lem and raised his eyebrows.
A look of slight embarrassment had creeped over Lem’s face. He spoke in a sheepish tone, and said, “Alright, good point. Yeah, Bert, only reason I be a spy’s ‘cause of a massive pair of giant’s underpants. ‘Tis true.” He jokingly hung his head in shame. Nelhoepher, having recovered from the spasms of laughter, stood and walked over to his friend. Nelhoepher clapped a hand on Lem’s shoulder and gave his friend a quick squeeze before saying, “Ah yes. But tell our young friend how you found them, Lem.”
Lem glances over at Nelhoepher and, with a small sort of rueful smile, shrugged Nelhoepher's hand off his shoulder and sat next to Bertonius. “You really don’t have to explain, Lem! I’ll just pretend I didn’t here about the giant drawers,” said Bertronius, trying to help. Nelhoepher snickered in the background.
Lem shook his head softly. In a resigned voice, he said, “Nah, Bert. Nelhoepher’s just being true…and he’s right to bring it up, y’know, fer it do make a fine funny tale. So here’s what happened: once old Clemhand’s purple handkerchief fell to the ground, I pushed meself through the bushes and such into the forest. I tell ya, I never been so cared, never, in all me life! But, I did want to be a spy and all, so I just plunged ahead. I walked a little ways, no more than a mile I’d say, along the animal trail I’d-a come in on and saw a most curious sight: ‘twas a wee little man, gnome, really, I’d say, all sittin’ up and a-blinking at me. He look scurred, so I tried me best to be most soft and careful-like, but apparently it wasn’t soft nor careful enough! That little bloke jumped right up and started kickin’ me in the shins!” At this, Nelhoepher, who’d been trying to suppress his giggles, broke out once again into gales of laughter.
Bertronius, sensing Lem’s annoyance at the interruption, turned and addressed Nelhoepher. “Nel, can it! Lem’s got to finish the story!” In response to Bertronius’ chastisement, Nelhoepher nodded good-naturedly and urged Lem to continue with the yarn.
“Thanks, Bert, I can never make that blond git shut it!” Lem grinned and ruffled Bertronius’ auburn locks as he resumed his tale. “Right, so this gnome, right, he kicks me shins and then starts hollerin’ at me in this odd tongue. I didn’t know what to do, and I felt bad for intrudin’ and being so rude in any case, so I…well, I asked him directions to the rebel’s camp.” Bertonius chuckled in spite of himself.
“I know, quite daft, right?” Lem asked.
“Aye,” responded Nelhoepher, “quite daft indeed, friend.”
Lem nodded and continued. “Yeah, daft. Anyway, the gnome actually did give me directions, well, in a sense, such that he pointed in a direction the rebels’ camp happened to be in. Can’t say he was pointing at the rebels for sure and true. Luckily, I took the direction the gnomish creature’d pointed in, and after walkin’ no more, I’d wager, than ten minutes, I found the camp. Maybe not the camp proper, but leastways where them beasties be hangin’ their clothes. I glanced around ‘n’ grabbed the first thing with the rebels’ symbol on it and ran back the way I’d come.” Lem paused for a moment for dramatic effect, and then continued, “It wasn’t until I was out of the forest, huffin’ and puffin’, and Clemhand went to look at me prize, that I had gotten a pair of giant’s underthings.”
Rebel Army standard issue giant's underpants stolen by Lem“That was amusin’, Bert, watchin’ this one here realize that that’s what he’d been carrying all through the Erkenheld,” said Nelhoepher while lightly punching Lem’s arm.
Bertronius turned to Nelhoepher, surprised. “Wait, Nel, you were already back when Lem returned? It sounds like it took Lem no more than two hours!”
Nelhoepher turned a bright red and cleared his throat, preparing to speak. Lem, in an attempt to ease his friends’ anxiety, patted Nelhoepher’s arm and spoke to Bertronius instead. “Well, Bert, Lem here was in ‘n’ out of the damn forest in ten minutes flat. He skipped in there, found one of the rebel’s arrow, which are quite, you know, distinctive looking. Nel grabs it, he does, and skips right back out again, presentin’ it to Clemhand, afore Clemmy can even pick his handkerchief back up, if ye catch my meanin’. See, Bert, if yer to run with us, ye should know that, though I be daft, Nel here is the luckiest bloke you’ll e’er meet.” Lem faced Nelhoepher, then said to him, “Damned near charmed, you are, mate.”
Nelhoepher gave Lem a playful shove. “I know, Lem, I know. And you ain’t daft.”
“I know, couldn’t be a spy if I was! So, Bert, let’s get ya to Flumpert: he’s the clerk, the one Kinnons left us with when we first got here, let’s get you to him so’s you can join the spies official-like, shall we? And you can bed down in our tent.”
*****
Jarthen, meanwhile was meandering back to his tent in the hopes that Rethnaki had finished his parlay with Jellihondor and could answer some of his burning questions about the coming mission. As he walked through the camp, he tried his best to memorize every detail of the great forest clearing, as he knew that it would not be long before he had to leave it — perhaps forever. He had reentered the elvish area of camp, when he noticed Jellihondor pacing back-and-forth in front of his own private tent. Jellihondor’s tent was of a similar shape to those of the other elves, but since he was its sole occupant, the tent was much smaller than other elvish tents in terms of length. In addition to bedding and weapons, the tent contained a large number of maps, scrolls of different sizes, and a variety of mysterious objects that Jarthen had only glimpsed in passing.
Jarthen ducked out of the older elf’s sight behind a nearby tent: the lad’s experience with Rethnaki had given him a taste for discovering information in a clandestine manner. His pulse raced and mind thrilled as he peered around the corner of the tent and watched Jellihondor. The aged elf seemed to be preoccupied with some pressing issue, and he kept glancing around as if he was expecting the arrival of someone that would help resolve the questions that troubled his mind. Jarthen had rarely seen his commander so fretful, and his curiosity about what could unnerve Jellihondor so greatly grew by the second.
Jarthen didn’t have to wait long: Rethnaki quickly appeared with another, very curious looking elf—"at least," Jarthen thought, "he must be an elf!" He had the pointed ears, lithe construction, and regal bearing which are characteristic of the elves, but his coloring was altogether different from Jarthen's expectations. This elf had hair was an almost luminescent blue and his skin an otherworldly alabaster-violet... but all of the elves that Jarthen had seen both in the Fethil and the Rebel Forces had hair that fell within a relatively narrow color range from a strawberry blonde to a deep auburn, and pale, sometimes freckled skin!
Jellihondor exchanged a curt greeting with Rethnaki and the other elf, and motioned them towards his tent, which they all proceeded to enter. He then closed the flap of the tent obscuring them from Jarthen’s view. Not to be deterred, Jarthen stealthily maneuvered around the back of Jellihondor’s tent, to a point where he could make out what was surely an important conversation.
Jarthen, hoping he hadn't missed anything vital, detected a note of pleading in the voice of Jellihondor, as he said, “…but, ye mus’ understan' Benno, this is a mission of ta utmost importance—the entire cause’ll be hurt if we’re obstructed by yer people.”
There was a tense pause before Benno, which Jarthen took to be the name of the stange bluish elf, responded. He exploded with a passion and fury that Jarthen (and, he suspected Rethnaki and Jellihondor) were not expecting. “Ya are de ones that do not unterstand! I vill not, nay, cannot return to my homeland!” he shouted, as he pounded his fists on a table for emphasis. He had a heavy accent different from that of the other elves, and his voice, to Jarthen’s ears at least, lacked the warm, lyrical quality of his red-haired counterparts. In his experience, Jarthen had always been quickly charmed by the elves that he had met, even those that exhibited a noticeable distrust of him, but, for some reason, he felt somewhat put off by this elf.
“Come on then, Benno!” Rethnaki interjected. To Jarthen, it sounded as if Rethnaki's confidence had been shaken by Benno's outburst. Nevertheless, Rethaki spoke with friendly, albeit wary, tone, “I can' imagine what reason ye could ha’e for wantin’ ta avoid yer people, and ta cause needs ye! Doesn’ tha matter ta ye?” he asked in a chiding voice.
After a moment, Benno sighed heavily. He spoke again, but this time in a somber and desperate tone. “Ya must unterstand! Vhere I come from, it is a great…uhmm,” he seemed to need to search for the right word, before continuing, “…sin…yes, a great sin to leave our lands and fight among de infidels—dat is to say, de Athenorkos!”
“Infidels!? Is tha what yer lot calls us now is it?" Rethnaki retorted in an angry voice, all traces of charm and warmth gone. "Now I know tha’ we ha'en’ had ta best o’ relations wit' yer folk, but tha’s jus’ insultin’!” Jarthen heard what sounded like Rethnaki springing to his feet as if to challenge the strange elf to fisticuffs.
“Tha’s enough, Rethnaki!" Jellihondor yelled in an authoritative tone that apparently stopped the younger elf cold. "If ye can' keep yer head about yerself, then jus’ leave! I’m sorry Benno, this’uns a bit hot-headed at times.” Jarthen could just imagine the withering look that must have accompanied this last statement: the old elf had an amazing capacity for striking shame in the hearts of his subordinates. “Is there no way tha’ ye can be convinced ta come wit' us?” Jellihondor asked again.
Benno spoke in a tone that betrayed some satisfaction at Rethnaki’s upbraiding, “Dat is alright. Sadly, vere I to return to de land of my people, I vould be killt on sight. Dat said, I do not think ya vill be able to convince any of my countrymen dat are here to come vit ya. Please remember Jellihondor, no matter how committed ve are to the Rebel Forces, ve are of no use to your mission dead.”
Jarthen assumed that the meeting was about to end, and turned to leave before any of the elves emerged from the tent. The lad’s head was swimming with questions—who was this strange elf and why was it so important for him to accompany the expedition north? Where did he come from and why did his people consider the red elves to be infidels?
Jarthen mulled these questions over in his mind as he stealthily skirted the edge of Jellihondor’s tent and made his way back to his own tent. He hoped that Rethnaki would return soon so that he would at last be able to get some answers about this mysterious journey into the unknown. He was more than a little frightened by the vast amount that he was ignorant of: he felt as if he knew nothing of the road that lay ahead of him or what he might encounter upon it.
The young boy was so focused on these thoughts that he was barely able to avoid running directly into the muscular haunches of Glothnafar. The centaur, noticing Jarthen’s clumsiness, turned upon him and spoke to him in a strident tone. “Curse your impertinence, boy! Why don’t you pay attention to where you’re going?!”
Jarthen cowered under Glothnafar’s menacing gaze and harsh words, and was unable to muster a word. The swarthy centaur apparently took further offense from Jarthen’s lack of response and moved closer to the boy, demanding an answer. “What are you doing? Should you not be preparing yourself for the task ahead?”
Jarthen had never noticed how imposing Glothnafar was: he must have been at least seven feet tall, and his large, well-defined muscles rippled with frightful power. It was all Jarthen could do to lift his eyes to meet those of the great half-horse-half-man being, and he immediately wished he had not even done that, as the centaur’s face was so contorted with rage that it sent a shiver down his spine. “Uhh…Uhh…I was just about to…uhh…I mean, I’m actually done,” Jarthen managed to stammer, his eyes averted from those of the incensed Glothnafar.
The centaur snorted in derision—though he shouldn’t have been surprised, perhaps, Jarthen thought that Glothnafar sounded oddly like a horse when he did this. He stared at Jarthen for a moment before continuing in an ominous tone, “well, if that's the case, I will put you to some suitable use. Come with me, lazy hu-man.”
Jarthen’s heart sank, but he knew that he had no option but to do the centaur’s bidding, however menial and demeaning it might be.
Jarthen, meanwhile was meandering back to his tent in the hopes that Rethnaki had finished his parlay with Jellihondor and could answer some of his burning questions about the coming mission. As he walked through the camp, he tried his best to memorize every detail of the great forest clearing, as he knew that it would not be long before he had to leave it — perhaps forever. He had reentered the elvish area of camp, when he noticed Jellihondor pacing back-and-forth in front of his own private tent. Jellihondor’s tent was of a similar shape to those of the other elves, but since he was its sole occupant, the tent was much smaller than other elvish tents in terms of length. In addition to bedding and weapons, the tent contained a large number of maps, scrolls of different sizes, and a variety of mysterious objects that Jarthen had only glimpsed in passing.
Jarthen ducked out of the older elf’s sight behind a nearby tent: the lad’s experience with Rethnaki had given him a taste for discovering information in a clandestine manner. His pulse raced and mind thrilled as he peered around the corner of the tent and watched Jellihondor. The aged elf seemed to be preoccupied with some pressing issue, and he kept glancing around as if he was expecting the arrival of someone that would help resolve the questions that troubled his mind. Jarthen had rarely seen his commander so fretful, and his curiosity about what could unnerve Jellihondor so greatly grew by the second.
Jarthen didn’t have to wait long: Rethnaki quickly appeared with another, very curious looking elf—"at least," Jarthen thought, "he must be an elf!" He had the pointed ears, lithe construction, and regal bearing which are characteristic of the elves, but his coloring was altogether different from Jarthen's expectations. This elf had hair was an almost luminescent blue and his skin an otherworldly alabaster-violet... but all of the elves that Jarthen had seen both in the Fethil and the Rebel Forces had hair that fell within a relatively narrow color range from a strawberry blonde to a deep auburn, and pale, sometimes freckled skin!
Jellihondor exchanged a curt greeting with Rethnaki and the other elf, and motioned them towards his tent, which they all proceeded to enter. He then closed the flap of the tent obscuring them from Jarthen’s view. Not to be deterred, Jarthen stealthily maneuvered around the back of Jellihondor’s tent, to a point where he could make out what was surely an important conversation.
Jarthen, hoping he hadn't missed anything vital, detected a note of pleading in the voice of Jellihondor, as he said, “…but, ye mus’ understan' Benno, this is a mission of ta utmost importance—the entire cause’ll be hurt if we’re obstructed by yer people.”
There was a tense pause before Benno, which Jarthen took to be the name of the stange bluish elf, responded. He exploded with a passion and fury that Jarthen (and, he suspected Rethnaki and Jellihondor) were not expecting. “Ya are de ones that do not unterstand! I vill not, nay, cannot return to my homeland!” he shouted, as he pounded his fists on a table for emphasis. He had a heavy accent different from that of the other elves, and his voice, to Jarthen’s ears at least, lacked the warm, lyrical quality of his red-haired counterparts. In his experience, Jarthen had always been quickly charmed by the elves that he had met, even those that exhibited a noticeable distrust of him, but, for some reason, he felt somewhat put off by this elf.
“Come on then, Benno!” Rethnaki interjected. To Jarthen, it sounded as if Rethnaki's confidence had been shaken by Benno's outburst. Nevertheless, Rethaki spoke with friendly, albeit wary, tone, “I can' imagine what reason ye could ha’e for wantin’ ta avoid yer people, and ta cause needs ye! Doesn’ tha matter ta ye?” he asked in a chiding voice.
After a moment, Benno sighed heavily. He spoke again, but this time in a somber and desperate tone. “Ya must unterstand! Vhere I come from, it is a great…uhmm,” he seemed to need to search for the right word, before continuing, “…sin…yes, a great sin to leave our lands and fight among de infidels—dat is to say, de Athenorkos!”
“Infidels!? Is tha what yer lot calls us now is it?" Rethnaki retorted in an angry voice, all traces of charm and warmth gone. "Now I know tha’ we ha'en’ had ta best o’ relations wit' yer folk, but tha’s jus’ insultin’!” Jarthen heard what sounded like Rethnaki springing to his feet as if to challenge the strange elf to fisticuffs.
“Tha’s enough, Rethnaki!" Jellihondor yelled in an authoritative tone that apparently stopped the younger elf cold. "If ye can' keep yer head about yerself, then jus’ leave! I’m sorry Benno, this’uns a bit hot-headed at times.” Jarthen could just imagine the withering look that must have accompanied this last statement: the old elf had an amazing capacity for striking shame in the hearts of his subordinates. “Is there no way tha’ ye can be convinced ta come wit' us?” Jellihondor asked again.
Benno spoke in a tone that betrayed some satisfaction at Rethnaki’s upbraiding, “Dat is alright. Sadly, vere I to return to de land of my people, I vould be killt on sight. Dat said, I do not think ya vill be able to convince any of my countrymen dat are here to come vit ya. Please remember Jellihondor, no matter how committed ve are to the Rebel Forces, ve are of no use to your mission dead.”
Jarthen assumed that the meeting was about to end, and turned to leave before any of the elves emerged from the tent. The lad’s head was swimming with questions—who was this strange elf and why was it so important for him to accompany the expedition north? Where did he come from and why did his people consider the red elves to be infidels?
Jarthen mulled these questions over in his mind as he stealthily skirted the edge of Jellihondor’s tent and made his way back to his own tent. He hoped that Rethnaki would return soon so that he would at last be able to get some answers about this mysterious journey into the unknown. He was more than a little frightened by the vast amount that he was ignorant of: he felt as if he knew nothing of the road that lay ahead of him or what he might encounter upon it.
The young boy was so focused on these thoughts that he was barely able to avoid running directly into the muscular haunches of Glothnafar. The centaur, noticing Jarthen’s clumsiness, turned upon him and spoke to him in a strident tone. “Curse your impertinence, boy! Why don’t you pay attention to where you’re going?!”
Jarthen cowered under Glothnafar’s menacing gaze and harsh words, and was unable to muster a word. The swarthy centaur apparently took further offense from Jarthen’s lack of response and moved closer to the boy, demanding an answer. “What are you doing? Should you not be preparing yourself for the task ahead?”
Jarthen had never noticed how imposing Glothnafar was: he must have been at least seven feet tall, and his large, well-defined muscles rippled with frightful power. It was all Jarthen could do to lift his eyes to meet those of the great half-horse-half-man being, and he immediately wished he had not even done that, as the centaur’s face was so contorted with rage that it sent a shiver down his spine. “Uhh…Uhh…I was just about to…uhh…I mean, I’m actually done,” Jarthen managed to stammer, his eyes averted from those of the incensed Glothnafar.
The centaur snorted in derision—though he shouldn’t have been surprised, perhaps, Jarthen thought that Glothnafar sounded oddly like a horse when he did this. He stared at Jarthen for a moment before continuing in an ominous tone, “well, if that's the case, I will put you to some suitable use. Come with me, lazy hu-man.”
Jarthen’s heart sank, but he knew that he had no option but to do the centaur’s bidding, however menial and demeaning it might be.
2 comments:
I think you should make rebel army underpants and sell them in the Jarthen store. It wouldn't be quite as cool as the Madge Bobbins T-shirt, but it would still be awesome.
OMG! The red eleves are GINGERS!!!!!
you guys are awesome.
-Tamarfains
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