Ch. 9 The Compass Turns Again (pt. 2)

Previously in the Tale of Jarthen our intrepid hero discovered that humans are live beyond the bounds of Elothnin, while Bertronius, Lem and Nel ran afoul of some forest sprites to the detriment of Lem's pants.
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The spirits of the rebel party were greatly buoyed by the change of pace their being in a major, non-hostile city afforded them. After having spent months (or in the case of some the party years) traversing the wilds of the Erkenheld many of the rebels greatly enjoyed the opportunities for diversion and relaxation that seem so impossibly distant in the wilderness.

Early on the morning of their third day in the City of Mages, Jarthen and his compatriots were awakened by the harsh, low voice of Glothnafar. “Alright, come on now, we’ve got to get moving, come on,” he said offering a gentle nudge with his fore-hooves to the drowsier soldiers, though he gave Jarthen a brisk kick in his side as he lamented in a gruff undertone, “damn lazy hu-man.”

Rubbing the spot where Glothnafar’s foot had met his ribs, Jarthen turned grumpily towards Rethnaki to ask what they would be doing today.

The red elf who was clearly still foggy from the previous night, which he, Jarthen, Sellior, Elcrona, and Zartheim had spent on an ambitious pub crawl throughout the ogrish section of the city, rubbed his red eyes and stared blankly at the lad for a moment before gaining his faculties. “Ah!” he exclaimed, as his face appeared to reanimate, “today’ll be ta day tha’ Jelli is ta address ta felintarks and ta giants!”

“Really?!” Jarthen asked excitedly: since first encountering the unheard of humans in the city, the lad’s interest in the political thrust of their mission had greatly increased. “Are we going to be able to watch?”

Before Rethnaki could answer, Glothnafar interjected in the mocking tone that he seemed to reserve for Jarthen alone, “Yes, unfortunately you will be attending Jellihondor’s speech. I advised against bringing the less professional elements of our party that might detract from our appeal, but Jellihondor insisted upon it.”

Though his ego was bruised by this remark, a quick glance at the centaur’s well muscled form was enough to stay his tongue. . Recognizing that the lad was not going to give him any reason to punish him, Glothnafar nodded confidentially towards Rethnaki and moved across the room to try to wake up the still snoring Helkint.

“Pay him no mind, lad,” Rethnaki said to Jarthen in an undertone once Glothnafar was out of earshot, “ye’ll see ta speech, an’, knowin’ Jelli, it’ll be a fine’un!”

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Within an hour after waking the rebels had reached the great hall at the center of the City of Mages where important matters of state were debated and decided by representatives of the Elvo-Felintark Empire and the giant clans. It was an imposing building – as all seats of government are – with thick pillars hewn from the finest marble supporting a richly carved roof culminating in a set of three gigantic domes. One of the great canals that the mages had created when the city was still young and unmarred by the harsh struggles that would eventually lead its initial inhabitants to forsake its walls forever terminated at the very foot of the structure, reflecting the light of the morning sun in ripples on the white marble.

At the insistence of the giants, the deliberations of the two great powers in the region have been kept open to the public, though attendance has historically been limited to the elderly and the demented. Thus, it was something of a surprise when Jellihondor and his rag-tag band of rebels entered the great chamber in which meetings were held. The room, which could easily have accommodated five hundred spectators, contained only eighty or so individuals counting the dozen or so official-looking giants, felintarks and tinker elves that sat in a semicircle at the base of the auditorium. At present, there was an aged felintark making a long-winded case for reducing the tariff on one particular type of ogrish goat cheese that he was particularly fond of.

As the rebels took their seats, Jarthen observed that a significant number of the people in the audience were dozing off during this individual’s remarks, while even the members of the two delegations seemed to be struggling to follow the argument. After about half an hour of intricate proofs detailing the great injustice that all lovers of fermented-dairy products faced, the elderly gentleman was cut off sharply by the felintark sitting in the center of his colleagues in the semicircle, “I think that will be quite sufficient. The body thanks you for your compelling,” he paused and sneered in a most objectionable manner as he said this, “arguments. We will undoubtedly take them under advisement when evaluating the tariffs on perishable goods. If there are no objections, I propose that we move onto the next petitioner.” The rest of the council members grunted or nodded their assent.

The council deliberates

After a pause of a few moments, Jellihondor strode forward with a confident, decisive gate. As he came into view of the individuals at the semicircle several of them showed clear signs of recognizing the wizened elf, and exchanged whispers with one another. For his part, the Felintark who sat the center and was clearly the chairman of the body maintained a cold, steely gaze that, though not outwardly hostile, betrayed no excess of positive feelings towards Jellihondor.

As the elf reached the lectern from which visitors addressed the body, the chairman greeted him in the cold, sarcastic tone that he had used to dismiss the previous speaker. “Greetings Jellihondor. What business do you have with us today?”

“I’ve come ta speak on ta matter o’ the conflict in Elothnin, Ra’zehm,” he said, stalwart in the face of the felintark’s cool condescension.

“I am sorry to say that, because we have already discussed this matter at a previous juncture, it would be an utter waste of this body’s precious time. There are new matters of far greater importance to the parties that we represent on which we need to focus.” Ra’zehm replied without consulting his colleagues.

“Wit’ all due respect, sir, if ye ha’ ta time ta listen ta tha’ ol’ codger’s speech abou’ cheese, I’d like ta’ think tha’ ye can spare a moment ta hear abou’ a matter what bears on ta fate o’ e’ery giant, centaur, felintark, gnome, dwarf, human an’ elf alike,” the old elf rejoined in a tone that evinced both frustration with and dislike of the cold-eyed felintark.

Before the chairman could reply, an affable looking giant chimed in. “Indeed, though we have heard from Jellihondor before, surely we, as a body, cannot but grant this most esteemed and respected individual a few moments to present his case,” he said, as the majority of the other members of the council nodded their heads in agreement.

Seeing that he was clearly overruled Ra’zehm ceded the floor to Jellihondor with reluctance, warning him to be brief as he did so. After thanking the body for their generosity – though Jarthen was fairly sure that he saw the elf cast a nasty look at the obdurate felintark – Jellihondor paused for a moment and appeared to collect his thoughts.

“It is true tha’ I ha’ had ta pleasure o’ bein’ afore this body on several previous occasions in my many years on this world,” Jellihondor began in his most ceremonious voice, “Tis also true tha’ on e’ery previous occasion tha’ I ha’ spoken wit’ ye, tha’ ye ha’ rebuffed me requests fer assistance to our cause. I canna’ blame ye fer makin’ those decisions in ta past, but at ta same time, I ‘twould be negligent in me duty if I did not present our case ta ye, an’ ta all tha’ are listenin’ in this great building,” he said making a sweeping gesture towards the assorted individuals in the audience “in ta strongest possible way.”

“Why should ye support us? Tha’ is ta question tha’ I hope ta answer ta yer satisfaction. Before I can answer tha’ question though, I’ve got ta tell ye what it is the truth that guides us in our fight . Now some folks ha’ said tha’ ‘tis about land or money, greed and jealousy, but those folks ha’ missed ta entire point. No war tha’ was jus’ about a ratty piece o’ land or who gets ta live where e’er lasted fer two hundred years. Tha’s right, we ha’ been fightin’ this war fer two hundred years – since afore most o’ ye in this hall sprang forth from yer mothers’ loins,” he punctuated these last words by jabbing his downward pointing index finger into the lectern. “This war,” he paused and looked around the room in which every eye was fixated on his distinguished visage and every ear tuned to his booming voice, “this war is about good an’ evil. This war is about fightin’ to o’ercome ta greatest threat my people, an all ta other peoples o’ this world ha’ e’er known.”

“Ta atrocities an’ injustices tha’ ha’ already been committed by ta Queen, though I hesitate ta dignify such a callous, malevolent wretch wit’ tha’ title, are well-known, an’ I shan’t recount ‘em here. Howe’er, I will say this,” he paused again here, and Jarthen thought that the old elf’s eyes were beginning to water with the obvious emotion of the topic, “tha’ ye ha’ a chance to stand up fer what is right and good, and fight against ta wrongs tha’ are ta inevitable result o’ indecision, disunity, an’ inaction. This is ta moment, ta very instant tha’ ye mus’ decide on which side – ta side o’ right, or ta side o’ evil – ye will stand,” Jarthen felt his breast swell with emotion as Jellihondor uttered these words, and could not imagine how anyone could remain unmoved by the intense feelings that caused the old elf’s strong voice to crack.

After pausing to dab a tear away from his lined cheek, Jellihondor continued in his more composed, diplomatic tone. “Some o’ ye ha’ said when asked to support us rebels, ‘it isn’ our fight’ or ‘our getting involved ‘twould only bring us ill,’ but I disagree wit’ that. As I stand here lookin’, I see felintarks, giants, humans, dwarves, centaurs, and elves o’ all sorts, but ‘tis not ta differences between us what matter: ‘tis those things what are ta same tha’ really count. An’ one thing tha’ we all ha’ in common, is tha’ none o’ us, none o’ our wives an’ our children, can live wit’ an easy mind so long as evil Lilhelndine sits on her throne!”

At this, the rebels in the audience let forth a mighty cheer, while the majority of the other individuals present lifted their voices as well. Indeed, a few of the giants sitting on the council table joined the applause.

When the raucous cheering finally subsided, Re’zehm, whose face had remained stolidly cold throughout the entire speech, was the first to speak. “The body thanks you for your contribution, Jellihondor. Speaking on behalf of the Elvo-Felintark Empire and our citizenry, we must in fact think of what is evil to our interests, no matter how emotionally compelling the plea. At this moment, it would do our people a grievous disservice to join you in your unlawful endeavors. In the interest of time, we must move on to issues that we can actually act upon,” he said with a look of grim satisfaction on his feline face.

Though he had experienced many disappointments in his brief life, Jarthen was sure that none were so bitter as this rejection of what he now believed in so fervently.