Previously in the Tale of Jarthen, our eponymous main character, along with his rebel comrades, witnessed a dramatic speech by their commander, Jellihondor, before Elvo-Felintark-Giant Council.
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Jellihondor took the felintark’s icy rebuff with an equanimity that made a stark contrast with the burning passion that had only moments before inflamed his rhetoric to a white heat. After bowing his head, and saying “I thank ye fer yer forebareance in letting an ol’ elf speak his mind,” in a polite, even tone, he marched up and out of the hall, leaving his troops to scramble out of their seats after him as best they could. Rethnaki, sitting on the end of their row of seats, was the first to catch up with Jellihondor.
When he reached the entryway between the doors to the building and the great hall, Rethnaki found that Jellihondor’s forward progress had been arrested by a young, well-dressed giant. Upon seeing that he was no longer alone with the aged elf commander, the giant bowed to the other rebels, thanked Jellihondor, and made his way back into the enormous chamber of state.
“What was that about?” Rethnaki asked Jellihondor in an undertone, when he had reached his master’s side.
“I’ll tell ye aboot tit later,” he replied softly, as the other rebels had now caught up with them. “Alrigh’ lads,” Jellihondor said, addressing the entire group of rebels now, “I don’ wan’ ye all ta fret aboot this. Ta be honest, I didn’ ha’ particularly high hopes o’ ta Felintarks a helpin’ us, anyways. Now I think it ‘twould be best fer ta lot o’ us ta get back ta the inn, an’ rest afore we depart again.”
Several days later, as Bertronius, Nelhoepher, and Lem were eating mush and idly brainstorming how to overcome the farcical misadventure that had been their last attempt at spying, Caspio McNab burst through the door in a brighter mood than anyone had seen him in for months. Bertronius arched his eyebrows at Lem in look of inquiry, who was sitting across the table from him, while McNab hummed to himself and grabbed a bowlful of the pasty confection.
“You know, I ne’er much cared fer mush afore I came here,” said McNab in a cheery voice. “Not sure if it was due to the…erm…lacking culinary skills of the army cooks or if it be my livin’ with three native Fethilians! I reckon you boys know from good mush, eh?”
“Could just be the pleasure o’ our company, sir,” replied Lem in genuine earnestness as was his wont. “Me ma always said nothin’ sweetens mush up like a good mood!”
Mush is best appreciated in good company McNab paused a moment, clearly unsure how to respond to this bucolic aphorism. As Bertronius and Nelhoepher tried to stifle their laughter, McNab patted Lem’s shoulder in a slightly awkward (but mostly affectionate) manner. “Ah. Good to know.”
“You are in a fine mood, though,” said Bertronius. “I take it you’ve been making better progress than we have?”
“Well, I certainly haven’t lost me britches, if that’s what ye mean!” McNab said, unable to resist the friendly jab at Lem’s latest misadventure.
Although Jarthen felt as if a sturdy seaman was expertly coiling his intestines into knots of disappointment as he and the rest of the rebels reached their lodgings at a local inn, the lad could not detect similar disappointment in his commander Jellihondor’s stoic old visage. With unflappable serenity, the elf called for his subordinates to gather around so that he might address them.
“Alrigh’ lads, I ken tha’ mus’ ta ha seemed a monstrous disappointment back there,” he said in reference to his rebuff before the governing council, “but don’ worry aboot tit too much. We will carry on in our mission ta Susselfen, an’,” he said throwing a sly wink to the rebels, “’twas some good news what came out o’ tha’ speech anyways.”
“Ye see,” he continued, a smile now beginning to spread across his aged face, “after we left ta hall, I was approached by a young giant who represents a group o’ giants, felintarks, and tinker elves what are a willing ta join our cause!” he concluded, with a grin that was by now at its full breadth.
Jarthen and his comrades let forth a mighty cheer in response to this tremendously positive development, but Jellihondor quickly quieted them down with a gesture. “Now this ‘tis all well an’ good, but our party is now at a crossroads, ye see,” Jellihondor continued in a more somber tone. “We need a volunteer ta lead ta majority o’ ta new recruits back ta the main body o’ ta army – are there any among ye what are willing ta undertake this task?”
Jarthen glanced around the faces in this room that he had grown so accustomed to seeing in the time of their long journey. It seemed so long ago that he and the rest of the party had left the bulk of the rebel army and, indeed, another lifetime when he had lived in Elothnin, wholeheartedly believing the lies that buttress his monarch’s ill-begotten regime. The lad felt more than a little sadness at the prospect of losing one of these familiar faces – unless of course it was Glothnafar’s swarthy visage, he thought, though he doubted this would be the case.
“I’ll do it,” Citrene volunteered. “I mean, this journey’s been interestin’ an’ all, Jelli, an’ I’ll certainly miss ta lot o’ ye, but not even ta thought o’ goin’ wit’out kisses from Naki is enough ta keep me away from where ta real fightin’ is.” As he was sitting right next to the red elf, Jarthen could observe that Rethnaki’s normally rubicund complexion darkened slightly at this remark. Elcrona, who was sitting on Jarthen’s other side stiffened as well, but the lad did not observe this.
The daring and flirtatious Citrene“Ah Citrene, ye’ll be missed by ta lot o’ us tha’s fer sure – mostly o’ all by Naki I’m sure, but ye’re doin’ us a great service in this,” Jellihondor spoke, with a look that dispelled any doubt about the sincerity of his gratitude.
As the rebels murmured their thanks and sadness that she would be leaving them, Zartheim rose to his full height and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Now, I’ve been thinking about this a great deal, so by no means should you think that I’ve come to this decision lightly or am making it in any haste,” the giant said in a voice trembling with emotion, as his eyes glistened with as yet unshed tears. “I’ve decided that I can better serve the lofty aims of our cause by remaining here, working to gain the sympathies and support of my people. Jellihondor has informed me that there is a great potential for assistance from some of the major tribes, that could provide us with invaluable aid and comfort,” the giant concluded, tears streaming down his great cheeks. “I will miss you all so much,” he said with a tremulous voice.
“Aye, lad,” Jellihondor said in a consoling voice as he patted the giant’s back, “ye’re needed here and don’t fear, ye’ll be able ta rejoin ta army soon enough.”
Jarthen felt his heart sink at the thought of not having the great, jovial giant to tell his lively, engaging stories around the evening smoking circle. Casting his dignity and caution to the wind, Jarthen could not restrain himself from jumping to his feet and throwing his arms as far as he could stretch them around Zartheim’s massive frame in a passionate embrace. Though they both had tears in their eyes, Jarthen knew that his giant friend had to pursue this mission for the good of the cause, and the only thing he could say was goodbye.
Although most members of the rebel army were sympathetic to the young human’s display of affection, Helkint couldn’t help himself from chuckling a little and remarking, that “Jarthen’s actin’ like a wee baby – wah, wah, wah.”
Tlin, whose jaw had been set for sometime was unmoved by Helkint’s quip. As soon as the entire party had finished bidding a fond farewell to Zartheim, Tlin rose as well, and caught the attention of his comrades. “Listen, no offense ta none o’ ye, an’ particularly not ta ye, Jelli,” Tlin said somewhat sheepishly, gesturing to Jellihondor as he did so. “I’ve been ha’in’ me doubts about this here mission fer a while now, an’ I was t’inkin’ tha’ I migh’ prefer ta jus’ head on back wit’ Citrene.”
Jellihondor responded immediately that this would be fine, and had just finished telling him that he bore the young elf no ill will when Helkint let forth a prodigious wail of grief. “Tlin! Tlin! What are ye thinkin’ mate?” he asked frantically as he scrambled up to face his best friend. “How can ye do this ta me? I thought we agreed tha’ we’d stick tagether to ta end!”
“Well, uhm, ye see,” Tlin said struggling to find words to console his teary-eyed friend. “It’s jes’ tha’ this isn’ really what I signed up fer ye know, an I was thinkin’ tha…”
“Not what ye signed up fer? Not what ye signed up fer? How can ye say tha’, mate?” Helkint rejoined in disbelief, before lowering his voice and saying, “Far as I can recall, we signed up fer adventure, an’ near as I can tell, tha’s wha’ we’re on!”
“Look, I jus’ think tha’ I can do more fer ta cause wit’ ta rest o’ ta army.”
“But yer on ta mos’ impor’ant mission possible! What we’re doin’ here, this is impor’ant! Ye’ve got to…ye’ve got to show tha’ ye care! Tha’s it! Show tha’ ye care!”
Tlin looked around at the rest of the rebel party, whose reactions ranged from disbelief at Helkint’s dramatic outburst to amusement at its folly. Realizing that there was no way he could extricate himself from this increasingly embarrassing situation without conceding to Helkint’s pleadings. Tlin threw his hands up in exasperation, exclaiming, “I’ll be stayin’ wit’ ta party then.” Helkint, clearly overwhelmed with joy, threw his arms around his utterly mortified friend who tried his best to sit down as inconspicuously as possible.
Most of the party only snickered softly at this exchange, but Sellior could not contain his laughter at poor Tlin’s plight. Indeed, it wasn’t until Jellihondor had called for quiet three times before the elf’s laughter was sufficiently stifled to allow Jellihondor’s being audible. “Alrigh’ lads,” he said, gaining the attention of the bulk of the party, “as much as I know tha’ we’re goin’ ta miss our comrades wha’ are goin’ ta be leavin’ us, there is more yet tha’ we must attend ta.”
McNab did not fully answer Bertornius’ question until he had finished his meal. He spoke again while he sat packing his pipe for a post-dinner smoke. “As it happens, I do have some news fer ye, boys.” He paused and took a long, slow puff of his pipe, enjoying the fidgety anticipation of his three young wards before continuing. “Me sources have finally come through with some interestin’ bits o’ information, and word is that we’re to be relocated -- ” As he had expected, McNab was cut off quite suddenly by a flurry of questions.
“Where are we goin’?” asked Nelhoepher.
“Really!? When are we leavin’?” asked Lem.
“What’s the information? I know you’re not supposed to tell us, but what was it!?” asked Bertornius, his burgeoning professional curiosity thoroughly piqued.
“Can ye get me some better trousers when we get there?” asked Lem, who had been wearing a truly immense pair of pants, held up only by a firmly tied rope which he was using as a makeshift belt, the both of which had been requisitioned from a local clothesline for the last few days.
“Which source was it: the gnome or the satyr? Or was it a different one altogether? Or was it more than one?” Bertronius queried further.
“Are there pretty lasses where we’re headed? I do hope so!” said Nelhoepher excitedly.
McNab raised his hands to quiet them down. “Now, I can’t tell ye nothin’ much ‘cept I lucked inta somthin’ important. I’ll tell ye this: we’re followin’ a lead ‘bout a smaller bit o’ the Rebel Army, and we’re bein’ takin’ off detailin’ the movements o’ the bulk o’ it.”
Bertronius, who was especially eager to learn the tricks of the trade after the incident in the sprite-infested clearing, interrupted again. “When did you find out? Did you just find out, or was it a few days ago? How long does it take to get a letter of relocation, anyway? Was the information offered voluntarily, or did you trick it out, or charm it out, or what?”
McNab looked a bit thrown that the young auburn-haired spy was showing such interest in the minutia of the relocation. “Oh…uh, ne’ermind ‘bout the details, Bert. Don’t matter much now, do they?” he said, brushing off Bertronius’ many questions. McNab recovered his compsure in an instant, and continued, now sporting his characteristic dashing, confident grin. “To answer some o’ yer questions: yes, Lem, ye’ll have new pants, and we’re to stationed in Susselfen ‘til further notice. Now pack yer shite up! We’re leavin’ at dawn tomorrow.”
The revelation of where they were heading instantly drove everything else from Bertronius’ mind. He marveled at the serendipity of it: every day since his meeting with Flumpert he had wished he had been sent to Susselfen instead of Perejin! Finally his position as a spy was paying off as he hoped it would, allowing him to stalk ever closer to his unaware prey, the man responsible for Jarthen’s death. Though his mind was consumed with thoughts of exacting well-deserved vengeance, Bertronius could not help but feel a little guilty when McNab placed a firm, fatherly hand on his slim shoulder, for he knew that his pursuit of Larthon Ractor would likely require him to deceive his mentor many times in the near future.
"This lot," he said, gesturing to the three figures who were obscured by the rather low light in the room, "is goin' ta help us secure a guide through ta Dark Lands."
Jarthen, who along with Rethnaki were fast upon Jellihondor's heels and the first to enter the parlor was more than a little surprised to see that the room contained an oddly silver-hued elf that the lad recognized as a tinker, and a pair of felintarks. Though he was by now quite at ease among the hitherto alien and unfamiliar races that dominate the Rebel Army, the young human felt strangely discomfited by these strangers. In particular, Jarthen found that the eyes of the female felintark -- she was in every aspect the essence of exotic beauty -- seemed to pierce him to his very soul.
When the rest of the rebel party including those members who would not be continuing on the journey had crammed themselves into the parlor, Jellihondor addressed the group as a whole in a cheerful, diplomatic voice, "Well, I reckon' 'tis time fer some introductions."
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