Wave Runners Lasniniar Collection

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Disturbance

Iarion had been feeling restless for days. He had tried to find tasks to distract himself, but nothing seemed to hold his focus. He knew his abstracted state was annoying Lodariel. His mate seemed to be spending more and more time foraging Melaquenya on her own. This morning she had finally given him the firm suggestion to leave their home on the southern outskirts of the forest to wander, in the hopes it might help him return in a calmer state. Iarion knew better than to argue.

So here he was in the Adar Daran with his pack on his shoulders. He could have traveled in any direction, but some deep, inner pull was drawing him north. As a Light Elf, he had become used to the silent promptings of the Quenya when he felt them—which was still rare—but this was different. It wasn’t urgent, just a subtle tug, like that of metal filings to a distant lodestone. No ominous visions had preceded the feeling, so he wasn’t concerned, only curious.

Whatever it is, I hope I figure it out soon. If I get lured on some kind of epic journey without telling Lodariel, she’ll be less than pleased.

Iarion tried to enjoy the beautiful autumn day around him as he passed through the tall grass with barely a whisper of sound, but the uncomfortable restlessness continued, gnawing at him like a loose tooth. For a brief moment, he sensed a foreign presence flicker through him. When he tried to grasp at it, it disappeared, making him wonder whether he had imagined it. Only his restlessness remained.

He stopped and took a deep breath in an attempt to clear his mind. A cool breeze tugged at his long, white braids, lifting them from his shoulders for a moment to dance in the air behind him. Despite its chill, the sun warmed his golden skin. The grassland was alive with a hum of activity. Birds chirped, and insects droned, while rodents made small rustling sounds as they scurried about, looking to fill their winter stores.

Iarion frowned. Beyond all the usual sounds of the Adar Daran, something else drifted toward his pointed ears. He c****d his head to listen. It sounded like a voice in the distance, young and high-pitched. His fingers twitched toward his bow, but the voice didn’t sound angry or afraid. He moved toward it in a crouch, loosening his knife from its sheath, just in case.

As he drew closer, he realized he recognized the voice. He stopped and shook his head with a smile. If Paige was nearby, Barlo couldn’t be far behind. He peered through the tall stalks, narrowing his golden-flecked, sapphire eyes. Sure enough, he saw the young dwarf plowing through the grass. Her chattering was accompanied by animated gestures. Barlo walked beside her, leaving no sign of his passage. If he responded to Paige, it was in a voice too low for Iarion to hear. Iarion watched him with a surge of pride.

He’s come a long way from the tromping oaf he used to be.

Iarion crouched motionless with a grin, waiting for the two dwarves to reach his location. At the last possible moment, he sprang out at them with a wordless cry that sounded something like an ogre’s mating call. Paige jumped back with a satisfying yelp, scrambling for her ax, but Barlo seemed unimpressed.

“Hello, Iarion,” he said without batting an eye.

Iarion blinked. “How did you know it was me? I didn’t do anything to give myself away.”

Barlo frowned. “I’m not sure. I just... knew, I guess. And if I hadn’t known before, that awful mating call certainly gave it away. No self-respecting ogre would be drawn by that racket.”

“Oh, really?” Iarion raised an eyebrow. “I know you’ve been up close and personal with a few ogres, but I wasn’t aware your carnal appetites had become diverse enough to have experience in that area.” He winked. “Not that I can blame you. I suppose some people might find an ogre’s pelt luxurious against their bare skin, and their tusks are exotic. Some of the creatures even polish them from time to time. Watch out for fleas though. We wouldn’t want a repeat of The Incident.” Paige smothered a fit of giggles.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Barlo grumbled. “You get fleas once, and you never hear the end of it. You got them too, as I recall.”

“I got them from you!” Iarion spread his arms wide.

Barlo snorted. “If you want to make ogre innuendos, perhaps you should remember I wasn’t the one grappling with them with my breeches around my ankles.”

“Ahem, yes. Well, that was all a part of my strategy.” Iarion sniffed.

“If that was a part of your plan, I don’t even want to know what your endgame was.”

Iarion suddenly noticed Paige watching their exchange wearing an expression of amused bewilderment and remembered the adventure he and Barlo were discussing had occurred before Barlo’s rebirth. He abruptly changed the subject before the young dwarf could start asking questions.

“So, what are the two of you doing in the Adar Daran?”

Barlo’s gaze flickered from Iarion to Paige and back again. “We’re headed for Melaquenya.”

“Why so early?” Iarion asked. “Not that I’m complaining. I just wasn’t expecting you for a few more weeks.”

“I know.” Barlo sighed. “I just can’t do it anymore, Iarion. I’m leaving Dwarvenhome for good.”

Iarion understood exactly what his friend meant, but he chose his next words carefully. “And what about Paige?”

The young dwarf looked as if she were about to speak, but Barlo cut her off. “She knows,” he said in a flat voice.

Iarion’s eyes widened. “You told her?”

Barlo shook his head. “She guessed it on her own. She’s too clever for her own good. Besides, we haven’t always been as careful around her as we should have been, like just now.”

Iarion knew it was true. His and Barlo’s lives—past and present—were so intertwined, it was difficult sometimes to keep things separate. He could only imagine how difficult it must have been for Barlo to live in Dwarvenhome with his friends and family for years, keeping his secret from them.

“What are your long-term plans?” Iarion asked.

Barlo hesitated. “I was hoping... Well, you’re my best friend, and the elves are the only ones who really understand me—”

“He wants to live in Melaquenya,” Paige said. “And I want to come too.”

“Well, maybe not right inside Melaquenya,” Barlo said, flushing. “I don’t want to intrude. Just somewhere on the outskirts, near you and Lodariel. Do you think Iadrawyn will approve?”

Iarion pictured Barlo living only a short distance from his own hut and found himself grinning. “I don’t see why not. You know how much she respects you.”

“And what about the rest of the elves?” Barlo worried at a blade of grass, tearing it into strips. “Will they accept me, do you think?”

Iarion scoffed. “Don’t worry about them. I still get dirty looks from some people when I walk through the forest. The ones who matter will be happy to have you as a neighbor.” He clapped Barlo on the back. “Just remember: universal acceptance is overrated. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.”

“And I can stay too, right?” Paige asked, looking anxious.

Iarion rolled his eyes. “I know better than to try to keep you away from Barlo. Although how you can give him your undivided admiration when there are heroic elves around to look up to is beyond me.” He struck a regal pose, gazing into the distance. Barlo snorted.

Paige drew herself up, making herself as tall as her small stature would allow. “Barlo is the bravest, kindest, most loyal person I’ve ever met.” Barlo gave a smug nod of agreement. “Even if he is a crust who has intimate knowledge of ogres and their fleas,” she added with a smirk.

“Hey!” Barlo elbowed her in the ribs.

She gave him an innocent look, batting her eyelashes at him. “You didn’t expect me to leave that kind of juicy ammunition lying around unused, did you?”

Barlo sighed. “Now I know I’m going to regret letting you come along.”

Iarion led the bickering dwarves toward Melaquenya with a deep sense of satisfaction. Only a few moments later, he realized his restlessness had vanished.

A few hours later, Iarion led Barlo and Paige through the trees of Melaquenya. If he had estimated correctly, the Lord and Lady of the Light Elves should be close to finishing their audiences for the day—the perfect time to discuss Barlo’s plans to become a permanent resident. Most of the spectators would have already gone home, allowing some semblance of a private conversation.

Despite his bold claims, Iarion knew Barlo was right to be concerned as to whether his long-term presence would be accepted by the other elves of the wood. All elves were insular, and the Light Elves were more insular than most. Many of them also tended to hold grudges against the other races over ancient wrongs that were no longer relevant. The last thing Iarion wanted was for anyone to get in the way of Barlo’s request. Although he wished the circumstances might have been different, he was selfishly glad his best friend was leaving Dwarvenhome to settle in Melaquenya permanently.

When Iarion and his companions arrived at the meeting glade, he was surprised to find it empty. Only two intricately carved, vacant thrones stood in the lush carpet of grass. He looked up, trying to gauge the sun’s position from between the gold and green leafed canopy far overhead. Sunset was still an hour away. Iarion frowned.

“I was sure they would be here,” he said, shaking his head.

Barlo shrugged. “Maybe they’ve gone home for the day.”

“No, it’s too early.” Iarion considered, a vague concern taking shape. “The only other place I think they might be is the glade of the Quenya. Perhaps they needed to consult it for some reason.”

Barlo gave him a sharp look, but remained silent. Like Iarion, he would know that if Iadrawyn and Valanandir had interrupted a public audience to consult the Quenya, it was a bad sign.

Paige appeared oblivious, taking in the vibrant scenery. Even though she had tagged along with Barlo to visit Iarion several times, she had never been near the heart of the Light Elves’ domain. Here, the magic of the Quenya was palpable, even to those who weren’t elves. To Iarion, it felt like the warm sun on his skin. Its song of life surrounded him, a constant murmur in the back of his mind.

As he drew nearer to the glade of the Quenya, his skin began to tingle with it. Two elves stood guard at the entrance. Both gave him a courteous nod, ignoring the two dwarves who trailed behind him.

“I am seeking Lady Iadrawyn and Lord Valanandir,” Iarion said in formal Elvish. “Are my grandmother and foster-brother within?” His connections to the ruling lord and lady were roundabout, involving a complex cycle of rebirth, but he figured mentioning them couldn’t hurt.

The two guards shared a look before one decided to answer.

“The lord and lady are within,” he said in a terse voice.

Iarion suppressed a sigh.

“Chatty fellows, aren’t they?” Barlo muttered in Dwarvish.

Iarion was the only elf to learn the dwarves’ secret language, but there was no way the guards had not heard Barlo speak. Still, they kept their eyes glued on Iarion, acting for all the world as if he were standing there by himself.

Iarion schooled his features and gave what he hoped was an ingratiating smile. “Could you let them know we are here, please? The matter isn’t urgent, but there is something I would like to discuss with them.”

The guards shared another long look before the speaker nodded and disappeared into the glade. The other guard continued to hold Iarion under his gaze, standing alert with his bow within easy reach and his hand resting on the hilt of his knife.

“I suppose I’d better not expect a welcome basket if my petition is accepted,” Barlo said, rolling his eyes. Iarion silenced him with a look.

The first guard returned a few moments later, his face expressionless. “The lord and lady will see you now.” He stepped aside to allow Iarion to pass.

“And my friends as well?” Iarion prompted.

The guard blinked. “I had not realized you wished to bring these... strangers into the glade.”

“I would hardly call them strangers,” Iarion said, trying to keep his voice even. He knew the overzealous guards were only trying to protect the Quenya, as well as Iadrawyn and Valanandir. “They have been in Melaquenya many times before. Barlo is a close friend of Lady Iadrawyn, and has visited the glade in the past. If you need to discuss the matter with the lord and lady first, we are willing to wait.”

The guard gave him a hard look before stepping back into the glade. He returned much more quickly this time. “The lord and lady will see all of you at once.” He sounded slightly bewildered as he spoke. Iarion wondered what Iadrawyn and Valanandir had said to him.

Iarion stepped past him, gesturing for Barlo and Paige to follow.

Inside the glade, an enormous tree dwarfed all the others, rising high into the sky. A pulse of shimmering, rainbow light shone from within a hollow in its ancient trunk. Several moments passed before Iarion was able to wrap his mind around the vast presence of the Quenya to notice anything else. He suddenly realized there were more people present than he had been expecting. Beside Iadrawyn and Valanandir stood both their daughters—Andirlynia and Silvaranwyn—as well as a dusky-skinned Sea Elf Iarion had only met once or twice before, but recognized instantly.

“Barlo!” Silvaranwyn greeted the dwarf in her soft, lilting voice.

She stepped forward and crouched to embrace him. Barlo returned the hug, but his face was beet red as he disentangled himself from the breathtaking, golden-haired Light Elf. He had never been one for public displays, but he had known Silvaranwyn a long time, and had even been named uncle to her half-elven children during his previous life.

Andirlynia gave Iarion a knowing smile. “Trust you to upset the guards with a pair of dwarves while we’re in the midst of a serious conversation.” She spoke the Common Tongue for Barlo and Paige’s benefit.

“Whatever did you say to them, Auntie?” Iarion asked her, grinning.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” she asked, tweaking one of his braids.

Silvaranwyn’s lips twitched. “She said some things that were very unladylike. I think it shocked them.”

Although Andirlynia was the elder of the two sisters by thousands of years, they appeared the same age. Both had the same golden skin that marked every Light Elf. While Silvaranwyn had matching golden eyes and red-golden hair, Andirlynia had her father’s long, white tresses and her mother’s green eyes. Silvaranwyn was the more gentle and soft-spoken of the two, but she had endured much hardship during her lifetime, revealing a deep, inner strength. Both had inherited Iadrawyn’s close connection with the Quenya.

Iadrawyn gave her daughters an indulgent smile, but Iarion could see the tension in her shoulders and the concern in her eyes. With her unlined face and her hair only a few shades paler than Silvaranwyn’s, she could easily pass as Andirlynia and Silvaranwyn’s older sister. In reality, she had ruled the elves for millennia. She turned her deep, green gaze on Iarion.

“We are all glad to see you,” she said with a gentle smile. “What brings you to the glade?”

“Begging your pardon, my lady,” Barlo said, “but I believe your daughter mentioned you were in the middle of a serious conversation when we barged in.”

“The matter is more puzzling than concerning at this point,” Valanandir said, giving Iarion, Barlo, and Paige a nod of greeting. “Feoras has brought news from the Sea Elves.”

“Feoras?” Barlo asked in puzzlement before a look of understanding dawned on his features. “Right. Iarion told me he had been reborn a while back.”

The darker skinned elf stepped forward. His features were more angular, his beard was gone, and his shoulder-length hair was silver, but he still had the same bottomless blue gaze that shifted color with his mood. He even wore the same blue-green robes. Iarion had also heard he had also retained most of the power he had wielded during his previous life, and continued to serve as the Learnéd One of Water.

“My people are in distress,” he said, referring to the Sea Elves. “We sense something is wrong, but we do not know what. I came here to see if the Quenya can give us answers.”

“We have sensed nothing like that here,” Iadrawyn said, frowning. “And I have heard nothing from the other elven tribes either. But I do sense a series of disturbances somewhere to the far west. I cannot pinpoint their exact location, and the Quenya has not provided any further information.”

Andirlynia nodded. “We have sensed the same thing.” She gestured to Silvaranwyn and herself. “Why do the Sea Elves feel the disturbances so keenly? We didn’t even know they existed until we went looking.”

“Perhaps they are tied to the Sea Elves somehow,” Silvaranwyn said, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.

Valanandir nodded in agreement. “It makes sense. Even I have sensed something, and I am not overly sensitive where the Quenya is concerned. The other Light Elves who were once Sea Elves say the same.” He turned to face Feoras. “What will you do now?”

The Learnéd One was silent for a moment. “I will have to speak with the elves who accompanied me here, but I believe some of us will journey west to investigate.”

“You will lead them?” Valanandir asked. Feoras nodded. “Will you travel overland or by sea?”

Feoras’s brow furrowed. “You said the disturbances lie to the west of here. Is that in a straight line, or could they be somewhere to the southwest?” he asked Iadrawyn.

“West,” Iadrawyn, Silvaranwyn, and Andirlynia said in unison.

“Whatever it is, it lies to the west of here, if not slightly to the northwest,” Iadrawyn clarified.

Feoras gnawed his lip as he considered. “We should travel overland then. Otherwise, we will have to sail all the way around the southern end of the continent. Some of my companions can sail back to Rasdaria to let them know what we have decided.”

“We will supply you with whatever you need for the journey,” Valanandir said.

“In the meantime, we will continue to work with the Quenya to see if we can learn anything new,” Iadrawyn said. “We will send a gull or Sky Elf to bring you word.”

“Thank you,” Feoras said with a bow. “I had hoped you would know more, but I am grateful for your assistance. If you will excuse me, I will go speak with my companions.” He gave a final nod before leaving.

Valanandir let out a deep breath. “Now,” he said. “On to less serious matters, I hope.” He looked to Iarion. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t talk about it some other time?” Barlo asked, his cheeks red. Now that the moment had come to ask his favor, he seemed nervous, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Barlo has decided to leave Dwarvenhome,” Iarion announced. “If you will allow it, he would like to settle somewhere on the edge of Melaquenya. Paige has decided to come with him.”

Iadrawyn gave Barlo a sympathetic smile. “Secrets can be heavy burdens. I can understand why you would want to leave your past behind and start a new life here. We would have no problem with it, of course, but are you prepared to deal with those who are less open-minded?”

Andirlynia snorted. “You mean ‘pigheaded.’ They could do with some shaking up, if you ask me.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” Paige said. “We’ve already talked about it. I’m going to win them over for him. I may not be an elf, but I’m very charismatic.”

Iadrawyn’s lips twitched in what Iarion suspected was a suppressed smile. “I see. Well, in that case, I hereby invite you both to make your home within the realm of the Light Elves, for as long as you see fit. Do you accept?”

Barlo blew out a breath. “We do. Thank you, my lady.”

The ruling lady shook her head. “Have I not already asked you to call me ‘Iadrawyn?’”

Barlo scuffed his foot. “I know, but I need to set a good example for certain young dwarves.” He gave Paige a dark look. Her use of the word ‘ma’am’ had clearly not met with his approval. She looked back at him with a wide-eyed, innocent expression.

Andirlynia chuckled. “Having you two around promises to be entertaining, if nothing else.”

“Come on,” Iarion said, clapping Barlo on the shoulder. “Let’s get you settled in.”