Storm Rider Lasniniar Collection

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

A Bittersweet Reunion

Barlo was happy to be setting out from Melaquenya the next morning. The situation with Iarion’s mother had become bothersome. Iarion had spent most of the previous evening trying to comfort her with the help of his father, but she remained inconsolable. Barlo could tell Iarion’s nerves were wearing thin. Once again, he counted himself lucky Narilga wasn’t such a bundle of emotion, or he never would have managed to leave Dwarvenhome.

Eransinta held Iarion’s hand as they walked to the southern border of the wood. The rest of Iarion’s family—minus his older sisters—accompanied them. Iadrawyn had not said why, but she had insisted they see Iarion and Barlo to the edge of the Light Elves’ domain. Barlo suspected she knew something he didn’t. Even without visions from the Quenya, Iadrawyn’s intuition would be strong. He only hoped whatever she thought was going to happen would be worth the drawn-out parting. At this point, he just wanted to get on with Iarion’s quest.

Two white-haired figures stepped out from among the trees. Barlo suppressed a groan. They were Silvanonriel and Eranras, Iarion’s sisters. They called out a few words to Iarion in Elvish as they approached. Barlo might not understand their speech, but he recognized their mocking tone. The group stopped their procession. Iarion said nothing, giving them a flat stare.

“Is he ignoring us?” Eranras asked her sister in Common, looking up. She was the shorter of the two.

“Perhaps he wants us to speak a language his tame dwarf can understand,” Silvanonriel said. Barlo ignored the insult.

Iarion turned to face his mother. “Why are they here?”

Eransinta flushed. “I told them everything. I thought they should be able to say farewell to their brother.”

“So it is true!” Eranras’s blue eyes widened. “You are actually leaving to follow this so-called vision of yours.”

“What I cannot believe is that the rest of you are taking him seriously,” Silvanonriel said, her gaze falling on Iadrawyn. “Grandmother, you humor him too much.”

“You know nothing of which you speak,” Iadrawyn said, her voice gently chiding.

Silvanonriel’s golden eyes flashed. “I know that Iarion has had some vision—”

“—that did not come from the Quenya,” Eranras interjected.

Silvanonriel nodded. “... that did not come from the Quenya—and now he is going to run off after it. Honestly, Iarion, even if you do find something, what are you going to do against a dragon? The entire scenario is ridiculous.”

“Silvanonriel is just upset she lost the bet,” Eranras said. “When she told the others, she insisted there was no way Iarion would be foolish enough to wander the south lands on his own.”

“Others?” Iarion asked in a strangled voice.

“We told everyone after Mother told us,” Eranras said, shrugging. “It just seemed so absurd. At first, everyone was sure we were joking, but Iarion does have a certain reputation.”

“I told you in confidence,” Eransinta hissed.

Curuadil held her back. “The damage is done. This changes nothing.” His gaze shifted to his daughters. “Perhaps you had best say your farewells now and be on your way.”

“Very well,” Silvanonriel said. “Farewell, Iarion. Try not to get yourself killed. At least we will be free of your gloomy predictions while you are gone.” She turned and stalked off into the forest. Eranras trotted behind her, turning back for a moment to give Iarion a wave.

For a moment, Iarion stared after them, his hands balled into fists. Then he sighed and turned away, facing south once more, and led the procession through the forest. No one spoke, although Eransinta fawned over her son as they walked, clearly craving his forgiveness. Iarion ignored her.

The spring morning grew warmer as the trees became spaced farther apart, allowing more of the sun to shine through. Birds chirped among the branches and a fresh breeze blew from the east. Barlo inhaled deeply. It was a good day for starting an adventure. Sinstari paced at his side, whiskers twitching.

As the trees fell away, the Rolling Hills came into view. The gentle rises were covered in a thick carpet of green, embracing the southern and western borders of the elves’ wood. Everyone stopped walking, and an awkward silence fell over the group. The time had come to say good-bye.

Sinstari raised his nose in the air, sniffing. He looked out at the hills and started sniffing again.

“You can go hunting in a minute,” Barlo said in a low voice. He felt uncomfortable enough as it was in the midst of what should have been a private, family moment. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself.

Sinstari bounded off into the hills. Barlo stifled a curse.

Blasted cat! Should I go after him? It might be a good excuse to give them all some time alone...

Before Barlo could make up his mind, Sinstari returned. An elf woman followed him, a bow, quiver, and pack slung over her shoulder. Her dusky skin and dark hair set her apart from the others of her kind, marking her as a Shadow Elf, but her resemblance to Iadrawyn was unmistakable. Barlo’s heart leaped in recognition.

“Silvaranwyn!” He ran toward her and she crouched to embrace him. “It’s good to see you. How are the children?” In this case, ‘children’ was a relative term. The twins were nearly two hundred fifty years old. But they would always be children to Barlo, who had been there when they had been born.

Silvaranwyn gave a musical laugh as he pulled away. “It is good to see you as well. Eranander is engaged to be married, and a brave young man has begun to pay court to Linwyn, who is still just as fiery as her namesake. They both send their love to their Uncle Barlo.”

Barlo suddenly remembered the other elves standing behind him. He hurried to step aside, feeling flustered.

Silvaranwyn turned to face Iadrawyn and Valanandir. “Mother, Father,” she said in a soft voice.

Both elves came forward to wrap her in an embrace. Andirlynia and Curuadil joined them, each hugging their sister in turn. No one spoke.

When the moment had passed, Silvaranwyn turned to the others, her silver eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Eransinta,” she said. “I have not seen you since you reclaimed your birth name. Congratulations on your future child.” She gave Iarion’s pregnant mother a gentle hug, which Eransinta returned with genuine fondness.

Silvaranwyn turned to face Eransinta’s son. “Iarion. We are family now. Will you not greet me properly?” She smiled.

“Of course,” Iarion said with a grin, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “I just didn’t want to intrude. I’m not part of the original family, after all.”

“You will always be welcome among us.” She pulled away as she spoke, looking deep into his eyes.

Barlo could contain himself no longer. “Forgive an old dwarf for being blunt, but why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in Belierumar, helping the twins rule?”

Silvaranwyn closed her eyes for a moment before speaking. “When I was a Light Elf, my connection with the Quenya was stronger than that of most elves. When I faded to become a Shadow Elf, that connection became tenuous at best. Nearly a week ago, I felt something inside me, pulling me here. I have been camped in these hills for three days, waiting for something to happen.”

Barlo suppressed a sigh.

Another vague premonition. I should have known.

Silvaranwyn looked at Iarion, her head c****d to the side. “You are going somewhere, aren’t you?”

Iarion nodded and outlined what had happened over the last several days, including his decision to travel south. Silvaranwyn listened intently, nodding to herself occasionally as Iarion spoke.

“I believe I am meant to go with you,” she said when he had finished.

Iarion gave her a measuring look. “Are you certain? It will be dangerous.”

Silvaranwyn matched his gaze. “Even more dangerous than when we faced Saviadro? I am no stranger to darkness and fear. I may no longer have the magic I once did, but I knew as soon as I saw you here today that I was drawn here because of you.”

Iarion held up his hands in a calming gesture. “I meant no offense. I just don’t want to be responsible for leading anyone to their death. If you are meant to come, Barlo and I would welcome your company.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Will you need to send word back to Belierumar?” Barlo asked.

Silvaranwyn shook her head. “I told the children I wanted to wander the lands for a while. They will not expect me to return anytime soon. They can get along well enough without me.”

Barlo frowned. “But what if something happens to you—to us? Don’t you want them to know where you’ve gone?”

Her expression became weary. “I have been living among Greater Men for too long, Barlo. They are a noble, proud people, and I will always be fond of them, but I cannot bear to stay in Belierumar any longer. I have seen too many grow old and die while I remain unchanged. My own children have lived for two and a half centuries. They do not need their mother watching over every decision they make, and I do not want to watch them wither in old age. I have already lost Golaron. I don’t think I could bear the loss of my children. They are all I have left of him.”

Silvaranwyn sighed. “When I left the city, I was deliberately vague about the length and destination of my journey. Whether or not I survive our journey, I do not intend to return.”

Barlo was speechless. He couldn’t imagine just leaving his family like that.

But what if Narilga had already passed on? That might change my point of view.

Iarion broke the silence. “If we’re going to leave, we should do it soon if we want to make any kind of distance before nightfall.”

Iadrawyn and Valanandir stepped forward to embrace their daughter once more while Iarion said a few last words to his mother in private, his father holding her steady.

“Your father and I are so proud of you, and we all miss you terribly,” Iadrawyn said to Silvaranwyn. “Please come back safe.”

Silvaranwyn dissolved into tears and replied, lapsing into Elvish. Her family huddled around her, speaking softly to one another in the same, musical language. Barlo stood to the side, feeling out of place once more until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Iarion giving him a nervous smile. He had somehow managed to escape his mother’s clinging grasp.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Barlo snorted. “I was ready an hour ago! Do you elves need to drag everything out so long? We don’t all live forever, you know.”

Silvaranwyn joined them. She had wiped the tears from her cheeks, but her eyes were still red. She wore a determined expression. “Let’s go.”

About an hour later, Melaquenya had disappeared. Barlo, Iarion, and Silvaranwyn were surrounded by grassy hills, Sinstari ranging ahead of them. No one had spoken since their departure. Barlo had spent the time lost in thought, wondering what Narilga was up to and what lay ahead of them. He had brought his own ink and parchment to chart their progress. If nothing else, they would return with a decent map of the south lands.

He watched Iarion and Silvaranwyn as they walked ahead of him. It was a bit strange to see them side by side. On their last quest together, it had been Silvaranwyn who had been the Light Elf, and Iarion had been the Shadow Elf. Now their roles were reversed. A sudden thought occurred to him.

“Iarion, if we’re going to be away from Melaquenya for a while, does that mean you’ll fade like Silvaranwyn did?” he asked.

Iarion halted, looking back with a frown. “I... don’t know. I never gave it any thought. I leave Melaquenya all the time, but you’re right. I’ve never been on a prolonged journey.” He gave Silvaranwyn a look of concern.

She walked back to join them. “I would not worry. My connection to the Quenya was very strong. I used it several times when we were traveling to aid our quest. Each time I used it, my connection grew weaker until I faded completely. Now it is only a mere thread. Your connection is not as strong. Have you ever channeled the Quenya’s power to perform magic?”

Iarion shook his head. “I wouldn’t even know how.”

“Then you will fade at a slower rate,” Silvaranwyn said. “You might fade somewhat if we are gone for several months, but if you return to Melaquenya, you will be renewed. It would take much longer for you to fade to a Shadow Elf.”

Iarion breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear it. I might not have much of a connection to the Quenya, but it’s all I have.”

Silvaranwyn gave him a long look. “Never take it for granted,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” Iarion said. “I remember what it was like to not have one at all.”

Silvaranwyn gave him a satisfied nod. “Good. Let’s keep moving.”

She turned south and continued walking without looking back.