Soul Seeker Lasniniar Collection

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Finiferia

Barlo’s head was spinning. Nothing was turning out the way he had expected. He had thought all it would take was a trip to Melaquenya and the Light Elves would solve Iarion’s problem. Now they were going to travel north into the heart of the dark lands on an almost hopeless quest to save the fate of Lasniniar on the slim chance it might help Iarion. Barlo knew it was madness, but he couldn’t abandon his friend.

At least they weren’t going alone. Both Lysandir and the elf princess had magic, which would no doubt be useful. Still, Barlo could not bring himself to trust the Learnéd One.

Lysandir had been raised in the dark lands under the influence of the Fallen One. Now he was going to lead them back to his childhood home and help steal Saviadro’s source of power. Barlo thought it much more likely that Lysandir was returning to his foul master to tell him of the Light Elves’ plan. Barlo resolved to keep a close eye on him.

Iarion trusted Lysandir, which would usually be enough for Barlo, but he suspected this time his friend didn’t want to see what was right in front of him. How Lysandir had managed to fool the Light Elves was anyone’s guess. Barlo would have to stay vigilant if he was going to keep Iarion safe.

The lord and lady led them to another clearing. This one housed a large pavilion of green silk. Their daughter had disappeared.

“You must be tired from your journey,” Iadrawyn said. “We do not often have guests in our wood. I must apologize for your rustic quarters.”

“You will find food and drink within,” Valanandir said. “Take rest while you still can in safe surroundings. We will meet you tomorrow to help plan your course and outfit you with provisions. Sleep well.”

Barlo’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. He poked his head into the pavilion to see what was inside. The interior seemed impossibly large. Beds of twisted wood seemed to grow right out of the ground. They were topped with thick mattresses and pillows, as well as some blankets. But what caught Barlo’s attention was the long, wooden table that stretched the length of the tent. It was heaped with food. The scent of fresh bread, tubers, eggs, and soup filled his nostrils, while bowls of berries and honey promised a satisfying dessert. Several flagons of wine waited to be opened.

“Where’s the meat?” Barlo asked.

“The Linadar revere all life,” Lysandir said. “They do not eat meat. Not even fish.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” Barlo sighed. “Looks good though.” He stepped up to the table and began to fill a plate. Iarion and Lysandir followed his example.

All three of them took their meals outside. A cluster of tree stumps made comfortable seats. They ate in silence.

The sky was beginning to grow dark, but a ring of silver-wrought torches surrounded the clearing, keeping it lit. After a while, Lysandir stood.

“I am going to get some rest,” he said. “I suggest neither of you wait too long before doing the same. We have a long journey ahead of us. Good night.” He smiled and headed back inside the pavilion.

Iarion sipped his drink and sighed. “It’s good to have wine again.”

“It’s not bad,” Barlo said. “But I still wouldn’t mind some ale.” The wine had a clean, fruity taste that tingled as it went down. “Are you sure you want to do this, Iarion?” He turned and looked at his friend.

“I must.” Iarion raked a hand through the unbraided portion of his long, silver hair. “This is the best chance I’ve ever had of discovering my destiny.”

“We could die, you know. Well, you could die. It would take a lot to kill me. You’re lucky I’m coming along to protect you.”

Iarion laughed before turning serious. “I know it will be dangerous. But it’s a chance I have to take. If I don’t survive, at least I will have died trying to do something meaningful.”

“Who knows, we might even manage to save the world! I suppose that would be worth sticking out our necks.” Barlo chuckled.

The two friends sat together, enjoying each other’s company. A few moments later, a strange, sorrowful voice drifted into the clearing. It was a woman singing in Elvish. Her haunting song sounded like a dirge. Goosebumps rose on Barlo’s arms.

He and Iarion sat still as the elf woman appeared between the trees. Her long, white hair floated on the air behind her. Barlo shivered. Impossibly blue eyes looked right through them as she gazed in their direction. She wore an ethereal-looking gown that leached the color from her golden skin. She drifted between the trees as she continued to sing, oblivious of her audience. After a few moments, she disappeared. Her voice faded into the distance.

“What was she singing?” Barlo asked Iarion in a hushed voice.

“She was looking for someone. I think she might be Quenya-touched.” Iarion used the euphemism for someone who was not considered of sound mind. He took a long swallow of wine before standing. “I think I’m going to get some sleep.”

“You go ahead,” Barlo said. “I’m going to stay up a while longer.”

“Good night.” Iarion went back into the pavilion, leaving Barlo on his own.

Barlo sipped his wine and contemplated what he and Iarion had agreed to. How would he explain this to Narilga? He knew his wife would understand his need to accompany Iarion. Sometimes his journeys with his elf friend lasted for months. She wouldn’t worry if he didn’t come back right away.

But she would be upset if he didn’t come back at all.

Still, he couldn’t go home when his best friend was going on a potentially fatal quest. He also knew if he went home to tell his wife what they were up to, it would be even harder for him to leave.

“You are a good friend.”

Barlo was startled from his conflicting thoughts to find the elf princess, Silvaranwyn, sitting next to him. He leaped to his feet.

“My lady.” He sketched a hasty bow.

“There is no need for formalities. After all, we will soon be traveling companions.” She gave him a small smile.

Barlo sat. “Forgive me for saying so, but your parents didn’t seem too happy you’re coming with us.”

“They do not like that I will be leaving our wood, especially to go on such a dangerous quest. But they cannot dispute the wisdom of the Quenya.”

“No parent likes to send their child into danger,” Barlo said. A moment of thoughtful silence passed.

“Did you see another elf on your way here?” Barlo asked. “Iarion and I saw a maiden wandering through the trees, singing. Her song was a sad one. How could anyone be so sad in a place like this?”

“You saw the Lady Finiferia. She is my brother’s wife.” Silvaranwyn’s golden eyes became distant. “Her name was Eransinta once—Eyes of the Heavens. Now she is the Shroud of Sorrow. All elven names have meaning. Did Iarion ever tell you this? His name means ‘Shining Hope.’”

Barlo shook his head. “What does your name mean, lady? What happened to your brother’s wife to make her change her name and become so sad?”

“I am the Maid of Sunset. My parents are learning how apt my title is.” Silvaranwyn’s gaze refocused on Barlo. “Elven names are important. They are given to parents by the Quenya and say something of the child’s nature or destiny. Finiferia is the only elf to ever change her name.

“Twins are rare among elves. Finiferia’s twin was killed during the Age of Sundering in the Kinslaying. Ever since, it has been as though a piece of her were missing. No elf knows what happens to the souls of those whose lives end in violence before they fulfill their destiny. None have ever returned. She has found some measure of happiness in my brother and their two children, but at night she wanders, searching.”

“No wonder she is so sad. But please, what is the Kinslaying?”

“You should get some rest while you can,” Silvaranwyn said. “Iarion and Lysandir are already asleep.”

“Very well,” Barlo said. “If you won’t answer my question, then let’s talk about Iarion and Lysandir. If you’re coming on this quest and only an elf can touch the Quenya, why do you need Iarion?”

“This is Iarion’s quest. I do not believe it is coincidence he came seeking our counsel at the same time Lysandir arrived with news of the Forsworn.”

“Lysandir.” Barlo made a sour face. “Why does he have to come?”

“You do not trust him.”

“I just find it a little convenient, is all. No one has ever escaped Mar Valion before him, and no one else has since.”

“He is a Curusin.” Silvaranwyn shrugged. “He is no ordinary being.”

“Do you trust him?” Barlo locked eyes with the elf.

“I have only met him a few times. He does not often have the chance to visit us. He wanders the lands, searching for news of the Fallen One’s plans. My parents trust him though, and they have known him since he was born. Iarion trusts him, does he not?”

“Yes.” Barlo sighed. “There’s just something about him that doesn’t sit right with me. I’m going to keep my eye on him. But please, don’t say anything about it to Iarion.”

“As I said before, you are a good friend.” Silvaranwyn smiled. “I give you my word. Iarion will learn nothing of your suspicions from me. But now you should get some rest. We will be leaving early tomorrow.”

Barlo yawned, staring out at the forest. “I suppose you’re right. Well, thanks for listening to an old dwarf prattle on. Good night then.” Barlo turned to face the Light Elf, but she was gone.

A whisper came to him from the empty air.

“Good night.”