Then Gawain smiled broadly, and raised a hand in greeting.
"Who is that?" Elayeen asked softly.
"That is Jerryn, and it would seem that like Sarek he too has been promoted. He wears the insignia of Major in the Royal Jurian Guard."
"He is your friend?"
"He was. It was he who aided Allazar and Rak in the plan to fool the Ramoths into believing I was at large in Juria."
"When you were at the Teeth, and I thought you slain."
"Aye." Gawain agreed quietly, and slid his arm around her waist.
"All is well, mithroth, that pain is a far distant memory now."
"Ah. May I not hold you thus, then?"
Elayeen smiled, and brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes as she watched the procession. "In Elvendere, such public displays on occasions like these would be…discouraged."
"We're not in Elvendere."
"Oh!" Elayeen smiled, "It would seem that Major Jerryn is gallant as well as handsome. See how he helps the Lady Hellin from her horse."
Gawain smiled. "Odd how when a complete stranger helps a Lady from her horse, he is deemed gallant and handsome. I've helped you from yours a hundred times and never received such compliments."
"Never have I complimented you? Are you sure you wish to proceed, my lord, in spite of the wisdom friend Allazar imparted not so very long ago, regarding mouths and feet?"
Gawain grinned sheepishly. "Sometimes I wish you were possessed of strange aquamire, mithroth, so I would know when you are truly displeased with me."
"You would know, miheth, believe me. I would have no need of dark shining eyes to convey my displeasure should you ever offend me."
"Longsword! By the Teeth!" a deep voice boomed across the courtyard, and Brock of Callodon strode towards them, his unruly hair billowing in the breezes.
"Callodon." Gawain acknowledged. "Well met, and honour to the Crown."
"Well met indeed, by my sword. I've heard you dead so many times I can scarce believe it is you. But I embarrass myself," Brock beamed happily, and bowed low before Elayeen. "Honour to the Crown, my Lady, it does an old heart good to see such elven beauty in these plain surrounds. I heard it from a Captain in Willam's cavalry you had been sorely hurt. You are well, I hope?"
"I am well, thank you." Elayeen smiled, and inclined her head to both Brock and Willam. "Honour to you both."
"Truly you are recovered, my Lady?" Willam asked solicitously, eyeing the fresh bandage around Elayeen's leg. "Our healers are treating you well?"
"Thank you, they have been kind."
Willam, tall and gaunt, stared into Gawain's eyes. "Juria salutes you, Raheen," he said, his voice tinged with sadness and a little embarrassment. "And your Lady."
"Honour to you, Juria. I am glad to see you recovered."
"Well, are we to stand outside thus," Brock boomed, "Or haven't they finished building somewhere where hungry travellers might eat?"
Willam smiled as the town commander flushed and stammered. "This way, your Majesties. All is prepared."
As they walked towards a long hut at the side of the apartments, Brock suddenly asked:
"What news of Threlland?"
"He is expected within the next few days." Gawain announced. "General Bek sent fast riders north to warn of the Morloch raiders, and Threlland thus proceeds with haste."
"And Elvendere, my Lady, does Thal-Hak join us?" Willam inquired politely.
"I believe Elvendere will await the arrival of Threlland before leaving the forest."
"Ah."
Food and drink was laid out on a long table in the hall, and Gawain noticed that at the far end of the single room, six large chairs had been arranged in a semi-circle, awaiting kings in formal council.
"Does the Lady Hellin not join us?" Elayeen inquired politely.
"Ah," Willam exclaimed, "She has become somewhat preoccupied with military matters of late. Since my…illness, she has taken on certain duties which might at first seem inappropriate for a Lady."
"What Juria means, my Lady," Brock whispered, an impossible feat given the normal volume of his resonant voice, "Is that the Lady Hellin has become somewhat preoccupied with a certain Major in the Guard, and given that dreadful business with the Ramoths, is keen to learn all she can in matters martial."
Willam flushed, though whether from anger or embarrassment Gawain could not tell.
"My husband has acquainted me with his adventures in your land, Juria." Elayeen said, her voice sweet and lilting, "You must be proud of your daughter, and her duty to the crown while you were disabled."
"Yes," Willam admitted, his back straightening. "Yes, I am."
"Will Jerryn be joining us also?" Gawain asked.
"Doubtless." Brock sniffed, loading a plate with roast beef.
"He is a capable officer." Willam said calmly.
"And a good friend." Gawain asserted. "To all lands."
Brock finished heaping food upon his plate, and then announced loudly as the door swung open:
"By the Teeth, Allazar! You live! I thought your head long since fallen to Longsword's blade!"
Allazar smiled, and bowed. "Your Majesties.” Then Allazar turned to Gawain. "Longsword, I have carried out your instructions. They are, as predicted, not best pleased."
"Instructions? Who aren't pleased?" Brock demanded, confused.
"I have given instructions that we are to remain undisturbed, for the time being." Gawain explained.
"Undisturbed by whom?" Willam asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"By wizards." Gawain said flatly. "I would speak with you without their interference. Much has happened."
"This is most unusual." Willam muttered.
"Well," Brock announced, as Jerryn and Hellin walked in, "I for one don't mind a jot. It's you I came to see, Longsword, not a bunch of robed chanters. But first let me eat, I'm starving and fed up with eating plains rabbit."
"You had rabbit?" Allazar mumbled.
"Of course, roasted on a spit." Brock said between mouthfuls, "Juria's plains are full of 'em. Didn't you notice?"
Allazar sighed, and bowed, and mumbling to himself, strode across the bare floorboards to close the door.
"Longsword." Jerryn acknowledged. "It is good to see you well. Honour to you, and to your Lady."
"Well met, friend Jerryn."
"And honour to the Crown," Hellin added, with a graceful curtsey to Elayeen.
"Yes yes, we're all very important people." Brock protested, "Now can we sit at table like civilised ones and eat?"
"It is small wonder," Willam sighed, following Brock's cue and taking a seat, "That my grandfather and yours were constantly at each other's throats. Have you no consideration for protocol?"
"No. That is wizards' business, and Longsword has kindly rid us of them for a while. Besides, I heard it was jealousy over the daughter of a wealthy Jurian trader in rare furs, but I might be mistaken." Brock grunted, "History never was my strongest subject. Now, Longsword, what's all this about war, and what are these 'Morlochmen' I've had garbled messages about from Threlland?"
Gawain sighed, and when Elayeen and Hellin had taken their seats, he drew out a chair, unslung the longsword, and sat.
"There are two armies in the northlands. One to the east of Threlland, one to the west of Elvendere. Some twelve hundred men in all."
"By the Teeth…" Brock mumbled.
"Beyond the Teeth," Gawain said, "Are thousands more."
"If they're beyond the Teeth, then they matter not, surely." Willam opined.
"They do not intend to remain there much longer."
"Threlland and Elvendere can deal with a bunch of Ramoth mercenaries left over from those dark days, I would have thought." Brock said, and took a swig from a goblet of mulled wine.
"Doubtless." Gawain agreed. "But these are not mercenaries. These are Morlochmen, as Eryk of Threlland has dubbed them."