He never heard them, nor saw them, but like Gwyn, he knew they were there. Not until the trees began to thin, and a clearing became visible ahead, did he see any sign of Elvendere's residents.
But there, ahead in the clearing, a small group of elves, male and female, stood quietly, their hands resting on their longbows, obviously waiting for him. The girl was still asleep, or feigning sleep, when he glanced down at her. No matter. A few more strides, and he was in the clearing, standing face to face with a dozen heavily-armed elves.
"Peace," Gawain said, "Your friend is hurt, and is in need of a healer."
One of the elves handed his bow to a comrade, and stepped forward, and Gawain handed the girl into his care.
"See-eelan!" the man called, and Gawain was amazed when ropes dropped from the branches above and around him, and elves slid down to the ground. They paid no attention to him at all, but hurried to tend the injured elf.
"Well.” Gawain announced. "I am glad your friend is safe. I hope she recovers soon.”
Receiving nothing but curious stares by way of reply, Gawain turned, shrugged at Gwyn, and began to walk away.
"Wait!” a voice called. It was a woman's voice, clear and high and sweet.
Gawain turned, and was surprised to see the elf he had tended sitting up, holding on to the healers attending her.
"My lady?"
"My name is Elayeen."
Gawain smiled. Her eyes were hazel-green in the sunshine, and her hair more silver than gold. "I am called Traveller, my lady Elayeen. Well met, and honour to you."
"Well met, Traveller, and…thank you.” Elayeen smiled, but Gawain thought he detected a hint of sadness about her expression.
With that, the healers lifted her, and carried her away into the trees. Gawain nodded at the others and turned again, only to find his way blocked by more elves.
One of them pointed east, and Gawain decided it might be best to take that direction. He had no desire to offend these strange people who, apart from their fair looks and the slight points to their ears, were no different to any other men and women he'd seen.
Six of them, three men and three women, silently escorted him as he moved through the forest. Within an hour the trees began to thin, and to his surprise Gawain could see open green plains in the distance.
A seventh elf appeared just as he reached the tree line. He was tall for an elf, or so it seemed to Gawain, and had about him an almost regal air. The other elves certainly seemed to defer to him, and to afford him great respect.
"You are called 'Traveller'?" the elf asked in a lilting voice.
"Yes."
"Then well met, Traveller. I thank you for helping my sister."
"I hope she will soon recover."
"I am told that the wound looks worse than it truly is. She was careless."
"The traps were well-made."
"And old. There are many such in the region, set long ago by Jurians to forestall Gorian intruders. Elayeen was careless, and has told me so."
"You have spoken to her?"
"I have. We move quicker through the forest than you humans, though you move well."
"Thank you."
"Elayeen is precious to me. To all my family. We are in your debt."
"No debt is owed. Your sister was the first elf I ever saw, and that is a memory I shall carry with me as long as I live. For that, I am grateful."
"She was the first elfin you have ever seen. In our land, the female is elfin, the male, elf."
"Forgive my ignorance."
"There is nothing to forgive. How could you know? My name is Gan, and I have a gift for you. Should there come a time when you need my help, come to Elvendere. When you are challenged, say this: 'Eem frith am Gan-thal.' You will not be harmed, and I shall come. This I swear."
"I thank you for your gift, friend Gan. But I know how precious your lands are to you. I shall not lightly return to trouble you."
Gan studied Gawain, and then nodded. It was clear to Gawain that the whole business seemed distasteful to the elf, and so with a final slight bow, Gawain called Gwyn forward, and stepped out onto the plains of Juria. When he turned and looked back, the elves were gone.
"Strange people.” Gawain sighed, climbing into the saddle. "Wonder what the dwarves are like?"
5. The Black Hills
Suspicious, farmer Allyn had said. Suspicious indeed if the drawn steel and cocked crossbows were anything to go by as Gawain slowed his horse and approached the camp.
Since leaving Elvendere four weeks ago, he'd travelled north-east across the lush plains of Juria, and was almost at the river which marked the border with the kingdom of Mornland when he'd spotted a campfire glowing in the distance.
Winter was fast approaching, and a bitter northerly wind swept down from the distant Dragon's Teeth and cut through the cloak Gawain drew tightly about him, and if it hadn't been for the tantalising odours of roasting beef wafting from the camp, he'd have passed it by without a second thought. It was not wise to approach a camp in darkness, even in a land as friendly as Juria, and even so close to Mornland, renowned for its gentle people and their gentle ways.
However, a diet of hare and rabbit had become tedious, and although Gwyn was certainly fond of the rich grass that covered the northern plains like a thick green blanket, Gawain's stomach overruled his head, and so he'd taken a bee-line course for the camp and its suggestion of warmth and hospitality…
Only to find himself now confronted by a dozen heavily armed men, all eyeing him with the greatest of suspicion as wood crackled in the flames and meat sputtered on a crude spit.
"Peace, and well met." Gawain called, thirty paces from the line of steel directed at him.
"Who are you, stranger, and what mean you here?" a gruff voice called back through the gloom.
Gawain knew why they were suspicious, and had their positions been reversed, he'd have felt likewise. From his vantage, high upon Gwyn's back and looking into the camp, he could clearly see the men silhouetted against the bright flames of their fire. Clear enough to make them out, and to see that most were of small stature though broadly built, two were females, and three were taller and more slender humans.
From their point of view, though, they could see nothing but darkness stretching to infinity, and hear nothing but Gwyn's footfalls and Gawain's voice. For all they knew, there could be a hundred brigands out there.
"I am Traveller, by name and nature. I am alone, and though armed, I mean you no harm."
"Come closer then, Traveller, until we bid you stop. Have a care, though, there are bolts a-plenty strung and aimed at your heart!"
Gawain smiled to himself. Aimed at his heart? From what he could see, the closest would pass him harmlessly by a good twenty paces. However, hungry and chilled though he was, he had no intention of offending the strangers at their camp, and for all he knew, they could be brigands themselves. It was for that reason an arrow was gripped, tightly strung and ready for throwing, in his right hand, and his sword was loose in its scabbard.
As he drew nearer, he could see that these travellers were no brigands, and could see two other reasons why they were so suspicious. They were carrying large bundles of goods, which were neatly stacked by their horses, and one of the women was evidently with child.
Gwyn walked slowly and cautiously, ears pricked and tail swishing. At the first offensive move from the campers, Gawain knew his horse would charge to the left and flail the tight knot of men with her hooves, leaving him free to use his right arm…
"Stop there, Traveller!" the voice called again, and this time Gawain could see that it came from one of the dwarves, a thick-set and burly man of perhaps twenty years, curly black hair framing his square-jawed face. He was by no means a fearsome-looking man, but the battle-axe clenched casually in his right hand was handled with the same careless ease Gawain displayed with his own weapons.