Gawain smiled back, remembering the first time he'd seen her. "How could I have harmed you?"
She blinked, and smiled, and then turned her head and called softly "See-eelan."
There was a rustling as a heavy skin curtain was parted, and a slender elf wearing a concerned expression appeared beside Elayeen. She spoke to him briefly in her own language, and he with her, and then the man reached down to feel Gawain's pulse at his neck, and his brow.
The healer spoke again, smiled at Gawain, and left the room.
"Am I to live, then?" he asked.
"Yes, Traveller, you are to live."
Gawain saw a brightness in her eyes, a strange mixture of joy and sadness, but the smile and the tenderness of her touch seemed somehow to stem the question forming on his lips. For the moment, at least, he would be content.
"You should sleep, Elayeen." He whispered. "You look tired."
"I shall, when you do. Now that the danger has passed."
"Gwyn…" Gawain suddenly remembered, and made as if to sit up.
"Is well, and well tended. The children adore her, and are caring for her like a beloved pet."
"My sword?"
Elayeen's eyes clouded briefly. "Is here, not far from your arm. It is heavy, and few would touch it."
"You brought it here though." Gawain knew, instinctively.
"I did." The elfin shuddered. "I thought it important to you."
"It is. Thank you."
"No thanks are needed."
"Yes, Elayeen, they are. You have given me back my life."
The curious sadness seemed to wash over her again, and she looked down at his hand in hers. As she tilted her head, Gawain caught sight of something he had not noticed before. There was a streak of black in the long silver-blonde hair, running the length of it from above her right brow.
"What troubles you, my lady?" Gawain whispered, gently squeezing her hand.
"You will leave Elvendere when you are well?"
"I must."
She nodded, knowing the answer before he spoke it, and when she looked up into his eyes again the sadness shining deep within the hazel-green was profound.
"But," Gawain smiled, "I fear that may be some time. I don't seem to be able to move my legs."
"It will pass quickly."
His brother's words rang in his ears, an unbidden memory…"Not for some considerable time, I hope!” and Gawain closed his eyes, hoping to keep a tight hold of the warmth and contentment that seemed to flow like a river from Elayeen's hand into his.
But the elfin was right. The next time he awoke he had full command of his aching body again, and could sit up unaided. He was growing stronger, and able to eat. A day after that, the healers came, and two elven whitebeards. The latter, he did not welcome. They eyed him with a mixture of cold disdain and fear, and as soon as the healers had made their pronouncements as to his health, the wizards spoke long and harshly to Elayeen.
Seeing her spoken to in such a manner fired the embers glowing within him, and a familiar cold anger began to spread in his chest. Seeing her obviously defer to the whitebeards' instructions simply reminded Gawain of the world beyond Elvendere, and his heart began to harden again.
When the whitebeards left with the healers, Gan entered the room. He looked at Elayeen as one would regard a dying friend, and then his gaze flickered to Gawain.
"Traveller. You are well?"
"I am recovering, friend Gan."
"Then the wizards are right, Elayeen. It is neither seemly nor necessary for you to remain here."
"But brother…"
"Elayeen." Gan responded firmly, but with great compassion.
The elfin sighed, and looked once more upon Gawain, and he saw pain and yearning in her eyes before she smiled, and left the room.
"You must understand," Gan said quietly, "It is not seemly for Elayeen to remain, now that you are able to tend to your own needs."
"I do not understand, friend Gan, but if these are your customs, I shall respect them. Am I forbidden then to speak with her, even outside these walls?"
Gan looked mortified. "Of course not! You may speak with anyone you wish! But…it is not seemly for my sister to remain by your side here, now that you are stronger."
Gawain nodded. "The whitebeards spoke harshly."
"Whitebeards?"
"Wizards."
"Ah. You speak our language?"
"No. But I have heard enough of it to know the difference between gentle tones, and crueller ones."
Gan seemed momentarily distressed, and fought some internal struggle for a few moments before replying. "We have a duty," was all he said in response.
"As do I."
Gan hesitated, and again Gawain could see the young elf was struggling against unknown orders. "You will leave soon?"
"Am I no longer welcome?"
"You are welcome, friend Traveller."
"I must leave soon. You have been told of the dark riders who wounded me thus?"
Gan nodded, and frowned. "The scouts reported your terrible battle."
"That is why I must leave as soon as I can. Those creatures were sent against me by Morloch, or so the whitebeards say. In this, and this alone, I believe them. If I remain, more will come, and I would not bring such destruction into Elvendere."
"No more have been sighted. Our scouts range the length of Elvendere as far north as our lands extend. No more of these dark riders have been seen."
"Yet they will come."
"Perhaps. But you need not speed your departure on their account. Take time, regain your strength. If Morloch has loosed such forces against you, you shall need it."
Gawain turned his head, and regarded the longsword propped against the wall beside the head of his bed. When he turned to Gan again, he saw the elf shiver.
"Until the morning, then." Gan announced, and left Gawain alone.
Strange people, Gawain thought, but when he closed his eyes and settled, it was the yearning in elfin eyes that won the battle between memories and guided him to sleep.
Dawn the next day found Gawain dressed, and with the longsword slung over his shoulder. His muscles ached appallingly, and the wound in his right thigh where the crossbow bolt had struck him was sharply painful when he stood.
The bolt had passed through his leg at an acute angle, the entry and exit wounds about an inch apart when Gawain lifted the bandages and pads to satisfy his own morbid curiosity. Perhaps that had saved him, he didn't know. If the poisoned point had remained buried deep in his flesh…
When Gawain lifted the heavy curtain door aside, he was surprised to find himself standing on a small walkway overlooking the forest floor some twenty feet below him. A loud and familiar whinny shattered the morning stillness, and he glanced across the clearing to where Gwyn stood prancing happily, her head bobbing.
Gawain smiled at the horse, and then a rare chuckle escaped his throat.
The elven children had indeed tended her well. Her mane shone, as did the coloured ribbons and threads woven and braided into it and her tail. But her blue eyes sparkled happily, and as the first rays of the sun bathed the forest in warming light, Gawain turned his face to it, and thanked The Fallen for both Gwyn and for himself.
By the time he'd eased himself down the stairway woven into the tree's branches, children were already slipping down ropes, giggling, and racing to Gwyn. The horse was behaving more like a playful kitten or a puppy, prancing and bobbing her head, snuffling at the children and swishing her tail like a dog.
Gawain grimaced with pain and mock disdain at the animal's antics.
A long table in the clearing below the overhead walkway was being laid with food by several elves, and they greeted Gawain politely and invited him to sit. He did so gratefully, every muscle in his body protesting spitefully.
Gan slid gracefully down a rope on the far side of the clearing, and then paused in surprise when he saw Gawain at the table. He strode across the clearing, and sat opposite the warrior, eyeing the hilt of the longsword with a mixture of curiosity and awe.