"Good day, Traveller."
"Good day, Gan. There is a chill in the air this morning."
"I had not noticed." Gan announced, concerned, "Perhaps you should have waited another day before rising?"
"No. I cannot lay a-bed while all around me are enjoying the sunshine. Tell me, friend Gan, I have lost track of time, is autumn upon us?"
"Not yet, though the silvertrees make their preparations for that season."
Gawain glanced around the glade, but all was green and lush. No sign of red and gold, or browning leaves. He sighed, gratefully. Summer this year was a long one. Perhaps winter would not be fierce this year.
Softer footfalls drew Gawain's attention, and he glanced to his left. Elayeen, her hair shimmering in the morning light, strode towards them, her eyes wide and fixed on Gawain's. She looked every bit as beautiful as the first night he'd seen her.
"Good day, Traveller." she said sweetly, approaching the table.
Gawain started to struggle to his feet, but Elayeen hurried to place a hand on his shoulder.
"You are about too soon, I fear." She said, easing him back onto the bench seat.
"I have become unused to my own company of late, my lady Elayeen." Gawain replied as she sat next to him, and earned a curious glance from Gan.
"Still, you should not rush your recovery. The see-eelan will not be pleased."
"The see-eelan?"
"My apologies. The healers."
"Ah."
"You have seen your horse?" Elayeen asked.
"Yes."
"I hope you are not offended, the children are fond of her."
"No, I am not offended. I am more grateful than you could know that she has been so well tended."
While they ate, Gawain became acutely aware that he was being studied by all around him. Elayeen seemed to be trying to hide the small glances she cast his way. Gan was frank in studying not only Gawain, but also his sister. Other elves at table gazed at the warrior with a mixture of curiosity and awe; they'd heard of his ferocious battle on the grasslands at the edge of their forest.
But it was the two elven whitebeards, loitering at the edge of the clearing, who regarded Gawain with obvious hostility. It rankled. Their dark looks cast a pall on the warmth of the morning, and the closeness Gawain felt to those around him.
"This is the glade to which I brought you, my lady, so long ago? I scarcely recognise it."
"It is. We are some distance south from where you fell. There is another province north of where you did battle, but our scouts brought you straight here."
"I must thank them."
"There is no need," Gan announced, pushing away his plate, "And besides, they patrol to the west now, and are not of this province."
"Your name commands respect, friend Gan." Gawain fished, wondering at the elf's official standing.
Gan flicked a quick glance at Elayeen and then at the distant whitebeards before answering. It was not lost on Gawain.
"I am…thal, of this province."
"Then honour to you, Gan-thal." Gawain smiled, his regal inscrutability coming to the fore.
"Thank you." Gan acknowledged, and then stood. "I have duties. We will speak later."
And with that, he left, with a final glance at his sister.
Gawain saw that she had finished her breakfast, and was about to speak when movement caught his eye. One of the whitebeards at the edge of the glade was walking away, following Gan. The other remained, glaring at Elayeen and Gawain.
"I should like to try and walk a little," Gawain smiled.
"So soon?" she asked, her eyes sparkling in the sunshine.
"My muscles are killing me. The only cure for that is exercise. Will you walk with me, my lady, and show me your home?"
She smiled, and her eyes seemed to glow. "Yes, but only for a short time. You should not tax yourself so soon."
"Just around the glade then. And I should greet Gwyn. If I don't tell her how ugly she is from time to time, she becomes vain. All those ribbons and braids will probably make her impossible."
Elayeen frowned. "Shall I tell the children to remove them, then?"
"No," Gawain chuckled, "Forgive me. I have had little practice with humour lately, and it was a poor attempt."
Elayeen stared at him. "Yes. You have suffered much since last we met."
Gawain shrugged, trying to force the terrible memories away, but the only way to do so was to attempt to rise from the bench, and allow the pains and aches to do battle for his attention. They won.
Elayeen assisted him as best she could, and slipped her arm through his before they set off, walking very slowly, across the glade.
Gawain glanced down, and noted that she'd braided the black strands in her hair, so that the lustrous strands hung like a Raheen bowstring.
"Do you wish to rest?" she asked, suddenly concerned.
"No. I was trying to remember. I am sure there was no black in your hair when first we met."
"You studied me so closely then?"
Gawain felt a warm flush, something he hadn't felt in long time. "I did, my lady."
Elayeen smiled. "You are correct. This mark is recent."
"Mark?"
Elayeen frowned, as if struggling to find the right words. "It shows I am become Ithroth."
"I don't understand. What is Ithroth?"
Elayeen gazed up at him, and again he saw the strange mixture of yearning and sadness. She was about to speak, and it seemed to Gawain that a thousand words would flood from her lips, but a harsh voice rasped across the glade.
"Elayeen-thalin!"
Her head snapped around, and she stared at the wizard glowering at her. Then she cast her eyes downward, as if ashamed.
Gawain tensed, ignoring the aches and twinges that shuddered through him. He too glared at the wizard, as if to say "You are close to offending me, whitebeard, very very close."
The wizard held his gaze for a few moments, but then broke the contact.
"I do not like whitebeards." Gawain said softly.
"Nor I." Elayeen whispered, and when she looked up, there was pain, and ineffable sorrow in her glistening eyes.
15. Parting
Days passed, and Gawain clung to Elayeen as she did to him. Gawain did not know why the elfin seemed so happy to be with him, yet so terribly sad at the same time. He knew why he looked forward to her company though. Looking into those large hazel-green eyes kept the memories of Raheen, and Ramoths, at bay.
Elvendere was every bit as serene as his homeland once was. No wonder the elves guarded it so jealously. They didn't have the geographical advantages of a high and impregnable plateau to shield them from the rest of the downland world.
Yet no Ramoths ventured near. No Black Riders thundered remorselessly through the forest. It was puzzling.
What was irritating, intensely to Gawain, was the constant shadow of the whitebeard that followed Elayeen whenever she was in Gawain's company.
They spoke long as they walked around the forest province. From Elayeen, Gawain learned a little of Elvendere's history, and more of their language. From her, he learned how near to death he'd lain for so long.
He told her of his memories, of fire and ice, and pain, though he spoke not of the comfort her beauty provided when his eyes had flashed open in delirium. She smiled, and said that the ice must be from the medicine they called "Eeelan t'oth," a powerful medicine prepared by the elven healers to reduce fever and pain.
"Did I speak, in my madness?" Gawain asked on one of their walks.
"Yes. A little." she replied, blushing.
"What did I say?"
She paused, and gazed up at him. "You called my name. Many times."