"Elayeen," he whispered, "Elayeen."
Her eyelids fluttered and opened, and he gazed down into her eyes. Only the faintest spark burned in them, separated her expression from the empty lifeless gaze of a Ramoth acolyte.
"Elayeen.” Gawain sighed, holding her tighter, caressing her brow.
"Mithroth?" she whispered. "I come. Wait for me?"
"No, Elayeen!" Gawain gasped, and clutched her to him. "I live! I am here! Come back to me!"
"You live?" she whispered, the spark in her eyes flaring just a little.
Tears slipped from Gawain's dark eyes as he caressed her brow and rocked her gently back and forth. "Yes, Elayeen mithroth, I live! I live, and so must you! So must you!"
A faint sigh escaped her lips, and she smiled weakly, and sank her head into his chest. For a moment, Gawain's heart lurched, but he could feel her breathing. He gathered her into his cloak and swept her up off the ground, and gasped when his hand touched the bare skin of her thigh. She was freezing cold. Anger, and fear, and a terrible resolve flooded through Gawain like an aquamire blast as he turned to face the elves, still standing outside the circle of faranthroth, still held at bay by Gwyn.
Gawain strode forward, his eyes blazing black, Elayeen held tightly to him beneath his cloak.
"That which you have discarded," he spat towards the King of Elvendere, "I claim as my own." Then he turned his dread gaze upon the surviving wizard, who stood next to the king. "And this I swear, by my blade. If Elayeen dies, I shall fell every tree in this miserable forest until I find you, whitebeard, and bathe in the blood of you and all your kind for what you have done!"
Gwyn whinnied, and stamped on the frozen ground.
"Gwyn," Gawain said softly, menacingly, "Kill any that move to interfere."
The great horse's head bobbed, and she stepped forward, forcing the elves further back against the trees.
"Mithroth?" Elayeen sighed in her sleep.
Gawain glanced down at her. "Yes, mithroth, it is I. I live, and so shall you.” And drawing her closer, he strode away down the track that led from that awful place, Meeya and Gan hurrying behind him, and Gwyn some paces beyond, blue eyes ever watchful.
When they reached Elvenheth, Gawain paused, and eyed the fearful elves that held each other close and watched from behind trees.
"This way." Meeya announced, pointing.
Gawain paused.
"Please." Gan said urgently.
Gawain followed the thalangard as she led the way, through trees and clearings, and finally up a grand and winding stairway woven into the branches of massive silvertrees.
"This is Elayeen's room, here in Elvenheth." Gan said softly.
Meeya parted a heavy skin door, and Gawain stepped inside. It was cold, and dark, and the thalangard rushed to lift the shutters of glowstone lamps that hung from sconces around the room. It was small, and but for the cold would have seemed comfortable and not ostentatious. A large bed of skins lay in the far corner, and Gawain strode forward to it.
As he sank to the bed, keeping Elayeen held tightly to him and wrapped in his cloak, he glanced up at the thalangard. "Bring heat, and food."
Meeya nodded once, and looked to Gan, who nodded too, and she hurried from the room.
"Friend Traveller…" Gan began, his face a picture of anguish and relief, but Gawain silenced him with a dark look.
"I tell you this, Gan-thal. If anyone but you or Meeya approach these rooms, if anyone should hinder me, or stand in the way of Elayeen's recovery…I shall burn all Elvendere to ashes. Raheen will seem more welcoming than this place when I am done."
Gan shuddered, and started when the curtain door parted and Meeya entered, bearing two large cauldrons. Gawain watched while the elfin placed the cauldrons in the centre of the room, lifted their lids, and then poured an oily liquid onto the stones they contained. There was a whooshing, and heat ballooned from the cauldrons, the stones burning with an invisible flame.
"Word came that you had been slain, in Juria.” Gan said softly. "The wizard you slew, he confirmed it. Until then, Elayeen bore the athroth as best she could, but after…” Gan trailed off, his hands trembling.
Gawain held Elayeen closer, caressing her face as he sank back onto the pile of skins. "Meeya."
"Yes?"
"Stand guard. No-one but you or Gan enters this room without dying a heartbeat later. No-one."
"Yes."
"Gan?"
"Traveller?"
"Tell the people not to approach Gwyn. She stands guard below. You may tend her if you wish."
"I shall."
"Now leave us."
The two elves departed in silence, exchanging fearful glances, yet they felt relief too. Relief that there was yet hope for Elayeen.
Gawain held her close, her head on his shoulder as heat filled the room, and he whispered her name, over and over, and told her he was alive, and that she must live too. The only reply he received was her gentle breathing, and for him, as he caressed her head, it was enough.
25. Exile
For two days and nights Gawain held her to him, leaving her side only for the briefest times when nature demanded it. Each time he drew away from her, she sighed painfully in her sleep, and each time he returned to the bed to gather her up in his arms, she sighed contentedly.
Once, Meeya crept quietly into the room, to bring fresh food and to pour more oily liquid upon the stones in their cauldrons, bringing fresh heat to the quarters. She cast a lingering glance towards her sleeping friend, and Gawain nodded gently that all seemed well.
"You must hold her close," Meeya whispered, "so that she can hear your heart, and know you live."
Gawain nodded, and when Meeya had left, he gently unbuttoned his tunic and shirt, moving the fabric aside and laying Elayeen's head upon his bare chest, and the palm of her hand over his breast. He closed his eyes, hoping that somehow she would draw strength from him this way, that his heart would beat new life and vigour into hers while he held her hand and caressed her hair.
On the third morning, while she lay with her head upon his chest and he whispered her name, she stirred a little. It was no more than a gentle flexing of muscles, but soon after he felt her eyelids flutter on his chest. Still he held her hand pressed against his breast, and still he softly spoke her name, and told her he lived, and that she must too.
She lay quietly, listening to his gentle words, and her breathing grew stronger. At length, her eyes still closed, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper, yet her words thrilled him more than any battle-cry.
"Mithroth?" she whispered. "Is this then the yonderlife?"
"No, my Lady Elayeen. This is not the yonderlife. I live, as do you."
She sighed, and nestled closer to him, drawing up her leg so that it rested across his. "You live, mithroth. They said you were dead."
"I live. And the one who lied does not. You are safe, my precious Elayeen, I shall never leave you."
"Never?"
"Never. Had I known…I would never have left you."
"You came back…for me?"
"Yes. As I promised I would."
"If you were able. I remember. I tried so hard to be strong for you, mithroth, so that you would be proud of me when you returned. I tried so hard…but they said you were slain…"
Gawain felt warm tears on his chest, and he held her closer still. "Hush, mithroth," he whispered in the gloom of the glowstones, "I am here."
He felt her draw in a deep and shuddering breath and then let it out in a long sigh as she relaxed. A few moments later, her hand slipped from under his, sliding up to his shoulder.
"I hear my heart beating in your breast…" Elayeen sighed, and slept again.