She was still sleeping deeply when, as afternoon sunshine knifed through a tiny crack in the curtains, the door was pushed aside, and Gan stepped softly into the room.
Gawain eyed him, and his glance flickered down to Elayeen. Gan nodded, and crept closer.
"Traveller…I have news." Gan whispered, his face sombre, but his eyes filled with relief when he saw how contentedly his sister slept.
"News?"
"There is much turmoil without."
"What care I?"
"It is you who are the cause of this turmoil."
"For bringing life to Elayeen?"
Gan nodded. "And for setting foot in Elvenheth."
"I would walk fire for her, and cross the farak gorin barefoot. I care not for your customs or superstitions, and if it's whitebeards at the heart of it, then pity them, for I shall not stay my blade against them if it be so."
Gan looked pained. "The people are divided. Some praise you, and say you must indeed be elf, and throth, to have trespassed Elvenheth and crossed the faranthroth for Elayeen. Others say you are Morloch-cursed, filled with darkness, and must be put out of the land forever. They say you have violated Elvenheth, and that Elayeen must yet endure the judgement passed on her."
"I live. She is athroth no longer. Tell them, friend Gan, I do not suffer fools gladly, nor am I to be offended."
"It matters not what I tell them…" Gan's voice had risen in desperation, and Elayeen stirred, but did not wake. Gan dropped to a whisper again. "It matters not what I tell them! Half already side against Thal-Hak!"
"Your father."
"My father."
"Who abandoned Elayeen to the faranthroth."
"It was his duty! Elves do not kill elves! We thought you dead, and could not bear Elayeen's suffering!"
"She shall suffer no more."
"She shall, if you remain here."
Gawain's eyes blinked aquamire. "By whose hand?"
Gan shrugged, and looked down. "We must leave this place, friend Traveller. In my province, we should be safe. Here, with so much division, I do not know. Powerful nobles already challenge my father for the breaking of his judgement, for your trespass…"
"Politics!" Gawain hissed. "I have no interest in Elvendere or its crown. My only interest lays here with me, upon my heart."
"You do not understand!" Gan whispered urgently. "Already it is said that Elayeen is no longer thalin! That she should be shunned as faranthroth! There are those who would kill you rather than see a human throth to Elvendere's royal line! Do you not see? Elves do not kill elves my friend, but they are not so squeamish with human blood! And if they succeed, then what of Elayeen?"
Gawain's eyes darkened further. "Then I shall take her to the safety of Threlland, and these fools have looked their last upon her."
"The Black Hills? The dwarves will kill her!"
"Kill her? What stupidity is this?"
"Everyone knows the dwarves hate us with a vengeance, Traveller, and always have!"
"Who told you this?"
"It is history! The wizards…"
"The wizards are lying whitebeard bastard scum, Gan, and you are a fool to listen to them!" Gawain hissed. "As soon as Elayeen is able, I shall take her to Threlland. Your father's precious throne will be safe."
Gan looked crestfallen. "Your words are cruel as your eyes, Traveller. It is Elayeen we think of, nothing more."
"Then tell me what more I must do to revive her, and I shall take her to safety."
"There is no more I can tell you. No-one has ever returned from faranthroth. All you can do is hold her close, and hope."
"Then tend to Gwyn. Bring food for her and for us. And warm clothing for Elayeen. I leave this whitebeard-cursed forest at dawn tomorrow."
Gan nodded, his shoulders slumped. "I shall do as you ask. Thalangard will escort you, as shall I."
"Good."
Gan looked up, his eyes filled with sadness. "In truth, Traveller? Is Threlland safe for Elayeen?"
"Safer by far than Elvendere, it seems."
In the early hours of the morning, Meeya softly entered Elayeen's room, laden with warm clothing, and heavily armed. With her help, Gawain dressed the still-sleeping Elayeen in fresh warm clothing against the winter waiting on the plains to the east. When all was prepared, Gawain glanced at the tearful thalangard.
"Thank you, Meeya." Gawain whispered, and on seeing the puzzlement in the elfin's eyes, added "For your friendship to my beloved."
"I will come with you, to Threlland.” Meeya whispered.
"No.” Gawain reached out, and touched the braid in Meeya's short brown hair. "You have a husband, and Gan has need of a loyal thalangard."
"But…"
"No. Elayeen is thalin of Elvendere no more. Later, you will understand. Your duty is to Gan-thal, and Thal-Hak. I am now thalangard to Elayeen. It is my life, and my blade, that shall keep her safe."
Meeya nodded, and sniffed, and then hurried from the room. A few moments later she returned, and beckoned Gawain forward.
Elayeen did not stir when Gawain lifted her from the bed, and carried her from the room and down to the clearing where Gwyn waited patiently, laden with supplies and draped in winter blankets. Gan nodded to a contingent of thalangard, and quietly they moved off, leaving the sleeping heartland province of Elvenheth behind them in the darkness.
It was cold, but stars in the pre-dawn sky spoke of a clear day and sunshine to come. Elayeen, cradled in Gawain's arms, stirred restlessly, until her slender hand found a way through his tunic and shirt to his skin beneath, and then she seemed to sleep more soundly. When dawn broke, Gawain had no time to pause for remembrance. Instead, he nodded briefly at the sun, his face set grim. It would be bitter cold on the plains of Juria, and he doubted that the journey back to Threlland would be any easier than it had been to Elvendere.
Birdsong suddenly stilled, there was a thrumming twang, a whizz, and something slammed into Gawain's back. He staggered forward to his knees, instinctively bending low to shield Elayeen. Thalangard hissed orders, bows creaked as strings were drawn, commands were given…Gawain did not understand any of them. But he knew what had happened. The cloak Merrin had given him had saved his life yet again.
Gan strode forward, his face clouded with agony. "Traveller…do you live…?"
Gawain looked up, his eyes flaming black. "I live. Who did this?"
Gan closed is eyes in relief, and then glanced angrily over Gawain's head as the thalangard brought a prisoner forward. Gawain stood, and turned his terrible gaze towards the tall and slender elf who had sought to take his life. And with it, Elayeen's.
"Yonas." Gan spat the name. "On whose orders do you act so treacherously?"
"On the orders of my conscience, Gan-thal, as all loyal subjects do!"
"You are a fool. Had you succeeded, you would surely have killed Elayeen-thalin!" Gan raged.
"There is no thalin! She is faranthroth! Dead! No human shall set foot in Elvenheth, no human shall be throth to the royal line!"
Gawain stared at the elf, every muscle longing to draw the longsword and put an end to his miserable life. 'Suffer no man to draw steel against a crown of Raheen' rang in his mind. But Elayeen stirred in his arms.
"What becomes of this assassin, by your law?" Gawain growled.
"I would see him dead." Gan hissed. "But elves do not kill elves."
"I have no such compunctions." Gawain replied coldly.
Yonas stiffened, and his eyes widened with fear. He had seen his shaft fly straight and true, thirty paces through the trees, and strike exactly where aimed. Yet the longsword warrior lived, and now his own life was forfeit.
"I cannot stay your arm." Gan said, chillingly, regally, and Yonas knew his life was over.
"Let him go, when I am gone." Gawain said. "I would have this one live. For one day, we shall meet again, and Elayeen shall decide his fate."