Gawain eased Gwyn to a halt, and looked down at them.
"Well met friends," he said softly, "Honour to Mornland."
"Honour to you Serre, and to your Lady." one of the crowd announced quietly, respectfully. "The way is clear, Serre, all the way to the slopes!"
"Clear?" Gawain gasped. "Clear how?"
"Rider come through late yesterday, Serre, telling as how the Longsword was bound for Threlland in haste, with his Lady, who is sick."
"You have worked all night at this?" Gawain was stunned.
"Not just us, Serre, others all along the route. The way is clear, Serre, best not tarry, for there's big snow a-coming afore long."
"Thank you…" Gawain whispered, almost dumbstruck by the kindness of these honest, smiling folk.
"No need nor time for thanks, Serre, if you're to be in Tarn before the big snow comes. Best not tarry now!"
Gawain nodded, smiling at each of them, a lump forming in his throat as they grinned up at him. And then Gwyn moved forward, and picked up her pace, trotting sure-footed along the track that stretched before them, clear all the way to Threlland's western slopes.
As night fell, Gwyn slowed, and then up ahead, gleaming lights shone in the distance. Elayeen stirred restlessly, and immediately Gwyn stepped out. More lights appeared, seeming to rise upward into the gloom, until Gawain realised that the lights were following the rise of Threlland's western slopes. As they neared the flaming torches, Gawain could make out dark figures labouring, and closer still he caught his breath.
In the darkness, with heavy clouds boiling over the Teeth, bringing the 'big snow' that the Jurian border guard had predicted, dwarves shovelled snow with grim determination. Gwyn whinnied, knowing that their destination was close, and for a moment all labour stopped as heads swivelled. Then a cry went up, and backs bent to their tasks with renewed effort.
A patrol of six dwarves pressed down the track, their torches blazing and crackling, illuminating wide eyes and smiling teeth.
"Well met, Traveller! The worst is cleared, and not too soon. By dawn there'll be another six feet of this white bane over all Threlland. How is your Lady?"
"She sleeps fitfully…how did you know of my approach?"
"Mornlander guardsmen rode up early this morning. Lord Rak and his Lady await you anxiously, Traveller, and the way is clear. Time for talk when your Lady is safe a-bed and warm. We will lead, by your leave?"
Gawain simply nodded, and the patrol wheeled, and began pressing on up the slope. But for them, and for the sweat of Threllandmen's brows, Gawain doubted that Gwyn could have pushed through the deep and wretched drifts that otherwise would have barred their progress. As it was, fresh tears pricked at Gawain's eyes with each dwarf and torch he passed up the slope. Behind him, he heard the dwarves abandoning their work, their task complete the moment he passed, and when he looked over his shoulder he could see torches meandering up the slope, homeward bound…
On familiar territory, Gwyn dug deep into her reserves, catching up with the patrol before they reached easier going at the outskirts of Tarn. The road was lit with flaming brands, and a crowd had formed in the square, torches marking a clear path that led straight to Rak's house. All of Tarn, it seemed, were out that night, to welcome and clear the way for Traveller, and his Lady.
When at last Gwyn came to a halt outside the familiar stone-built home of Lord Rak of Tarn, Gawain sighed, and looked over his shoulder at the townspeople, already making their quiet ways home. Tears streaked his cheeks.
A flood of light suddenly washed over him as the first new snow began to fall. Rak and Merrin, and behind them, Allazar, stood in the doorway, beckoning him down. Gawain's muscles ached as he carefully dismounted, his back and arms stiff from holding Elayeen so long. A page hurried forward, and led Gwyn away around the side of the house to the stables, and Gawain carried Elayeen over the threshold into Rak's home, and warmth.
Merrin led the way to his room, and once there, threw back the blankets on the bed.
"Hurry, Traveller, she must be freezing!" Merrin whispered urgently, and threw another log on the fire.
"I shall fetch wine." Rak said softly, and hurried to the kitchen.
Gawain laid Elayeen on the bed, and gently prised her hand from under his shirt. Allazar hurried forward.
"No! Longsword, no! She draws strength from you! She is ithroth! It is a miracle she yet lives."
Merrin was about to cover Elayeen with blankets, but paused.
"Allazar, by my sword, what must I do to hasten her recovery? She is so weak…she barely lives…"
Gawain choked, clutching Elayeen's hand to his cheek, kissing her palm.
"Longsword, you must lay with her, hold her close…she draws her very life from you now."
Merrin's eyes widened for a moment, and then without further hesitation, began pulling off Elayeen's boots. Rak returned, bearing a tray laden with food and a flagon of steaming mulled wine. He placed them on a table by the bedside, and seeing what Merrin was doing, stepped forward to help slip the longsword and cloak from Gawain's shoulders.
"You will not be disturbed, my brother." Rak said quietly. "However long it takes. We shall leave food outside your door, and none shall disturb you. You only have to call, and one of us will come, not matter what the hour."
Gawain stood, still clutching Elayeen's hand while he struggled to slip off his snow-wet boots. Allazar dropped to his knees and pulled them off, while Merrin eased Elayeen upright to remove her tunic and blouse.
In moments, Gawain slipped beneath the blankets, and hugged Elayeen's naked body to his. She was cold as ice, and he shivered. Allazar threw another skin over the top of the blankets, and stoked the fire.
"You must hold her close, Longsword…and you must eat and drink for her! It is miraculous she lived all the way from Juria with nothing but her hand on your chest! Were it not for this strange aquamire in you, I fear she would have died in your arms."
"How long?" Gawain gasped, shivering, his teeth chattering with cold as he hugged Elayeen to him.
Rak and Merrin eyed the wizard with concern. Allazar shrugged. "I know not. It may be days, or weeks. It may be never. I know not, in truth. No-one has ever returned from Faranthroth before. There is nothing more we can do. Her heart beats in your chest, Longsword, the rest is up to her, and you. It would have been wiser to have stayed in Elvendere, I think."
"I could not. She is exiled."
"No," Merrin said softly, but firmly, as she lit a lamp and ushered Rak and Allazar towards the door, "She is home."
26. Lull
Gawain held Elayeen close, entwining his legs with hers, wrapping her in his arms, trying to draw her into his very body, that she might live. For an hour or more, his teeth chattered in his head and he shivered violently; never had he known such bone-chilling coldness, or fear. Yet she breathed, he could feel each shallow inhalation in the pressure of her breasts against his. He tried whispering her name, but the sounds were incoherent so much were his teeth chattering.
After a time, the numbness that crept through his flesh began to wane, to be replaced by a strange tingling wherever his skin pressed against hers. Longer still, and the tingling became stronger, as if a something were flowing from him into her wherever they touched. The sensation heightened, and as he rubbed her back he felt the tiniest of jolts through his fingertips.
Then he felt a wave of tiredness wash over him, but fought against it. In the hearth, logs blazed and crackled. Outside, the wind rose, and snow began piling at the windows. In his arms, Elayeen's breathing grew deeper, and she grew warmer to his touch.