He ran at a steady pace for twenty minutes, and then smiled grimly, spotting a perfect place from which to lay in wait. He drew an arrow from his quiver, strung it in readiness, and then carefully picked his way across the broken edges of the farak gorin. Rocks and shattered bitchrock, doubtless thrown up in a small heap during the earthquake, seemed to form a gentle ripple on the shoreline of the shimmering brown river of nothing. Gawain wrapped his arrowsilk cloak tight around himself, and lay down flat on the wet bitchrock rubble, waiting and watching.
Thirty minutes later, the group emerged into view, walking slowly, heads swivelling, scanning the trees. Gawain felt a degree of satisfaction; Sarek had put Allazar in charge of Gwyn and Sarek's own horse, leaving the Threlland officer's hands free to handle the large crossbow he carried cocked and bolted. Rak held the reins of both his horse and Elayeen's, and the elfin was walking with her bow at the ready, an arrow knocked in the string. Even with her cloak drawn tight about her, and with her hair bedraggled and soaking, she looked beautiful, and alert, and the black braid stood out starkly against the silver-blonde tresses.
The thalangard had tethered their horses' reins to their belts, and were walking with elven silence in the rearguard, their bows at the ready.
But then Gawain sighed quietly. All were scanning the trees. None so much as cast a glance out across the farak gorin, not even Sarek. Gawain waited until they had passed, then rose up like a shadow, braced, and hurled his shaft…and watched as it whizzed fifty paces, inches over their heads, to slam into the trunk of a tree they were passing.
The effect was as he'd hoped. They started, horses whinnied, heads whirled, and when they saw him, standing starkly contrasted on the vast expanse of the farak gorin, their shoulders slumped. Even at this distance he could see their lips moving in silent oaths. They waited, crestfallen, as he picked his way towards them, and when he passed through them to retrieve his arrow, they said nothing.
Gawain said nothing too, but simply took Gwyn's reins from Allazar, and mounted, and eased the horse forward. Words were unnecessary. The first lesson had been learned.
When evening closed in they'd made good progress, and as the drizzle eased and the gloom darkened towards night, he ordered them to dismount and make camp.
"If we'd taken a rabbit or two," Allazar mumbled, "We could at least have a more comfortable night."
"No fire." Gawain said quietly.
"We have a long way to go eastward until we turn south towards the Barak-nor." Rak opined. "There is no-one to see our flames."
"No?" Gawain asked. "And what if yet more of Morloch's men travel east along the scree, parallel with our track? What if they were to see our flames from across the farak gorin, where none have been seen before?"
Sarek nodded. "Part of the guardsman's training is to patrol this route with nothing but frak and weapons. It is as much about training for harsh conditions as it is about learning trust in one's comrades. Fires are never permitted."
The horses tended and tethered, the party huddled in a circle, sitting on their damp bedrolls, huddled in their cloaks. Meeya and Valin sat close, side by side, and when Gawain sat, Elayeen sat close to him. With a sigh, Gawain stood, and walked across to Gwyn, and drew something from his packs. Elayeen sat, dejected, her eyes wide with confusion.
"Come, my Lady." Gawain called softly, and she rose, her eyes suddenly full of hope once more. "Captain Sarek, I would have you watch us as we walk."
"Serre."
"I would have all of you watch as as we walk. But you, Sarek, call out the moment you lose sight of us."
"Serre."
"What is this, friend Traveller, another lesson?"
"Yes."
Gawain reached out, and took Elayeen's hand, and felt her draw in a breath as a gentle tingle ran through the contact. Then wordlessly, he slipped his hood over his head, and led her away from their huddled companions, east. They had gone fifty paces in the gloom, still without speaking, still without Sarek calling out. Gawain stopped, and turned to face Elayeen.
"This is the lesson I would have them learn, my Lady, and you."
From beneath his cloak, he drew out a darkening cloth, and with a flourish, he covered her silver-blonde tresses. At once, a distant voice called out to them.
"Longsword! We have lost sight of you!"
Elayeen nodded, her eyes downcast, understanding. "You would have me cut my hair, mithroth. I shall do so in the morning."
Gawain tied the cloth beneath her chin, and then took both of her hands in his. "You may use the cloth, Elayeen. And perhaps there are other ways in which your hair may be made shorter without the use of a knife. I have seen Lady Merrin do so on occasion."
Elayeen nodded, and then suddenly looked up at him. "Have I so offended you, mithroth, that I can never hope to hear gentler tones in your voice, or see your eyes blue when you look at me?"
Gawain gazed at her, the hazel-green eyes wide in her pale face. "You have not offended me my Lady. But there is no time now for tender looks or soft words. I would rather you looked to the trees, and the farak gorin, and at every place where danger may threaten, than at me. I did not bring you out of Faranthroth and Elvenheth to see you fall to a Morloch watchman in this bleak landscape."
"Then I have squandered our time together, and in turning you away from me, I robbed us both of the tender moments I yearn for now."
"Such moments we may know again, one day. But not while Morloch threatens the land. And not while the lives of all of you depend upon me. Now, there is another lesson I would teach you, and our companions."
Gawain drew out more darkening cloths, and in moments he had all but disappeared from Elayeen's sight. Only his silhouette was visible in the gloom, and he was standing close enough to touch. He reached out, and took her hands, and slipped dark mittens over her slender fingers. Then he carefully tied a mask in place over her face.
"Can you see?" he asked.
Elayeen adjusted the mask a little, and whispered "Yes."
"Then take my hand. Stay close, speak not, and tread as softly as ever you would on the hunt in Elvendere."
With that, he led her up the slope, picking his way through boulders and trees, working his way around behind their companions. From time to time, Elayeen paused, unsure of her footing in the darkness. But Gawain guided her unerringly, and she neither slipped, nor made a sound beyond her gentle breathing.
"Where are they?" Meeya asked, her voice carrying clear through the night, though in truth Gawain and Elayeen were but ten paces away, in the trees behind the camp.
"Perhaps it is wiser not to ask." Rak said quietly. "It is good that they should spend time together, in peace. They have had little enough either of peace or of time with one another since Lady Elayeen's recovery."
Elayeen squeezed Gawain's hand a little, but he did not return the gesture. With the darkening mittens on, there was no throth contact between them. Gawain eased two paces closer, slowly, stealthily, easing Elayeen forward with him…
"Aye." Allazar sighed. "I would I had dragged Longsword down from the Point that night. Until then, he was filled with love. Now he is become hard as the Teeth, and sometimes as cruel as the farak gorin."
"You must not blame yourself, Allazar, how could you have known? My heart aches for them both. Of all men, surely Traveller has earned the right to peace, and the joys that love brings."
"My Lords," Sarek admonished quietly, "I am made uncomfortable by this talk. The Longsword commands here, and I would not hear such personal conversations."
"My apologies, Captain, for our thoughtlessness." Rak apologised sincerely.