"Aye my Lord, Captain's told us what we might expect. But we're glad to go."
"There may be great danger." Elayeen said, sincerely.
"Aye, my Lady. But see, we always wanted to see elves, and then one day Longsword brought you into our land, and then your two friends arrived as if from nowhere. It made us think, perhaps there might be elves in your land, who've always wanted to see dwarves, but never have."
Meeya and Valin smiled, and then turned to Elayeen, and bowed, and then Elayeen hugged them both tearfully.
"Speed your journey home, my friends." Gawain said softly, clasping Valin's arm, and Meeya's, in turn. "Go safely, and keep good watch."
The small group of friends, now reduced in number by two, watched as the thalangard rode out of Tarn, escorted by four dwarven guards in unremarkable clothing, who looked all the taller for the pride with which they sat saddle.
"I must see to my men." Sarek announced. "I begin their training today, in Longsword's less than honourable arts."
"Carry on, Captain." Rak acknowledged.
"My lords, did I miss an important briefing last night?"
"I don't think so," Rak looked puzzled. "Why?"
"You both look as though you've stood watch through the night. We are safe in Tarn my lords, and my men will keep good watch, I assure you of that. You should both retire."
"I think I shall." Rak smiled, and turned back into the house with Merrin.
"And I." Gawain agreed, and likewise, led by his lady, disappeared indoors, and back to a warm bed.
Later that afternoon, Gawain was checking Gwyn in the stables when Rak appeared in the doorway.
"Traveller…or should I now call you Raheen, or Gawain?"
"Rak, you may call me what you wish. In truth, I answer to so many names I find I sometimes wonder who I am."
"Traveller, then, for it always reminds me of my son."
Gawain smiled wearily. "What brings you out into the daylight, my friend?"
Rak smiled back. "I might ask the same. You are well rested?"
"Aye. Sort of."
"I am glad. You have done much of late, and are deserving of gentler moments."
"Yet I cannot stop thinking of the Morlochmen, as Eryk calls them."
"Nor I. But already I am told that guardsmen are arriving in small numbers. Eryk must be passing the word at each town and village he passes on his way back to Castle Town."
"They must take care not to be seen massing on the northern slopes, or the enemy will know they have been discovered."
"The loss of three Black Riders may already have alerted them."
"Perhaps. In truth I do not know. They are strange creatures."
"Aye. But I had a purpose in coming here. A message has arrived for you, and I know not what it means."
"A message?"
"Aye. From Martan of Tellek."
Gawain paused in his grooming of Gwyn. "What does he say?"
"It is curious. He says: 'Tis like honeycomb in a glass jar, yet with an occasional sting. Six times, not five.' I do not understand it. Is this something I should know?"
"No," Gawain smiled. "It is nothing. I took him a gift of the finest Jurian brandy. I told him it would ease the pain he yet suffered in his ribs, but if he drank more than one glass before noon he'd fall over five times before bedtime. It seems I miscalculated."
Rak smiled. "He too deserves gentler times. Songs are sung about him in the mines. I hope your gift hasn't aggravated his injuries."
"As do I, my friend, as do I."
"Well then, I shall leave you to tend your horse. My Lady is preparing what can only be described as a feast for our evening meal, I thought I'd warn you in advance. After living on frak for the best part of two weeks, I find my stomach is somewhat nervous at the prospect of rich food."
Gawain grinned. "Aye. But I'm so hungry today it's Gwyn that's nervous."
Rak laughed.
Gawain paused, and then walked across the stable to stand close beside his friend.
"Something troubles you?" Rak asked quietly, glancing around. Lyas and the master groomer were in the tack room, out of earshot.
"Rak, you are…older than I."
"Ah."
Gawain flushed. "Is it normal…what I mean is…My Lady is elfin…"
"Ah."
"And well, I have had little experience…"
"Ah."
"Well. What I mean is, are they all so…"
"What?"
"Enthusiastic?"
"Ah."
"And…"
"And?"
"And…demanding."
"Ah. That is something which I am told decreases in time. At least I hope it is so."
"Ah."
"Indeed. Well, I shall leave you to your horse. If I do not keep Travak from the kitchen while Merrin is cooking, I fear for my life."
Gawain nodded, and when Rak had gone, he returned to Gwyn, and his duty. He'd hated lying to his friend, but the significance of Martan's message was too important, and besides, he did not trust the wizards in Threlland any more than he trusted wizards anywhere. He smiled grimly as he slapped Gwyn on the neck and told her how ugly she was.
The farak gorin was like 'honeycomb in a glass jar." Which meant that beneath its wicked glazed surface, it was not solid bitchrock and pain. The old miners were cutting their way through it at the rate of six times their own length in a day, with just the occasional "sting". Which Gawain assumed might mean a minor injury on the sharp rock, or perhaps the occasional surprise in the rock's structure. He did not know. But the tone of the message was optimistic.
When he returned to the house by way of the back door and the kitchen, he found the Lady Merrin and Elayeen talking in whispers over the stove. They fell silent immediately he entered, and smiled at him a little too…enthusiastically. He nodded to them both, and hurried into the main room, where Rak was sitting on the floor playing with Travak.
"Your duty to Gwyn is done, Traveller?" Rak asked, as Travak banged his wooden horse on the floor.
"Aye, though in truth the young apprentice Lyas did my work for me. But it provides a pause, and serves to remind me of my home, as it once was."
"Do not be downhearted at Eryk's response yesterday, my friend. The news we bore was a great shock to him, and there is much he must do."
Gawain sighed. "I had little idea that the lowlands were so poorly prepared. In Raheen, we had the cavalry, and foresters, and all our men at arms were skilled with the arrow. It was…well, it just simply was."
Rak nodded as Travak giggled happily. "Your father lamented the loss of Pellarn to the empire. We were all unprepared for that battle when it came. I believe Davyd had it in mind to maintain a strong force, ready to ride to the aid of any of Raheen's neighbours should the need arise."
"They came here, to Threlland, I have been told."
"Aye. There are many that would have left with them to aid Pellarn. But, as Eryk said, it is never a simple matter to send an army across borders. None, except Elvendere, would contemplate denying passage to Raheen forces, for all knew that Raheen was content and secure upon the high plateau, and were no threat. But in the lowland kingdoms, memories are long, and there are many tales and songs of battles waged to reshape borders."
Gawain frowned, and looked deeply frustrated. "But against a common enemy?"
Rak shrugged. "It is still a question of politics, my friend, and I do not believe that coming from the somewhat rarefied atmosphere of Raheen you would understand such things."
"Can you teach me?"
Rak smiled. "Can you teach me how to hurl an arrow three hundred paces with nothing but a piece of string tied to my wrist?"
"Yes."
"And how long would it be, with practise and your instruction, before I could reasonably expect to hit what I am aiming at over such a distance?"
Gawain shrugged. "A long time, depending on your natural talent."