"That is some comfort," Rak sighed, "Yet our lands are invaded, and we can do nothing. Alone, all our lands will perish. It is only through union and alliance that the south will prevail, as you yourself have said so often, Traveller."
"Which means," Gawain sighed, "We are truly in the hands of whitebeards, for it is they who have for so long kept the lands apart."
"I still believe you judge my brethren too harshly, Longsword." Allazar muttered sadly. "We may not harm the races of Man, by act or omission."
"We have had this discussion before, Allazar." Gawain grumbled, and reached down to caress Elayeen's hair. It was an absent-minded gesture on his part, but it was not lost either on Elayeen or the others. "And you know I can never trust you or your kind, whether you be friend or no."
"That your countenance remains light cheers me, Longsword, when you say such things."
"In truth, it has occurred to me that I cannot fight Morloch alone, nor can I take responsibility for all lands, nor all wizards. It's odd, but I have felt strangely calm of late."
"Perhaps you are simply tired. Ours was a long and perilous journey." Rak offered, smiling.
Gawain shrugged, and slipped his fingers deep into Elayeen's silken tresses. "I don't know. Perhaps. Or perhaps this strange aquamire as Allazar calls it has run its course?"
Elayeen gazed up at him, curiously, and gently drew his hand from her hair, and held it lightly in hers.
"Perhaps." Allazar agreed. "I do not know. Yet, was it not plainly if briefly evident when Eryk of Threlland was here yesterday?"
"True." Rak agreed, his eyes, and the others', drawn to Elayeen as she stroked Gawain's hand.
Gawain sighed, and glanced down at his Lady. "Well. I do know that if we don't eat soon, I may waste away to nothing."
"Mithroth…" Elayeen gasped. "Oh…mithroth!"
"What?" Gawain asked, suddenly alarmed at the depth of amazement and passion in Elayeen's eyes.
Elayeen reached up, and with trembling fingers, brushed his brow and the side of his face. "Mithroth…"
Gawain frowned, as with a gasp Allazar leapt to his feet, his face looming close to Gawain's.
"Have a care, whitebeard, just because I haven't killed you yet doesn't mean you're my friend…"
"By the Teeth!" Allazar cried, "It cannot be!"
"What cannot be?"
Elayeen drew Gawain's knife from his boot, and held the polished blade to his face, as Rak and Merrin and Allazar crowded in on him.
"What?" Gawain cried, holding Elayeen's hand so that he could steady the blade and see his reflection. Then he too caught his breath. Running from above his right temple, plainly visible as Elayeen held back his blond locks, fine strands of deepest black ran from root to tip in his hair.
"Miheth," Elayeen sighed, tears welling as she gazed at him with profound love, "Truly, you are become mithroth…truly."
"Is this possible?" Rak asked, amazed, as Gawain sat dumbfounded.
"Clearly," Allazar muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "Though I have never heard of a human becoming throth thus."
"Yet it is true." Elayeen sighed happily, kneeling beside Gawain, braiding the black strands while Gawain simply stared at her.
"Clearly." Allazar muttered again. "Perhaps it has always been so, yet because of Elvendere's isolation from the other races, the knowledge has been lost. Or perhaps elves and the Raheen share a common history…"
"What must I do?" Gawain suddenly blurted, his eyes wide.
"Do?" Elayeen giggled, "Why, you must immediately run to Elvenheth, and pluck a sweetberry from the oldest tree in the forest, and eat it in the beams of a full moon."
"In truth?" Gawain stared at her, agog.
She laughed, and all but Gawain succumbed to the lilting sound of elven happiness. "No, mithroth. You must do nothing more than you do already." Her fingers flitted deftly, her hands brushing his cheek as she wove the black braid.
"Do what, already?"
She paused, and smiled. "Love me, and be near, always."
"It would appear, my Lady," Rak smiled at Merrin, "That the home-coming feast you are preparing for us is now much more."
"Aye, my Lord." Merrin smiled happily. "We must send word. "
"Send word? Word of what?" Gawain asked, blinking, as Elayeen sank back on her legs to admire her handiwork.
"Word of your wedding feast, my brother." Rak beamed. "Honour to you, and to your Queen."
39. Becalmed
The feast to celebrate their homecoming, and the union of Raheen and Elvendere, remained something of a blur to Gawain. He was dazed, and though the two days and nights which followed the celebrations were spent joyously and mostly in the tender company of his bride, still he felt confused, and vaguely ill at ease.
Three days after the feast, he left his lady sleeping soundly, and crept out of the house in the early hours, so that he could greet the dawn from the Point overlooking the farak gorin. As the sun rose into a clear blue sky, he made his remembrance, and in his mind, told the shades of The Fallen of his marriage to Elayeen of Elvendere, and of his throth.
Footsteps on the frost-spangled grass alerted him to Allazar's arrival, and he opened his eyes.
"You improve, wizard, by degrees. But you have a long way to go before you could count yourself truly stealthy."
"A fine morning, Longsword. I did not expect to find you here this day."
"No?"
"Indeed. I believe in Elvendere it is the custom for newly-weds to spend at least seven days and nights alone together. In Callodon, to appear publicly without your bride before five days and nights have passed would be considered a bad omen. And…"
"And?"
Allazar stepped forward to stand beside Gawain, and gazed out towards the Teeth. "And, my friend, in Raheen, the custom was for the happy couple to remain five days and nights with one another before greeting the day together."
Gawain sighed. "I know. But this is Threlland, and they have no such customs. Indeed, I still find it hard to believe I have a wife. Elayeen braided my hair, and thus I am married? It is all very strange, especially since…since we have been together so long."
"Not so long, my friend. Not really."
"Long enough for this." Gawain murmured, and reached up to finger the black braid in his hair.
"Aye. It troubles you?"
Gawain shrugged, and sat upon the boulder he'd used so recently as a wind-break for his fire. "In truth, I do not know what to make of it. At a stroke, I am now slave to her. Chained to her by this…throth. You described it as both blessing and curse. I am forced to agree with you."
"Ah." Allazar smiled, and sat beside the young man. "Are you sure it is not your agreeing with me which causes you discomfort?"
Gawain shook his head. "No, but that's worrying in itself, isn't it? There was a time when I would have fumed at the prospect of proving a whitebeard correct. Now look at me. I feel…Allazar I feel as if I am becalmed. I can see the rocks all around me, I know the wind when it comes will drive me into peril, and yet I can sit and do nothing."
"This becalming you speak of has another word, Longsword. Perhaps it is just because you are unfamiliar with the feeling that it troubles you so. The word is 'contentment', or perhaps, 'peace'. It has been a long time since you knew such feelings."
"Yet the enemy is there. Hammering away at the Teeth. Sitting in their tents in the Barak-nor and the Gorian wastelands, daily slaughtering innocent captives for their vile and despicable diet. And here sit I, 'content'? At 'peace'? How is this possible?"
"You are become throth, Longsword. It is a strange process and one which I know little of. Even the brethren in Elvendere know not what to make of it. It simply is."