Of Elves and Men - Part 2

Night had fallen over the foothills by the time they reached the Old Road. Luna was bright in the cloudless night sky, casting shadows like long hands over the countryside. With thousands of stars adding their glow, the road was illuminated in front of them. Apart from the occasional owl in the distance, and the clapping of the hooves as they rode down the dust covered road, the night was silent.

The heat of the day had been replaced with a pleasant coolness. The air was full of smoke as they had begun to see the lights of farmhouses in the distance. An owl hunted somewhere in the twilight, letting out its calls for the two companions to hear. It was a perfect night to be riding home.

The rode ran out of sight into shadows of the trees ahead of them, snaking into the gloom like a river of darkness. Caden had always imagined himself riding down this road forever. As a boy he had wondered where it would take him if he just kept on riding. He had asked Frey one time, in very much this same spot. “It will take you the same place any other road will.” He had said, “All roads are the same.”

Frey was looking at him now, with the steady gaze that was so unnerving in those that didn’t know him. His blue eyes seemed amused. He looked like he was about to say something, then turned away to look ahead of them. A few seconds later he turned back. “You know a strange thing about humans. Out of ignorance, you give meaningless names to things, without thinking, never stopping to think if they should mean much more.”

Caden had heard things like this before. Frey had not been his schoolmaster, but he had learned more from the elf than from wizened Master Lukahn. He seemed to know more about the world and all of the things in it than any other person Caden had ever seen. His knowledge was imparted randomly at the weirdest times, and was almost always preceded by a statement like this. Caden took the bait.

“For example?”

He gestured around them. “You men call this merely the Old Road. It is a name fit for cart path or fishmonger’s alley. This road has seen ages rise and fall, has seen mountains tumble and kingdoms rise only to be torn down again. Before your people ever set foot in these lands, this road was here. It is older than most things in this world. It is even considered old among my people, and when the Nulori consider a thing to be old, you know that it is very old indeed.”

“It has been traveled by kings and armies, by wizards and poets. Troubadours have sung great songs, monsters have been slain, kingdoms divided, fortunes won, relics lost never to be found, maidens saved, and true love realized. Yet, you men call this merely the Old Road. Not out of spite, merely of ignorance. It seems to be the way of your race, to assume the worthlessness of something until proven otherwise.”

Some would take offense to those remarks, but Frey did not mean anything by them, he was just stating what he thought. And he was usually right.

“Why, if all that is true, is this road not bigger?” Caden enjoyed these talks and usually did his best to keep them going. “I mean it’s not nearly as wide as the King’s Road north of here and it ends before you get to the mountains.” He finished with a gesture behind them.

As they road over a hill, Frey drew them to a halt. The valley below them was littered with lights from a dozen farms, and in the distance the lights of Ruefort on the horizon. The road ran into the night.

“This road is much bigger than you would think, although it is known under different names. North of here at eventually becomes known as the Beggar’s Road, and runs all the way to the shattered sea.” His eyes glowed for a brief moment, “Even beyond, if you believe some tales. South of here, it ends, in the mountains, but eventually resurfaces as the Traveler’s Highway, passing through Adria you will travel on it under the name of the Low Path, along the banks of the Sendri it is called the Coastal Road or sometimes the Bard’s Road, and a thousand other names that have been given to it by the three races since before human records begin.”

“It once spanned the whole continent, running from somewhere north of the Haji to deep in the southern mountains. It runs even to Ancient Evela in the mountains. And as for being a large road, it is said that once it was paved the whole way with stones carved by the Dwarves of the mountains, and was wide enough to ride 10 horses abreast.”

“It has been here since before the Sundering. Some say that when the Kin first walked over the land, this was the trail that they blazed. Over the years mountains have reared up where it once ran freely. It has been split by rivers, forgotten in places by scholars, and left to dwindle in the twilight of ages. If it could speak, more history it would tell you than all the Magi of all the races combined.”

“And men call it the Old Road. They ride it day by day and never realize that they ride on the road of kings and scholars.”

Frey started them back down the path, and they rode in silence for a while, listening to the sound of a fiddle from a farmhouse in the distance.

“Eventually your will take over for your father. You have the potential to be a great man. I can feel it in you, and I believe great men will be needed in the times to come.” The elf looked him in the eyes. “Never forget. The value of all things cannot be judged by what you see in the here and now.”

As they turned the corner, the lights of Ruefort blazed into view. The watch fires all burned, and even before the messenger reached them, they knew that something was wrong.

Of Elves and Men - Part 1

In the light of the midday sun, you could almost imagine that the rolling hills went on forever. They were bounded solely by the horizon, and only to the south, where they must eventually meet the mountains that loomed menacingly over the landscape, were they obstructed in any noticeable way. The wind blew across the hills, sweeping east to west, blowing from somewhere beyond, bringing with it the smells of spring.

“The winds of Evela bring prosperity to men.” He whispered to no one in particular, although his horse shrugged, as if in acknowledgment.

He could remember his father telling him that, with the family sitting around the hearth late at night. “No matter how bad it gets, the winds will always blow again.” He would say with a smile that never seemed to leave his face. “And the winds of Evela bring prosperity to men.” His father would wink at him after he said that, and he could imagine that everything would be okay.

Caden had heard that so often, that he thought he might actually believe it. But today the wind felt only warm, a foreshadowing of the months of summer ahead of them. He thought he could pick out a faint smell of smoke being carried from somewhere to the east. Probably someone cooking lunch, although he couldn’t see smoke anywhere. It was rare to run into someone this far into the Evela foothills, at least off of the main roads. There just wasn’t much out here to interest anyone.

He turned his attention back to the task at hand. For what seemed like the hundredth time in the last five minutes he scanned the hills west of him, still he saw nothing. They rose and fell almost rhythmically. Less than a mile to his left a tree line stretched east and west out of sight, but nothing moved. He was about ready to nudge his horse forward, when he saw the deer, topping the rise of the hill in front of him.

He grabbed the bow from his saddle, and spurred his horse forward. He raised the bow, knocking an arrow at the same time. Pulling the string to his cheek, he focused on only one thing, and time almost seemed to slow down. He plunged into the valley. Almost there. The land rose and fell smoothly in time with the horse beneath him. Just a little closer. He broke the top of the hill at a full gallop, standing up in his stirrups.

The deer bolted when it saw him coming, but it was too late. It let out a cry that pierced the countryside as his arrow struck it. It shuddered, and fell, lying motionless on the hilltop. He stopped his horse when he saw the arrow hit, and replaced his bow before starting up the hill again.

“I think it’s dead.” Frey was riding up the side of the hill opposite him. He must have been watching the whole thing, from one of the other hills.

“Did you expect any less?”

“Well, I was skeptical.” Riding up next to him, Fray examined the dead animal. “Perhaps I should have more faith in you.”

“Perhaps?”

They dismounted, nearly in unison. “Alright. That was a good shot. A moving target from horseback. Not many can do that.”

Caden shrugged before kneeling down next to his trophy. He carefully removed his arrow and stuck it in the ground. Kneeling next to him, Frey examined the deer. “Well, look at that.”

Caden looked where his companion indicated. He saw it immediately. The deer’s face was normal, except for a patch of dark brown, that ran around the eyes, and down to the nose. He had never seen anything like this.

“What is it?”

Frey looked at him, and stood. “It is marked. Marked by the hand of Tella himself, or so I’ve heard. They are very rare. I have never seen one before. To tell you the truth, I thought they were just legend.” The elf shrugged. “I guess it goes to show, you can never be too sure where truth ends and legend begins.”

He looked back down. “Among my people these are signs of good luck. They are said to bring fair weather and fair harvest,” He paused for a moment, “and fair women.” He finished with a smile.

“And I killed it.” He looked over his shoulder. “Guess I’m bad luck. Better stay away from me.” He cut open the deer, and began working. “If you want any chance of fair women, that is.”

“Trust me, I would like nothing better than a long break from you. However, that’s where the legend gets interesting.” Frey pulled the lute off of his saddle, and began to play, as he was wont to do when talking. Not really playing a song, just plucking idly at the strings. “It is said that no man can kill one, unless he has been destined to do so. It is a sign of a new beginning for this person. When this happens, it is a signal of a new path opening in his life.”

Caden thought for a moment. “Is it a good path, or a bad path?”

“That, my boy,” he said “The legend is not too specific on.”

The wind blew across the hilltop, joined by the lonely sound of a lute.