Into the fire

Chapter 31

A full sevenday after Galarun and Aravan and the remainder of Galarun's company had ridden westerly, the Warrows prepared to depart the campsite and head down along the wold. The Warrows were the last to go, for the Dylvana, Baeron, and Pysks had left days before, the Elves of northern Darda Erynian taking all weary horses with them, for their journey was but a short one. Hence, only Tip, Rynna, Beau, Linnet, Farly, and Nix were left in the camp, and they had waited until the ponies were ready to travel before they set out, for the little steeds had been utterly spent, having trod one hundred forty miles in but two days. The Warrows, too, had been wearied, yet they had recovered first.

But now all were well rested, Warrows and ponies alike, and so south they fared, crossing the Landover Road and passing down through the eastern fringe of Darda Galion, aiming for their camp within the wood nigh Eryn Ford, some hundred fifty miles in all by the route they would take, following along the arc of the forest eave. They set out in a cold winter drizzle, for although it was but mid-November, the chill season itself was upon them more than a month early. And the woods were drear and silent but for the rain falling through brown leaves, carrying them down from the limbs to the ground to add to the humus below. Not voles nor hares nor limb runners nor beasts of any kind did scurry among the trees, nor did birds flit among the branches, for they had long past sensed the onset of winter and had flown away to warmer climes, taking their bright songs with them.

Through the edge of this dismal and stark wood did the Warrows ride, speaking little among themselves, their spirits dampened as well.

Five chill days they rode southerly, the nights frigid in camp, and although they kept watch on the eastern wold as they fared down its west flank, no sign did they see of the Foul Folk, those who had survived.

Late in the eve of the eighteenth of November and through a falling snow, the Warrows came unto the glade where the Eryn Ford watchers encamped. As they dismounted before their bowers, Tynvyr came riding her fox, and she stopped and sprang to the ground and looked up at them.

[Know you what passed nigh Rimmen Gape?] asked Rynna.

[Aye, the Eio Wa Suk carried the news,] replied Tynvyr.

[The Foul Folk, we have not seen them since. Are they back at Eryn Ford?] asked Tipperton.

Tynvyr shook her head.

"Barn rats!" exclaimed Beau, and then speaking Fey, added, [Where have they gotten to, I wonder?]

"No matter where," said Linnet in Common, "they can be up to no good"

"No matter where," agreed Farly, the look on his face glum.

[I would think that if they've not returned to the ford,] said Tip, in the Fey tongue, [then it is most likely they are somewhere in the Rimmens licking their wounds.]

[That, or waiting for another surrogate,] said Beau.

Rynna sighed. [Well, there's nought we can do for the moment, and I am tired and cold and hungry. Tip, you and the others see to the ponies, and I will see to a good fire and a meal.]

[I will help,] said Linnet, handing the reins of her pony to Beau.

Rynna looked at Linnet in some surprise, for as far as Rynna knew, her cousin would rather care for a pony than to help prepare a meal.

As the buccen and Tynvyr returned from the makeshift stables westerly in the woods, Rynna looked at Beau and grinned, while Linnet turned away in some haste and busied herself at things already done, color high in her cheeks. That night Linnet drew Beau into her bower, her mother Melli away at the Springwater holding and the last thing on the young damman's mind.

"Oh, Tip," said Beau. "I've loved her ever since the first moment I saw her, but I am so plain and she is so beautiful, and yet she feels the same. Isn't that marvelous?"

"Indeed, Beau, indeed. But I knew it all along, what with you mooning about and watching her every move and her casting sly eyes at you."

"Rather like you and Rynna, eh?"

Tip laughed and slapped a hand over his heart. "Argh, bucco, sling bullets are not all you throw."

Beau grinned, then turned serious. "I say, Tip, what say we get married?"

"Married?"

"Aye. Not to each other, of course, but you to Rynna and me to Linnet."

"But Beau, there's a war on."

"In spite of the war, Tip, life goes on," declared Beau. "What better time to plight troth?"

Tipperton frowned and looked eastward, where stood the eaves of Darda Erynian some five miles away through the forest.

"Look," said Beau, "I think we'll have a bit of respite while the Foul Folk are off licking their wounds, and so we ought to take the time to have a wedding or two. Besides, Linnet is my heartmate."

"Have you asked her?"

"Well, not exactly, but I will. And you should think on asking Rynna, too, what with Lark and all. A child needs a father, you know."

"But Beau, she has a father. Me! Or did you think Lark fell out of a nest on one of those branches above?"

"Of course not, Tip. But I just think you ought to get married, and we can make it a double."

"Oh, Beau, don't you think Rynna and I want to be married? We've talked about it often, but there's no mayor or Adonite cleric or Elwyddian priestess about."

"What about up in Bircehyll, or over in Darda Galion for that matter? In Wood's-heart. Surely there's a cleric or priestess in one of the two."

"Married by the Elves?"

Beau nodded.

Tip smiled. "When?"

"How about Winterday?"

"Year's Long Night?"

Again Beau nodded.

"All right, Beau. Let's get the Pysks to ask the Groaning Stones to see if a cleric or priestess is available."

[Is something amiss?] asked Tynvyr, sitting before a wee fire outside her tiny bower.

[Oh no,] replied Tipperton, [we've come on another matter altogether.]

[Would you like a small cup of tea,] said Tynvyr, laughing as she held up an acorn-sized mug. As both buccen declined, Tynvyr canted her head and said, [Well then, what is this-how did you put it? Oh yes-this another matter altogether?]

Tip glanced at Beau and then said to Tynvyr, [Would you ask the Eio Wa Suk to send a message to Bircehyll and to Wood's-heart to see if a priestess or cleric is among the Elves? If so, we'd ask that they come to the holding of the Springwater Warrows to perform a wedding ceremony, and if they cannot, then we'd travel to wherever they might be.]

Tynvyr smiled. [Wedding ceremony?]

[Yes,] said Beau, grinning. [Linnet and me, and Tip and Rynna. We need a cleric or priestess to do it since we haven't any mayors on hand.]

Tynvyr pursed her lips and then said, [There are no Eio Wa Suk in Darda Galion, and so we cannot send messages there by that means. Too, I can say now there are no clerics or priestesses among the Elves, unless one haps to be passing through.]

[Oh my,] said Tip, and he turned to Beau. [If none is available, how will we get it done?]

Beau frowned and shook his head, but then his eyes lighted and he turned to Tynvyr and exclaimed, [I say, who performs the ceremony for Pysks and Vred Tres and Living Mounds and other such among the Hidden Ones?]

Tynvyr turned up a hand. [No one. We simply declare ourselves bonded, and that's that.]

Beau looked at Tip. [Hmm. Much like you and Rynna did.]

Tip nodded. [But we always knew one day we'd take formal vows.]

[Would you instead accept a coron?] asked Tynvyr.

Tip raised an eyebrow. [A coron?]

[Rather than priestesses or clerics, corons perform the ceremonies for the Elves.]

[Ruar or Eiron?] asked Tip.

Tynvyr nodded. [Ruar, Eiron, or, for that matter, Sil-verleaf, for he was coron apast.]

Tip looked at Beau and grinned, and together they nodded.

Tynvyr smiled and called her fox and rode away toward the aggregate.

"With Ruar gone, we will have to chance that Eiron is in Darda Galion," said Tip.

"Chance?" Rynna frowned.

"There are no Hidden Ones," said Tip, "no Eio Wa Suk, in the Larkenwald, love, and so we do not know if the coron is even there."

"Ah," said Linnet, grinning at Beau. "Well, I say we trust to Fortune he is there."

"I dunno," said Beau. "Dame Fortune has looked askance at us before."

"But She's also smiled, Beau," said Tipperton, "else you and I would be long dead."

Rynna gasped. "Oh, Tip, don't ever say that. -About being dead, I mean."

Tip pulled her close and kissed her, then said, "To travel to Darda Galion means we need cross the Argon. When last we heard, the Baeron were plying the ferry. Yet things change, and what if they've been called away? We'll still need to cross the Argon."

Rynna and Linnet nodded, and Rynna said, "And…?"

"And, well, how will we do so?" added Tip. "I mean, I don't trust the Rivermen."

"The Rivermen are gone," said Rynna.

"Gone? From Olorin Isle?"

Rynna nodded. "Aye. None were there when we went to see to the truth of their story. Even so, and even if the ferry is abandoned, when last Farly and Nix and I crossed with Aravan and Velera and Arnu, we used Elven boats, and I know where they are cached."

Tip turned to Beau. "Do you know how to row?"

Beau shook his head.

"Neither do I," said Tip. "And I don't want to be swept miles downriver and over Bellon Falls." He turned to Rynna. "Elven boats are out, love."

Rynna glared at both Tip and Beau. "And just what makes you think that Linnet and I don't know how to ply an oar?"

"W-well-" stammered Tip -but Rynna cut him short and gritted, "Buccen."

Beau turned to Linnet. "You know how to row?"

"The term is paddle, my love. And yes, I know how to ply an oar. After all, I lived all my life along the Rissanin, and the river was our playground."

"Huah," said Tip. "I lived all my life along the Bog and the Wilder, and I never learned one whit about boats."

"Well then, it is time you did," said Rynna.

"Uh, how do we get the ponies across?" asked Beau.

"We don't," said Rynna, "if all we have are the Elven boats. But I would think someone yet plies the ferry; after all, it is a vital link, you know."

Beau frowned. "But if not…?"

Rynna shook her head and turned up her hands.

"Perhaps the march-ward will lend us spare horses and someone to haul us along behind," said Tip, looking at Beau. "Just as when we fared southward from Arden Vale."

Linnet touched Rynna's arm. "Why don't we ask my brother to ride ahead and arrange for the ferry to meet us."

Rynna clapped her hands. "Good. Nix will be glad to go. After all, he should be there for the wedding."

"My dam and Lark, too," added Linnet.

"Um," said Tip, "but what about the watch on the wold? The way I see it, it'll take us ten or so days to get to Wood's-heart, and ten or so to return, and that's a deal of time to be away from the eastern marge."

They looked at one another for moments without speaking, but then Rynna said, "If the maggot-folk return, then we will postpone our journey. But if they remain among the missing, mayhap we can go with a clear mind. I will speak with Tynvyr on this, and get her advice."

"Ah, love," said Tipperton, "what she will say is that should the Foul Folk return, we would just be in the way."

"If necessary," said Linnet, "we can ask the Baeron of the Greatwood or the Dylvana of the Blackwood to stand in our stead."

"Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary," said Beau, "I have already spoken with Farly, and he says that when it comes to it he and some others in the Springwater holding can guide the occasional traveller past any Spawn."

Linnet glowered at Beau. "Are you telling me that everyone else knew about us getting married before you even came and asked me?"

Beau's eyes flew wide. "W-wull, not everyone. Just Tipperton and Tynvyr and-"

Linnet looked at Rynna.

"-and Farly-"

"Can you believe this, Rynna?"

"-and of course the Eio Wa Suk and the Fox Riders-" Rynna shook her head.

"-and the Elves in Bircehyll and probably some Baeron, that's all."

Rynna glared at Tipperton. "I said it before and I say it again: buccen!"

Tipperton's gaze darted about the bower, as if seeking a means of escape, and Beau peered at the earthen floor as if he would be better off some ten feet under the dirt.

But then Rynna burst out laughing, Linnet, too, and they embraced their buccarans, and both Beau and Tipperton breathed a sigh of relief.

On the ninth of December they set out from the campsite to journey to Wood's-heart some two hundred miles and ten days away. In the Springwater holding they took up Melli and Lark, and amid cries of well-wishers they rode on. Nix and the ferry were waiting for them to cross the mighty Argon, and now did they see that Dwarves plied the ferry at Olorin Isle, Dwarves from Kraggen-cor, the Chakkaholt no longer besieged. One set of the grim warriors plied between the east bank and the isle, another set plied the west.

"We trade off with the Baeron and the Elves," replied one of the crew to Beau's question, "moon by moon by moon."

"Well, that's good," replied Beau, grinning, "else we'd have a deal of trouble getting to Wood's-heart." He gestured at Linnet and Tipperton and Rynna, his grin growing all the wider. "We're off to be married, you know."

The Dwarf nodded and looked at the Waerans and wee laughing Lark and smiled and tugged on his forked beard and said, "May Elwydd keep you all."

But then the ferry reached the west bank of the Argon, and the Warrows debarked and rode onward.

Over the Rothro they fared and the next day the Quad-rill, and they rode through the towering eld trees, silent now, the Silverlarks absent, what with all but the bloodways sundered. Still Linnet and Melli and even wee Lark gaped upward at the towering giants, their leaves yet gathering twilight to suffuse down through the air to the snow-covered floor below. And Nix and Rynna and Tip and Beau gaped as well, for although they had been in Darda Galion before, still it was a wonder.

On the nineteenth of December they arrived in Wood's-heart, where they heard the terrible news.

"Dead? Galarun's dead?" Tipperton's eyes filled with tears.

"Aye," said Aravan, his own gaze brimming. "Slain by a man with yellow eyes, the silver sword lost."

"This man-?" said Beau.

"What hap-?" asked Rynna.

"Where-?" asked Linnet.

Aravan held forth a hand, palm out. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and said, "As ye know, a day we spent resting in Darda Erynian…"

A day they spent resting, but no more, for their mission was urgent, and they rode away the following morn, did Galarun and his company. West they fared, crossing the mighty River Argon to come into the wide wold 'tween river and mountain, where they turned south for Darda Galion, the Grimwalls on their right, the Argon to their left.

Three days they rode down the wold, coming unto the Dalgor Marches, where they were joined by a company of Lian warriors patrolling the fens. Here it was that Aravan first met Riatha and Talar, riding among that company.

The next dawn, into the fens they rode, horses splashing through reeds and water, mire sucking at hooves, the way slow and shallow, arduous but fordable, unlike the swift deep waters of the Dalgor River upstream flowing down from the high Grimwalls to the west. Deep into the watery lowland they fared, at times dismounting and wading, giving the horses respite.

It was near the noontide, that November day, when Aravan warned Galarun that the blue stone on the thong grew chill, and so the warning went out to all that peril was nigh. On they rode and a pale sun shone overhead, and one of the outriders called unto the main body. At a nod from Galarun, Aravan rode out to see what was amiss. He came unto the rider, Eryndar, and the Elf pointed eastward. From the direction of the Argon, rolling through the fen like a grey wall rushing came fog, flowing over them in a thick wave, obscuring all in its wake, for Aravan and Eryndar could but barely see one another less than an arm's span away. And from behind there sounded the clash and clangor and shout of combat.

"To me! To me!" came Galarun's call, muffled and distant in the fog there in the Dalgor Fens, confusing to mind and ear.

Though Aravan could not see more than two strides ahead, he spurred his horse to come to his comrades' aid, riding to the sounds of steel on steel, though they too were muted and remote and seemed to echo where no echoes should have been. He charged into a deep slough, the horse foundering, Aravan nearly losing his seat. And up from out of the water rose an enormous dark shape, and a webbed hand struck at him, claws raking past his face as the horse screamed and reared, the Elf ducking aside from the deadly blow. "Krystallopyr," whispered Aravan, truenaming the spear, thrusting the weapon into the half-seen thing looming above him; and a hideous yawl split the air as the blade burned and sizzled in cold flesh. With a huge splash the creature was gone, back into the mire.

Still, somewhere in the murk a battle raged-clang and clangor and shouts. Again Aravan rode toward the sound, trusting to his horse in the treacherous footing. Shapes rose up from the reeds and attacked-Rupt, they were, Rucha and Loka alike-but the crystal spear pierced them and burned them, and they fell dead or fled screaming.

Of a sudden the battle ended, the foe fading back into the cloaking fog, vanishing in the grey murk. And it seemed as if the strange echoing disappeared as well, the muffling gone. And the blue stone at Aravan's neck grew warm.

"Galarun!" called Aravan. "Galarun…!" Other voices, too, took up the cry.

Slowly they came together, did the scattered survivors, riding to one another's calls, and Galarun was not among them.

The wan sun gradually burned away the fog, and the company searched for their captain. They found him at last, pierced by crossbow quarrel and cruel barbed spear, lying in the water among the reeds, he and his horse slain-the silver sword gone.

Three days they searched for that token of power, there in the Dalgor Fen. Yet in the end they found nought but an abandoned Ruchen campsite, a campsite used less than a full day. "… Perhaps they went back to Neddra," suggested Eryndar, as cold rain fell down and down.

At last, hearts filled with rage and grief, they took up slain Galarun and the five others who had fallen, and they rode for Darda Galion across the wide wold. Two days passed and part of another ere they forded the River Rothro on the edge of the Eldwood forest, snow lying on the ground. Travelling among the massive boles of the great trees, the following day they forded the Quadrill and later the River Cellener to come at last unto Wood's-heart, the Elvenholt central to the great forest of Darda Galion.

Aravan bore Galarun's blanket-wrapped body into the coron-hall, where were gathered Lian waiting, mourning. Through a corridor of Elvenkind strode Aravan, toward the Elvenking, and nought but silence greeted him. Eiron stepped down from the throne at this homecoming of his son, moving forward and holding out his arms to receive the body. Tears stood in Aravan's eyes as he gave over the lifeless Elf. Eiron tenderly cradled Galanin unto himself and turned and slowly walked the last few steps unto the dais, where he laid his slain child down.

Aravan's voice was choked with emotion. "I failed him, my coron, for I was not at Galarun's side when he most needed me. I have failed thee and Adon as well, for thy son is dead and the silver sword lost."

Coron Eiron looked up from the blanket-wrapped corpse, his eyes brimming, his voice a whisper. "Take no blame unto thyself, Aravan, for the death of Galanin was foretokl-"

"Foretold!" exclaimed Aravan.

"-by the Mages of Black Mountain."

"If thou didst know this, then why didst thou send thy son?"

"I did not know."

"Then how-?"

"Galarun's Death Rede," explained Eiron. "The Mages told Galanin that he who first bore the weapon would die within the year."

Aravan remembered the grim look on Galarun's face when he had emerged from the Wizardholt of Black Mountain.

Kneeling, slowly the coron undid the bindings on the blankets, folding back the edge, revealing Galarun's visage, the features pale and bloodless. From behind, Aravan's voice came softly. "He let none else touch the sword, and now I know why."

Coron Eiron stood, motioning to attendants, and they came and took up Galarun's body, bearing it out from the coron-hall.

When they had gone, Aravan turned once again unto Eiron. "His Death Rede: was there… more?"

The coron sat on the edge of the dais. "Aye: a vision of the one responsible. It was a pale white one who slew my Galanin; like a Human he looked, but no mortal was he. Mayhap a Mage instead. Mayhap a Demon. Pallid he was and tall, with black hair and hands long and slender… and wild, yellow eyes. His face was long and narrow, his nose straight and thin, his white cheeks unbearded. More I cannot say."

"And the sword. Did Galarun-?"

Aravan's words were cut short by a negative shake of Eiron's head. "The blade was yet with my son when he died."

Frustration and anger colored Aravan's voice. "But now it is missing, is the Dawn Sword. Long we searched, finding nought."

After a moment Eiron spoke: "If not lost in the fen, then it is stolen. And if any has the Dawn Sword, it is he, the pallid one with yellow eyes. Find him and thou mayest find the blade."

Aravan stepped back and unslung his spear from its shoulder harness; he planted the butt of the weapon to the wooden floor and knelt on one knee. "My coron, I will search for the killer and for the sword. If he or it is to be found-"

Aravan never finished, for the coron began to weep. And so Aravan put aside the crystal blade and sat next to his liege, and with tears in his own eyes, spoke to him of the last days of his valiant son.

"After the funeral, I rode back unto the fen, and long did I search, aided by Dara Riatha's company, but to no avail, for no blade did I find. At last I gave up the hunt, for war yet burns across Mithgar, and my spear is needed." Aravan fell silent.

After a moment, Tipperton said, "But with no silver sword to take to Adon…"

Aravan sighed, then said, "We can only trust that the Lian and others who are upon Adonar can carry the day."

"Carry the day?" asked Linnet.

"Win the war upon the High Plane," clarified Aravan.

"As we must win the war here," said Rynna, her voice resolute, her face grim.

'Twas grievous news, the loss of Galarun and the silver sword, and though it had happened some five weeks past, still it was new to the Warrows, and they wept for slain Galarun and those who had died with him.

Nevertheless, as Beau had remarked, in spite of war, life goes on. And so, two days after arriving, Rynna and Tipperton, Beau and Linnet, they took their vows on Winterday eve, Year's Long Night, First Yule, Coron Eiron presiding. And Nix and Melli and Lark and Alor Aravan and other Alori and Darai attended the wedding as well, though most Lian were yet warding the marges of Darda Gallon, or were fighting alongside the Chakka of Kraggen-cor and rooting out pockets of Rupt left over from the siege of that Dwarvenholt.

And so they gathered in the coron-hall, Elves and War-rows alike, with Nix standing at Melli's side, Lark in Melli's arms, Darai casting delighted glances at the wee tot, now some twenty months old. And Coron Eiron stood before them all, Tip and Rynna, Beau and Linnet, facing the Elven lord, Aravan and Velera and Riatha and Talar standing to the sides and behind. And all fell quiet as Coron Eiron raised his hands, but for Lark, and she giggled at a wink from an admiring Dara.

Yet ere the coron uttered the formal vows, he spoke long on the sharing not only of love but on the sharing of work as well. Too, he spoke of the common ground they needs must nourish to keep their love alive, and among his words were these:

" 'Till death do us part' is not a phrase used in Elven vows, for Death was ever meant to be a stranger unto El-venkind. Yet heed, our vows are worthy, regardless of mortality or not."

"Worthy," said Lark. "Worthy, worthy, worthy." Melli whispered in Lark's ear, and the child fell silent.

Coron Eiron smiled and then said, "As does this babe grow and learn and change, so, too, do all things change with the passing of seasons, for change is a fact of life. Some changes are imperceptible, whereas others are swift; some bode well for life; others are harbingers of death."

"Life," said Lark, and then "Saol." Nix looked at her in surprise, for she had spoken Fey, the word "saol" meaning "life." But then Nix turned back to the ceremony as Coron Eiron spoke on:

"Individuals, too, change with the passing of seasons, and vows made should not bind one in a relationship in which common ground no longer exists, no matter the oath, be it for mating, fealty, vengeance, or aught else. For just as death may part one from a vow, so too does the loss of critical common ground.

"Hence, to keep thine own relationships strong ye must share equally in the cultivation of the common ground and in nurturing the vows between; and ye must sort among all duties and participate willingly and fully in all which can be shared."

Lark made a shsshing noise, as of wind among the leaves, and again Melli whispered in her ear and once more she fell silent.

Eiron stepped to Beau and Linnet and softly asked, "Do ye understand the meaning of that which I say?"

"I do," said Beau, looking at Linnet, and with tears in her eyes, Linnet said, "I do."

Eiron stepped to Tipperton and Rynna and asked, "Do ye understand the meaning of that which I say?"

And Tipperton took Rynna by the hand and said, "I do."

"I do," said Rynna, squeezing Tipperton's hand.

Eiron then stepped back and raised his voice. "Then I ask ye to speak true: dost thou vow to thy trothmate to tend the common ground and to nurture the pledges given and received?"

I do vow, they said in unison.

"Then speak true: will ye plight thy troth to one another, forsaking all who would come between?"

I do vow.

Eiron then placed Linnet's hand in Beau's and clasped their joined hands in his. "Then Beau Darby and Linnet Fenrush, each having spoken true, go forth from here together and share thy joys and thy burdens in equal measure until thine individual destinies determine otherwise."

Eiron then stepped to Rynna and Tipperton and clasped their joined hands in his. "Then Tipperton Thistledown and Rynna Fenrush, each having spoken true, go forth from here together and share thy joys and thy burdens in equal measure until thine individual destinies determine otherwise."

Eiron then stepped back from the two couples and called out in a clear voice unto the assembled Lian, "Alori e Darai, va da Waerlinga, Linnet Fenrush e Beau Darby, e va da Waerlinga, Rynna Fenrush e Tipperton Thistledown, avan taeya e evon a plith!" And a great shout went up from all, with Lark laughing gaily and Melli weeping tears of joy and Nix hugging the dammen and slapping both Beau and Tip on the back.

Escorted by Riatha and Talar, and by Aravan and Vel-era, Beau and Linnet and Tipperton and Rynna were led through the gathering, lutes and flutes and harps and pipes and timbrels playing a merry tune, and Elven voices were raised in song.

Out through the doors they were led, the gathered Elves following, and to a snow-covered glade, where paper lanterns were hung-yellow and red and blue and green and many hues in between-and there they took their places among the Elves and stepped and chanted and paced and sang and celebrated not only their weddings but the turn of the seasons as well.

And held by Melli, Lark looked over Melli's shoulder and into the shadow-wrapped galleries of the Eldwood, and again the tot made the sound of the shsshing of leaves in the wind and held out her hands toward the gloom. And in the dimness just beyond the fringes of light cast by the colorful lanterns, there stood a tall creature of limbs and leaves and vines and tendrils. How Prym had gotten to Darda Galion is not told, yet in Darda Galion she was, swaying in time to the Elven rite and keeping watch on her wee Warrow charge.

It was snowing the next day, the second of Yule, and the Warrows spent much of their time before warm fires in the guesthouse, talking with Aravan and gleaning what meager news there was of the war, though now and again Beau and Linnet or Tip and Rynna would slip off to be alone. But the following day, the third of Yule, feeling the need to get back to their duties, they said their good-byes and bundled well against the cold, Lark in particular, they set out for Blackwood again.

Among the great eld trees they went, riding by day, camping by night, heading for the ferry at Olorin Isle. And on the eve of the third day, they reached the west bank of the Argon, where this time it was Baeron crews who rowed them across, the full moon having come the eve before.

It was twelfth Yule, Year's Start Day, the first day of January, the first day of the two thousand one hundred ninety-eighth year of the Second Era of Mithgar when the wedding party rode through the snow to come in among the withy-woven bowers of the holding of the Springwater Warrows, where they were greeted by the grim news that the Spawn had returned to the eastern wold.

It was, as well, the very first day of the fourth year of a great and terrible war.