The journey across the straits that separated the isle of Senuna from the mainland was one that Sigewulf hardly enjoyed and that he accomplished only with the greatest amount of aid. Where did that aid come from? Why from the likes of Senuna strangely enough. The goddess had maintained from what he was quick to discover thanks to Glædwine’s instructions before his escape, a single ship. Certainly he was young and perhaps too small to be attempting to traverse the seas that separated the islet, but with the aid of Bada this was no great challenge. And as to who might Bada be? He was one of the crewmembers from another of the ships, he had apparently suspected Senuna and had refused for this reason to go anywhere near the palace of Senuna.

It was for this reason that he had kept his distance. It was he who happened upon Sigewulf before the boy had the chance to find the cavern in which the small ship was to be found. At first he had panicked when he had been swept out from the light of day and into the shadows, yet when he realized who it was that had seized him, and hearing him shush him whilst saying he had felt considerably more at ease. “Silence boy! Else they will find you!”

To his surprise at the time, a number of the guards of the islet had passed them by. Startled the youth had looked up once released, “Bada, what are you doing still a man?”

“Pardon?”

“Everyone else my father included have, all been turned into pigs!” Sigewulf told him, only to then realize the other man had previously been utterly unaware.

“I did not know, for I dared not venture forth,” Bada replied at once, if a little defensively his eyes wide with horror.

Much as Sigewulf would have liked to condemn him for his cowardice, he knew this would have been unfair. He had fled himself from the guards of the palace, with the boy rather embarrassed when he was caught staring at one of the man’s facial scars. Bada was a tall man almost six-feet three inches tall, not unlike Hroðgar in this regard, however he was blonder in hair and beard with both neatly trimmed and with piercing blue-grey eyes not unlike a waiting storm. Dressed in the lightest armour one could find, he wore them easily and was easily twice the bulk of most men, though it was all muscle from what Sigewulf had observed. The man had however three scars on his face; one ran across his left brow near to the eye along his cheekbone, the second ran across his forehead and stopped near to the first one and the third scar ran along his right cheekbone. That last scar stopped near his upper lip and near to his right nostril and was partly covered by his short if thick beard.

There was an air of suspiciousness and desperation that hung about Bada, so that he had never seemed particularly likable to a lot of the children. Many of whom liked to pursue him and taunt him for some reason, mostly for his scars and for cowardice as he was rumoured to have fled thrice from battle. One of those times being fairly recently from the Elves of the forests over in on the mainland just before their arrival on Senuna’s islet.

The man had shown him the cavern where he had lived over the past year, after they exchanged stories; of their survival revealed he had been planning his own escape. Eager to get away from the goddess Senuna, he was to be swept up by the mood when he was shown where the small ship was to be found, “Oh such a wonderful discovery! Let us be away from this wretched place!”

It was at this time that Sigewulf began to dream. What did he dream of in the middle of the day and while still awake? He dreamt at that moment, of nothing less than the possibility of finding aid to rescue his beloved father, and all the others who had been captured by Senuna.

Maybe it was that he might find only despair thereupon the coast, a part of him despairing of the darkness he had seen there the last time he had visited that place. It was the only place they could go for the moment, with Sigewulf hopeful that the coast was not being guarded. Certainly, it had been more than a year since last he had journeyed there.

He was also concerned that they might meet with a storm such as that which very nearly knocked their ships down into the bottom of the sea. Thinking upon it, he wondered what he might do to stop the wicked goddess from finishing what she had begun, and devouring those she had already turned into beasts.

O please o gods, please Wotan protect them, do protect and shield them and if you are not the god for this please intercede on their behalf with the correct god who might have influence over our fates, Sigewulf was to pray if only deep within himself. He was later to repeat this prayer later that night when at last they made landfall.

Terrified of what might await him, he was to lose himself to his brooding and pondering what he might do were he to lose his beloved father? Sigewulf did not wish to even consider this possibility and yet there was a small voice deep within his being that whispered that he was already too late. Anxious, he only grew ever more worried and stricken at the thought of what he might have already lost, and what lay upon the horizon.

*****

His mind was wrenched however from memories of the prior day by the ship lurching from side to side, with Sigewulf very nearly knocked overboard. Curses flowed from Bada’s lips as loosely as might blood from a fish stabbed by a pike.

At any other time Sigewulf might well have chortled or grinned, as cursing was rapidly becoming something he was well accustomed to in men. It seemed to be the adult’s tongue he mused to himself, as he considered the man seated to the front of the ship. It was their way just as it was the way of children to bully and push one another to greater feats of madness.

It was vastly preferable he also thought to the slyness and pettiness of the women in Senuna’s service or those girls who had taken the higher rank over all others, among those children kept in her halls. “What is the matter?”

His query won him a sidelong glance from the corner of the man’s eyes as he looked up from the bottom of the ship before him to look back at the boy. “It would appear we have a hole in the bottom of the ship.”

“What? How will we survive such a disaster?” Sigewulf begged stricken at the news that there was a hole in the ship.

“Never fear, the hole is still small,” Bada retorted calmly, adding with a serenity that the boy could only envy. “I was born at sea, and know all that one need know about them, and therefore can say to you with all the certainty in the world that we shall not sink at once into the sea below.”

“But still-”

“Naught shall happen, if you cease tarrying and move hither to help me plug the hole,” Bada growled at the boy impatiently.

The boy needed no further prompting, moving around the older male who pressed himself to the other side of the boat. Reluctant to move about the boat, he was however to swallow his reticence so that he struggled not only physically to move about, but to do so in spirit. His spirit wavering with every lurch of the ship and every millimetre that he moved away from the isle of Senuna, such was the terror that continued to grip him by the throat. Suddenly he missed not only his father, but more than Hroðgar; he missed his elder brother and sister. They always knew what to say, what to do to comfort him.

Comfort when he thought of it, was something his father had always been quick to offer. That is to say in the days prior to the deaths of the eldest children of Hroðgar, so that Sigewulf missed his father of old. The man who had told him he had to be strong when his mother had died, but had also patted him upon the head as they stared into the hearth-fire. The man, who had held him as he wept and never said a word, only stroked the back of his head as he held him. It was that man also who had also taught him boisterously and happily how to trap a rabbit, and how to skin it. It had not been an experience that Sigewulf had wished to do, as he had pitied the hare and yet seeing the proud face of his father had made it worth it.

“I know it is neither easy, nor does it at first feel right to slay and skin such a thing. Yet with time, you will see my son that it is right, and proper so take heart.” Hroðgar murmured as he had wiped at his tears with his thumb, “So wipe away these disgraceful tears, wipe them away and cast them from your heart, as your brother and I had to, and your grandfather before us did. There is no shame in crying the first time, there is only shame in repeated tears every other time.”

And yet he had never cast shame nor ridiculed him for crying the third or fourth time. It was the fifth time when the youth failed to cry that Hroðgar had praised him.

That man though had been replaced by one who never expressed his joy, who never comforted him and never had much more than a grunt to offer. It often felt to Sigewulf as though the father he had revered so, and loved and honoured for so many years, had disappeared and in his place was a figure with his face, whom he did not recognize.

Tearing his thoughts from the memory of the past, he once more turned away from them to confront the present. The present was not at all half as beautiful as the past, yet merited no less the same attention he told himself, remembering this piece of wisdom from his late brother.

Struggling to draw out the water with the bucket that the older male gave him, and throw it out over the side, Sigewulf sweating and panting soon felt his muscles screaming out at him. He wished he could say that he lasted quite some time, before he began cursing and longing for it to be over, yet he could not.

How could this happen, he asked himself. How could the water keep on tearing its way through the small hole? It seemed the more he threw it over the side, the more it poured into the boat. The more he found that water seemed to leak in, and the larger the hole became.

“How is this hole growing?”

“The wood is utterly rotted through,” Bada realized with a flash of horror in his voice and eyes.

His words struck the boy with all the force of a club to the gut, knocking the wind out from his lungs even as the wind was torn from the ship’s only sail, so that it began to slow still further still some distance from the shore. The ship that they had struggled to keep level above the sea soon drew near enough to land, for Sigewulf to say, “I think we should swim.”

“But what of the ship?” Bada asked of him surprised.

“It is already failing us, we are fortunate to have made it so far with it.” He retorted sharply at the sailor who glaring at him took several minutes to ponder his words.

The man did not like his suggestion, at all. Nor did he like the idea of taking orders from a child, never an easy thing for any man to do. He might well have argued were it not for the boat jerking from side to side and the water seeping even more into the boat, so that they were now all of a sudden up to their knees in it.

Gaping down at the water that continued to enter and pour into the boat, as the hole continued to widen and the old, rotted wood that formed the base of the boat gave ever more way. It took several seconds ere either of them could gain some measure of mastery over themselves. Neither one of them wished to jump overboard, despite the knowledge that it was absolutely necessary for them to do so.

It happened though that Sigewulf was to prove himself the braver of the two, as he leapt out into the sea first out of the two of them. Bada for his part, forever shamed by this act on the youth’s part was to throw himself forward with a greater and infinitely louder curse than that uttered by the child.

Both of them had been taught since birth to swim. It was natural for those born in the lands of the Valhol to do so. They were among the most northerly of the lands from whence they came from. It was for this reason that it was their first instinct, just as it was their view that they ought to take matters into their own hands.

Fighting against the sea was a battle that both had considerable amounts of experience with, if only as a kind of a pass-time. In this situation though, it was a battle of life and death. A battle that though it might not have seemed all that great an obstacle so to speak for the likes of Bada however for the likes of Sigewulf it was one of the most difficult he had ever encountered. A small child, he had not the arm-length or the leg-strength that an adult man or even a slightly older child might well have possessed. So that for him this battle, was one that he soon began to find too great a challenge for him.

As far as he pushed himself forward, as much as he might wish to advance he found that for all his efforts he could not swim swiftly enough to reach the shore.

“Sigewulf, I have you, never fear!” Bada called out as he seized a hold of the boy. Crying out, he added almost at once, when the child began to panic when he seized hold of him, “Wait! Hold there is no reason to panic!”

Somehow though, the thin man who had helped him to make it so far from the islet of Senuna, pushed them both by

The forest loomed large as it had nigh on a year prior. It was with more than a little trepidation that Sigewulf eyed the forest. The trees of this particular place rising high as ever, without a single one of them having been disturbed since last he saw them. Each tree was covered in a great many green leaves that were considerably bigger than Sigewulf’s hands. The trees’ branches hanging high overhead as the wind whistled through and about them not unlike a menacing vulture in mid-flight.

Quite why he had thought to return hither to this place, even he did not quite know only that he had been told to find aid. This notion was one that had come suddenly to him, along with the memory of how Glædwine had remarked that the Elves were the finest archers in the world.

“We should not tread further into this place,” remarked Bada in a hushed voice, genuinely alarmed by the sight of the dark forest.

Sigewulf glanced in his direction. “No we should not.”

Yet still he made to move forward thither, into the woods to the alarm of Bada, who seized him by the arm. “What are you thinking boy? This place is cursed! Did you already forget how they fired upon us with their arrows?”

“No.”

“Then why do you advance to yon woods?”

“Because, they are mighty and magical, and therefore may know or understand the goddess Senuna better than you or I,” Sigewulf replied at once, speaking not from his mind but from somewhere deep within his being.

“They will kill us, they are dangerous!”

“As are all men and creatures of the earth that are strong and magical,” Sigewulf replied quoting now something that Glædwine had once told him whilst aboard their ship.

Paying him no further heed, the boy marched on towards the forest while the sailor stared on after him in alarmed consternation. Pondering the situation over, with several repeated glances back and forth from the sea to further on in the forest.

To his mind the trees loomed higher than they had nigh on a year before, mightier and even more glacial than ever before so that he questioned the wisdom of returning to this place. The boy had lost his wits, he told himself.

The trouble was; how to convince him that he had? And where was he to go? The forest seemed to cover the whole of the land, and the only way to go anywhere was by sea not that they had a boat. And if they began knocking trees down with the axe he had brought with him, they would risk the ire of the local Elves.

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How did it come to this? How did I come to attract the rage of Wotan and the other gods? Bada asked himself internally hardly able to believe the misfortune that had befallen him.

It was only then that he took notice of the fact that the boy had already thrown himself into the forest, with nary a glance behind him.

Hardly glancing behind him, he charged forward into the forest, he did not yell at once, but rather chose to wait to do so until he had trodden further into the forest.

It was as he saw the boy take leave of him that panic spread into Bada’s heart so that he raced after the boy, and made to seize him. “What do you think you are doing boy? Have you gone daft?”

“No, but I do know that they are not evil and that- I think you should hideaway behind this tree!” It was a good thing that Sigewulf spoke up then. Otherwise poor Bada who had instinctively made to do as he was bidden might well have lost his head as an arrow flew through the air in the direction of where his head had previously been.

Terrified by this, he was to let loose a shrill cry and with one desperate act attempted to pull the boy behind the tree if only to shield him there.

Quick as his good-hearted actions were, they were not nearly as swift as those of the boy who cried out to those who slunk in the trees above. “Wait! Wait! Bada meant no harm! He is good and true, it is only that we need aid!”

Another arrow fluttered through the air, this time a short distance above the boy’s head. The message was a very obvious one; he was to leave the woods.

Sigewulf though would not be dissuaded as he cried out, “Wait! Do hear us out, we have need of help, for you alone can aid us against Senuna! She has taken all those we love, including my father and valiant Glædwine and all the children!”

The Elves when at last they appeared did so quietly. Such was the stealth with which they appeared that neither of the two of them saw them until it was too late. Though they did not let loose a volley of arrows, they pounced with all the stealth of jungle-cats, striking from the shadows with such ferocity that both Bada and Sigewulf could only blink as one second they were on their feet and the next they were held firmly against the ground.

The cry that was torn from the boy’s throat startled the Elves, who stared down upon him for quite some time.

Allowed several minutes to once more catch his breath that he might beg for his and Bada’s life, the youth pleaded. “Please, do not slay us.” When the Elves remained silent and instead made to notch their arrows, he added, “We come from the isle of Senuna we need help! We did not know whither to go or who else to turn to!”

Startled the Elves stared once more.

Neither the man full grown nor the boy quite knew what to make of their peculiar reactions. It was with a start that they heard the sound of whispers as the Elves communicated among themselves. Confused they could only wait as their captors made up their minds, as to what to do with them.

“Did you say Senuna?” One of their number asked of them sharply, in the Valhol tongue.

“Wait you speak our tongue?” Bada asked of them.

“Yes indeed, we have had dealings with your people before, as they have travelled across our lands,” one of the Elves snapped back with no less venom than before. This one though caught the attention of the boy and the man, with the two staring at him.

He was taller than the rest, being a good foot taller than the other Wilder-Elves. His hair was also darker as were his burning, glowing eyes and his ears slightly longer surpassing the great knot at the back of his back in which his hair was braided into. His face was like all Elvish face completely without hair on its chin and cheeks, with his eyebrows thick and powerful and his jaw-line a mighty one. His arms were bared and muscular, in the same manner as that of Hroðgar and his clothes consisted of a simple if well-woven green tunic and dark trousers and still darker deer-skinned boots.

“I am Pellas,” he said just before he sent several of his brothers as he called them (though they bore little resemblance to him), to go, “-find the rest of our tribe, all four hundred of them. If it is indeed true that Senuna is once more causing trouble as she once did hundreds of years ago, then we will have need of all our warriors.”

“You will really help us?” Sigewulf asked eagerly.

“Patience, young one, first tells us this tale of yours, and then we shall decide whether we will aid you against her… or kill you ourselves, that is if we find you to be lying about this matter.”

*****

When at last the Elves finished their rapt listening to the tale of the youth, they did not react as Bada feared they might, and skinned them alive. To the contrary, it seemed that they were sincerely and genuinely indignant at the comportment of the goddess, Senuna. Their expressions shifted from that of amusement to anger. Truly they may not have been terribly fond of those who had invaded their forest almost a year prior, however despite these sentiments they could no more stomach Senuna’s behaviour than they could the desecration of their forests.

And so it was that the leader of their hunters, Pellas having previously remained silent throughout their tale, spoke up at last. “This news grieves us, for we well knew that Senuna was indeed still alive however we had hoped that she had learnt from Circe’s mistakes.”

“Does that mean you will help us?” Sigewulf asked hopefully.

It was now that Pellas hesitated. He by all rights lacked the authority to make such a decision. It ought to have been left in the hands of his chieftain, to determine the matter, however a great number of the Elves began then to cheer. It was thus; with more than a little surprise that the boy took note of the fire that was to spark to life in the glowing eyes of more than one of the Elves.

“My brothers; we have here the request for aid from a child, one who has lost kith and kin. We the chieftains of Gaullas, face once more a difficult choice; the previous time we aided men it was the sons of Roma who in more recent times turned in upon themselves, and have since disappeared from the earth, save for slivers of their civilizations here and there.” Pellas said in his deep voice that resonated throughout the forest.

“Yes, and look at what is left of our own people,” countered one of the Elves in the same tongue as that used by the two Valhols’ to communicate with them.

“Indeed, and that is entirely thanks to our alliance with Roma, which saw to our protection from many of our enemies.” Pellas retorted adding for good measure, “We also if the memory of Roma does not remain, took an oath to ensure that Senuna will never commit such crimes again.”

His words left quite the effect upon a number of the other Elves.

Confused, by his words Sigewulf asked him for further clarification, “Does this mean that you will help us?”

The Elves were to study him with long, searching stares, whereupon the formidable Pellas spoke up, “We shall bring the matter to our chieftain.” When the boy made to follow he held up a hand, “You and your friend will remain here, to wait for us here.”

The Elves departed, and were to be away for a brief period of time. So brief was the period that they were away for that Sigewulf who had seated himself by a tree had just begun to doze off when he was shaken by the newly returned Pellas.

Exhausted after a day full of lengthy travel across the sea and trying to argue his case before the Elves, Sigewulf could blink in relief as Pellas informed him, “Our chief has spoken.”

“And?” Bada asked with bated breath.

“We will aid you.” Pellas informed them, to their immense relief as he smiled down at them.

*****

And so it was that the Elves of the mysterious westernmost lands of North-Agenor, tore from their hidden places, their boats. None of these were particularly large ships, so that they were built for short trips, yet there were a few longer than the rest. It was upon these slightly longer vessels that they traveled across he waves, cutting through them to reach Senuna’s islet. Leaping down from the ships, the hundreds of Elves all armed with their Elf-Steel swords, bows and spears they were to make for the high hills upon which the road to the palace sat. It was with the aid of this road that one could reach the great palace of the goddess.

It was upon this road that they journeyed, upon this road that they journeyed. They arrived thither before the palace, spears, bows and swords all glimmering in the moonlight, for ‘twas night when they arrived yonder. It was with the aid of a hook, and a great rope that one of their own slipped inside and opened the gates.

Once inside, the men-folk of the Elves threw themselves forward blades sundering through flesh and bone. Theirs was not the honourable killing of warriors who meet upon the battle field, as had happened between Hroðgar and the Wonder of Valhol, in days past. This was the ruthless killing of those who knew themselves to be outnumbered, and who had long grown weary of the cruelty, the ruthlessness and the savagery of that which they had dealings with. Certainly in those days many were the gods and goddesses who comported themselves badly, yet time and again they had been given pity and mercy, so that they might better their ways. It was said that a great many had, yet still there were those who refused.

It was for this reason that when at last awoke the house of Senuna to the danger that stalked their halls there was at first horror, then a great wail that arose throughout the house. The Elves of this particular tribe, though ordinarily merciful in the view of Sigewulf, showed little of this virtue to their enemies. It was in their view unacceptable.

Pity could not be shown to the servants of the Senuna, Pellas was to proclaim as the Elves went from room to room, beheading and running through each and every servant, every sleeping, drunken guard and eviscerating each of those they came across. It was as though a great tide of death had washed over the castle, never to be completely removed from them.

It was as they poured into the rooms of the Nereids, and other Nymphs, slaughtering guards and servants that Sigewulf reminded his friends, “Remember! Do not harm them, for it was Lladriana who rescued me!”

“Of course, never fear young Sigewulf,” Pellas agreed at once, adding with a glance into one of the bedchambers, “We cannot slay them, harm them perhaps yet our steel is not true steel. It bears no relation whatsoever to the steel made by the gods or of dragon-scales or bones, and therefore can no more slay a goddess or Nymph than we could pluck the moon from the sky.”

Reassured if only slightly, Sigewulf still insisted that no harm was to come to Lladriana whom was soon brought before him, having been caught unawares. The maiden was dressed only in a simple gown and was thrown at the feet of Pellas who looked on her with suspicious eyes.

The Nereid frightened looked all about her, fearful of the Elves who bore upon their armour, their blades the blood of many of those she had lived with for many years. It was only when her gaze met that of Sigewulf that she seemed to relax and showed some relief.

Currently in the middle of one of the hallways near the atrium, there were more than twenty Elves present, who glared with dark glowing eyes at the Nereid. Few if they were not constrained by nature’s laws would have shown mercy, if they were able to deny her it that is. Aware of this and to whom she owed her survival, the astonished water-spirit bowed her head in thanks to them.

“I see that I owe you a debt Sigewulf,” Lladriana remarked only to add with a great deal of warmth, “I also see that when I chose to bind myself to thee, I chose wisely.”

This statement drew a number of stares from the warriors who stood all about Sigewulf, who flushed scarlet. He felt embarrassed as though he had been teased about his affection for his mother or sister, and yet this felt different. It was more pointed, for reasons that escaped him.

The warmth with which the young Nereid looked on him with was not only remarkable, but also very much a unique thing so that Sigewulf had the suspicion that the fondness with which she regarded him with thenceforth was for him and him alone.

“Erm, thank you and where is my father and the other sailors and people from Valhol?” Sigewulf asked of her.

“They should still be down near the farms to the south-west, some are in the courtyard outside past the west-gates, they will not be hard to find.” Lladriana replied at once, only to glance fearfully over her shoulder towards the stairs that led up to Senuna’s bedchambers. “If I may, could I be permitted to depart from this place? I should prefer not be present when Senuna realizes that it is I who betrayed her.”

“Of course,” Sigewulf agreed at once, on behalf of the Elves who withdrew a few steps to murmur among themselves.

Pellas amused and hardly interested in punishing the Nereid, was to remark, “On condition Lladriana that should we ever

When at last they came into the bedchambers of the goddess it was to find her already awake, and her flute in hand. That terrible tool she had seized, which had enabled her to follow in her terrible mentor, Circe’s footsteps in her oppression and horrific crimes against the race of men. Seeing it filled Sigewulf with fright so that he very nearly turned to flee, he had nary enough time to utter a warning to his guards.

To his astonishment though, not only did they not shrink away but stared defiantly at the equally shocked goddess. His lip curling with disgust, Pellas said to her with visible disdain, “Milady if I may lay down the flute else we will have need to resort to more extreme actions.”

The goddess to her credit continued to attempt to transform them into beasts to no avail, which served only to further her despair.

Unaffected by her witchcraft, they pressed forward torches in hand, and eyes aglow with fury hewing apart the flute with a simple flick of one of their swords, breaking the spell she had cast upon the interlopers onto her island forever. It was with a shriek as Pellas’s blade sliced through the bronze instrument and as she leapt back that Senuna was dealt her greatest moment of humiliation.

“You cannot do this to me! I am a goddess, of the line of Pontus whereas you- you are but mere Elves!” She shouted furiously.

“Milady, with due respect you have defiled those who have come to your island, and plundered their wealth unjustly when we on our last visit warned against such actions. Now we have come to mete out the justice of thy own ancestor, who forbade such practices as those you have given yourself over to; violating mortal men and turning others into pig that you might devour them is against the oaths sworn by the gods. Need we remind thee of how might Roma take such violations when she becomes aware of them?” Pellas snapped menacingly to the goddess who shrank back, terrified.

Whimpering she was to offer no further counters or arguments. She was defeated, this much even Sigewulf could tell.

Paying her no further mind as Pellas doled out his conditions for her and her islet’s submission, Sigewulf let out a great cry when he discovered Glædwine to one side. The middle-aged hero lay on one of the sofas, visibly discombobulated as he had been before, the last time Sigewulf had seen him. At present though he blinked his eyes and seemed to only at present become aware of himself, and of the world around him.

Confused he glanced about and struggled to his feet, staring at the Elves in visible bewilderment, “Sigewulf what-?”

“It is alright Glædwine, you are among friends now!” Sigewulf assured him eagerly.

“Friends? Friends who have the courage to thrust bloodied blades against the face of a goddess I see,” Glædwine remarked visibly amused only for his humour to dissipate as he exclaimed, “Wait, who does that blood belong to? What of Ealhswiþ?”

“Ealhswiþ?” Pellas asked suspiciously.

No sooner had he spoken than Glædwine plunged forward to the same room connected to the large chamber that he had gone to the previous time they had spoken. Once more there was the sound of the baby’s cries, with the Elves staring in stunned amazement. Evidently they had not known that the goddess had birthed the man’s daughter, with several of them turning to stare at first at Sigewulf who squirmed having forgotten this detail himself.

It was only as they turned once more to study the goddess who glanced from them to the Valhol, who held her daughter that they at last decided upon her punishment. “You who have stolen away the children of thousands, and abused them and devoured the flesh of men, ought now to face a similar punishment as that which thou hast inflicted upon others.” Pellas pronounced with a glance towards Glædwine as to Sigewulf. “Just as we Elves do not believe in the slaying of children, we can neither inflict a direct punishment upon a mother before her child. Therefore, we shall ask of the wronged parties present herewith us to-day; what say you to the division of mother from child? It is a wrong yea, however is it any lesser than her own similar misdeeds?”

“No! You cannot take my child, my baby from me!” Senuna exclaimed in horror, her face twisting with grief.

“What say you Glædwine the Sea-Master?” Pellas inquired ignoring the goddess entirely, then when she made to leap forward, he once more pressed to her cheek the bloodied blade he held. “Do not move goddess, lest we scar your person even if temporarily with these fay-blades of ours!”

Once more properly subdued, the goddess turned her pleading gaze to Glædwine, who head bowed, eyes on the child in his arms took some time before he answered. Certainly, he might have been expected to return her stare, however his gaze moved not to her, but rather to the boy whom he had saved but a few days prior. Studying him for some time, he eventually nodded his head.

*****

It happened that after the palace was seized in its entirety that it was discovered that all those who had been transformed into beasts were restored to their proper form. Hardly surprised by this, Pellas and his people revealed that they had long expected this, as the flute was the ‘container’ or the ‘bottle’ within which the magic that had transformed men into beasts resided. “Once destroyed,” they explained, “all those affected by its spell returned to as they were.”

It was thus with immense relief that children were reunited with their parents, each of them having been distressed and frightened the morning after the attack, to find their previous ‘guardians’ slain and the bloodied corpses being tossed into the sea, and all travel outside their rooms restricted by the imposing Elves. That is until the parents had returned, to reclaim their infants.

An isolationist people, once they had observed how the surviving Valhols mistrusted them, they swore to take their leave, and to the amazement of the newly restored parents this is what they did within hours of their conquest of the palace.

“The power of Senuna is broken, she cannot turn you into animals anymore, for this reason we shall return to our home.” Pellas told them, thereupon the sward where they had but a few hours prior docked their ships.

Startled at how quickly they had elected to take their leave, Sigewulf and Glædwine sought to plead with them. “Will you not join us?” the former asked.

“Yes, indeed we could use your assistance on Bretwealda, I am certain my lord would be more than happy to receive you into his service.”

“No Glædwine, we must return to the forests that spawned us, as we have little in the way of interest in conquest, especially of a land such as that of Bretwealda which has little to interest us south of Kadrianus’ wall,” Pellas retorted with a shake of his dark-haired head.

“Pah, we are better without ye,” Hroðgar grunted with more than a little disdain in his voice, the arrows they had used against him and the flames he had ignited hardly forgotten even after a year so that his coldness was returned.

Sigewulf resisted a sigh of exasperation. Much as he revered his father, the man had hardly greeted him with much more than a swift inspection to look for injuries, then a curt nod before he had hand going to his newly reclaimed axe, glowered at the Elves. It was evident then as it was now that they stood on the shore, he had little in the way of interest in Pellas or his people.

A sentiment that was returned, as the Elf turned from him to the man’s son, saying as he did so, “Sigewulf, if there is ever a need again do not be afraid to call upon us, as we shall doubtless someday do with yourself and beware of those Nymphs you have met. They may not always be quite so friendly as one might think, as tragedy often hounds them whithersoever they go.”

Speaking no more to them, Pellas chief hunter of his people turned to go, taking to the ships that had carried them there. This after they had exchanged some measure of gifts, directions and had sworn shared oaths of friendship.

Though Hroðgar stared after them with unmitigated coldness, Sigewulf followed their ships until they had disappeared from sight. It was to be Glædwine though who was to turn away with a small smile, “Let us now be away to our own ships that we might rebuild what we must and repair what was must. We have tarried too long upon this wretched islet, and must now be away to Bretwealda, and our new home there!”