XLVII. On the morrow of the next day, the first thing in Elbracht’s agenda was to write a letter, asking the king’s for his brother to serve the Sagrary in Ceor as soon as he had finished his novicehood. He took a quill and parchment, wrote his plea down and sealed the letter with the golden oaktree of Clasthaur to then give it to an emissary, whom he dispatched to the capital by noon. Thereafter, he held a session of his council of governance, where he discussed the preparations for the three forthcoming weddings—all of which would be held next spring, but wrote to the lord and brides of each family to spend the last months of the year in Ceor, where winter was milder.
In the night of that day he told Asadue of what came after; once that was settled, the lord of Ceor, still sorrowy by the yester meeting with his brother, asked for his squire and a party of huntsmen to be gathered; he also invited general Caradon, and other distinguished lords of his court to join him. Even after Memlafar’s dismissal he was in the mood to ride out in the fields for a good mounted sport—the likes of which he had not enjoyed in a long while, but then the time was right for proper prowl. He met with his party in the outer bailey; he wore a coat of mail and had his favourite sword, Oakenjaw, in its sheath. His hunting host was ready to part, when out from the shadows of his seclusion came Memlafar the fair with his harp in hands, his hair was tressed into a golden tread and his robes were brown and olive—for the first time after long, he seemed clean and healed. Elbacht was jolly to see him and his shade of sadness was lit by a light of joy. He sprang down from his mount to meet his brother,
-“Mem, good of you to find the strength to join us!” He said with a beam from ear to ear “you may sing us a fairy tune in the hunt, but mind you don’t play something too gloomy, for the spirits are high and our thirst for prey is great.”
-“I still haven’t gathered the courage to wield a weapon again” said Memlafar “but your words yester eve, have moved me to come out from my solitude and sing to the land of the memory of Carédock. The trees may grow stonger to be reminded of the might of our absentee brother.”
-“No doubt, the tress will be glad hear of it” said the lord of Ceor, “take a mount and we will do it together.”
Sir Memlafar jumped onto a grey horse, packed a pair of daggers and put a longer blade in his sword case. He rode near his brother and said,
-“I do not wish to put myself in the way of quenching your thirst for a hunt” Memlafar said, “but I had hoped we may ride alone the two of us. I do not wish to sorry the other huntsmen with Carédock’s lament”
-“Nonsense, they’ll be pleased to hear your tune.” yet Memlafar was determined,
-“I mean it, brother” said he, “a time may come when I am ready to pick up bow, ax or sword again, but that time is not yet come.”
-“Very well, then. We’ll have it your way… General Caradon, disband the party! I will ride with my brother alone today” said Elbracht turning to the Earl Marshal; he nodded his head in understanding and disassembled the hunting host. And out of the city gates rid the two brethren, out to the fields of the country, to the trees of the woods under a cloudy sky.
The morning of that day was grey and shady, a curtain of clouds veiled the blue beyond the eye’s reach, and the shadows cast by trees of crimson and gold carpeted the mossy slopes and banks. Across those fields of green untrimmed rode two horses grey and white; the riders were Elbracht and Memlafar, and their trot disturbed the thin haze about their path. They jaunted from field to field, from tree to tree and the hours of the day seemed to pass by undimmed. Under the golden leaves of autumn, whenever they found a fairy copse, cozy enough to rest their mounts, Memlafar, harp in hands, would sing to the trees the Lament of Carédock, wittily finding new verses to add to his song.
Sir Carédock, a knight, so noble and true,
Crippled and blinded, yet spirit anew,
He withstood, foes so terrible,
And surpassed enemies unbearable.
Of the Gods is he now a servent,
He who to blade’s so keen,
The Wolf whose spirit so fervent,
Was bound to the fold of sheep.
In the likeness of heroes old he stood,
Proud as golden kings, noble as oaken wood,
His legacy forever to endure,
The silver branch of House Clasthaur.
The spirit of the fair brother appeared to grow strong beneath the mistletoe of some barren trees, for he no longer sang only of the brother’s treason, but also of the comely complexion of Carédock, his might in battle and his effort to make justice to his father, Elreck. In other times the mention of his father would prompt a sudden darkness about him, but the prince was content to see his brother heal his wounds. Elbracht would fetch him water from the nearby streams when the repeated tune dried Memlafar’s tongue; the respectful thanks that came thereafter from his brother’s mouth seemed to warm up Elbracht’s heart, whatsoever subtle those courtesies might have been.
They went as far as the road stretched and when there was no further trek to trail they turned on their backs and rode back whence they came. The sun behind its grey curtain seemed to wane in strength, and the shadows under the woods grew wider in their reach. The gold and red of the leaves turned to brown and then black until a great gloom made the shapes of the landscapes disappear. Elbracht was concerned the path would become too obscure to follow but a flash of pale light sudden and swift gave the brothers a quick glance of their surroundings. The lord of Ceor would have been glad to go on, if the white flash had not faded away thereafter. Soon a thunderous blast echoed on the fields, they realised night had not come afore time, but dense clouds of black were formed in the skies and their woeful dominion extinguished the brightness of the land.
To avoid the storm the brothers hastened the gallop of their horses and only the sound of the hooves against the moody ground reminded them they were still near each other. Another flash followed the former and the brothers shared a rapid look,
-“We ought to find shelter and quickly!” said Elbracht, “the trees won’t due as a roof this time.”
As if blessed by some lucky fortune, Memlafar spotted a faint light in the distance, it glinted yellow and red and was not too far away,
-“there is a light not far from here.” he said, “look there to your right!”
Without much hasitation, the brothers rid thither in haste. There were three more flashes and immediatly therefter the clouds began to weep all over them. Before the rain became too fierce to face, the light grew ever brighter. Presently, they discerned the light came from a lonely cottage, and a smoke came out of its chemny, streaming and swirling in the wind. The brothers had not reached the outer fences of that cabin when a bolt blasted very near them. But the storm did not claim the life of any that night, for they got safe to the cottage just in time.
The Lonely Cottage [https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/928675464401281116/1090959533091868742/The_Lonely_Cottage.jpeg]
They knocked on the door three times and not long after a figure cracked it open and a sweet voice followed, “Haste inside, haste inside!” She asked no further questions and let the brothers in. The voice was of an adult maid, wrapped with pink dresses and a wimple. She took their capes and hung them in perks by the door. Elbracht spoke for his brother and himself, when he thanked the woman for the kind gesture. Her name was Judis, or so she told the brothers—it seemed to Memlafar that the poor woman did not realise, she had let strangers into her house,
-“Ah!” exclaimed she, finally coming to her senses, “You are not Marren, and you are not my Gilly. I beg your pardon, farers. I have mistaken you for my brother and my husband.”
-“I hope you do not remorse letting us in, however.” said Elbracht “‘Tis pouring outside, and I doubt my brother and I could have managed on our own for much longer.”
-“Not at all, sirs.” She said, “‘Twas only that I have been expecting Marren and Gilly to be here by this time. And I grow worried what could have troubled them. But I am sure the men of the house are already on their way. Still I would like to know your names before Gilly comes in, I ought to know who I am letting under my roof, if you don’t mind me saying.”
-“Not at all, goodwife Judis.” Elbracht said, and then he bowed his head most courteously “My name is sir John and this is my brother, Will. We come from Keor, and while we cared for an hour of rest by the fair copses of the season, the storm formed about us quickly and we lost our other parties.” To Memlafar it was obvious that his brother would deem it best to hide their identities so as to not disturb their peaceful exchange. The kind lady offered them cozy seats near a hearth and a hot tee to drink, the taste of which was not much to the liking of Memlafar, but it held him warm so it sufficed quite enough for him and the armchair whereupon he sat kept him comfy and pleased. Elbracht was not as comfortable as his brother. He was certainly distressed that he did not know what to expect of these two men, Marren and Gilly, who were still to come. Of course it was only natural that an adult woman would not live alone in such a cottage, which was not large, but still not small enough for one tenant, less so a woman, which was not common in those countries.
The respectful Judis sat by a corner minding for needle and thread and left the brothers to themselves. Perhaps she was too affrighted to appear improper in uttering anything without her husband and protector by her side. The brothers didn’t say much either, they sat by the fire contemplating its flame as they waited for the two men to arrive. Not before long the door was opened abruptly with a creak, and a terrible sound of thunder followed a flash in the portal and windows of the house. In came two men; one was sturdy and heavy and had a proud brown beard, this man was Gilly and behind him entered his younger brother-in-law the handsome Marren, he was smaller than Gilly, but seemed twice as strong, he had long trimmed black hairs and a partly shaven beard. Elbracht and Memlafar stood at once from their chairs to welcome the long awaited men.
The sturdy man frowned at the brothers and sought with his eyes for Judis who approached him to take his coat.
-“What kept you for so long?” asked the woman,
-“We were harvesting the land as usual as we heard the trees sing fairy words of some knight of legend” said the jolly Marren with a bliss of joy on his face. But Gilly wasted no time in giving excuses to his wife. He was far more interested to know, who were the guests that sat by his hearth, the younger of which sat on his favourite chair.
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-“Who are these men, wife?” asked he with a stern look,
-“These are sir John and master Will.” said Judis, “They come from the Big City, and the storm would have almost caught them, had they not found the house.”
-“Gods be good, you are safe now!” said the witty Marren, “You couldn’t have made it back to Keor in time. I hope my sister has tended you well.”
-“Well enough” said sir John, “but there is no need to worry for us. We will be on our way a soon as the storm sunders.”
-“Nay, by all means stay” said Gilly doing his best to mimic his woman’s kindness—which as it appeared, was not much habitual to him. “My dear Judis will make you a nice supper, and you can rest tonight upstairs. Young Marren can sleep here in my armchair (whereupon Memlafar had been sitting).”
-“We do not wish to be a nuisance, goodhusband Gilly” said Elbracht,
-“Nonsense, sir” answered proudly Gilly, wagging his long brown beard. “The Gods willed you to come hither today, in your hour of need. It is only right that we play as good hosts and offer you the full hospitalities of my house.”
The large Gilly took a chair from a back corner and sat by the the brothers to entertain his guests.
-“So ye come from the big city, eh?” he said, “I haven’t been there since, me old sire passed, Gods rest his soul. But those were different times, when the good lord Tomfrey ruled. How much has the city changed since then?”
-“Quite a great deal, I am afraid.” Said sir John, “there is not much life left in the streets that remember those days. It seems they have turned to the country-side. Away from the memory of Keor”
-“‘Tis much better so, I tell you” said Gilly, “Me ol’ sire and I used to live there, but the war saw many perils take roots in the city for us to stay there. We were merchants of wool and rare grains in the city, but in the last years the market has flooded with slaves—Slavery was the only business; slaves sold, slaves bought—that ruined trade for all the rest. So we sold as much as we could and moved out into the lands. Many more did just as we. But not my Judis and Marren; their lot has been here since the can’t remember when. Judis great-grandsire fought for the mighty Urme Elfbane against the Woodelves long ago. And their proud kind remained hereabout to make sure the elves don’t come back to retake their lost holding. I hope she’ll soon bless me with a son, her strong blood will mean a good deal in the labouring of me lands.”
-“If he is anything like me or sister, he’ll give you more trouble than he does good.” said the snickering merry Marren. “Old Gilly here, has always believed this fairy tunes about my family, but in truth no one knows even my grandfather’s name. How to be sure if my ancestor ever fought in that war? Nay, we just let the myths kindle our spirits to go on with our lives, but the tale is not truer than the myths of the Willow-man*(1). If there were any truth to it beside that rusted armour you keep in the dining room, you ought to be calling me Sir Marren, me dear in-law.”
Elbracht found hard to believe anything they were saying. In his eyes this encounter was the perfect opportunity for boastful commoners to make up stories to impress any wanderer from Ceor. But Memlafar’s eyes startled upon hearing of this, he was far more engaged than his brother in heeding their wonderous tales and songs—it was not too often, that he met with many smallfolks and he found them kinder than kind and very amusing. In spite of all the tragedies that had befallen him it seemed that the humble and gracious spirits of the farmers and peasants were far better suited to him than the drama of the big cities.
They sat a long while by the hearth hearing stories from the mouth of Gilly and when his tongue dried out of words to say, Marren went on with even more stories to tell. Marren was a very merry fellow, he had a glary cherry beam and though he was but an aiding hand in Gilly’s dairy and prairies, he was good caring, fairy and and not so hairy. He had served as a watcher (a sort of a policeman) in a village nearby, and had collected stories from the villagers there. He spoke of the farmer, Master helby, who raised pigs with two curly tails and headless chicks wandering by his lands, of the tasty mushrooms and herbs of the healer, Miss Heden and the tales and tunes of the young bard Elfric. He spoke of the village’s Numére (local priest) who had an affair with the councilman’s daughter, and of the blacksmith that was for a while employed in the fortress of Cigord working a strange iron that was hard to bend but light to carry—naturally Elbracht knew what ore he meant, but said nothing about it—but by far the most interesting story was that about the dwarves; the merry Marren had a lot to say about them,
-“Small queer folks, indeed, though decent enough and immensily secretive.” said he, “in me time as watcher, I often came upon a throng of dwarves faring pass the village. They are keen to ale and craftsmanship and regularly stayed in the inn of the village, sometimes for a single night and more seldom for a whole week. In their time there they usually meddled with the blacksmiths and traded advice in exchange for precious stones and ores, which they were very meticulous to study. They seem to have settled far north from the village near the bigger woods, for I rarely see them whenever I am there. I have seen a pair here and there journeying by the village, other times I have seen them in parties of six and yet they almost never travel on their own, when they can avoid it. I wish I could tell you more, but they no longer share their business with me, perhaps because I am no longer a watcher, though I often wonder what brought them hither parts nonetheless.”
-“Did you make friends among their lot?” asked the young Will.
-“Not a lot of them,” answered Marren, “since, you see, they are very seclusive and mind little to learn the common tongue. Still I am happy to say, I think I found a friend among one of them. He mastered our language very well for one of his type, and we often conversed when he fared alone, a very witty little fellow. He did not tell me his true name (for you see dwarves keep to themselves their business), but he introduced himself as Hugh Ironborn. I was fairly fond of him… O Gods, how I miss him!”
-“Didn’t you say they never travel alone?” asked sir John
-“No, they don’t” said Marren, “but Hugh is different. He is much taller than the other dwarves, and still he can’t reach my shoulders. I don’t know why, but he’s the only dwarf I have seen by his own.”
Memlafar was delighted to hear of all these funny tales, but grew tired of hearing them eventually, and longed only for a good meal to sate his hungry stomach and a bed where he could rest.
Not long after, the goodwife Judis came back into the room; she had quietly disappeared from her corner to sneak into the kitchen and was now ready to announce that supper was served. The four men moved into the dining room, which was richly decorated with tapestries of the elven wars and an armour stand where an old rusty panoply was on display; this gave Elbracht reasons to believe that the stories they had told were not so fake after all, Memlafar had not doubted of their veracity for a moment. They sat by Gilly at one end of the table and Judis sat at the other end with her brother.
-“We thank the good gods in their Western Halls, for this splendid meal and for the companies they have blessed us with, for we are very fond of their parties” said Gilly. “My dear wife has decided to cook a very good lamb-stew and bake some tasty grain-bread to mark this especial gathering” he thanked his wife and proceeded to drink and eat form it. The fair brother did not like the soup very much, it was not the sort of meal he was used to eat in the castle, but cared to empty his bowl, nonetheless. As if by a chance of destiny, Memlafar noticed in his stew he was given a cut of the lamb which he frowned upon with a spiteful memory; he ate the lamb’s flank with a somewhat ungratified look, thinking only of her fat wife-to-be, lady Carall.
-“What is wrong with the stew, master Will?” asked Gilly defiantly, “my wife took a fair deal of effort to cook for you. Least you can do is show her some gratitude.”
-“I am very grateful, goodhusband Gilly, to you, your in-law and your goodwife Judis” said he, “this stew is delicious, I have just had a long day and not full of good memories, that’s all.”
-“Whatever is the matter?” Marren asked
-“Nothing to bother you with” answered Memlafar. The stillness in the room could have held longer if Elbracht had not jumped in to say,
-“Excuse my brother, pray,” said he “he’s not been the same for some time now. Our brother… he is no longer with us.” Memlafar was not happy to hear Elbracht talking of Carédock as if he was dead, but understood that there was no reason to talk about him then. Sir John then went on to say, “we were very fond of him, and my good brother Willy sings a song now and then to remember him by.”
-“I sing to trees and fields, to the birds on the branches and foxes in the bushes, and any other soul with ears to hear it. We’ve halted in almost every thicket and stream and harp in hands I sang of him.”
-“so it wasn’t the trees I had been hearing the afternoon long.” Said the merry Marren, now turning to his in-law, “you thought I had gone mad, Gilly. I told you I had heard a fairy tune on our way hither.” he laughed and guffawed. Gilly also smiled—that was the first and only time he showed some joy in the whole evening.
-“Where is you harp now master Will?” he asked “you ought to fetch it so we can hear the whole story.”
-“I left it by my horse” answered Memlafar, “I don’t think now is a good time to sadden you with such a sorry tune.”
-“Ah never mind us” said Gilly, “please do, it’s been long since the good Judis has blessed us with her voice. Mayhap ‘tis time already for this house to enjoy some proper song, and not my brother-in-law’s stories and tales of his long passed time as a watcher.”
The brother’s emptied their cups and Memlafar went straight up to his horse to bring his instrument—the rain did not seem to bother. When he was back, the family and Elbracht sat again by the hearth in the parlor. Gilly was finally on his usual chair, whereupon Memlafar regretedly never sat again. The fair brother found a cozy corner by the fire where to sing, and he began swiftly to tangle his fingers to and fro among the strings.
Of the Gods is he now a servent,
He who to blade’s so keen,
The Wolf whose spirit so fervent,
Was bound to the fold of sheep.
The song went on and on for a while and Memlafar made up new verses to match his humbler identity. He even came up with a secret name for Carédock who this time he referred to as Richard. “Well done! Encore!” cried out Marren ever in a jolly mood and three more times master Will sang the same tune now with happier endings and omitting the parts when he talked of the brother’s betrayal.
-“And that is about it” said Memlafar, “I hope it was not too gloomy this time. But I have to thank you for your hospitality somehow; I hope the song suffices for now.”
-“Take a bow and three more, master Will!” said Marren, “now that was a fairy tune! Are you a bard of some sort?”
-“None of that, good Marren” said Memlafar, “I have my mother to thank for my voice, if indeed we can say that I am quite gifted.”
-“Of course!” Said Gilly “You are a fine lyrist, I tell you, much better than me lovely Judis, and that’s to say a lot. Though I have to ask, who is this Lady Condor you speak of? Was she your brother’s bride or some kind of comely maid of your late brother?”
-“Not quite, I’m afraid” Memlafar said, not finding the time to go into the specifics of the city of Culgarost, he just let his art take root in his hosts’ imaginations on its own.
-“well, if he is now a servant of the Gods, he ought to have been a nice fellow. I am sorry I did not had the chance to meet him. But your stories of him sufficed me as of now.” said the old Gilly, “Well, the night is grown too dark already. You two have better go up to your beds. We’ll expect you tomorrow morning with a proper breakfast to send you off back to the big city.” Memlafar had almost forgotten who he really was; he was happy to play the role of Master Will and was sad to learn he had to leave the comforts of the lonely cottage in the morning. The brothers went up to their beds, which although much humbler than the ones in their towers were far comfier to sleep on.
On the morrow of the next day, the morning sun's subtle rays spangled on the brothers' heads through the tainted glass, and Memlafar opened his eyes to its colours on the roof and walls. He awakened his brother and they readied themselves to leave the cottage, but not before the fair Judis walked into their room. She told them breakfast was served and hungrier than ever, they rushed down the stairs to the dining room, there were served loaves another stew of green hues, butter and honey. They shared a few words with Gilly but not with Marren who had wakened much earlier and was tending the cattle and sheep of the farm. Memlafar would have loved to remain there a little longer but Elbracht pressed him that they had long overdue their stay. Sir John and young Master Will thanked the tenants for their generosity and parted thereafter on their horses to Ceor.
The day was much like it was before yester eve but a few grey clouds adorned the skies here and there, so they rode fast to the walls of the city ere another storm cut short their way. In Ceor they found general Caradon had assembled a small scouting party to search for his lord and sir Memlafar—they had grown worried something had befallen them in the wild—but were pleased to learn they were safe and sound.
Their little escape from court seemed to have lifted the spirits of the fair brother who joined Elbracht the day next in his long desired prowl, but that time he did not bring his harp, instead he weaponed himself with arrow and bow and actively partook in the hunting. On other occasions he rode alone with Elbracht to the thickets and woods to sing his song again and from time to time they stopped by the lonely cottage to visit Gilly, Judis and the merry Marren. They sometimes stayed for luncheon or supper but always returned to the big city before night’s break. Soon, Memlafar grew strong enough again to venture into the lands on his own. In his diary he wrote he did it repeatedly with his harp in hands and amusing the trees and fields with fairy tunes, yet often times he jaunted by the cottage solely to visit Marren, whom he even helped in the farm and with the cattle. A true friendship flourished between the two men until their amity seeded a bond stronger still.