Dennis McCiernan - Into the Forge

Tip shook his head yet remained silent as he reached out to take up the small metal disk.

Eiron's glance swept over them all. "That ye may find the way to Dendor rife with Spaunen, that I do not doubt, yet the land is broad and if ye take care, they can at best only hinder thy mission."

"Do they enter Darda Erynian?" asked Phais.

Eiron frowned. "I think not, for therein dwell the Hidden Ones, and even a Swarm gives them wide berth… though with Draedani and Dragons to aid them, who can say? -Yet no word has come of any such."

"Well then," replied Phais, smiling at Tip and Beau, "we can at least make our way north through that woodland."

"But say," asked Beau, "isn't Darda Erynian-Blackwood, that is-um, closed? To outsiders, that is? Like parts of the Weiunwood? I mean, with us being outsiders and all, won't they-?"

Phais shook her head. "Nay, Beau, for though the Hidden Ones for the most remain apart from Elvenkind, still on occasion in the past we have come to their aid… and, I hasten to add, they've come to our aid as well."

"Dylvana more so than Lian," amended Loric, "yet Elves nonetheless."

Eiron raised an eyebrow. "Aravan, though, seems to have a special bond with the Hidden Ones."

Beau frowned. "Aravan, hmm…"

"The one with the Elvenship," said Tip.

"But no more," added Phais.

Beau brightened. "Oh, yes, now I remember the name."

"Regardless," said Tip, "they will let us make our way north through Darda Erynian, the Great Greenhall?"

At a nod from Phais, Tip smiled. "Well, at least it's a start."

"A start!" exclaimed Beau. "What do you call all this we've been doing so far? I mean, I thought we started when set out from Twoforks."

Tip now grinned at Beau. "Actually, it all started when a Kingsman gave me a coin."

Beau shook his head. "No, it really started with a debate between Adon and Gy-"

Tip raised his hands in surrender. "I know, I know, Beau, everything is connected. Next you'll be telling me that it started with a sneeze in the Boskydells."

Beau's chin shot out and he said, "And just who's to say it didn't?" And then he broke into a fit of giggles with Tip joining in, while Coron Eiron looked on in wilderment at these tittering Waerlinga, while outside goods were packed and blades were sharpened and armor was polished fine.

They stood at the brim of a wide pool in a small glade in the heart of the Larkenwald. Mist curled up from the clear surface in the dawntime air, and dusky twilight glowed from the Eld Trees all 'round.

"So this is a point of crossing," said Tip, his words a comment rather than a question.

"Aye," replied Phais, "an in-between, linking Mithgar and Adonar. The Eld Trees and the glade and pool make it so. See the mist: 'tis neither air nor water but an in-between, and always at dawn and dusk it rises. See the glade: in its smallness 'tis neither forest nor field but an in-between. And now see the dawn: neither night nor day but an in-between, as is dusk, and the in-between is somehow made easier by the light of the Eld Trees, here and in Adonar."

"There's Eld Trees on the other side in Adonar?" asked Beau.

"Aye, as is needed for a crossing point, there must be a fair match on each side, and between here and there it is nearly exact. Some say Vanidar Silverleaf made it so."

"The one who started this whole forest," said Tip.

Phais nodded, confirming his words. "It is told that three of the crossings are deliberately designed to be so: the one here, the one in Atala, and the stone ring in Lianion. As to the latter, mayhap Elwydd Herself made it so. It is said all other crossings are natural, such as the Oaken Ring in the Weiunwood."

Beau sighed. "If we had only known the rite, we could have crossed at the stone ring and come back across here and avoided all our delays and woes."

Phais nodded. "Aye, and if that were true and if we but knew of an in-between near Dendor… Ah, but we don't, and so we must needs take the perilous way."

The following day, armed and armored Lian-Alor and Dara alike-mounted fiery steeds and rode out from Wood's-heart, Coron Eiron at their head, all riding north for Drimmen-deeve to break the siege of the Horde. And though both Loric and Phais yearned to go with their kindred, still there was a pewter token to deliver in a land far away.

In spite of Tipperton's protests, Phais would not set out in the dark of the moon, but insisted upon waiting for it to come full, for the past eight weeks of riding and running and hiding and combat and living on the land had taken its toll on the Waerlinga, and by waiting they would regain some of the stamina they had spent.

And a week and two days after the Lian had ridden forth, dispatches began coming from the siege at Drimmendeeve, where the Elven forays into the Foul Folk lines became increasingly bloody.

And Death Redes came all unbidden to loved ones left behind, final messages somehow passed from love to love though no messengers arrived. And grief settled like a pall upon the forest entire, as if the trees themselves somehow knew of many deaths afar.

"Lord, oh lord," said Beau in hushed tones to Tipperton, "endless lives lost, lives they had just begun no matter their age."

Tip did not reply, but instead strummed his lute, while tears ran down his cheeks to fall glittering like diamonds upon the silver strings.

In the dawn of the twenty-second of July, as Silverlarks returned to sing sweetly overhead, Loric, Phais, Tip, and Beau all set out from Wood's-heart, the four once again mounted upon four horses, Loric and Phais riding in the lead, Tip and Beau upon packhorses drawn behind.

Due north they rode through the towering trees, aiming for a shallow ford across the Quadrill, some eight or nine leagues away. And enwrapped in the soft gloaming shadows down among the trees Beau fell adoze in his makeshift packsaddle, while Tipperton strummed his lute.

And thus they made their way through Darda Galion, a land of many rivers-the Rothro, the Quadrill, the Cel-lener, and the Nith, and all of their tributaries, their sparkling waters flowing down from the northern wold or from the nearby Grimwall Mountains to course easterly through the forest and issue at last into the broad rush of the mighty Argon. In all, the four companions would have to cross two of the great forest's primary rivers- the Rothro and the Quadrill-though they would splash through many of the lesser streams.

And as before, they rode at times, at other times walked, and occasionally paused to relieve themselves or to give the horses a drink in a stream or to feed the steeds a bit of grain. And little was said on the journey, for the Eld Trees were hush, and to gravely disturb the quiet seemed at odds with the nature of these woods. And so Beau drowsed and Tip strummed softly, mastering notes and chords.

It was late in the day when they came at last unto the Quadrill, where they splashed into the crystal flow, pausing in the pellucid stream just below the eastern end of a mid-river isle to let the horses drink, while Silverlarks caroled their evensongs and flew, to vanish in midflight as well as midsong, the forest somehow bereft with their absence.

"We will camp just beyond the far bank," said Loric, Phais nodding in agreement.

Horses watered, they surged on across and up, and into the twilight beyond.

The next day they turned to the northeast, aiming for Olorin Isle, and in early morn they splashed through the Rothro, the river running down from the wold lying beyond the north marge of the Larkenwald.

"Ten leagues," answered Loric to Beau's question, "but we will not ride that far. Instead we'll spend the night with the march-ward and cross the Argon midday on the morrow."

And in the evening they came unto an Elven camp, where warders on these bounds of the Eldwood were eager for any news of the progress of the war. And even as Loric and Phais told what they knew, one of the listeners cried out in anguish dire and fell stunned unto her knees.