Chapter 2
The Mountain High
The Erathiel continued their journey with the first rays of
dawn, walking by the seashore or as close to it as they could. They covered
great distance for their feet were strong and their horses speedy. Silme flew
ahead, ever searching and guiding all, although it had joined in battle it
showed no sign of struggle on his silver wings. As the day pressed on, the
desert began to stay behind and a new landscape began to appear, the Erathiel
could see it from afar with their keen eyes. They would soon be rid of the
harsh sun. However, the time for refuge had already come and the night was
near, so they searched, but found no refuge near the sea. They had no other
choice but to venture away from it and in towards the mountains once again. The
elves had seen how great these were, but only when they were at its feet did
they realize how magnanimous the mountains truly were, almost as if these had
seemed smaller in the morning. The truth was that the mountain chain had
elevated—would it be greater as they pressed on? Only time would tell.
The elves searched at its feet for shelter, but it was
futile. Queen Nimtar, having felt a strong magic coming from the mountain
chain, spoke, “It is the backbone of the world,” she closed her eyes and placed
her hands facing the mountain as if warming her hands with fire, “Its energy
courses from beginning to end. If we follow her, we will find our home.” She
placed her staff once more against the mountain wall and made a refuge like the
one before. Once it was ready, they went in: children, elders, wagons, there
was room for all and once again had their queen made it so that grass grew
inside and silver and golden trees as well, reaching up towards the beautiful
starlit sky. It was a mere resemblance of the past, but a warm one for their
hearts. Lord Thinidiel watched over his people, how they rested their weary
feet on soft cool grass and how they delighted in each other’s company. It was
a miracle that they still kept hope in their hearts. They played their guitars
and violins, their flutes and drums, with such merriness that would bring
happiness to all around. Even though some of their songs had a melancholic
tune, it was a pain and sadness that did not linger. The lost ship would come
and with it their families—a thought present in all their hearts.
The queen made her way to her husband’s lonely spot. She
bowed down before his feet and, brushing her hand from the grass and towards
his face, made flowers and vines sprout to tangle and twist into a beautiful
throne for him to sit upon. Thinidiel, delighted in her magic and light, held
her hand and waited for her throne to be complete so as to sit together.
“Together in life,” said unto her, “Together in death,” she responded as he
gently kissed her ivory hand. Their kin bowed before them as they took seat and
with a hand over their hearts hailed and wished them an eternity of rule. What
the next day would bring, they did not know. What evils they would face or what
friends they would meet, they knew neither, but what was sure in their hearts
was that they would follow their king and queen, their princes and princess,
till the ends of the earth.
*
* *
The sun did rise again and the Erathiel slowly awakened to
say farewell to their temporary home. Though the desert at sunrise was
glorious, the nights were the most astounding in the world. The moon would fill
the starlit sky and the ground would almost disappear from sight. Nowhere had
they seen such clear and bright skies. The morning air sank in and the cold of
night slowly went away. Thinidiel stood watch by the threshold as his queen
tended to her garden and all life she had grown within the cave—many elf
children helped and learned from her. The princes sat with a group enjoying
breakfast, some elven bread and supplies from the voyage. They also had fresh
grown fruits and vegetables that they had cultivated inside the cave and
continued harvesting as they ate, for the queen’s magic had made them grow
astonishingly fast.
Lothar, among the first ready to part, approached the king,
bowed and spoke, “My king, we are almost completely prepared to part. Shall I
press all to make haste? Is there anything that needs to be done?” King
Thinidiel smiled at him before looking out to the desert and replying, “I fear
we shall not part just now. I thank you for your help, Lothar, but Silme brings
word that has changed our plans completely.” He had sent Silme out to scout and
through his eyes had found something of great interest. “My king,” said Lothar
in reply as he left him to his thoughts. Silme returned and the queen and her
sons approached Thinidiel. They stood silent, awaiting reply. Silme sat on his
master’s shoulder and Thinidiel seemed to be listening to him and only after a
few seconds turned to his people. “My fellow Erathiel, it is as we suspected,”
he began, “The life within this mountain has helped not only our cause, but
others’ as well. There is a civilization living on this mountain high. If we
are to obtain answers and calm the questions in our hearts then only they can
help us. Camlhach, Lothar, Turion, I will need you to accompany me. Valruin,
you are to stay behind with our people and queen; assist in all that you can.
We depart now.”
The Erathiel wished good fortune to those chosen to rise to
the mountain top, but Valruin felt a rush through his body as he realized that
he would not be able to go. He approached his father and spoke in confidence,
“Father, I understand that I must stay behind and look after the others, but I
truly wish to go. May I?” he said with frustration in his heart, not trying to
sound too eager like a child begging for a sweet, but more like an adult that
feels a true obligation to their beliefs. Thinidiel noticing his son’s
uneasiness put his hand on his shoulder and spoke, “Your mother is very
powerful, my son, but if anything should happen to us or her, you must be
prepared to face the storm,” he looked over at Camlhach before returning to his
son, “You are the youngest of my children, capable of leading an army, but you must
learn that there is a time for everything and right now it is your brother’s
turn. Fate calls out to us and when it is your time, you will answer.” Valruin
understood his father’s words even though they meant that he must stand aside
in certain situations. He nodded and bowed in acceptance of his fate, but it
did not ease the hunger in his heart as he walked away from him. Thinidiel
watched him walk away, only slightly concerned, praying that time would teach
his son and that envy would never enter his heart.
Meanwhile, prince Camlhach approached the children to
instruct them on their duties, many of them looked up to him and his brother,
but he had always been a sort of big brother to the young ones, “Listen up,
young Erathiel! I have instructions for you to follow in my absence and the
prince and queen shall oversee that you do,” one of the young swallowed hard at
this, “You must remember to always be careful and aware of your surroundings.
Always obey your elders,” the children agreed, but a young girl rolled her eyes
at the prince and replied rather annoyed, “Aye, aye, we know.” She met the
prince’s eye and did not flinch for a second, “Enora!” said her mother who
stood nearby and had seen it all, “You must not treat the prince in that
manner. Apologize, child!” Young Enora let out a sigh, looked at the prince and
apologized with very little spirit, “Forgive me, prince Camlhach,” her mother
pushed her on, “For… my rude behavior. I promise to never repeat it again.” The
prince smiled as he replied, “It is fine Enora. All is forgiven. Now,” he said
turning to the rest, “On your feet, we have a long way to go and before you
know it, we’ll be back from the mountain high and ready to go. Be good in our
absence, little ones.” The children rose to their feet and began to help with
preparations, for they too believed that their prince would be triumphant and
back soon from what seemed to them a most admirable quest. Enora’s mother
approached the prince with humble posture, “My deepest apologies, prince
Camlhach,” she began, “My poor Enora, I fear, at times has a fire that burns
too bright. I will improve her behavior, prince. I will speak to her.” He
calmed and thanked her for her kind words, “It is all well, Elwen. A fire that
burns too bright can too have a promising future if given purpose and
direction. Enora has a good heart and she is still a child,” he replied and
gave a small sigh and spoke a bit louder than a whisper, “I too knew a little
girl much like her.” Elwen replied as she bowed, “Aye, and may her light return
to us again.”
While the Erathiel readied their supplies and spoke of who
might live on top of the mountain, Queen Nimtar stood outside looking at it,
focusing on finding the perfect spot for her people to climb. The mountain
vibrated with life and she would use it to provide a safe journey towards the
sky. She looked at Thinidiel as a sign that she had found a way. He gave the
command for the chosen to be ready to journey and soon all were outside to see
them part. The queen looked at her sons before she began placing each hand on
one side of their faces, cupping them with tenderness—how she loved them,
darkness and light. Retrieving her hands, she turned to face the mountain once
again and drew magic from the mountain once more—so as not to wear her strength
down—and with her staff in hand she carved on the mountain wall a staircase
that grew till it got lost in the clouds. All were pleased and amazed, for a
stair would lighten their journey—should all proceed after a victorious meeting
with those that abode above—all but Lothar, who grumpily said under his breath,
“A thousand steps up a staircase! My poor legs have seen too much.” Turion
smiled beside him and replied, “Worry not, old one. If needed, I shall carry
you the rest of the way. Light as a flower’s petals you must be.” Lothar looked
at the young elf with such fury, but did nothing upon it, for he knew it was
not the place or the time to quarrel, especially over so trivial a matter.
They said their goodbyes, but these were brief, for few were
the ones that ventured to the mountain top and soon would they return with news
of peace—or so they hoped. Camlhach looked at his brother, embraced him and
said, “Look after Tinwe while I’m gone. I know it will not be long, but you
know how she is,” they both looked at the mare, who was at their side, trying
to share her worries by rubbing her nose on her master’s shoulder every once in
a while. “I will, brother.” Camlhach smiled at Valruin’s response and said as
he turned away, “Until we meet again, brother.” With that, they followed their
king and began to walk the long steps of the endless stairs before them, Silme
flying above, watching over their every step. The queen asked all to return to
the cave for safety, should an enemy spot them, and only Valruin, Tinwe and
Faana were the last to enter before she sealed it.
King Thinidiel led his fellowship on, the sun scorching at
their backs. It did not wear them out as the steps would a mortal, but the road
was long and tedious. Turion looked down every once in a while and his eyes
could see as far as the coast. “No ships in sight,” he thought aloud, “No
smile, no laughter, no beauty to behold: just silence and doubt.” Lothar walked
on, dreading every step, looking out for the king and prince, he even thought
of Turion as someone to be saved; he did not despise him, really. “All right,
old man?” asked Turion, noticing that he had looked over his shoulder. King
Thinidiel and Camlhach smiled as Lothar replied grumpily, “Yes, child. I am
more than fine and I shall continue to be fine until the end of my days.”
Turion replied with a small laugh, but spoke no more. They were almost at the
top when Silme let out a cry. “They are aware of our presence,” said King
Thinidiel with no fear or surprise, “They are prepared should our intentions be
dark.” Camlhach gave a sigh, for he did not wish to battle and saw no reason to
do so. He thought of the children and their safety, of all who depended on
them, the weight was heavy on his shoulders, but did not mind it at all. Finally,
they reached the top of the mountain and there to greet them stood many people,
gathered around the strange staircase.
They were humans, but nothing like the ones they had known
back home. These were small people, almost the same height as dwarves, with
dark reddish, golden skin. Their eyes were very dark, but bright and did not
look at all like warriors, but rather farmers or herders, they thought. One of
them spoke, signaling with his arm at Thinidiel and then to the land. At that
moment, they realized that they did not speak the same tongue. Nonetheless,
Silme flew over them all and let out a song that allowed their ears to
understand one another. “Who are you and why have you come here?” was what the
man was saying. King Thinidiel immediately bowed, placing his right hand over
his heart, his kin doing the same, “I am Thinidiel, King of the Erathiel. We
have come in peace and in hope of guidance and friendship. We are new to this
land.” Camlhach and his fellow elves realized how all the people had gathered,
of all ages, looking at them with great surprise—some with wonder and others
with suspicion. It was no doubt for the ‘guard’ in charge to have his reasons
to question such tall and strange beings. The guard hesitated, but lowered his
pointing stick replying, “If you come in peace then we shall help. You must
honor what you have spoken. I am Quetua.” Thinidiel smiled kindly, “I will
honor my words. We wish to speak to your leader, if that is possible. We look
for allies, not enemies.” The guard gave the order and all the others lowered
their weapons, which were not really dangerous for the Erathiel at all.
They followed the guard and wondered at such a strange
city. The people all wore bright colors and woolen hats to block out the sun
and guard against the cold at night. They had many fields of plants unknown to
the Erathiel and they lived in homes made out of a substance they also had
never used before. It was a beautiful land where water ran down from the
mountain tops, which were covered in snow. Camlhach’s heart grew warm at such
beauty and peace—there were no mountains in their old home, just small green
hills and forests everywhere. The way these people lived surprised and marveled
him. He also wondered how they had made it up, for surely they had not sprung
from the earth as their crops. “How can life sustain itself up here?” he asked
himself as he remembered the desert that remained below, “An oasis up high.”
The people all turned to look at them as they approached a much larger
structure, not in height, but it grew sideways beyond most of the common homes.
It almost looked as if it were made of stones, but muddier. Perhaps it was as
simple as that: mud with stones.
Lothar looked forward very seriously, trying to look strong
and stern before the eyes of these people (while at the same time surveying
them himself), until his eyes met those of a woman of the tribe. She looked
very pretty to him with her golden skin and dark eyes—her hair was the shiniest
jet black he had ever seen in his life—and she smiled coyly as if approving
him, too. Suddenly, she dropped the vegetables in her basket, blushing as she
parted her eyes from Lothar, but he immediately rushed over to help her,
kneeling to gather her belongings, “Pardon, milady. I did not mean to startle
you,” he apologized, believing that he had somehow frightened her by staring.
The woman smiled at him once more and spoke with a voice that seemed full of
joy and laughter, “It is fine, it is fine. Thank you for helping me.” Lothar
thanked his stars for Silme’s gift, for hearing her voice and understanding her
had truly felt like a gift from above. Before he could ask himself if it was
appropriate at all—or if his kin was far away—he asked nervously, “May I know
thy name, kind maiden?” The woman stood up slowly, not parting her eyes from
Lothar, and pushing her hair behind her ears, “My name is Éteri,” she replied
and started walking down a path, slowly enough for Lothar to follow her.
“Éteri! What a beautiful name. If you do not mind my asking, but what meaning
does it hold?” She giggled as some more women who passed behind her whispered,
smiling—it really was an interesting sight with Lothar being so tall and Éteri
so petite. “It means flower,” she replied sweetly. Lothar smiled, just gazing,
before he realized that he had not given his name, “I’m sorry, lady Éteri. My
name is Lothar.” Éteri paused and looked at him trying to imitate his
pronunciation, “Lo-tar?” she tried repeating with a thick accent. “Lo-thar,”
repeated Lothar patiently and sweetly, would anyone recognize him now? She
focused and tried again with great effort, “Lothar.” He beamed at her,
“Excellent! Wonderful!” He smiled nervously as he noticed he had in fact
clapped his hands together in celebration of her achievement and felt a bit
embarrassed by his enthusiasm. The woman blushed and smiled and gathered her
courage to ask, “If I may ask, what does your name mean?” Lothar paused as she
asked this, but decided to answer with the truth behind his name, “It means—.”
“Lothar! Lothar, we cannot wait for you,” it was Turion who with a devilish
smile called from quite afar. “How long?” thought Lothar to himself. The woman
smiled gently and spoke, “I believe we must say goodbye, for now.” Lothar bowed
before her and replied as their eyes met, “Just for now, lady Éteri. Until we
meet again.”
“Until we meet again, Lothar,” she said as they parted
ways.
He walked away feeling younger than
ever, lighter, happier. Even Turion’s constant taunts could not bother him now.
He quickly reached the rest, for he ran with great speed, carefully as to not
embarrass himself further before Éteri. Prince Camlhach had also noticed his
conversation with the woman and commented, “Seems you are appreciating the,” he
paused, “Landscape?” Lothar’s face blushed. Turion also spoke, “Aye, but it
also seemed the landscape was appreciating you.” His ears turned red, too.
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