Rune Bearer

#6. In the pit of Elven city

    Gritting his teeth behind the invisible tape that glued his mouth, he struggled as he demand answers from Allanon—might have shouted to where he still lumbered ahead, heedless of him. 

But then chirping birds flitted past him and a mild breeze kissed his face. He caught a hedge-bordered metal gate ahead.

His prison or his salvation, he couldn't decide which.

It took almost two days to reach the border of Cirdanoth. Bastard! He rants profanities at the druid in his head.

"What brings travellers to the invisible gate of Cirdanoth."

"Let us in." Allanon the druid commands.

"Who are you to use such a hefty voice for us? No outsider enters the high house."

"Allanon of Ayeleid. Here with his human companion." He announced himself.

The gate swayed inward as they pulled it open, together they walked inside beguiled by the view Elrond's eyes were widely rolling almost that they might plunge out and start rolling through the ground.

Just as the tale told by their grand sire the father after and his, Cirdanoth was never a disappointment. Nothing could be compared to it. Its buildings were veiled in roses and ivy with patios and balconies sprouting from its alabaster side, so much colour so much sunlight and movement and texture. Elrond could hardly drink in fast to put it into art would be useless, it couldn't express such beauty enough.

Magic it was, winter had turned to spring in Cirdanoth, if only Eton was here to see how the tall slender ladies walked by he would call it heaven. He missed him and his crazy desires. Yet he couldn't do anything.

Even the garden through which they walked, following a gravel path to the main doors of the house, seemed calm and sleeping.

Above the array of irises and pale snowdrops and butter-yellow daffodils swaying in the balmy breeze, the faint stench of metal ticked his human nostrils.

Sweat trickled down his spine as his layers of clothes turned suffocating. Elrond rotated his wrists and opened his mouth  Whatever bonds had held him mute were gone.

"How many blades are hidden in that tunic?" The commander double-crossed them.

"About two." The druid muttered, digging his hand into it and pulling them out one by one.

"And you did not care to bring a glove?"

"It's colder in the false north." Elrond's eyes lit up, the humans hated the fact that they were underrated by the pointy-eared creatures. "I do not use poisoned gloves."

The commander's gaze dropped to Elrond. "And him?"

"Allanon." A hand patted his shoulder. "I wasn't expecting you this time of the year." His eyes swat to his companion. "I see you've not come alone, hunter? Straggler?" Nikolai head of the Veturiius army studied.

As they make their way through the centre of the city. "I have not seen you in decades, we were contradicted."

"What of my position in the council?"

"A lot has changed over the years, you get asked out of position and with a human companion."

As they made sketches of conversation float by, the townsfolk of Cirdanoths speak of the druid returning. With the human folk, some were accurate with their speculations— monsters prowl the countryside and attack the false north—Charevibe.

"Hundred dead. Mercenaries have not been spotted at the gate. The last one came choking on his gut that was pulled out.''

"It is just rumoured."

Only it's not. An elven soldier was seen shaking. The sudden druid's return after he vanished decades ago could be detected as something dangerous.

He stood before the council of the six elven tribes.

"Devil has risen, darkness prowling and feasting on the humans. My companion here is threatened, he has seen his village decomposed to ashes." 

"We can't be sure, Allanon, there is a rule, humans do not cross the gate, they stand no chance in the court."

"I'm not the one to meddle with them either." Elrond scoffed bitterly at the unbelievable word the man was barking out with his other high elves.

"Then why keep one? As a pet. He looked too old to be kept as one. Lead him to the mine. This is no Allanon." Baldwin of Mythril leaned and whispered. "He could have been better than this."

Elrond's stomach twists when he thinks of the border villages that were burned to the ground, their residents slaughtered.

The druid threw the satchel on the table causing a rattling.

"They need your help. It may sound gross but trollocs will not take long until they swarm through the humans and come banging at the gate. That time it doesn't matter the strength of its magic. Darkness is a very deadly thing that even the Elven light cannot outglow." He leaned in and muttered to them. "I know the magic is fading and sooner or later we will start to whither."

"Take the human away, the council will speak with the druid alone." The druid grabbed Elrond tight by the shoulder. 

"The human stays." His voice was deep.

"It's best to do what will help you both at such a trivial moment." Cain, the Arthur's voice was relaxed but sharp.

"I see you have grown into a man taking on the lead of the Aylaid clan." 

Cain the Authur pulls back feigning a smile. "You wouldn't be there if I hadn't deserted my post, nephew."

"We have so much to catch up on." He whispered to the Druid.

"Yet I command we speak with you alone!" A mount bounced on the table. And he made a quirk at Elrond.

"You know how things work right from the time of the war of power. If you've to speak with the council a written petition should be submitted through the knight." 

"Fine." The druid said his voice laced with a growl and began screaming through their faces, Cain had a skirmish on his lips. "That is if the audience is sought out of irrelevance."

"Yours is no excuse." King veturius said.

"Mine demands urgent tending, I wouldn't come bearing false information."

"You shall be tended to, in the quarters of the Ayleid, the town will know of your return. It's been decades. The high elves are delighted to welcome their own true bred home. A bell will toll to hold a feast for you." The man's hand treaded his fine silver tunic. He sketched his hand along the satchel and then crossed his arm seated.

"More like what I was expecting to hear. The elves had derailed, they only feast and make merry with their eternal life."

"What then? There is no war again. For centuries we have conquered the darkness."

"Are you deaf to not hear my petition?" He points to the satchel. "Here I have the head of this monster, raiding a town close to us and you talk of no war? A fucking trollock unleashed."

"That is enough. You dare not go against the council informally, druid!"

"Well, what?" The druid cocked his head at the man.

"Is Charevibe no more then?"

A nod from the druid entails his uncertainty. If there were actually dead, a fraction that escaped was believed to have survived.

"The elderwood spirit was said to reside in a wolf."

"We were sure to have that settled and ease the tension between the whole of Cirdanoth." King Veturius asked his knuckles white as he gripped the table.

"And the boy?''

"Well, the boy will be made to leave the city or." The druid cuts in.

"He is only but nineteen and sent back to the ruin? After all, I have said?" 

"Join his kind in the mine or in carving the armour and swords. That is out of favour of you."

The druid scoffed. "How impertinent you've become. This is absurd king Veturius."

 "The boy is the only hope as it stands. The elves are losing their powers. And that will make us susceptible to the darkness that loomed out there."

"Explain yourself, druid, how do you think a human futile boy will save us out of this misery if you've not lost your touch."

He bellowed his head as there was a moving laugh from the six clan leaders.

"He killed the white wolf that have guided Cirdanoth.''

"Insane, no mortal man will dare kill it. Only an elve and if so the rune will have him shiver bone to bone and die."

"It's no lie I saw it myself."

"That he killed the white wolf as you claim he must face the penalty. A life for a life that is how it's done druid," he forced a knife into his hand. "I hope you won't be making any mistakes. It's a chance to have you back in the council as you will be honoured."

"He has a rune." There was silence, and the smell of gasping rang in the air. Mortal man was known to either die to be cursed from killing the white wolf. They wondered and marvelled at his speech and whether the druid had seen a boar instead and called it a wolf.