Short Story: SoV, Chapter 1

The Snows of Valoreth

Introduction
Chapter 1: The Storm
Chapter 2: Secret Meetings

Chapter 1: The Storm

Red orange embers crackle wearily in a dying hearth. The light wanes until near darkness overtakes the small chamber, threatening to steal away the last dancing flame yet burning. Two closed doors and a window mark swift entry for the cold wind, though the walls seem to betray the room of its little warmth just as much.

The dark room is nearly vacant, save for a table, and a few chairs. An old finely wrought rocking chair supports an even older man in the center of the room. His torso and arms are covered by a thick wool blanket, his legs are hidden under two pair of thick leather breeches, and his bare feet rest in a bucket of steaming water. Black riding boots covered in melting snow sit patiently next to him, and a broad headed axe next to them.

Steam rises from the bucket, and he slowly rocks back in the chair, then lets his muscles relax, pulling him again forward. He does this slowly for the better part of fifteen minutes, until the water turns cold. Fine strands of hair begin black and end gray upon his aged head and his dark eyes reflect the orange light of the fire, in them stirs something mysterious.

He stops rocking for a moment and looks down at his axe. He breathes in deeply, “I must go back out, Dylenna.” He gazes into the dark corner. The woman can barely be seen so far from the light of the fire. She huddles against the cold wooden walls, wrapped in another blanket. Staring blankly into the fire. Dylenna looks up to the man, “How much longer must we do this father? We can’t take much more of this- why must we stay here?”

“We cannot ride to Valoreth until the snows recede, and that will not be for another eight weeks. Until then, I must get us wood and food. I’m sorry but there is no other way…” His eyes well up for a moment, but he blinks away the tears, hoping his daughter would not notice. He then takes a moment to wipe off his feet, and begins to dress again for the deep cold.

“Be careful father, don’t go far- please. I’ll watch over mom until you return.” She adds quickly “don’t forget the lantern- if you were to get lost out there you’d die quickly.” The old man says, “I’m not taking the lantern Dylenna… I don’t want to be a beacon for any who might be near.” He shakes his head sternly as he fastens the axe. Dylenna looks up at him, now angry at his decision “Please take the lantern father, please.” A sigh can be heard from him, and all his fifty years seem to catch up with him at long last. He moves for the door, and opens it. Immediately the wind can be felt encircling the room, what little embers remain in the fire now burn out, bathing the room in an uncomfortable and foreboding darkness.

He steps out and quickly closes the door. Tears well up in Dylenna’s eyes, as she stares at the lantern left behind. Violent coughing can be heard in the other room. For many moments Dylenna fears to go in, to see her mother in her current state. Its only a matter of time, she thinks to herself.

~~~

The snow storm roars overhead with ferocity, the wind its weapon, the cold its killing blow. A light copse of trees surrounds this place, forming a small bowl-like depression. A gloved hand reaches up into the air, tendrils of snow and wind rush past it with great force. The hand is palm up, and it begins to move in a sphere like shape, as if sculpting some unseen force. The hand belongs to a cloaked figure wearing white. The figure kneels with one leg deep in the snow, it lowers its hand slowly and then a female voice sounds out “Eathanu em’alal ineluwei.”

A force of energy suddenly envelops her hand, awkwardly at first. Colorless, it appears to distort the view past it, writhing and snaking out in many directions. As she moves her hand closer to her chest, the energy wells up near her torso and begins to surround her. For a moment she shutters and then in a sudden movement she pushes her hands outward and stands up.

The energy violently pushes beyond her body and develops into a roughly shaped sphere fifteen feet around her. The snow that once battered against her now instead hit the sphere of energy and swirls about it, changing its course as if the sphere were a physical thing.

Satisfied with the result, she slowly takes off her right glove, finger by finger. A delicate small hand bears pale skin, nearly the color of the snow itself. She wears a single ring on her thumb, and a thin leather arm band. She rubs her thumb against her other fingers, as if still feeling the effects of the spell.

Another figure comes up from the trees behind her, and quickly steps into the sphere. He is cloaked as well, but doesn’t wear his hood. He is an elf, with skin only a touch darker than the woman’s and hair the color of the trees, a pale dusty brown. He carries a bow in his hand, and a backpack, packed full. A thin long sword rests at his side. “Tela’in an-evu inelu” he says proudly to her. She nods and lowers her hood, revealing a face beyond beauties meaning. Her pale silver hair is pulled back, a tiara rests upon her brow and fastens behind her half-elven ears. She looks back at him and says urgently “Tash’aen’li an’alal hevu-divan…”

He nods to her and immediately springs forward with haste. She follows close behind him. The two leave the trees and begin the long trek across a frozen valley. By now nearly three feet of snow have fallen, and the storm has just begun.

~~~

The old man winces as wind pummels him from behind. He moves with as much haste as he can afford in the darkness, having traveled only three hundred yards from his home. His home, the only shield that can protect his family from this harsh storm. He looks back at it, wondering if it were wise to come out in the dead of night. He sees no smoke rising from the chimney and shakes his head, “I must- we won’t have a tomorrow if I can’t gather more wood…” he says trying to reassure himself.

He continues to trudge forward, pulling a canvas tarp behind him. He shakes his head in shame, wondering how he could let the bandits steal his wood stores. It had been three nights ago, and they had come in the dead of night, possibly from the southern hills. At least they hadn’t come inside- “at least they hadn’t killed those I love” he thinks aloud and stops for a moment. Maybe they had.

Finally after several minutes, he comes to a small series of pines. The largest stood ten feet high, with several smaller trees nestled around it. They would be just enough to protect him from the wind- for a time. The old man sighs once more, and un-straps his hand axe.

For several minutes he tears away at the bark of the wood, pulling off the outer crust, a shield like surface that is known on these trees as the Esk of the trunk. Underneath lies the trunk itself, healthy and dry from the elements outside. He raises his axe to the bark and begins to cut into it. The harsh dull clatter from the axe resounds out for many yards.

Several minutes pass, and the old man already seems stripped of energy. He lowers his trembling arm, nearly unable to bring it to bear against the tree. He has near enough wood to burn for an hour… Tears well up in his eyes and his heart grows heavy. Why did he bring his family out here? What was he thinking… “What was I thinking…” he says to himself.

“You were hoping to save your family from the curse that has fallen over Valoreth, ata.” A female voice says, startling the distraught old man. A sensation then overtakes him, one that he hasn’t felt for a great many years. Ata is the elven word for father. His arms tingle and tears burst from his eyes, his brow wrinkles in confusion for a moment. “Telain… is that you? Daughter of mine??”

A hint of a smile crosses her features for only a moment, then quickly fades. “Yes Trinor, its me. We need to speak.” His features harden again, and he feels his strength return, albeit slowly, as if his body were numb and just starting to regain its feeling. He picks up what little wood he has gathered, and begins to strap them into the canvas. “Trinor, its best we hurry, this is Tash’aen’li, my half brother, he’ll carry them for you.” The old man looks up at the elf who was half hidden behind a tree. His eyes grow wide at the thought of his half-elven daughter having found blood-kin with the elves of the north. He nods quickly and the three begin to make their way back to his dark and quiet home.

~~~

The three step into through the cabins threshold. The wind outside tears at the house, creating an eerie sound, as if the wind were a wailing creature throwing its weight against it. The elven man quickly places one of the logs gathered into the fire place. “That won’t be enough to make the fire, we must burn another, or the fire will go out.” The old man says with shame in his voice. Tela’in puts her hand out to him and then steps toward the fire place. She bends down and touches the log “Erin eki-an, Aleguwi!” she says the last word louder than the first, and immediately fire leaps from her bare hand onto the log. The old mans eyes widen as he thinks to himself, my girl- a wielder of magic...

Just then the other door opens, and Dylenna steps inside. Her eyes are tired, but when she sees Trinor she smiles. “Who are you?” she says mystified and a little afraid. “Dylenna, close the door. I need to tell you something.” The old man says and waits for her to do so. “This is Telain, she is my daughter, but not of your mothers blood. She is your half sister.”

Dylenna’s eyes betray anger for a moment, then she looks to the half-elf with confusion in her eyes. “Its Tela’in actually. This is my half brother Tash’aen’li. We have grave news regarding Valoreth.” Dylenna’s eyes widen and she takes a step closer to her father.

Tela’in remains next to the log for a moment, and then says “Ilin avas’il” nothing seems to happen at first, and Dylenna’s eyes narrow. “This log shall not burn dry until tomorrow at sundown, and not a minute before, now then, sit.”

Tash’aen’li sets his bag on the table and begins to withdraw several provisions. “Eat, if you have hunger.” He says. The four eventually sit down, Dylenna and Trinor still very much shocked at the sudden and chaotic change of events, no matter how good fortuned they seem. “Trinor, have you heard of Sirion’s new law?” Tela’in asks, looking at him from across the table. “No… I haven’t… been to Valoreth for many weeks, perhaps it has been… sixty days? Maybe more…” he says as he searches his memory.

“Sirion has closed his walls. He forced out Lady Nula, his own wife. The Elf Bond has been broken once more, and we have been banished from his lands as outlaws.” Tash’aen’li says calmly. The two look at him with anxiety growing in their hearts. “We have come to tell you, Trinor, because evil is brewing in Sirion’s keep. We need to know what is happening in Valoreth, and we want you to be the one keeping us informed.” Tela’in says, intent on keeping Trinor’s gaze.

After a moment Trinor relaxes his weary shoulders and says “I am old… and weakened. How can this body help your cause, while it would mean the abandonment of my family.” Dylenna looks at her father wearily, “No- you cannot ask this of my father.” She shakes her head and stands from the table. “Ask it of me, sister.” Tela’in rests gently against the back of the chair, studying Dylenna with curiosity. “Trinor, the decision is yours to make. Be it you or your daughter, my half-sister. Know that if you are caught, you will be imprisoned, probably taken to Sirion’s Keep.”

A many long moments pass, and Tash’aen’li stands, “We may yet stand against Sirion, and his curse. But to do so, we need all the help we can get.” He pauses for a moment and looks down at the tired man before them. “Dylenna, if you want you may do this task, but don’t look for my blessing, as I cannot give it. My place is here with my wife. She is ill, and not fit to travel.”

“I’ll do it.” Dylenna says with confidence. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning then. Pack any belongings you can sister, it is a long journey. Leave me for a minute to speak with your father.” Dylenna nods and kisses her fathers cheek, then leaves the room.

“Ata… My mother is dead. She was taken by Sirion’s men two weeks ago.” Her eyes look down into the fire for a moment then back up to him “She wanted me to tell you that she loved you still, despite your choices.” Trinor buries his face in his large hands. “She is dead? How do you know, perhaps she is imprison-“ the half-elf interrupts “Her soul has left her body. Yet she walks Sirion’s Keep as one of his servants. Do you understand this? She isn’t dead, but also not living, ata. She has become undead, her body is prisoner, but her soul has been freed. Her last wish was that you help us in Valoreth.”

His eyes suddenly betray his sadness, he stands and shakes his head. “If Dylenna has a chance to live in Valoreth, then so be it, she will be better off there. But if anything happens to her, I hold you responsible. Your mother left me Telain. She made the decision…” His argument fades as he speaks. He pauses for a moment and sighs with anguish “Give me your oath that you will do everything in your power to protect her.” He looks at her with concern. “I give you that oath, ata. I will do everything in my power to protect my sister.” She breathes in and stands. “She looks a little like me doesn’t she…”

The old man doesn’t respond, but instead looks out the window. He remembers so little of his past… “I can’t remember her face…” He whispers to no one. Tash and Tela’in exchange glances briefly. “Trinor- go and sleep now. We are to leave tomorrow morning.”