Chapter Two

Chapter II

Kythan awoke in a large, soft bed. His first thought was of Gifram. He started from the bed and was halfway out from under the warm quilt when he realized his clothes were sitting across the room, folded on a chair next to his bow, quiver, sword, and a daunting pile of daggers. His hand flashed to the pouch around his neck and he breathed a sigh of relief when his fingers closed around what felt to be five gold pieces and two copper. He looked down at his hand and realized it was his left hand that gripped his fortune. His fawn brown eyes followed his arm back to his shoulder where a tiny pink line marked where the arrow had once protruded from his flesh. He absently rubbed his shoulder, wondering how long he had lay in this bed.

Keeping his eyes on the closed door, he dashed across the room and donned the tunic that topped the pile of clothes. As soon as it settled on his shoulders, he realized that this was not his shirt. He looked down, amazed to see masterfully woven cloth, with subtle embroidery around the cuffs of the sleeves and around his neck. By the way it fit, it must have been tailored to fit his exact measurements. It had a smell like the calm, sparkling snow during a sunny winter day after a blizzard. His mind flashed to the way the Elven woman had smelled. He frowned and reached for his leggings, realizing that yet again, his clothes had been replaced. The leggings were of the highest quality leather he had ever seen and had been tailored for him and tooled with intriguing designs. He hastily jumped into these, smiling at the way they fit.

His eyes suddenly flashed at his sword and bow. These, too had been replaced. He grabbed the sword and pulled it from the beautiful leather and silver scabbard. The blade was exquisite, forged from a steel Kythan didn't recognize and etched with runic symbols. He shook his head as light seemed to glimmer from the sword itself and gave it a twirl. It seemed to dance in his hand of its own accord, the supreme balancing of the blade and hilt making the sword swing effortlessly. He launched into a rapid experimentation of the blade, whirling it around his body, using both hands while making his way back toward the bed. Chuckling, he turned and started his way back.

"Careful, Kythan. You have admirers." Aluna stood in the doorway, directly under Kythan's downward rushing blade. He faltered, realizing that the momentum he had been building up was far from ending. He tried to shout a warning as her hands shot up and caught the blade with her palms. "You are certainly looking better."

"Aye, we fixed ya up real good, didn't we? Your shoulder seems to be gettin' along just fine." Fungrik stepped around Aluna and looked up at Kythan. "I don't know why a Man must be trusted with Terra's Pride."

"Wait a minute. How long have I been here?" Kythan said as Aluna released the blade.

"Only a night."

"But my shoulder! And these clothes!"

"Do you like them?"

"Where are my clothes?"

"They were lice ridden. We had them burned."

Kythan shook his head. "Lice are part of life, Aluna."

"Cursed dirty Men. Ya have nae lice now, do ya?"

Kythan reached up and felt his scalp. His fingers explored several rapidly healing bites, but no new ones at all. He frowned and squinted at Aluna. "I need to go."

"Yes, I know. However, you shan't be going alone."

"What do you mean? Of course I'll be going alone. The only family I have is sitting outside that gate, wondering if I'm dead." He angrily pulled the fine leather armor over his tunic and began slipping daggers into sheaths that were worked into the leggings and armor.

"Well, Jungrim and I shall be accompanying you. If you don't mind."

"Who?"

"Jungrim. You met him last night. At the door."

"Why? I don't need your help."

"No. But we need yours."

"What? Why?" Kythan glanced up from stringing the fine longbow that stood in place of his own.

"All shall be revealed in good time, Kythan. Will you have us?" She spread her arms, a look of patient benevolence lightening her angelic features.

"Nae. I'll not be responsible for what can happen in the Wilds. I have enough trouble keeping my own head attached to my shoulders and I'll not be worried about yours." He slid the quiver over his right shoulder and the bow across his chest. "I thank you for your help in the street last night, but I will pay for as much of this as I can. Here," he pulled his protected pouch and took out the gold. "This is all I have."

Fungrik tossed back his head and laughed. "Nae, Kythan. That five gold wouldn't even buy that tunic. Keep your money. Bullheaded, isn't he?"

"Yes, Fungrik, he certainly is. Kythan, keep your money. The clothes and weapons are yours. I can tell that you are not the kind to be led easily, and that is an admirable quality. As I said, my name is Aluna al'Lani Tialushina. I come from a land far to the east of the Lands of Men in search of a Human Ranger who can wield Terra's Pride and Ravensbane. Terra's Pride is the name of the blade which you so skillfully handled just moments ago and Ravensbane is the Diamondwood bow you so easily slipped a string onto."

"What's so special about that?"

Fungrik chuckled. "Hand me that sword, Man. No! Don't bare the blade! Just hand me the whole thing, scabbard and all." Kythan unlatched the buckle that kept the sheath attached to his belt and offered the blade. "Aye, that's the way. Slowly now." Fungrik grunted and veins began popping out on his broad forehead as he lifted the sword from Kythan's hands. His mighty arms immediately tensed and sweat started pouring from his head. He leaned forward and nearly stumbled under the intense weight before Kythan reclaimed the blade. "By Garnok, that's one heavy blade."

"What? What is this witchcraft? I'll have nothing to do with it!" He tossed the blade onto the four poster bead and gaped as the entire bed collapsed the moment Terra's Pride landed on the soft mattress. "By the Gods!"

"Exactly, Kythan. Direct from Garnok, in fact. Ravensbane is from Shiavonia, Goddess of the Winds. Hand Fungrik the bow."

Kythan did as he was told, glad to be rid of the thing. Fungrik shook his head and shrugged, grabbing the string with one sizable fist and the bow with the other. Once again, the look of intense strain came over his face. The string didn't move. Even if he were faking, the string would have to move a little! Kythan thought. "Here, give me that." Fungrik shrugged and returned the bow. Kythan easily nocked an arrow and pulled the string back to his ear, the tension on the string akin to the bow his father had made for him when he was a child.

"Whatever you do, Kythan, do not loose that shaft. It would tear its way through the wall and continue until it finally slows down or something stops it. A solid stone wall, perhaps, although I have heard that perhaps not even that."

Carefully, Kythan relaxed his grip on the bow and placed the curious shaft back in the quiver. "I want none of this."

"It makes nae difference what ya want, Man. These weapons were crafted just for you, thousands of years ago. Ya have many things awaiting ya, Kythan. Many horrible things. Ya can run, but keep this in mind; if Garnok and Shiavonia knew about ya, who else did?"

"Fear not, Kythan. This is why Jungrim and I must travel with you. It matters not where you go, for the forces of Evil are everywhere and will focus on you. You have wielded Terra's Pride and drawn Ravensbane. Events have been set in motion that may cause an end to this world. You are the only being who can stop it, for this is the Land of Man. Elves and Dwarves can do nothing against the evil here. But we can help. And we shall."

Kythan blinked and shook his head. "Nae. I'll no believe this. You are speaking gibberish and lies! Lies!"

"As you wish, Kythan, as you wish. But please, for your sake, take Terra's Pride and Ravensbane with you. They are gifts."

"I'll have nothing to do with your cursed blade, or this bow!" He threw the quiver and bow to the floor at Aluna's feet. "I'll go barehanded if need be, but I'll no be your lackey! Yours or anyone's!" He stormed between Aluna and Fungrik, down the stairs, and into the common room. Jungrim stood before him, holding a mighty stone maul that was nearly as tall as he. His red beard appeared freshly braided and a gleam of excitement sparkled in his eyes.

"Ah, so the Man has finally shaken the dust from his boots, eh? Hah! Wait, where are ya headed? We're to be travelin' together, nae?"

Kythan headed for where he remembered the door to have been and searched for a latch, a bolt, anything to free him from this nightmare. "I'll be traveling alone, Dwarf."

"Ach, I see. Well now, what ya be looking for, then? The door is nae there."

"Where is it, curse you!"

"Over there, where it's always been. Fool Man." Jungrim shook his head and looked back up the stairs. "Well, Aluna, I suppose 'tis to be expected. Bullheaded Men, anyway. Don't even know the truth when it knocks them upside the head."

"Well, Jungrim, some things take time. I just hope he remembers about his boots before he rushes out into that mud." Kythan stopped, realizing that he was barefoot. He scowled at Aluna, who held a pair of well made boots in her hands. She offered them and he snatched them from her grasp. "May your travels be long and my the path always be clear before you. The door is right behind you when you wish to leave." Aluna bowed and gestured toward an ornate studded oak door that had not been there moments ago.

Kythan shoved his feet into the boots and threw open the door, recoiling as the sunlight burned his eyes and the stench scorched his nostrils. He stepped out into the alley, wondering why these boots seemed to merely slide through the mud without accruing any of the muck. He loped toward the gate, keeping his eyes out for guards. A heavily laden cart passed close beside him and he dropped to the ground and rolled underneath, grabbing onto the underside of the wooden box and pulling himself from the mud as the overburdened mule plodded ever onward toward freedom. He remained still and silent as the owner of the cart passed by the checkpoint at the gate and continued out into the surrounding forest.

As soon as he was far enough into the woods to create a wall between himself and the town, he dropped from the cart and lay still as it passed over him. Rolling quickly, he left the road and sprinted to where he had left Gifram. He sniffed the air for the cat smell, but it appeared as if the wily panther had left sometime around sunrise. He glanced skyward, judging four hours had passed since Gifram had left. Cursing his luck, he followed the scent carefully, quickly picking up his closest friend's trail and following it. He jogged easily through the woods, picking out the signs of Gifram's passing with trained eyes. A broken grass stalk here, the partial print of a paw, a single strand of midnight hair. He followed the cat's progress all the way around Karna until it strayed from the perimeter of the town and ambled off toward Kythan's winter shelter in the eastern mountains.

He followed the trail for several minutes before he stopped dead in his tracks. The midmorning sunlight drifted through the canopy of spring green foliage, creating a sense of somnabulance in the small glade. A bashful breeze wheezed in the undergrowth and a lazy stream gurgled somewhere off to his left, but he could hear no other sounds. No birds, no insects, no squirrels, no mice, nothing. He slid beside a thick ash tree and crouched, opening his nostrils to the smells of the forest, Gifram's scent heavy in the air. His eyes darted to several sources of movement, but the only motions he noticed were those of the leaves. Everything appeared to be in order, but the hackles on the back of his neck bristled and his stomach flopped with the tension that seemed to have infected the area.

A sudden crash from behind the tree sent him reaching for his sword. He frowned as his hand closed on nothingness and he snatched a dagger from his leggings instead. At least you could have gotten your own weapons back, fool. He thought, grimacing. He craned his neck around the tree, his eyes squinting, searching for a target. A shadow moved in the ferns that thrived beside the small stream, a shadow in the form of a feline.

"Gifram?" Kythan whispered, squinting.

The cat froze, sniffing the air. Kythan recognized his friend, but could understand the panther's hesitance. He was dressed in entirely different clothes, had recently been bathed, and had been in the company of elves and dwarves. All things considered, he probably couldn't recognize his own scent.

"Gifram, it's me." Kythan raised his voice a little and dropped to his hands and knees, bringing himself to his familiar's level. The moment his palms touched the damp ground, an arrow buzzed through the forest and sunk into the ash tree precisely where his head had been moments before. He scurried through the brush toward Gifram, to scare him away if nothing else. Evidently the cat decided that this human smelled too unlike his previous companion to be trusted and bolted. Kythan smiled, relieved his friend was safe, and slammed his shoulder blades against the ash tree opposite where the arrow still vibrated. Whatever enemy followed him was downwind, making nasal identification impossible. He heard at least three individuals making their way toward the tree, moving skillfully and quietly.

Kythan glanced up, noting that a thick branch was just out of reach. He pulled his legs underneath him and leapt, his strong hands gripping the limb. He hauled himself up, taking his time and making sure to stay as close to the tree as possible so the branch didn't sway with his weight. He had just planted his feet on the limb when he heard his attackers approach the other side of the tree and begin to inspect the arrow. They were communicating in a rough, grating tongue that Kythan did not recognize. It definitely wasn't Kobold, of that he was sure. He peered around the side of the tree and nearly fell out when he recognized the creatures. He had never expected to see an Orc, let alone three in a single day. They were large creatures, roughly six feet tall and weighing nearly three hundred pounds apiece. They were dressed in untreated hides and now that they were close the stench that drifted from them was nauseating. They were humanoid in appearance, with a prominent peaked forehead, large eyes that reminded Kythan of a rat's, no nose to speak of but rather two vertical slits between their eyes and mouth, which was filled with grimy spiked teeth. Their shoulders were broad and thick and their arms long and bulging with muscle. One held a four foot longbow and wore a quiver of black-shafted arrows on its back. The other two wielded squarish blades which looked more like a modified butcher's cleavers than swords. They seemed perplexed that the shot had missed, and stood around arguing over something. Kythan wished he could understand the heated remarks they spat at each other, but decided he was better off not knowing.

Evidently the decided to search the area, because they spit up and began poking about in the underbrush, the archer stabbing downward with his bow and the other two using their weapons like machetes. Kythan waited until one of the three was directly beneath him, the malformed head downcast, looking for quarry in the bushes. He pulled two daggers, took a deep breath, and leapt from the tree, wrapping his legs around the creature's neck and plunging his knives deep into the twin nostrils. The thing gurgled in shock and reeled, Kythan's thin blades piercing through its face and into the nerve centers at the base of its brain. Knowing the dropping body would cause too much noise, Kythan grabbed tight to the sturdy limb and waited until the twitching body beneath him was still. Then he dragged the body close to the tree, keeping his legs tight around the thing's neck and pulling hand over hand on the branch. He let the thing slide quietly to the ground before dropping himself, hearing the snuffling grunts of the Orcs get further away. He searched the corpse with haste and found nothing of interest on the diseased body except the unwieldy chopper it used for a sword and a rustic necklace made of human finger bones. He left both where he found them.

He peeked his head around the tree to check on the progress of the other two. To his dismay, the archer was looking right back at him, its horrific colorless eyes drilling into his skull. In a flurry of activity that looked too quick to be physically possible, the Orc raised the longbow and nocked an arrow, drawing it back to fire. A split second before the talonous fingers released the string, a piercing scream echoed from behind the Orc and suddenly it was on the ground, clawing at the black panther that had it's neck in a death grip. Gifram's powerful jaws held tight to the Orc's spine while all four deadly paws raked the creature's back, tearing chunks of black flesh from its ribcage and showering the area with ichorous blood.

A guttural howl from his left sent Kythan ducking under a blow that easily could have separated his head from the rest of him. The other Orc's cleaver chopped into the tree, sinking deeply into the living wood. Kythan snapped out a kick to the thing's crotch, frowning when the Orc merely grunted, grabbed his leg, and sent him flying into a sapling. Kythan rebounded clumsily, nearly slipping on the damp forest floor while pulling two more daggers. He sidestepped another lethal blow and stabbed ruthlessly for the inside of the Orc's elbow. The tip of his blade slid between the bones of the arm, cutting tendons and rendering the arm useless. Kythan danced back, allowing the beast to howl in pain before he silenced it with a quick flick of his wrist, sending his other dagger to burrow itself into the Orc's throat. It died quickly.

He stood from retrieving his daggers when Gifram nuzzled against his leg, marking his new clothing with the cat scent. "Sorry, Gifram. It's a long story, but I think we'd better move on. There may be more of these things around here. I don't know why there are Orcs so close to a town, but where there's one, there's always more, if any of the stories are true. Come." He jogged back to the corpse of his other kill and plucked his daggers from its face, using the maggot infested hides to clean off the black goo that flowed in Orcish veins.

"Aye, the stories are true, Man. And there are more where these three came from. Many more, and in larger bands than three!"

Kythan raised one of his freshly cleaned daggers and nearly loosed it before he recognized the voice of Jungrim. The dwarf stepped from behind the ash, his ruddy face cracked in an easy smile. "Well, ya surely took care of these three, didn't ya?"

"Go away! I told you, I want nothing to do with your stories and legends." As if to punctuate Kythan's words, Gifram growled, the fur on his back standing on edge.

"Ach, come now, Man. Leash that cat afore I flatten its skull."

"Are you threatening me, Jungrim?"

"Nae, just your familiar, there. Looks like she's ready to take off me head!"

"That makes two of us, Dwarf. Leave us alone."

"Nae, Man. I'll do nae such thing."

"And neither will I, Kythan. The fate of this world rests in your hands, whether you want to take hold of it or not. Jungrim and I shall follow you as far as you wish to run, regardless of your desires. You cannot close your eyes to the truth forever, for if you do, eventually something will close your eyes forever. Without Terra's Pride and Ravensong, you will quickly be overrun. You shall find Orcs to be the least of your worries before this legend is finished." Aluna's musical voice drifted over the clearing. She appeared beside him as if stepping from a fog, dressed in elegant traveling clothes very similar to the ones he wore. Tight, leather leggings and a suit of leather armor clung to her body in stirring ways She was unarmed, but Kythan knew that she had no need of earthly defenses.

He turned his head, a desperate grimace coloring his face. "I don't want those cursed weapons, Witch. I can survive well enough with just these." He tossed a dagger in his hand. "And I want no part of your lies."

"Lies, Kythan? Tell me, then, why are these Orcs so close to Karna?"

"How in the Two Hells should I know? They could be part of a raiding party, or scouts for an army or something."

"Very good, Kythan, very good. They are scouts for an army. Now, why do you suppose an Orcish army is massing in these parts? Karna is the only city of any size for leagues. What frightens Orcs enough to amass an army and march against a small village in the middle of a forest? And who, or what, is leading this army? Orcs, as you have seen, are relatively mindless. Brutal, to be sure, but mindless. Alone, an Orc will do little more than copulate and eat. But, put that Orc in a crowd, show it a leader, and point toward an enemy, and that Orc becomes a rather effective weapon. What is so special in Karna that would attract such a leader?" She knelt, placing one sensual hand atop Gifram's sleek head. The panther relaxed and a rumbling purr began in his chest.

"By the Gods, I don't know! You, and the rest of your happy little people in your happy little Inn? You have more than enough power to threaten an army of Orcs!"

Aluna's laugh trickled from her throat like water from a mountain spring. "I suppose in that, you are right. But Jungrim and I are only a threat to the Orcs themselves, not their leader. For whatever being is driving them is pure Evil, an Evil that is wholly of this world. Our powers are completely useless against it."

"But why the Orcs? They are evil!"

"Therein lies the true sadness. For the Orcs are not pure Evil, but merely infected with the Evil that drives them. You see, Jungrim and I can damage the Orcs because they have an element of Good in them, and that Goodness makes them vulnerable to our Magics."

"This is absolutely ridiculous. Wait!" Kythan sniffed, catching a faint whiff of the Orc smell borne on the wind. "Orcs. Many of them. About three hours hard ride to the Northeast."

"Can you tell how many?" Aluna stood, her eyes squinting with concern.

Kythan laughed. "I have a keen nose, Aluna, but not even Gifram could tell how many from a whiff on a breeze." He sniffed again. "But they are no moving. Perhaps they await word from these three." He absently kicked the corpse at his feet.

"Ach, looks like we're to see the horrors of an Orcish army! Hah! Trunksplitter cries for Orcish blood!" Jungrim raised his maul over his head and slammed it to the ground. "Aye, 'tis a grand thing. I've nae felt the spray of Orc blood in me beard for one hundred and three years!"

"We must evacuate the city at once. Come, let us make preparations immediately." Aluna nodded at Kythan. "Well, Kythan. It appears as if my lies are about to shed the blood of hundreds of innocent Men. Unless, of course, we manage to get those people to safety."

Kythan fumed, his mind grinding away at the millstone of improbabilities in his head. "No. I'll go nowhere near that town. I was headed toward the mountains when you appeared, and I'm still headed there now. Besides, if what you say is true, then the Orcs are after me and no the city. They'll follow me, right?" Kythan sneered at Aluna, expecting her to beg his help.

"What an excellent idea, Kythan. It shames me that I did not think of it myself. I appear to be getting befuddled in my old age. Lead the way, Ranger, and all shall follow. Oh, perhaps you desire to be better equipped?" Aluna pointed to the ground at Kythan's feet.

He could feel the weight of the blade sink into the earth before his toes. He looked down, his arms already reaching for the mystical armaments. "No. I'll have nothing to do with your tales, Aluna." He gritted his teeth and glared at her. "My own blade and bow have always been enough."

Aluna smiled and nodded. "So it shall be, Kythan. Quickly, we should make some time before dark."

The weight at his feet subsided, and he bent to receive the familiar longsword and the bow he had made himself. He nodded at Aluna and started running east, donning his sword and bow as he ran, grinning as Gifram bolted from the Elf's side and joined his place at Kythan's feet. Follow me, then. If you can. The forest began to flash by him, blurred by his sure-footed speed. His long legs stretched out, carrying him unerringly over fallen trees, exposed rocks, and gnarled roots. As quickly as he moved through the undergrowth, his progress was as silent as the breeze that had danced with the ferns by the creek's edge. Gifram remained close by his side, his black coat shining in the sunlight. Kythan laughed as he looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Aluna and Jungrim fading into the background. Surprisingly, they were not there.

"What are ye lookin' for, Man? I may be old, but I'll nae let the likes of you outrun me! Hah!" Jungrim jogged easily beside him, the dwarf's stubby legs working like pistons. The maul that Kythan had written off as a hindrance was actually aiding the dwarf. Using the shaft of the heavy weapon as a kind of vaulting pole, the dwarf was able to launch himself surprising distances and over most obstacles. Kythan shook his head and glanced through the trees for Aluna. "If ya're lookin' for Aluna you'll nae find her. Wood Elves are nigh impossible to spot in a forest, especially if ya're looking for one. Give it up, Man."

After a few miles of sprinting headlong through the forest, Kythan realized that his unwanted companions were not only serious in their desires to follow him, but had the necessary stamina to keep up with him as long as he wanted to run. He slowed, conserving his strength. Jungrim remained uncharacteristically silent, although a sly, knowing grin crept across his face. The three of them maintained a rapid pace through the forest, covering several more miles before Kythan finally slowed to a stop.

Without acknowledging Jungrim's presence, Kythan began making preparations for the night. He had used this site several times in the past; it was close to a small stream, there was plenty of dry deadfall to make a smokeless fire, and it was far from any known roads or paths that Men used. He sniffed the air, noticing the scent of a black bear that had been foraging in the area perhaps early that morning. He also smelled the dwarf, whose smell reminded him of freshly tilled earth, Aluna, who smelled of Winter Solstice, and Gifram's unmistakable cat smell. He followed the creek downhill, glad that Jungrim had decided not to follow him. He knew the stream well, and soon came upon a long, shallow pool with high banks. Looking down into the pristine water, he watched the shy brook trout dart about their playground before removing his quiver and pulling a ball of waxed twine from a compartment in the bottom. He selected an arrow with a short shaft, unusually long fletchings, and a fire-hardened tip with a long barb. He tied the arrow to his arm with the twine and leaned over the stream, arrow ready, making sure his shadow did not darken the water. He aimed right underneath the largest fish in the school and loosed the arrow.

Within a few minutes he had speared enough fish to feed himself and Gifram. His mind played with the thought of providing for his unwanted traveling companions, but he quickly decided they should find their own food. They were unwelcome, after all, and they knew it well. Let them fend for themselves. He made his way back to the camp, finding some wild onions on his way, his nose picking up the bitter-sour scent of tobacco smoke. He stepped up his pace and followed the smell, knowing full well that there were no Men within shouting distance.

"Jungrim! Curse you, put out that pipe! You'll bring every Orc with half a nose down on us!" He said, slipping out from behind the tall oak that sheltered his favored campsite.

"Ach! Ya nearly scared me out of me mind! Oooh, 'tis a nice mess o' fish. When do we eat? Me stomach is grumblin' somethin' fierce, an' I've no had fresh trout in years!" Jumgrim smiled broadly, replacing his maul against the tree and drenching the air surrounding his head with dense blue smoke.

"Your pipe, Dwarf! Put it out!"

"I'll do nae such thing! 'Tis a fine thing to have a smoke in the fresh air after such a run as we had. Here, I'll load you a bowl. 'Tis fine Elven weed, good for smoke rings!" Jungrim reached into his tunic and produced a worn leather pouch.

Kythan snatched the clay pipe from Jungrim's lips and hurled it far into the woods, his ears picking up the sound of it shattering against a stone. "Fool! Do you have any idea how much that smells?"

Jungrim leapt to his feet, his bulbous face flushed. "Cursed Man! 'Twas me best pipe!"

"A lot of good a pipe will do ya if we're rushed by Orcs! By the Gods, that tobacco kills all other smells! Cursed stinkweed!"

"You know, Jungrim, Kythan is right. Orcs will be attracted to the smell of tobacco." Aluna emerged from the undergrowth, her form suddenly taking shape from a mottled background of foliage.

Kythan's sword was out in a flash. "Where did you come from?" He blinked, shook his head, and replaced his blade, muttering.

"What did I tell ya, Man? Even the most skilled Ranger in all the Land canna find a Wood Elf in the forest. 'Tis folly to try! Now, why did'j'a have to toss me pipe?"

Kythan knelt by the small fire Jungrim had started in his absence and pulled a slender knife from the front side of the sheath of his sword. Gifram came close and purred, rubbing his head against Kythan's arms. Kythan ignored his friend and started to clean the fish, giving the entrails to Gifram. "Now both of you listen to me. If we are to be traveling together, we have to get something straight. I'll no have my hide endangered due to ignorance and stupidity. I've lived in the Wild since I was a child, learning the lessons of the forest the hard way. You may be grand adventurers in your World, but if you're to follow me, you'll do as I say, when I say to do it. No arguments. I've no idea what life is like wherever you are from, but here it's kill or be killed. Smoking tobacco gets you killed. It attracts not only Orcs but cats and Kobold and Wolves and Goblins and all kinds of nasty little creatures that've learned that the men who smoke tobacco have weak skins and dull claws."

"Well if anythin' comes my way lookin' for an easy bite they've another think comin!"

"Kythan is correct, Jungrim. I'm sure he has no doubts as to your battle prowess, but why test them? Why spend your energy needlessly? If you spend all your time fighting off Kobolds and Goblins, what is to happen when the Orcs arrive?" Aluna squatted next to the fire, holding a branch of willow in her hand.

"Not only that, Dwarf, but when tobacco burns, I can smell nothing else. I'll no have my nose turned useless for your pleasures." Kythan finished with the fish and glanced to the creek bed for willows. To his surprise, Aluna handed him the branch she had been toying with when she squatted by the fire. She had already peeled it and had woven the end of the branch into a spoon-like platform for cooking the fish. Kythan grunted his thanks and sliced up a few onions, stuffing them into the body cavity of the trout. He jammed the branch into the ground, suspended the spoon over the fire, and placed the fish in the small depression. The smell of cooking fish soon permeated the air.

"Ach, and what of the smell of cookin' trout? I don't suppose that'll attract anythin', will it?" Jungrim crossed his arms over his chest, his bottom lip combing his mustache.

"This smell doesn't travel very far, and is not nearly as noticeable as that cursed stinkweed."

"Bah!" Jungrim stalked off, searching for his pipe. Kythan smiled, thinking of what would happen when he found his precious pipe in a thousand small pieces.

***

Kythan looked into the collection of stars that showed through the overlapping branches of the trees above and let his mind wander. The beasts of the night were out in force; the Wilds were alive with the rustling of rodents and felines in the underbrush, the inquisitive challenges of owls, and the darting, blurred forms of bats taking nourishment from what the cats and raptors could not. Gifram's yellowed eyes sparkled in the soon-to-be nonexistant light eeking from the throbbing embers, his ears twitching, cupping the countless breaths of sound that were below Kythan's range of hearing. One sound that both beings could not help but hear was the bellow of Jungrim's wheezing night-gasps. How can such a small being make so much noise asleep? Kythan thought, sighing soundlessly. At least he isn't snoring. He lay his head back against the pillow of his sword and bow rolled in his leather armor and folded his hands over his full belly. Aluna had proved her worth by augmenting their meal with cat-tail tubers and a collection of herbs and mushrooms, some of which Kythan had never seen or judged palatable. Jungrim had proven his worth by eating a king's share of the fare and passing around a wineskin of superb mead. Kythan had caught him with another, smaller clay pipe after the meal, and had barely refrained from sending it to join its predecessor. At Aluna's insistant, yet patient, prodding, Jungrim had finally agreed not to smoke while in the forest and Kythan had returned the utensil. Neither were happy with the arrangement. Aluna had merely smiled her alluring, incomprehensible smile and turned the conversation to edible plants.

Suddenly, both of Gifram's ears perked forward and he pulled his legs beneath him, his black nose wrapping around the conflicting plethora of scents that wafted from the depths of the woodlands. Kythan sat up, his eyes peering over the dregs of their campfire while his hands slipped daggers from their homes.

"Easy, Kythan. 'Tis only me." Aluna's lilting voice calmed Gifram and Kythan slipped his blades back into his sleeves. "I'm very impressed. Most Men are unaware of Elves until we stomp out your fires."

At the mention of the fire, Kythan moved forward and set a few dry sticks across their light source. "'Twas Gifram. My own nose and ears are no match for his. Where have you been?"

"I was under the impression that you had no interest in my movements, as long as they take me far from you." She settled herself next to the oblivious Jungrim and began pulling on the laces of her knee-high boots.

"You're no far from me now. Why're you here?" He scooted back until his shoulder blades rested against the bark of a thick tree.

"Because I knew Jungrim would be asleep by now and, as much as I enjoy his presence, I wanted the chance to speak with you uninterrupted." She finished freeing her left foot from the supple bucksin of her footwear and went to work on her right.

"Why? You seem to know all you need about me."

"Really? And what is that?"

"That I can wield your cursed sword and bow."

"And that is all I need to know?"

"'Tis enough for you and your damned Dwarf to follow me all over the Wilds, isn't it? If I've told ya once, I've told ya countless times. I'll have nothin' to do with your legends and stories and shite. I've enough shite to last ten lifetimes." He spat his words with a vehemence not felt in countless nights. Gifram growled lightly and butted his master's elbow with a practiced head. Kythan allowed his hand to drop to scratch the bridge of his friend's nose, an activity that brought both serenity. He looked over at the Elf, who had paused in the process of smoothing the boot-wrinkles from the bottoms of her pantlegs and was looking at him, her eyes laughing. "Pardon my words, M'Lady. I--"

"How many times must I tell you? I'm not nobility, at least not here. And your paltry excuse for cursing is nothing. I travel with dwarves, and Dwarven is possibly the most offensive language spoken anywhere. Some of their tankard tunes would make the most vulgar Man's stomach turn." Aluna smiled her ghost of a smile as her eyes turned introspective, her mind on faraway places in faraway times. She shook her head and folded her legs under her until she was resting on her knees and sitting on her heels. "Now, no more of these things. Tell me about yourself, Kythan; tell me all. Your family, your mother, father, siblings. Where were you born? Unburden your 'shite' upon me; my shoulders are broader than they look, especially in matters of the soul."

"I've no wish to speak of it. To you or to anyone." Kythan spat, adding some of his water to the dry tongues of flame that lapped at their newfound food. He scowled and lay his head back upon his makeshift pillow.

"Suit yourself, Kythan. Perhaps someday you will want the comfort of a compassionate ear."

"Not today, Aluna. And don't count the days."

"Sleep well, Man. Let us hope you have days ahead to count."

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