“Here, take him, feel the weight of him”-Aranor held the boy out to Aulf, who gingerly received the tot, carefully cradling his arms about the Prince-“for he goes under your protection now.”
Bram struggled to be held upright so that he could see. And the Captain realized that this was no suckling in his arms, and so he raised the child up to sit on his shoulder, much to the lad’s delight. Aulf’s eyes shined, and he turned to the mounted Harlingar. “All hál Prince Bram!”
And all the Harlingar shouted: Hál, Prince Bram!
Bram crowed in delight, and Aulf, beaming, turned to Princess Arianne, and for the second time that day Arianne smiled at the joy upon Bram’s face.
“Come, Daughter,” growled Aranor, turning to Arianne, “the day grows older as we stand here, and there be a long journey ahead of you.” Aranor stooped and embraced her, his voice gruff with emotion. “We shall miss your brightness at Court. Care well for our Bram. We will let you know when it be safe to return.”
Arianne hugged Aranor fiercely, for she had come to love him as if he was her own sire. “Take care, Father,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face, and then she turned to Elyn.
They embraced and kissed one another farewell, and all that saw them marvelled at their beauty. Like daughters of Adon, Himself, they looked: one copper haired, one with tresses of wheat; one tall with willowy grace in every movement, one tiny with the exquisite bearing of a Princess of fable.
“I shall miss you dearly, my Sister,” whispered Arianne.
“And I you, Arianne,” responded Elyn. “Care well for Bram, for Jord needs him.”
“Fear not, for he is all I have left of Elgo, and I would not have his memory fade from this world.”
Releasing Elyn, Arianne turned and stepped toward the wain indicated by Aranor, and the King helped her to mount up. Aulf passed Bram up to her, and then sprang to his saddle.
Three Harlingar gallants leapt down from their mounts and aided the three Ladies-in-waiting into the waggons: Elise moving forward matter-of-factly, Darcy uncertain, and Kyla somewhat warily.
At a nod from the King, Aulf sounded a call upon his black-oxen horn, and at the fortress wall Men at the winches began cranking, and with a clatter of gears the portcullis was raised. Others haled the great bar from the fore gates and swung them wide, opening out into the land beyond. Drivers flicked reins and called to the teams, and slowly the waggons moved forward, bearing their precious cargo from the keep. Iron-rimmed wheels ground out their messages of movement, and the column of mounted Harlingar surged forward as well, steel-shod hooves clattering upon flagstone and cobble. Out from the bailey trundled the waggons, and faces of the passengers and of those remaining behind peered at one another for perhaps the last time: Arianne smiled wanly; Elise and Darcy wept as if their hearts would break; but in a quicksilver shift, Kyla’s features bore a great wide grin. And behind stood Aranor, grim was his look; Elyn’s countenance was stoic; Mala’s face bore its usual air of disapproval. Only Bram in his mother’s arms seemed unaffected by it all.
Out through the portal clattered the train, and when it was through, with a rattle of gears and a grind of metal the portcullis lowered and the great gates swung to. And when the keep was shut, Aranor turned and made his way back into the castle, his arm around Elyn.
On the ninth day, Reachmarshal Richter came, tall and graceful, and with him rode nine hundred Harlingar, the muster of the East Reach.
On the twelfth day came the Legion of the west, some eight hundred strong, led by Reachmarshal Einrich, a great shouting, laughing, barrel of a Man.
From the north, throughout the final four days, three Warbands came: some twelve hundred Men altogether, commanded by Marshals Roth, Boer, and Mott, all united under the hand of Reachmarshal Vaeran, a small fox of a Man said to be a master of military strategy.
And from the South Reach, the land in which stood Aranor’s keep, the muster raised nearly eleven hundred, and they rode under Gannor’s flag. And Gannor was Aranor’s blood cousin, yet a mighty warrior in his own right.
And so they gathered in a fortnight, nearly forty-five hundred warriors in all, counting the stragglers and strays. Forty-five hundred Vanadurin to face an unknown number of Dwarves.
During this same fortnight, Elyn trained as she had never trained before: But it was not in missile weapons nor in those of mêlée combat that she prepared herself. Nay! Instead, it was waggons and supplies that occupied her mind, and the governing of a Kingdom gone to War. Figures danced in her head as counsellors advised her: food for Men afield, fodder for horses, medical supplies needed by healers, armor and weaponry and other such accouterments, blankets and bedrolls, boots and clothing, cloaks and tents; the lists went on and on. Often she would hurl a ledger from her in a fit of frustration, vowing that she never would master all the details needed to supply an army in the field. Yet after a cooling off of her temper, and at Mala’s urging, reluctantly she would retrieve the offending journal and once again take up the study of the provisioning of legions.
She was joined in this endeavor by Mala, who, for the first time in her life, found something at which she was gifted. Mala seemed to have a natural flair for logistics, and swiftly gathered facts and figures and the rules of thumb necessary for maintaining the King’s Host, whether near or far afield.
And as Aranor and his staff would assemble in the War room to plan the campaign, Elyn and Mala would join in the council, scribbling notes unto themselves, or asking just where in Hèl this or that commander supposed he would get the supplies needed for some outrageous scheme, and suggesting the types of goods that they could get to the battlefield, and the means of transporting them.
And after such councils, Aranor would approach the two of them and grin, saying, “Garn! This War will be won or lost right here at the keep, for here begins the lifeline that will sustain mine Host when we stand before the iron gates of Kachar. Yet, hearken unto me: I be in the best hands available when I be in the hands of you twain.”
And suddenly the time was come upon them: the fortnight had fled. Red flags had swept across the nation and the swift muster was done, though in the days to come other Harlingar would drift past, heading for Kaagor Pass and Kachar beyond. And the hastily assembled Host prepared for departure, for at the dawning of the morrow, Aranor would lead them in a War of retribution.
Hundreds of wains filled with supplies stood out upon the prairie, and hundreds more would assemble in the coming weeks, for an army’s appetite is nearly insatiable, and game afield swiftly exhausted. Too, herds of cattle stood lowing amid the lush grass, to be driven in the wake of the Men.
That last night Elyn and Mala pored over the books, noting what was to arrive in the near future, noting what was already on slow wheels heading for the front e’en now. And when Elyn retired at last, exhausted, her mind awhirl with lists of supplies and schedules, she wondered what factor had been overlooked, what need would come that they were unprepared to meet. But ere any answers came, she was fast asleep.
The next morning Aranor led Elyn to the throne room and sat her upon the chair of state. “Here, Daughter, I leave the Realm in your hands. None of us know what Fortune has in store for us. But this I do know: I will be far afield for some time to come. And you will be here dealing with the governance of the Kingdom. Chance and circumstance oft’ lay out a different course from the one first charted, calling for decisions unforseen. Only you, and none other, will be able to select among the choices given you. Only you will be able to decide what is the best course to follow. But heed me! Listen to the advice of those that you trust before making your decisions, whatever they may be. Rely upon their knowledge, their wisdom, their talent, and give over to them the responsibilities that they can best fulfill. At times they will have the better skills to accomplish that which need take place, at other times it will depend upon you and you alone to do what must be done. Regardless, yours will be the final decision: consider well the choices you are given, and do that which is best for the Realm, for that be the responsibility of the one who sits in this chair.”