Al and Ghelreis didn’t seem to be proficient in Elvish and were unable to keep up with their conversation, and Reystov had his hand on the tiller and was keeping well out of it. I thought about saying something to the pair of them so we could all move on, but apparently even Menel had the sense to know that things had gone on long enough. As the elf paused for breath for a moment, Menel placed his hand over his heart with a polished motion and gave her a greeting in Old Elvish. “‘The stars shine on the hour of our meeting.’”
The elf frowned, retracted her sharp tongue, and responded with the standard formal greeting in a similarly refined manner.
Menel shrugged. “Sorry for shocking you. It’s just how I was raised. I’m Meneldor of Ithil.”
“Swift-winged heavenly eagle of the silver moon, I am Dinelind of
Remmirath.”
“Enchanting silent tune of the net of shining stars, may our meeting be blessed.”
Spoken in beautiful, rhythmical Elvish, it was a rhyming exchange in the traditional format.
“So you can behave normally,” Dinelind said, frustrated.
“Elven greetings aren’t my style.” He shrugged. “No more, please.”
Dinelind gave a small, resigned snort, smiling with her violet eyes. “Alright.”
Then she looked at me, who had been completely left behind by the conversation, and switched to slightly dated Western Common Speech. It was the way of speaking I was most familiar with: the language spoken in Blood and
Mary’s time. “My apologies. Are you the leader of this group? It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Dinelind.” Dee-neh-lihnd.
“William G. Maryblood.”
“You saved my life. You all have my deepest gratitude.”
She gave me a graceful bow.
The dark, thick, stagnant river flowed slowly. Carried by the water’s flow, the boat progressed to the north between withered trees that reminded me of bones exposed to the elements. A slight current of air was filling its sail. That was because Menel had used the Tailwind spell again. It seemed the fairies had regained a little of their power.
“So then we…”
After introducing ourselves to Dinelind, we explained to her that we were on a journey to kill the foul-dragon Valacirca and the mountain demons. She was astonished. “Just the five of you? Are you serious?”
“You think we’d come all the way out here for a joke?”
“You might. I admit that William over there seems unlikely to do that. He looks sensible and sincere.”
“And I’m neither, am I?”
“Ask yourself. But this really is reckless.”
“We’re aware it’s reckless. But we have to do it all the same.”
“I see. You’re very brave.”
Dinelind was relatively proficient in Western Common Speech, but her mother tongue was definitely Elvish. She mostly talked to Menel and me.
“So, Dinelind, why were you there being attacked by a hydra?”
“Well, I don’t mind telling that story, if you have a little time to listen.”
“Let’s eat first,” Menel said. “Can’t ever trust an elf’s littles.”
He had a point. As long as we were in an area as dangerous as this, there was nothing to be lost by getting food in us whenever we were able. If our boat ever capsized, that would be the end of our food supply.
“Al, you got the smoked venison there, right?”
“I do, but… Would that be okay?”
“Yes, I can eat venison just fine.”
Given Al’s doubt, apparently elves really did have a strong image as vegetarians.
“About the only elves who don’t eat meat are those who underwent special training and became strongly fae in nature.” She explained that all other elves hunted like normal and ate meat and fish. “It’s the duty of us elves as rulers of the forest to hunt and fish to preserve the balance of nature.”
The idea of applying moderate pressure to maintain ecological balance was a very elf-like way of thinking.
On the boat, we ate the venison we’d smoked in the city of the dead along with some holy bread. We couldn’t very well use fire, so we had to have it cold, but the smoky taste of the cold venison made it a pretty tasty meal in its own way. Dinelind ate the bread like it was a new experience for her, and the venison with salt sprinkled over it made her eyes go wide.
“Wait.” Menel frowned upon seeing her reaction to the food. “What do you guys normally eat?”
Dinelind shrugged sarcastically. “You can imagine, can’t you?”
The marshland and cloudy river had a thick aura of impurity and death. The creatures we’d seen so far were snakes and stuff like that. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t imagine it; I just didn’t really want to.
“And I think you have a good idea of why I was there, too. That’s why you suggested we eat first and shared your food with me.”
Menel grumbled and shut his mouth. Judging by his reaction, she had hit the bull’s-eye.
Dinelind spoke in a detached tone. “As you guessed, there were too many mouths to feed.”
Menel frowned even harder.
Too many mouths to feed… I wondered what that meant.
“Was there something wrong with you?”
Whenever I heard of people being abandoned when there were too many mouths to feed, those who couldn’t work were usually first to go. The practice helped a group to strike the balance between food supply and food consumption, ensuring its survival. In both my past world’s history and the world I was living in now, in the event of a famine, the old and infirm would be first to go, and their loss would enable the healthy and the work animals to survive. Dinelind looked a little peaky, but otherwise she seemed in good shape.
“No,” she answered.
“Huh?”
“Will, that isn’t the way elves think,” Menel said, wrinkling his brows.
Dinelind nodded. “Yes, exactly.”
“Umm, I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand. It’s simple,” Menel said, with a complicated expression. Then, he spoke with conviction. “Elves are noble. They neverforsake the weak. No matter how bad things get, an elf will never abandon the old or the sick. From the looks of it, it must be a completely isolated village, surrounded by danger.”
Around us, the stagnant river and marshland extended as far as we could see.
“I bet whenever there’s a food shortage, those who can move and fight volunteer to leave,” Menel continued. “Best case, they can find some way out, make their way to somewhere inhabited, and call for help. And even if they don’t, that’s one less mouth to feed. Right?”
“Yes, that’s right. Who would think of sending the weak out to fend for themselves? That’s ridiculous,” Dinelind said seriously.
The weak were to be protected, and the strong were to be first to make sacrifices. She spoke not with a tone of fanaticism or blind faith, but as though this was absolutely natural common sense.
“You really are an elf,” Menel muttered.
“Excuse me? Was that a compliment or an insult?”
“A compliment, dammit.” Menel avoided looking directly at her as though she were the sun.
Elves are proud and noble — that was a common refrain I’d heard from everyone. I was beginning to see why.
“Elves never change,” Ghelreis said quietly. The old scar on his face was warped by the corners of his mouth pulling up into a smile.