Late in the afternoon, the sunny weather was rudely shooed away by the dark clouds. The day dimmed and cooled, and the thunder roared, announcing the arrival of an unexpected trouble.
The elves have prepared for the appearance of scourges, but not the coming of the rain. They brought with them no tents or any sort of cover. When the downpour came, they helplessly watched the grain and the spices get drench.
And not only their supplies, the elves themselves were soaked and their dampened hair lost their splendor and, like their capes, stuck stiffly to their backs. The ground beneath turned to mud, and their horses were slowed.
"Throw them away." a voice ordered midst the deafening sound of the rain.
The furious Meldor stood before the pack horses, hands on his hips. Though it was no fault of theirs, everyone in the caravan was made uneasy of his irritation.
The elves untied the sacks off the animals, and threw them to the side of the road. The sight of the golden beads spilling out of their containers reminded them of their empty stomachs, and of their labor wasted.
"Chaldean grain is inferior anyway. I heard it makes stale and tough bread." he said. Though there was some truth in his words, his retainers were convinced it was his way of coping the loss. After all, even tasteless bread could still satiate hunger.
Meldor walked towards his horse and mounted. Without looking back, he rode towards the front.
"We shall travel in full speed. We shall attempt to find shelter before the night is fully upon us." he hollered midst the noise.
The prince's stallion loudly neighed as it reared up. When the front hooves touched the ground, the horse immediately gallop forward and in full speed. The riders behind him were forced to match his pace.
Their group left behind a chaotic trail, as the heavy hooves left craters on the softened road. The rain was swift to fill the holes, and the puddles would torment the riders further back.
As the heaven wept even harder and joint hands with the rain and lightning, they realized they were in the midst of a storm. Their vision and hearing were further impaired, and they grew more reliant on the elven prince's powerful senses.
Then the dim grew dimmer, and it was soon pitch-black. To their further misfortune, the night had caught up with their journey.
The darkness and the noise would take a toll even on the elves. Unlike their prince, his retainers had their sight completely taken away from them, and they could not hear anything apart from the hooves and the pouring rain. The sensory deprivation was suffocating, they were hungry and tired, and though resistant they were not immune to fatigue.
So great was their relief, when they saw a light suddenly appear. The glow was familiar, as they had seen it earlier. When they looked forward they saw Meldor's raised hand, on his palm was a glowing orb. All around it were strands of light that rode the wind, some would be flown away to their direction. Enthralled, the beautiful sight would help them forget their fears and calm their hearts.
But it was not out of the goodness of Meldor's heart. And this they realized, when a little further on, their march was finally halted.
"We shall take shelter here." the elven prince dismounted. Besides the road, the light revealed stone fences on both sides of a narrower path.
The rest of the caravan finally left the backs of their horses, much to their relief. They followed the walking torch as he walked past the stone wall, and at first, blindly. But after a few more steps, the orb soon revealed the stone houses that lined the path. The village Meldor had spotted, kilometers away, was alas made visible to the eyes of his retainers.
However, no light came even from the gaps, even from the doors and windows that were wide open. Nature had slowly reclaimed the settlement, with vines flourishly creeping up the walls and the grass invading what would've been once cleared ground. Cobwebs decorated every corner and the structure's wooden components had started to rot.
It was abandoned, but most of the thatched roofs were still intact.
"Find your spots, warm yourselves and rest. Tomorrow morning, we'll forage for food." Meldor announced.
The tired and starved elves did not respond much, and began to scatter. The abandoned village was big, and so they were more than enough houses.
Orlem went with the prince. Tholpiel, Elendiel, Cirdan and Sauldor, on the other hand, decided to stick together and headed to a nearby house. They brought with them some of the heavy silver chests, unwilling to risk losing their silver ass well.
Utter darkness greeted them behind the door, as well as the scent of rotten wood. The pouring rain was muffled, replaced by the sound of water droplets against wood.
They heard whisperings in an ancient elven tongue, and fatigued, they did not at first recognized from whose it was. Sauldor the most fearful, thought it was an elven sorcerer that had revealed himself when they were at their weakest.
"Sorcerer, you will think twice before touching the company of Meldor ElvenPrince."
"A scholar who doesn't recognize the ancient elven tongue?" chuckled Tholpiel, much to the relief of his friends, it was the lieutenant's.
His incantation conjured a small ball of flame on his hand, charging the darkness to flee.
"Your accent is simply… terrible." defended Sauldor.
"It's a dead language, Sauldor, no one knows of the accent."
"The books tell of how Kwenia is to be spoken."
"Well... I was heeded, I must have spoken it correctly."
Tholpiel made his way to the fireplace which the room was revealed to have. He picked up the wooden logs from the small stack the previous owners have left behind. He lunged them into the ashy hearth, and then threw the flame as if it were a ball. A large fire erupted, that warmed and illuminated the entire room.
The raging fireplace made visible the table in the center of the room, and the surrounding chairs. But there was nothing more, the house had been wiped clean of any other possession.
After they had laid the chests on the side, the elves removed their armor and apparel. The wet silk and the cold iron was irritating to the skin. And wearing nothing but their lower undergarments, they gathered by the fire.
"Meldor has changed." Tholpiel broke the silence.
"He has." confirmed Elendiel. "He was always fierce, and quick to anger. But he had never taken life so easily before."
"But the fall of the Atherdaine, and the hell that is happening within its walls as we speak. I believe his anger is just." Cirdan jumped to the defense of the prince.
"You baffle me? The killing of the innocent is just? How are we then different from those imperial scums?" Sauldor argued. He was the most educated among the prince's retainers, and knows of the laws and codes, even better than Meldor.
"Vengeance knows no bound. And Frederick had doomed with him, Chaeld when he raised his sword against the prince."
"You speak like the common man, Cirdan. The fault of their lord is not the fault of the subjects."
"Such is the fate of kings. They act for their kingdom, and if they do well the kingdom prosper with them, and if they do not, they bring down the kingdom with them." Cirdan replied.
"The sack of Chaeld is the fault of the traitor Frederick."
"Refrain from harming them, those who cannot harm you. Save them from the sword, those who do not wield it." Sauldor quoted. "These are the words of the elven king."
As the heated debate raged on, Elendiel opted not to join. Tholpiel, on the other hand, was lost in a daze, blankly staring at the fire. His mind bringing him back, to the second floor of that keep. Reminding him of the death of the boy, by the prince's arrow, and the young woman, by his own sword. As well as the words spoken by Meldor.
"The elven king is dead, the Atherdaine had fallen. Maybe it is time for the coming of a new age."
"How absurd! You will simply abandon what our fathers have built for thousands of years?" Sauldor rose from his seat in indignation. "Perhaps I should have gone with Naelif!"
"Lower your voices, you two. You bicker like children." Elendiel reprimanded, putting a halt to the debate before it reaches the boiling point.
The two, who were seated next to each other, turned their faces the other way.
"As for me, I will follow." Tholpiel suddenly spoke. "I have sworn loyalty to Meldor ElvenPrince"
"What he did in Chaeld was wrong, and he is lesser now than he had ever been. From a mighty prince who made mighty beasts tremble, to a lowly creature enslaved by emotions." he said, maintaining his blank stare.
"But who have we left?"