Rowan recognized the word, General, from her earlier lesson in the Elvish language.
Elduine emerged from the doorway with the same calm expression he had when dealing with King Gregan. He was greeted with salutes and bowed heads.
Rowan stood quietly to the side, pretending not to feel the three sets of eyes glaring at her. They began to speak in their own language with Elduine, but Rowan didn’t know enough to understand. It was clear however, they were in a hurry and weren’t happy she was there.
The one with the blue quiver had the angriest eyes. He glared at her, but she refused to look away.
Elduine suddenly raised his voice and the three elves quieted instantly. He gestured viciously towards the river, and ‘blue-quiver’ answered back with little hesitation. Saying something short and tense to his companions, the blacksmith, or should she call him General, spoke to her.
“Come, my lady,” he headed to the cottage. “I must hurry. Let’s get your arrows.”
Rowan could feel the eyes of the elven trio as she moved to follow Elduine.
The Elf closest to her spit as she walked by, and the shortest one mumbled something that sounded like something Rowan did want to know the meaning of.
A blur of movement from the cottage proved to be an angry Elduine. He slapped the two offenders so hard they fell to the ground, then Elduine stood over them yelling. Rowan noticed how the three suddenly lowered their eyes and dipped their heads.
“What are you doing, behaving like dogs,” Elduine snapped angrily. “That is the niece of the human king. She’s the best hope for that kingdom, and you spit at her! Dogs.”
“It is her uncle who is causing this insult...”
“Silence! He may be continuing but not causing. You will be dealt with later!”
The blacksmith general stood tall and terrible as the two elves regained their feet.
“Apologize to her now.”
He growled another command, and the once-disrespectful Elves now bowed their heads to her.
“My apologies, my lady,” said one.
“Our disrespect shows our ignorance, I am sorry,” said the other.
‘Blue-quiver’ still glared.
“I will meet you at the bridge,” General Elduine said before turning to the cottage.
The three then remounted and left, having one more short conversation with Elduine at the gate.
Once more, she followed Elduine into his home.
“Wait here,” He pointed to a spot, then walked into an adjoining room. Rowan waited, looking around patiently, motion caught her eye and she turned. Through the door, she could see the reflection of the blacksmith in a mirror. He was removing his dirty forge shirt and put on a clean one. Realizing the door was still open, the Elf quickly pushed it shut. She felt her cheeks blush a little and she looked away. The Elf came back into the room with the briefest look at Rowan and continued putting on basic Elven leather armour.
Rowan stepped forward, “I can help, General. I helped my father many times.”
Elduine raised his head to look at her and sighed, “Yes, a general. I like blacksmithing, and it gives me something to do to relax, even for a short time.”
“I like riding my horse and archery,” shared Rowan. “I understand.”
“I come here to get away from them,” Elduine nodded his head in the direction the Elves road off. He examined the bracer Rowan tightened and nodded, “Very impressed.”
“I can understand that sentiment too,” She smiled.
General Elduine bowed his head to Rowan and retrieved a quiver of arrows from beside the fireplace.
“Oh, I don’t think I brought enough money for all of these,” she began.
The general held up a hand, “No payment needed.”
“But I must...”
“No, my lady.”
“I insist on paying!”
Elduine took a step towards Rowan and gave one final response, “No.”
He then opened the door and waited. Rowan swallowed a small amount of pride and walked out.
Together they readied their horses and mounted. When they reached the road, Elduine turned left, and Rowan turned right. He dipped his head and covered his heart, she did the same.
The King’s niece rode back to the palace without incident and showed the arrows to her handmaiden right away. Lea insisted Rowan do some easy studies in the evening, ending with more lessons in Elven language. That night was the first night in many, that Rowan slept soundly.
A lovely, uneventful morning met her awakening. Rowan practiced her Elven over her morning meal, read a few chapters of Etiquette of the Throne, and had Lea teach her a simple Elven dance. Rowan then decided she should practice her riding.
“Then that is it! Enough learning for the day,” she laughed.
“Thanks, Jax,” Rowan smiled, as she saw her eager, old mount chomping his bit. She decided to ride to the forge to see if Elduine was home, and practice her language skills. That would take the rest of the day, and she had the time.
Rowan took her time getting to the forge, putting Dunny through his paces and laughing at his antics. When she arrived at the forge, she was met with a heavy silence. No hammering, no smoke from the chimney, no ‘whooshing’ of the billows. She knocked politely, but already knew he was not there. Rowan was surprised at how disappointed she felt at not sharing time with the General.
“Ah, well,” she said to her horse. “Let’s go back and eat some fresh bread.”
Dunvelli pricked his ears at hearing about his favourite treat, and willing picked up a brisk trot.
Riding through the palace’s side gate, Rowan came across General Tarik walking among wounded men.
“My dear lady, this is no place for you. Please, go back to the palace. No riding today.”
She realized he thought she had come down from the palace and
Rowan rode quietly to the stable, where Jax was waiting for her.
“Is something wrong,” she asked the groom. “Why is everyone so sullen?”
Jax nodded towards the Palace, “You better go inside, quickly.”
Rowan grabbed Jax’s arm, “Is he angry?”
“No, not angry, Rowan. Go inside and speak to your handmaiden.”
Rowan released her grip and jogged to the doors of the Great Hall. There was no sense of joy at the return of the King, and that was making Rowan unsettled.
“Captain Phalen!” She called to the captain as he dashed from one hall to the next, “What’s happening? Where’s my uncle? Where is Lea?”
With a desperate look, Phalen looked around and pointed at a figure entering the corridor. Rowan recognized the handmaiden but not the look on her face. She held out her hands, but the half-elf didn’t take them.
“My lady, your uncle is back,” Lea was wringing her hands. “He has the fever.”