Editing Fawn BW XXXVI

'''BWXXXVI-Fawn’s Vision'''

“So Briarn, tell me what you saw and why it was so important,” demanded Malenwe who stood as a tall man approached.  As usual, she was dressed for war – her garb had not changed since shortly after Morwath pulled her from the ashes of Wallorin’s House. She was ready for anything, determined never to be surprised again. Fawn noted that it gave her a desperate look, which did not settle easily on those beautiful elven features.  Apart from the small band of gold, that sat lightly on her head, and which that signified her royal position, little discriminated her from the rangers that patrolled the encampment’s perimeter.  She had travelled north, it appeared, judging by the lay of the land and the tall silver birch that were renowned to populate the northern banks of the Cloof. This was a scouting party of no more than a score of her best Dunedain.  They were on the hunt for something – intelligence no doubt.

A huge Man of Farass approached the Queen, typically wild and unkempt, full of confidence in his ability to strike down any foe; his gate was long and certain.  Unusually for his folk, his hair was closely-cropped, and he wore little armour – just thick furs to keep out the northern cold.  He had clearly travelled far, and probably on foot.  Fawn was a little surprised that Malenwe would be on first name terms with the Barbarian as they usually kept far away from her folk – eben in battle they would not mix ranks.

“Yes my lady; I believe that you had reports from your men who took the Bridge at Haverel that the Drow had moved north?” Briarn answered as he approached.  Stopping an arm’s length away, he bowed his head in respect.

“Yes, what of it?” Malenwe answered, slightly irritated that this man had not produced a more interesting opening.

“Well,” Briarn stammered slightly, clearly not used to being spoken to in this way by a woman, “we have seen a very large Drow army heading north across the Planes of Levolyan, never straying too far from the River. “

“That corroborates it then, Briarn;” dismissed the Queen, before she realised the man was not about to depart, “I detect there’s more?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady.” Briarn said calmly enough, “They appeared badly damaged, limping along with dented and blood covered armour.  It was as if they had suffered a large defeat.”
Pacing away from the giant, Malenwe was clearly excited, “Then the attack a Vorsaykarai must have worked; Yishmay must have won.  Quick, we have no time to lose!”

“My Lady?” came the somewhat dim-witted reply.  The man clearly had another interpretation and was confused why this amazing tactician had not seen it. He stared, almost in bewilderment as the Elf continued excitedly.

“Prepare to strike south,” she ordered, pacing left to right in front of the man, “we can cut off any more fleeing north and reinforce Yishmay’s gains.”
Realising that he had not been clear, the man shook his head and said, “That’s just it my Queen: they were seen when your men took the bridge at Haveral, which was before Yishmay marched south.”

“Of course…” it was clear now that Malenwe understood.  She had been so desperate to see a weakness in her foe that she had ignored the real intelligence.  “So, they couldn’t have been injured in that battle.  Now I recall, the gnome – the one known as Hishik – he saw a cart full of bloodied and battered armour.  We thought little of it at the time, but this must be part of a plan to lead us away north.  They would know that I would find it very hard to resist trapping a weakened enemy against the river.” It was the Elf’s turn to shake her head, “But why?  Why the ruse and why now?”
The man continued in a slightly patronising tone, as if pointing out something more the Queen had overlooked, “Also, my Lady, from where did they come?”

“Yes,” Malenwe brushed off the insult.  If she took offence at every man that had belittled or patronised her, she would not have much of an army.  She stopped pacing and searched the trees for a clue, “they were not landed by Magreb last winter, north of Fontainver, because we know they reinforced Malor against the dwarves in the North.” 

“And this was an army twice that number at least,” Briarn added.

“Do you know when they crossed the bridge?” Malenwe asked, as if struck by something.

“No, your Grace, but it has to be before the last full moon, as it was shortly after that the bridge was taken;” he rubbed his beard, considering the time, “perhaps three weeks, maybe more.”

She clearly understood now – the tactician had returned, “They were not expecting the bridge to be taken – that has proved this to be a lie.”

It was Briarn’s turn to be slow, “But why, my Queen?”

“They expected to draw me from Efferendil, which must mean they have troops ready to take the Forest,” she answered, eyes darting to the South, her face showing even more concern than before.  

“If that is the case then perhaps Vorsaykarai is not abandoned, at least not by Drow.”
Ashen-face, Malenwe looked sky-ward as the first snow-flake fell to rest briefly on her brow, before melting and being cast aside by a swift flick of her long fingers.  

The Giant looked down at her care-worn face sympathetically; it appeared to Fawn that this man could love her; he sensed the man’s desire to take her up in his arms and protect her.  “We have never seen this many Drow,” he said plainly, “even when the Witch Queen supported the Great Demon.”

“And we know that Magreb has not landed more…” she paced again, but all the while looking skyward, deep in thought.  “There must be a Gate,” Malenwe announced suddenly. 

“According to our friends it is no longer at Yarlug – having (fortuitously) transferred back to the Glade.”  
Briarn said nothing, letting the Elf muse, pace and stare skyward as the snow fell ever more steadily.  “Perhaps Senforn would have known,” she muttered, “have I made a mistake releasing him without interrogation?”

“That is done my Queen,” Briarn was a man of few regrets, “it is not worth considering now.”

“True,” she said confidently, before turning her gaze to meet the man’s.  “Oh!” she exclaimed, bashing her forehead with her hand, “I am such a fool!  Of course, there must be a Gate somewhere that they control…Probably Locklastar.” Her thoughts tumbled out of her mouth, as numerous as the snow but far heavier, “Did our friends say the Duergar held Senforn there for a while?  Oh and that is where Merc was headed.”
Lost again in her thoughts, she seemed to search the woods. Fawn heard her mumble distractedly, “What ever happened to us Marc? Why did you leave the path? Why did you turn your back on me?” Then, without voice, Fawn heard in bs mind her desperate question that had burned in her heart, “Was she so much more beautiful?”
Having not heard any of the Queen’s ramblings, but left a feeling little uncomfortable watching her pace, Briarn struck up the conversation once more, “That is a long march my Lady; they must have planned this carefully.”

“Well, that is what the Witch does.”

“What is to be done now, my Queen?”

“We ignore the Drow going north and redouble our defensive lines on our boarders.  If need be, we retreat from Haverel – the Glade must not fall!”

“Yes my Lady,” Briarn bowed, instinctively acknowledging the order.  As Fawn watched the man’s confidence seemed to oose into the snow-sprinkled soil, “I have one more troubling question.”

Sensing trouble, Malenwe was quick, “Well, what is it?”

“Your folk have kept your father under house arrest for months now; they have asked me to point out that it seems to be an unnecessary drain on resources.  Would you permit him to be released?  If see no reason the enemy would try to turn him; you are Queen now.”

“Yes, thank you,” Malenwe replied, flushed with either anger or embarrassment, Fawn could not distinguish.  Looking the man in the eye, the Queen’s answer was robust, “I had not forgotten him and, if the truth be known, I had not forgiven him either.  But, as you say, keeping an eye on him distracts from our purpose.”  Turning again, the Elf walked a few paces into towards a nearby silver birch, around which she hung an arm in a nonchalant manner, which seemed bizarrely inappropriate, “Yes, release him, but I would like to know if he attempts to leave us.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Briarn bowed and left Malenwe to her thoughts.