Yarlug Prisoner - Nethiel

“I am Nethiel, son of Gildof, Lord of the Old Forest,” the elf introduced himself weakly, “and I thank you most sincerely for saving me. I and my House will be forever in your debt.” His deep grey eyes regarded the party closely as he spoke. Arrestingly handsome and seemingly not much more than a teenager, with the physique of an athlete, he looked nothing like a King of an ancient elven house, but the company knew he spoke the truth. His torso was badly scarred, bruised and battered. His arms and legs clearly had been broken and repaired many times; only his face appeared to have survived untainted, as if his captors could not quite bring themselves to destroy such beauty. The party introduced themselves before swiftly applying as much healing as was required to get the Elf Lord moving. Takeda quickly spiked the door through which the enemy had come and Rhionne did the same to the opposite door. As the group swiftly gathered up their belongings and sorted out treasure, the conversation continued.

“What happened to you?” asked Baldir turning over a chest from which coins tumbled to the floor, ringing loudly.

“Six years ago, my daughter, Lorien, was taken by the forces of the Prince of Demons (Orcus) who has inhabited the mountains near our home.” Nethiel looked down, eyes misting as he continued his story, “She was tracking a number of the enemy near the lakes when, by all accounts, she was surprised, captured and taken to Zundar. She was so brave,” he broke off, wiping a tear from his eye and summoning the strength to continue, “When I heard what had happened, I led a party into the dwarrowdelf, through Balem’s Gate, which I had hoped the enemy had yet to find.” After pausing briefly and with a slight shake of his head, the elf continued, “I was wrong and all were killed or captured.”

“Oh my Lord, you have our deepest sympathy,” Baldir soothed, “let us help you…”

“That is not the worst, my friend,” the elf struggled to hold back the tears and form the words, “during my imprisonment, I learnt that Lorien had been taken to the Abyss, to be given as a prize to one of the Demon’s favourite servants.”

“Oh Sama, that is terrible,” Takeda empathised quietly, placing an arm over his naked shoulders. Rhionne brought the ermine coat from the treasure and wrapped the elf lord in it.

“How did you get here, Nethiel-sama?” Takeda continued the questioning gently, moving to stand next to Baldir, glancing down to look for gems.

“The Demon had no use for me, so he sold me to the Derro. Evidently, I fetched a reasonable price,” he answered.

“Why would they do that?” asked Fawn, rather too harshly, attracting a scowl from the Samurai.

“They thought I knew much - of Balem, of the Artefacts the Mage had left on the Prime, and even of the Drow,” pain seemed to take the elf’s mind as he recalled his treatment, “They tortured me for a long time.” Nethiel spoke slowly, and with conviction, holding open the Ermine to show Fawn the scars on his torso, “I know nothing of these things, but that did not stop the questions.”

Senforn reached out and touched the Lord’s arm, as if seeing him for the first time, “I know, my friend, the questions never cease.”

“Did Malask do that?” Baldir asked hoping to distract from Fawn’s bluntness and the elf’s reverie.

“No, but she did ask questions,” the elf stared again into the distance, “she was very concerned about Balem’s Ring and what I and others might know of it.”

“Which is, Sama?” asked Takeda, “we also wish to know more about this Ring and the one who bears it,” he added respectfully.

“I know little of it,” the elf focussed again on the oriental, “the dwarves kept their rings to themselves. I do know they were keen to have the elven gems adorn their bands of metal, but the Mage’s bargain never stretched to all the Gems nor all the Rings.” Pausing for thought and to regain his strength he added softly, “Like so much that has come from Balem, it is not good…”

Very similar in build, Senforn helped the elf into some hose and offered him a silk shirt.

“Here, please drink, my Lord,” Rhionne said offering the King water, “are you hungry? Can we treat your wounds more?”

“Yes,” Baldir said suddenly as if forgetting himself, “Let Odin help you further.”

“Nothing will heal my heart, my friend,” Nethiel said before taking a long draught from Rhionne’s skin, “Not until Lorien is with me again in the Old Forest.”

“No, my Lord, but Odin might heal your body and, perhaps, your soul.”

The elf slowly, painfully, knelt before the Priest of Odin, “Thank you, Baldir,” he said, bowing his head and adding quietly, “The rest may come, one day.” Baldir summoned Odin’s power to heal the injured elf.

“You were obviously being kept alive for some reason,” Fawn mused out loud, stuffing gems into a sack.

“Yes; they intended to deliver me to the Drow.” The elf stood, visibly stronger.

Takeda stopped grabbing at the pile of treasure, and looked confused, “Why the Drow?”

“Well, they have the loyalty of my first cousin, once removed – Dronan, son of Elluvator, King of the Vikriain; if they managed to turn me too, the Old Forest would be in Inwe’s control.”

“Surely that would not be possible, Sama, look at what you have survived…” Takeda offered before continuing his search for riches.

“You are kind, but the power of the Drow over my folk is very strong indeed.”

“Do you know where Malask is?” interrupted Fawn, holding before him a glass bottle, which he examined closely.

“Not really,” the elf nobleman shook his head as he answered, “She is most likely to be found in Everinstar, with her pet, probably entreating with the Drow, or the Demon Prince again.”

“And you know nothing of her next move?” Fawn pressed, attracting another scowl from Takeda who looked up momentarily from his treasure hunt.

“No,” came the blunt reply.

Senforn changed the subject, “My friends, we must move quickly, the room we seek is beyond this hidden door. The Sylvan elf pointed at a section of wall.

“Can you open it?” asked Baldir, picking up a beautiful gold and silver necklace.

“Of course, but we do not have much time.”

“No,” added Nethiel, “judging by the commotion, the whole dwarrowdelf is alert.”

“Open the door Senforn; finish here quickly, friends,” ordered Takeda.

“We go to Efferendil, Lord, to entreat with Queen Malenwe for safe passage to Fontainver. Would you accompany us?” Baldir asked.

“Thank you, yes. Perhaps from Fontainver, I might find a path home,” Nethiel said almost managing a smile.

“Quickly,” said Senforn, looking up from his toils at the wall where he knelt, “It is open.”

“You remember the song?” asked Takeda looking at Baldir and shoving a half-filled sack in his pack.

“Yes, do you remember the tempo?”

“Of course,” Takeda said tapping out a rhythm on his wakasashi.

Rhionne was first through the door, swords drawn in case of trouble, swiftly followed by Senforn. Takeda and Baldir helped Nethiel through whilst Fawn continued to deliberate about what was and was not magic.

“Give me your belongings,” said Rhionne, looking into Senforn’s eyes and holding out a large sack. Senforn did as he was told, placing each item into the sack carefully, sword on top.

“Hurry!” ordered Takeda, head popping back into the room to see Fawn grab a few more trinkets, “Come on Fon!”

“Here you go,” said Baldir holding out another sack to place over the Sylvan elf’s head, whilst Rhionne cut a section of his rope to bind his hands.

“Arms out,” ordered Rionne, getting into the character of a prison guard. With head covered, hands tied, and belongings safely stowed Senforn was prepared.

As the Mage ducked through the secret door and joined the Party, Baldir struck up the song and Takeda caught up the rhythm just in time. It was a longer journey than they had remembered but it ended where they had hoped it would, in Wallorin’s House. Dunedain jumped as the Gate shimmered into life and the Party emerged.

“Hold!” ordered Rhionne, “We have returned from Yarlug and wish swift passage to Fontainver.”

“What have you there, Rhionne?” asked the guard.

“A prisoner that our Lady Milai will wish to question and a Lord from Everenstar that we have rescued.”

“Friend, you may pass, but Queen Malenwe will wish to speak with you before you leave Efferendil.”