I'm so happy everyone is loving the last chapter! It really means a lot. And i know this story is long, but I really appreciate you have continued to read and stick with me the entire way through!
Chapter 20 –All the Might of Alfheimr—
The line of faralirs leaped through the air like the wall of an oncoming tsunami. Their elven riders lifted on their backs, trails of flowing, braided locks creating comet tails behind them. Seeing those great cats in action was a moment of pure, deadly beauty. The initial seven came, just as Rinon said they would, and crashed through the towers of climbing flames surrounding the interim camp of the fallen elves. They gave no warning of their arrival, no blast of trumpets, or announcement. They simply came like a flood and encompassed everything that was before them.
Rinon led the attack. His own faralir, a creature striped from nose to tail in deep hues of ebony on a field of sunset red, was the greatest cat among them all. Its name was Litherli, the Little Rage, and it stood up to its title and more. Faralir were not tamed creatures. They bonded, much like the dire wolves of Odin, to those they trusted, and a mutual respect kept them and their masters inseparable. Rinon himself rode into the faralir bearing down on Clint. The sheer mass of Litherli shoved the smaller creature to the side and forced him off his path. Litherli hissed and spat, swiping its claws against the younger animal's face and forcing him to back down. Still wild from terror, the faralir bolted out of reach and continued to run blindly into the wood.
But Rinon did not cease there. Leading the charge himself, he took on the full weight of Ge'elaphi's men. His twin blades shimmered with life as they seamlessly glided through his opponents and felled his brethren on all sides. Clint's own display as a swordsman was one thing, watching the talent of an elf at work introduced an entirely different level of unmatched skill. He was relentless, fast, and precise. Nothing withstood him.
When the area began to thin, he directed Litherli back to the relieved Barton. Rinon dropped from his faralir's back beside Clint and inclined his head. "Great archer, I am at your service. Ben'edehe fe me enal." Direct me as you will.
Clint exchanged the Alfheimr pleasantry, nursing his shoulder with his good hand. He kneaded the bone beneath his skin to try and free the harsh tension there. "My king, a pleasure to see you again. And fantastic timing."
Rinon smiled. "I pride myself on such a trait."
The six riders with the king needed no instruction to set to their deadly task. With blades and bows at the ready, they began to make short work of the remaining Southling forces. In the distance the silent earthquake of the coming army rumbled ever closer.
"You are well?" He asked.
"As to be expected. Thank you." Clint said, dropping the hand to his side. He didn't want Rinon to worry about the pain he was obviously trying to hide.
"Is that his majesty?"
Clint and Rinon both looked upward to the wiry, tall form clinging lengthwise to the branch of a low hanging tree. His face was coated in ash and most of his hair had been singed into an up-do of its own designed, but at least he was alive.
"Bygrove!" Clint exclaimed, surprised.
"I say, Doodle Bygrove, is that you I spy on that tree? Whatever do you call me majesty for? You surely were king before ever I took the post." Rinon said.
"He was what?!"
With the help of a royal's faralir ripping two Southlings off his back, and a repulsor making short work of the third, Tony found himself disentangled at last. He headed over and interrupted the little powwow.
"If you two don't mind, I think there are a bunch of hillbilly elves still trying to kill us. Or, namely, you." He said, poking a finger into Clint's chest. "So either you make yourself useful, or scram under a bush."
"Please, do neither. My people have come. This battle is now ours." Rinon told him. He nodded once to Litherli, and the cat launched back into the fray, fighting with all the ferocity of a starved tiger. From the east, the second, full force of the Mainland elven clans came. Leading the charge at nearly the height of the massive faralir's were four slender forms. Two white, one grey, and a black. Dire wolves. Pups of Freki and Geri, and the brothers and sisters of Clint's own deceased friend.
With cold, calculated gazes, they launched beyond the fires and into the heart of the battle itself. Teeth snapped together with the coil of their jaws as, like a single force they stampeded over the battle field. Behind them came the other outriders, then the foot soldiers, trackers, and king's guardian. Linnor and Faraday too, arriving astride another elf's mount, reentered the fray with weapons drawn and mercy far from their minds.
Hundreds, thousands, and then tens of thousands entered the expanding field of Woodrenkell. There was no compassion for the sons and daughters of Ge'elaphi. With a single, decisive blow, the very backs of the Southlings broke.
Standing beside Clint, Stark, Steve, the Asgardians, Haladarrel, and Doodle, the king watched as the transition took place. The royal forces overwhelmed the field instantly. Already, the fires began to die as the tree limbs were burned back, letting the storm rains in. With their part finished, Clint's allies at last got the respite they so desperately had searched for.
Haladarrel wavered on his feet first, and collapsed to the ground on his rear. He set his weapons down at last. Taking his cue, Doodle sat as well. His home was gone, burned to a crisp in the fire to the great oak. Nothing remained of the life he had built. That was a mighty realization to bear, and he preferred to face such a thing sitting down. Clint, unsurprisingly, sank next and, before long, the entire company watched in abject detachment as the world around them ceased to burn.
:(:):(:):
In generations to come, what occurred in the aftermath of the battle became known as the Morïlae alu Vêṻa Mahḕ, or The Speech on the Moon Moss Knoll. The Alfheimr king crushed Ge'elaphi's uprising in a single, overwhelming force. Those that fled into the night were rounded up by the king's wolves, or outriders, and forced into captivity where, soon, their lives would either be granted or extinguished. Given the extreme circumstances with which the king found himself subjected to, he would have thought a swift dispatch of justice was the best course of action.
All of Alfheimr wanted the horrid business behind them. But the king was not a young king. Having spent the totality of six hundred years on the throne, he knew well the consequences of a fast iron hand that thought little of mercy. So, before anything could be decided over those that remained, he must first speak to the leader of it all.
Clint, Haladarrel, Doodle, Stark, Rogers, Thor, Sif, Fandral, Hogan, Volstagg, Rinon, and Fehreh all sat in a ring beside the charred remains of the great oak tree designed by the savior Earthenden elves. The same elves had devised the table and twelve chairs that rounded it just for the meeting at hand. To Clint, it was nothing short of King Arthur's court. Reylano, Linnor, and Faraday, three of the countless outriders sent to find the archer, stood before them.
"His body has not been found." Reylano reported for the three. "I have searched the dead myself, and there is no trace of Ge'elaphi. I fear he plans to hide in the Southlands where he knows we will not go."
"He got away?" Steve asked, somewhat stunned.
"Not very far." Linnor replied. He lifted a knife from his scabbard and stabbed it into the moon moss covered table. "The Southling's blood is on that. Mro, your wolf, confirms the scent of him."
"Is that what I think it is?" Clint asked, smiling.
Linnor swept his red locks back over his shoulder with pure suave bravado. "If the archer believes it is a venom blade, then he would be correct. Even now, the leader risks his own demise in attempting to escape us. Either he will make for the southern lands, or we will find him in the midst of such a journey with his eyes bleeding and lungs set to burst."
"How hard would you like us to chase him, my king?" Reylano asked, attempting to hide his disdain for the Southling.
Rinon suppressed a self-indulgent gratitude at the dramatic turn of events. Surely there were none in Alfheimr who would object to running Ge'elaphi down at a break neck pace until the elven lord succumbed to his own venomous plots. But what sort of king would that make him? Leniency, he decided, was a difficult situation to bear in light of the atrocities committed by Ge'elaphi's hands. Then again, he did wish to preserve life as much as he had been taught to for so very long.
"Take the fastest mounts and bring him to Lakeheed if he survives this." Rinon decided. His wife threaded her fingers between his. "If he does not come willingly, if he resists and puts even a single life in danger, then leave him to his own demise."
Reylano accepted the charge and, with Linnor and Faraday in tow, they set off instantly. Haladarrel stood as if he may follow, but Rinon lifted a hand to stop him.
"Oh, as for you, I believe a repose is within your rights. Now sit, and discuss what must be settled between these emissaries of Asgard and ourselves." Fehreh told him.
Surprised at the invitation, Haladarrel lowered back down.
At Rinon's request, Arahaelel brought forward the cup he had her pour for them. He held the chalice between Thor and himself, lifted it, and brought it to his lips to drink. He then handed the cup to Thor, who held it without drinking. Rinon meant to speak his peace. As Asgard's emissary, it was Thor's duty to hear him out, and either accept his terms or deny them. Rinon, always a mild mannered speaker, raised his voice on this occasion for those subjects watching to better hear. History was being written in this singular moment.
"Thor, Son of Odin Allfather and heir to the throne of Asgard. I welcome you to this realm of Alfheimr. Despite the trouble we have fallen on, we greet you as, not only our ally, but as one of our own. It pains me, these fissures widening between our people. But I would have you stay your judgment until you hear the account of what has befallen here today from the mouth of your own." Rinon extended his hand to Clint.
Tony smacked him in the leg to get his attention, and the archer stiffly sat up again. Despite all the energy he'd gleaned from the Asgardian waters, he still felt out of shape. The way the troop was arranged, sitting together as if they were on a picnic, disarmed whatever shyness Clint might have entertained when every eye in Alfheimr turned to him.
"If you're looking for the truth, then I'm lucky to be alive." Clint told him honestly.
"How did you happen to come here?" Fehreh asked him gently.
Clint had almost forgotten that part. The one that made the least amount of sense in all he had been through. "The Bifrost. I was in Germany back home. The Bifrost took me, and the next thing I knew the three of us were neck deep in venom arrows. I took a bad one right off. I've been on my back virtually ever since." Clint indicated the healed scar by tracing a finger over his exposed shoulder. Doing so reminded him about the bandages on his stomach. He decided it was high time to get those off and began to unwrap himself.
Thor confirmed it. "I went in search of you. It took time. Our friend, the doctor, discovered the path of the Bifrost. The runes read that of Asgard. I assumed you had been taken there, though I could not but understand why."
"We never saw you." Sif clarified. "I saw the Bifrost open once. Then nothing. No one came, no one departed either. We have been campaigning for Heimdall's release but have gotten little leeway with Allfather. In his absence, another less trusted soul has been charged as watcher of the realm."
"It took a great deal of convincing and shouting before I was at last taken to Asgard myself." Thor went on, filling in the gaps both the Avengers and elves missed during their perilous days in Woodrenkell.
"Finding your location took a considerable effort without Heimdall." Fandral added.
"So we put ourselves in a bad way, and did something my father found little humor in and broke our good friend from his bonds. Volstagg took care of the watcher, Heimdall located you on Alfheimr, and as soon as we could, we came here." Thor finished.
"The second I came to Alfheimr, Thor, I was attacked. Those elves," Clint extended his arm to take in the legions still being sorted by the Mainland elves, "have dogged me every step of the way. I died three times, at the least, from what they shot me with. They didn't just guess that I was going to show up and took a lucky shot. They knew it."
"A fact I have feared the validity of." Rinon broke in. Their eyes returned to the elven king. "Such knowledge has come to me from the Southling who attempted to take my life. It is my understanding that Ge'elaphi and his followers wished to incite a war between our people. Given the frayed alliance we have suffered since the reemergence of Malekith, I believe his attempts may have been fruitful had he succeeded in his plan. The death of Odin's Archer on the soil of Alfheimr . . . It is what we all have done so much to prevent. His survival, I must credit to these elves, Haladarrel Bywater of Outer Glencove and his kin of Woodrenkell, our former king, Hyalthaley Bygrove."
"Wait, your name's not Doodle?" Tony asked, the disappointment wasn't absent in his voice.
Bygrove inclined his head a little at the address. "I have not gone by Hyalthaley since the years I spent in Lakeheed. I am of Woodrenkell, and that is all."
Thor shifted the chalice in his hands. A part of him wished he had dragged Odin from his throne and to Alfheimr for this summit. So much had been revealed he hardly knew what he should do. "Hyalthaley is a very ancient name. You ruled Alfheimr before my grandfather ruled Asgard."
"That is true."
"My friend, that time was nearly six thousand years ago."
"Seven, but I have ceased to count." Doodle replied with an unassuming shrug.
"Hyalthaley has a unique perspective on what has occurred these last days, for it was he who challenged the uprising of the dark elves and expelled them from our lands. During those ancient days, we found peace." Rinon said.
"And have remained at peace ever since. Until this day; a day I never thought I would have to relive."
Clint couldn't believe his ears. This ancient history they spoke of was thousands of years in the making. Doodle had felt such a shock at what transpired around him. The Avengers could see how deeply it affected him to know what the Southlings had done, and what they continued to do. Knowing that he was once the king of Alfheimr, made everything fall into place.
"I will rely on your judgment for what we do with these Southlings. I am only grateful to have your guidance at my disposal, where you had none. I do not plan for this to ever befall our nation again. It ends here." Rinon told him.
Doodle nodded in acceptance of the charge. "I have little left in Woodrenkell. I have lost my home, my studies, which were thousands of years in the making, mind you, and now leave little behind. It would be acceptable to return to Lakeheed and see its current glory."
"Son of Odin," Fehreh said, leaning toward Thor. "This is what our people plan. Let us deal with this threat that has swept across our shores. But for everything we accomplish, it will do nothing for what has triggered this uprising on Asgard. Without the Bifrost, Barton would not be here. We can judge these Southlings, but we cannot touch what Odin controls on Asgard. And for the archer's sake, I think that should not be overlooked."
"I'd appreciate it." Clint said. "And my body would too. If I have to keep getting transported across the universe just to get shot at by the natives, I think I might start disliking interstellar travel."
Tony smiled and whispered into his ear, "Look at you using big words."
Clint made a private, discourteous, sign at him.
For all they spoke of, all the revelations that were made known to the leaders of the two most powerful realms in the universe, the decision remained with Thor. He could either drink the offered truce Rinon gave him, or he could spill it on the soil like Clint's very blood and declared the relations between Alfheimr and Asgard were at an end.
They had been allies, for so long they had been. Alfheimr's warriors were nearly as renowned as Asgard's own, and if Thor's world had not taken the role as guardians of the worlds, then surely Alfheimr would have. They were equal in so many ways and that, in itself, created the tightest of bonds between their people. The very evidence of it lay with the four dire wolves sitting among them. Laicë, Bruev, Gelphi, and Mro were all descendants of Freki and Geri, the original dire wolves of Asgard. The most recent, Laicë, bonded to Rinon the moment she saw him at the Spring Banquet. She'd taken a liking to Clint when they sat, and had yet to leave his side.
"Laicë, the dire wolf beside you my friend, is the sister of your own." Thor said to him. It sounded strange to the others, as if he hadn't kept up on the depths of the conversation they discussed.
"Is she?" Clint didn't realize he was stroking the wolf's head until he'd been singled out. He stopped and retracted his hand. Thor didn't know he'd lost Arrow.
"My mother loved her best. Considered keeping her, though she had not bonded the way a dire wolf does. The elven king and queen were invited to the Spring Banquet. When Laicë saw the sovereign; they were a match at once. I believe my mother cried."
"She is my first." Rinon explained. "There are four on Alfheimr. Three belonged to kings of our past, ones who have left this world and returned to the heavens. They are loyal to the crown, and worthy companions. I would trust them with the life of a child. But Laicë is my own. And it is a bond as I have never before understood. Even now, I dare say, I cannot explain it."
None could see the gentle hand Steve placed on Clint's arm. The description was perfect and tragic all at once. It highlighted the impact a dire wolf had on one's life, but at the same time showed what Clint may never again have. Rinon didn't know that, and neither did Thor. But Haladarrel and Doodle both turned their eyes downward in respect of the words they knew must surely pierce the archer's heart.
"They have talents, these dire wolves. I remember Laicë's very clearly. She understands the truth in words. To speak a lie would bring a vengeance of her I would not wish on an enemy of mine." Thor rounded up his train of thought and rested his gaze on Rinon and Fehreh. "You would not risk falsehoods in her presence. Therefore, I trust that you will handle the matter of your people in the best way you understand. And I also verify that, with the aid of the greatest king Alfheimr has seen in its past, you will make the choices that best fulfill the needs of your safety and those of the other realms. My mother wept of joy the night Laicë chose you, great king, for she knew that, despite her love, she could not compare to the compassion in your own heart. As Bygrove was the greatest king in this realm's past, you are the paramount to his works. His council will be helpful, true, but it is in your judgment I place my whole-hearted faith."
He raised the chalice between them, fully prepared to make his decision. "Let my blood as the son of Odin certify this bond between our people. We are allies. Now, and until my soul be released into the stars. I will hold to this truce I drink. And whether I accept Asgard's throne or not, those that do must honor my words here. I will leave Volstagg and Hogun here in your charge as emissaries between our worlds. If you choose to wipe these leaders from your land, they will be the commissioners of such transport. Use them how you can. Fandral and Sif, I place on Asgard to quantify the depth of my people's defiance. I mean to root out this evil which has used the Bifrost against us. Their judgment will be harsh, I assure you, for daring to incite war between us. Midgard is in turmoil, and my oath as its guardian takes me there again. I will ferry the passage of my friends from this realm. That is my bond."
Thor put the cup to his lips and sipped the wine within. He then passed it to Fehreh, who drank on behalf of their people. Terms were accepted.
The Morïlae alu Vêṻa Mahḕ was over.
I really do love the laws and history I've written for Alfheimr. And Doodle, what a surprise! Perhaps one day i will go back and write about the Dark Times when Doodle, as king, expelled the Dark Elves from the face of Alfheimr. I imagine he was a much different sort of Elf then. He had a wife he mentioned, but no children, and he passed the throne to a trusted second before hiding in Woodrenkell. Why? was it guilt? Did he fear something he was forced to do? Maybe we will never know, I, his author, certainly have no idea...yet...
Next time: Midgard's Turmoil, Barney's Vengeance
Oh yeah...can't forget about Midgard...didn't we leave a psychopath still alive down there?