"You do remember what it was like in the Crossings, right?" snarked Emma. "You know, the fun place with the three-headed troll?"
"I definitely recall a great deal of blood and screaming," chimed in Elsa. She exchanged a nod of agreement with the pacing Emma.
"I don't much care for the idea myself, but I don't see how else to get out of here," sighed Killian.
Arthur reached for a roll and winced at the pinch of pain in his chest as he did so. He'd been out of bed for the last three days, slowly regaining strength and movement. Whatever the elves had done to heal him had apparently worked. Except for a tender red seam running diagonally across his torso, he was nearly back to full health. He'd been silent for most of these discussions, as he didn't have much to add and his thoughts, for the most part, were decidedly elsewhere. The subject of those thoughts was tapping her slippered foot impatiently. Elsa was determinedly not looking at him, as was usual these days. He hadn't found himself alone with her since he'd woken in the infirmary, and whenever their eyes met, she recoiled visibly. It broke his heart every time, but he had no idea what to do about it. Or if he could do anything about it.
Their little group was arguing, not for the first time, about their next move. More than a week had passed since their arrival in the kingdom of the light elves, and they were no closer to deciding what to do next. The remains of a sumptuous breakfast covered the large wooden table before them. Hic and Merida were seated as far apart from one another as was physically possible, the distance between them nearly as frosty as the one between Elsa and himself. Arthur had asked Hic what was going on between them and gotten only a scowl and a muttered "Women!" in response. Moriah was nestled in Killian's lap, dozing. Long sleeves covered her arms, but the tendrils of her new markings were visible where they curled down the backs of her tiny hands. He had missed a lot while he was cooped in the infirmary.
The bonding ceremony, which he had slept through in delirium, had brought two new members to their party. Daínn, a too-handsome dark elf whom Arthur couldn't quite bring himself to like, and Sæfara, the elvish woman who was heiress to the royalty of this realm. They stood apart slightly, eyes on the doors, with an air of watchfulness about them. They were apparently attached permanently to Moriah now, in the role of bodyguards. Arthur had noted with puzzlement the icy disdain between them, particularly on the part of the woman, who generally behaved toward Daínn as though he were a dog who'd just shat on the rug.
Vandene, the wizened husk of a librarian who'd fled Soria Moria with them, was seated closest to the fire despite the dawning warmth of the day. Her owl-like eyes were heavy-lidded as she sat quietly, gnarled fingers steepled to her lips in thought.
"There may be another means," she mused, trailing off as though unaware of her companions. Her voice was surprisingly sonorous, belying her extreme age.
Moments passed in silence as the group waited for her to explain.
"Well?" prompted Emma, her eyes narrowed. Her dislike of the old woman had been instantly gained upon meeting her in Soria Moria, and had only gathered steam since then.
"Daínn, how came you to this realm?"
The elf started at being addressed.
"Pardon?"
"How did you arrive in Alfar Alfheimr? In other words, how do the Ljosalfar and the Dvergar races maintain their shadow war across your realms without traveling by the Crossings?"
Daínn's face darkened. The elvish woman beside him shifted uncomfortably. Clearly the topic was unpleasant to both of them and Arthur filed away the information. A war between their races certainly explained their demeanor with one another.
"You said something about an enchantress, right mate?" prompted Killian.
Daínn hesitated. "Yes, though I don't think-"
"Can this woman take us somewhere else? Like the Enchanted Forest?" asked Emma, her voice betraying a dawning excitement.
"That I do not know," he said, regretfully. "It is true that she can travel between the elven realms, but as to others I cannot say. And," he added, looking grim, "she is not to be trusted."
With the exception of Hic, who flew above them on Toothless, the party left the castle on horseback that afternoon, fully provisioned for a journey of unknown length and destination. Sæfara had taken leave of her family with a face that betrayed no emotion, but Arthur had noticed a tear slide down her cheek as the glittering spires of the castle disappeared behind them. He wondered if he would ever see this remarkable place again. Their departure had gone nearly unnoticed by all but the royal family, as the elves had been heavily occupied with preparations for the war to come. Arthur's thoughts turned once again to Camelot, wondering what had become of his own kingdom in the last five years.
They rode for the better part of an hour through sun-dappled forest. The air smelled sweetly of flowers and evergreen, and they traveled mostly in silence, save for the chirping of birds. He inhaled deeply of the fragrance and the calm, knowing they were heading once again into the terrifying unknown.
They broke from the trees after a time into a narrow clearing. The strip of rustling grasses was nestled hard up against a rock cliff face which rose above them for a hundred meters or more, washed brightly with the reddish gold of the setting sun. A dark vertical crack ran up the face of the cliff. It was a gap just wide enough to permit a horse to pass through. Daínn led the party to the entrance, and paused. He looked questioningly at Emma and Killian, who shared a look and nodded. He nodded in return and nudged his stallion forward into the darkness.
The passage was narrow indeed, and shaded into near total darkness a few meters in. Daínn lit a lantern and held it aloft, guiding their way forward in single file. Arthur was beginning to wonder if anyone else was feeling a bit nervous about this. The passage seemed to be narrowing slightly, and there was no conceivable way they could turn around. His stirrups lightly grazed the walls. The passage was definitely narrowing. He broke out in a cold sweat. He nearly halted his horse when Daínn suddenly put out the light. But then he realized that they were no longer in darkness. Light was faintly reappearing, and before long the passage was widening again and a pale vertical slash appeared ahead. He urged his horse out of the passage and into the blessed open air with an audible sigh of relief. Shakily, he wiped the sweat from his brow and noticed Elsa, who'd already passed through, watching him. Her lovely face had an amused expression, her mouth quirked in a wry smile. His heart fluttered in his breast. If she could still laugh at him, that was something, wasn't it? He smiled sheepishly back at her and shrugged, acknowledging his ridiculous fear of tight spaces. She froze, as though remembering suddenly all the pain between them, and turned away with a grimace. Crestfallen, but also somewhat heartened by the exchange, Arthur turned his attention back to where they were.
Toothless was crouched, with Hic astride, on the sandy shore of a lake which began not far from the cliff face. He realized that they had not truly emerged from the rock, but rather entered a much wider void within it. They were standing in an immense circular cleft which was open to the sky. It was still daylight outside this strange earthen keyhole they were standing in, though a crescent moon and stars were creeping into view overhead as the light fled to the west. The rocky enclosure was devoid of anything save a mirror-flat lake, nearly black in the fading light, which filled it almost edge to edge. A sandy shore ran along this side of the lake, forming a thin band of terra firma upon which they stood.
"Now what?" asked Emma, breaking the silence.
"We wait," responded Daínn.
So they waited. After the passage of an hour, Daínn lit his lantern again to alleviate the deepening twilight. A white mist had begun to rise from the dark surface of the water. Not so much as a single ripple disturbed its depths.
"When you say she's not to be trusted, what did you mean by that?" Emma asked Daínn.
The elf scowled. "I made a bargain with her for my passage. When I arrived, I found a patrol of Ljosalfar camped here on the shore, awaiting passage to my realm. She delivered me right into their hands."
"Perhaps she didn't know they were here?" suggested Killian.
"Oh, she knew. They would've killed me on the spot, but she intervened. It was clearly her plan from the beginning to hand me to them."
"But why would she do that?" asked Emma.
"You'll have to ask her," replied the elf, shifting in his saddle with a touch of impatience. "I was a little too preoccupied with being taken prisoner last time to question her thoroughly."
"There," said Killian, pointing at the center of the lake.
A ripple began to flow outward from a point at the lake's center, wobbling the moon and stars reflected in its surface. The white mists had become denser and now hung in thick shrouds atop the water, contributing to a rather eerie effect. Arthur tightened his grip on Excalibur.
A woman's head emerged, followed by the rest of her, until she was standing nearly at the water's edge, submerged only to her ankles. She was completely naked, though this was tempered somewhat by the fact that she was covered head to toe in dark, glittering scales. Water streamed from long silky hair the color of moss, which draped over small breasts tipped with nipples that glinted like obsidian. Her eyes were large and almost perfectly round, with a dark blue iris centered within pale blue orbs. She surveyed them silently, unblinking.
"Lady of the Lake," ground out Daínn between clenched teeth, failing to keep the anger out of his voice, "we meet again."
She ignored him, instead fixing her unblinking gaze on Arthur.
"Arthur Pendragon, of Camelot."
Startled, he inclined his head briefly. "Milady."
"In some weaves we have met before, though not in this one. You carry the elvish blade, though I did not give it in this past. But perhaps I will someday take it."
Her voice was low and gravelly and she spoke with slow deliberation, as though unused to the practice. She didn't speak in the manner of a threat, though the words could certainly be interpreted as such. Arthur couldn't hide his confusion. He responded warily.
"Nay, you did not give it to me, Milady. I pulled this from the stone in Camelot when I was a boy."
Feeling it would be ungentlemanly, he left unspoken that if she wished to take it from him, she would have to do so over his dead body.
"We've come to bargain for passage," interrupted Daínn brusquely. He was clearly expecting an unpleasant negotiation.
Without looking at him, the lady made a dismissive gesture toward the elf. "You and I have already sealed a bargain, Dvergaran. Do not forget the terms."
Daínn sputtered. "You delivered me right to the Djosalfar, woman! That wasn't what we agreed-"
"It was done as it needed to be done, elf. Complain not about things beyond your limited intellect."
The elf's mouth worked silently, face reddening. Sæfara beside him suppressed a snort.
"Moriah," said the lady. She suddenly bent to one knee and pressed her webbed hands to her heart, seeking out the little girl with her aqueous gaze. "Our bargain shall be thus, sealed with the ancient waters. I will offer you and yours safe passage now and whenever you have need. In exchange, when the time comes, you will protect me and mine."
The child, who was seated in front of her father on a large mare, pressed her tiny hands to her heart and solemnly replied, "Okay, Lake Lady."
