Chapter Thirty-eight
The Call of the Wolf
The distant howl of a Wolf was clearly heard throughout the camp of the Golden Horde, but only the Wanderer heard the message contained within the wolf's cry . . . The Nazgul is going to kill Geharion. The Wanderer cried out in anger as he ran to a nearby rock ledge.
The other two Fellowships only saw a beam of white light pierce the sky from an unknown source. The Fellowship closest to the Nazgul saw this light strike the Nazgul in the chest, causing the Ringwraith to cry out in pain, and causing the beast it rode to drop the Eagle. An unknown source slowed the descent of the Eagle, and it landed on the ground with no more injury than it already had.
The Wanderer's hand was smoking as he lowered it, and all those present stared at him in amazement . . . The Wanderer was amazed as well. "That was the third time that that had happened in my entire life," he stammered out in shock, "And each time that I do . . . that . . . I have absolutely no idea how it happens . . . It is almost as if it is a random occurrence."
The Wanderer sat on the ground where he had stood, and he did not speak again for the rest of the night . . .
Aidan went to the Wanderer's side, bringing water.
"He has spent his power," she growled to those standing and gawking. "Go! Finish the provisioning of the packs for the Wanderer and his Fellowship. Do not stand around like children!"
The others scattered, and Aidan lowered herself to the ground beside the Wanderer. She offered him the silence of companionship, the silence only a warrior knows, or a wanderer, the silence that comes when words are only noisome chatter, and useless.
She bathed his face as a comrade would, and gave him water, and a blanket to stave off the chill that sometimes swept the plains of Eriador even in late summer, and left him to the depth of his thoughts.
~*~
Vanya was not oblivious to the distant calling of the Wolf, attuned as she was to these lands off which they had all lived for so many years.
"Go then, brother, fearless one," she whispered to the night.
She watched her daughter, Aidan, with deep pride, readying the packs of the company whose quest she would join. Aidan, in control, always so alert, a warrior born. Aidan missed nothing.
Vanya let out a small chittering sound, than to anyone else would sound like one of the small creatures that inhabited the plains. Aidan turned immediately, for it was their signal, and came to Vanya's side.
"How fares the Wanderer?" Vanya inquired.
"He rests."
"And the others?"
"The Dwarf-King sits with his comrade, speaking of the way ahead, and the Mage, Morrolan, is with the Wizard, speaking of the way behind."
Vanya nodded. "Aidan, I do not say so often, but I am proud of you. No one could have asked for a daughter of such strength of purpose, and such heart." Vanya lifted one of the many necklaces she wore from around her neck.
"Your father gave this to me, when first we realized we loved. It is not beautiful, nor does it possess any power that I am aware of, other than the sharing of our lives, which is a great thing unto itself. These shells come from your father's land, over the Sea, and he bore them here in his youth, and gave them to me, and now I pass them to you, daughter of my heart, and all my hope goes with you, to the North." Vanya placed the necklace around Aidan's neck.
"And I too come from a distant land, over the Sea. And so they shall remind you of your roots, though we are a vagabond nation, and you will carry them into the future."
Vanya kissed her daughter, touching the medallion at her forehead, which she had won in her training. It was not the way of the Horde to be overaffectionate; such moments were rare, and prized, and not spoken of openly.
~*~
Elodin joined Vanya, after he had helped Aidan finish the packs and the sorting of weapons and goods to be taken along. Vanya was at his side.
He ran a fingertip down her bare shoulder, and turned back to look at his dark-eyed daughter.
Aidan was as prepared as she would ever be for what was about to come, as they all were, as prepared as the shore can be for the oncoming storm. A smile touched Elodin's face as he saw the necklace he had once given Vanya around his daughter's neck.
"It suits her," he said quietly, for like Vanya he was of few words, and emotions were shown and shared in private. They stood together, sharing they worry silently, until their son ran up and broke their reverie.
"Father, come and practice with me," he said, holding his katana.
Elodin smiled. "I shall."
He looked back at Vanya, with love, and took Tolar's hand.
~*~
"Wizard," Vanya snapped, striding up to Edric.
"We have just received word. Lindorinand is under siege, surround by Orcs. We go to battle. Listen to Aidan, she will guide you well. Fare well, and may the wind guide you!"
The Horde broke camp within minutes, forming up into squads, and began to move toward the pass.
They would not stop until they reached the Elfwood.