The Cave

Raven's POV

TA 2907

Gildor had lit a small fire, and the confined space forced me into closer proximity to the flames than I wished. I was not particularly afraid of fire, anymore, but the wolf was. Panicked, almost. Right now, the wolf was stronger than me.

Fire was danger. Power. It came out of nothing and vanished into nothing, it was almost nothing, yet it had the power to kill. I could call it, make fire, but I did it only to prove to myself I could. To not be afraid of it.

I had seen forest fires, fiery mountains, grass fires.

Every living thing feared fire.

The Ashi'kha had no fire, except for a very few rituals, or great feasts.

It was evening. The few hours until dusk had brought a change of weather. I felt it uncomfortably, unable to close the sensation out. If I wanted to remain aware of the land, I could not raise my shields. Just why not, I wondered.

I stared into the flames.

It should-

Thinking of the Ashi'kha made me think of Niy'ashi.

I tried to avoid it.

Called the wolf closer.

The wolf remembered easier.

I had run for several days. I had not stopped for anything but an occasional sip of water.

I was running from something, and I did not know what it was. So I forgot about it.

Then I found traces, scents.

A wolf pack. Lead by a male and a female. Five wolves. I had entered their territory and they would not miss my presence.

I hesitated and sniffed the air. Then I took a step forward, stopped again.

I howled, announcing my presence.

Waited for an answer.

Later, the pack found me.

They were well fed, carrying the smell of a successful hunt with them. I avoided their eyes, approached the leader with my tail down.

Later again. I poked my head into the burrow. The female snarled, curling around her young. She looked at me, her yellow eyes glittering.

I was no rival.

As changewolf I occupied the last place in the pack order.

She moved a little, and I curled up with the young. The pack was going to hunt. She left me with the cubs, a luxury she only risked with me. Alone with cubs not my own, not my pack's.

The night had brought the first frost.

And now I was troubled.

The pack had hunted well once more this night. We were resting on a windy hill-top that offered a wide view around.

The younger wolves, three cubs from the last year, were playing around the sleeping wolves for a while, then lay down to sleep as well. The smaller cubs, those I had helped raise this spring, lay by their mother.

I watched them through slitted eyes, moving my tail-tip over my nose in concentration.

I could not say what it was.

The wolf wanted to sleep, but found I could not. The wind ruffled my back fur, and I curled up tighter. I raised my head then, and looked over the hill- top.

The pack was successful, and strong. It had grown and lost none of the members.

So why was I - like this?

The uneasiness did not come from the bear that had invaded our territory this year and hunted in our range. Neither did it come from the first chill of winter that already breathed through the late summer nights.

I watched the other wolves sleep and play, and then I knew it. I was not watching them. Or rather, I was watching them with eyes not my own. That sense of distance made me uneasy, and as I identified it, it became stronger.

I rose and shook my pelt, stood uncertainly.

Something detached itself from my awareness, then melted back into it.

I shook my mind out like tangled fur and looked through the wolf's eyes. It had been - how long? To the wolf, there was no time.

Also, there was no sorrow.

Not such as I had left behind.

I did not know what had shaken me out of the wolf. I had no wish to return to my other self. To the pain of loss.

Early spring.

It had been early spring when the grey wolf - no; when - Niy'ashi had been killed.

My brother was dead.

The realization came from somewhere far from the wolf's mind.

It slammed into my consciousness with a force that made the wolf shake his head as if to ward of stinging flies.

I flattened my ears and rose, turning restlessly on the spot. The pack leader looked up, sleepy and puzzled.

A thought formed in the wolf's mind. Slowly becoming my own.

I stepped up to the red- pelted pack leader, nuzzled the wolf's ruff with a conscious mixture of wolfish and elven farewell.

I had to - go somewhere.

Or rather, I could not stay.

Puzzled, the pack leader accepted the decision.

Changewolves sometimes stayed for very long, then came only for a hunt. He did not know more. He did not ask questions.

Quietly, without waking the other wolves, I left, black-furred.

Later, deep in the night, I had climbed a tree.

Back in the circle.

I shivered. Autumn was there, and cold reigned in the mountains.

I had no clothes. I had run far with the pack over the last moons. As a wolf, I had no need for clothes. No possibility to carry anything.

I felt hollow and empty inside, and I knew what the wolf did not.

This had to end.

Somehow.

The Wood Elves did not know who I was.

Neither what I was.

They accepted my presence anyway. I knew how to kill orcs.

And I could not even remember, really. In the carefully planned ambush of the huge group of orcs that had lodged themselves in the forest I would be of help, maybe.

I did not care. I had other cares and fears.

So this is it. The thought flashed in my mind. The wolf screamed at me, rage and fear almost tearing my control over the change into shreds.

I clung to them, not allowing myself to avoid what was coming; what I wanted to come.

But the orc did not strike.

Something crashed into him, and the creature collapsed in mid-strike, spurting blood all over me. The jagged sword clutched fast in its hand, leering in death, the orc tried for a final strike.

The blade sliced into my shoulder, barely missing my throat, and skipped over my chest and belly. The poisoned metal felt like searing fire even as it cut, then the dying orc was yanked off me.

Darkness.

I was aware of the fire, the heat of the flames, somewhere. I could not see them.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly.

Darkness. No, outside it was dark, again. What was this?

Not the shadow paths.

I had the feeling that somewhere before me the grey wolf was running. A strange, remote feeling. Intolerable. The wolves were running, but I could see or feel no ground, hear no sound, except my own breathing.

I did not seek the shadow paths.

But I was in a cave-

I just had to catch up with him.

I felt drawn deeper into the darkness, followed the pull.

If I could reach him-

The first time, at the old tree, I had failed. But now – this was different-.

Then something caught up on me. I was pulled back, away from my brother, I thought.

The wolf snarled. I fought back, felt the presence of my brother fading.

No, it had not been there in the first place.

Had it?

Abruptly I recognised Gildor; the Elda was bracing himself against the sucking of the darkness, the empty void I felt was only filled with the sorrow and awareness of loss.

You were soulbound Gildor's mind-voice roared into my head And he wanted you to live

No. But I did not want to live myself.

I tried to shake the Elda's mind off, felt him clutching me back from somewhere.

I could not say if the struggle was physical or mental, but I realized I was cornered. I could not call the wolf.

I tried to withdraw my mind completely, as I would trying to leave the shadow-paths. I gathered all strength I could. It was impossible to channel it, make it into an effective weapon. I simply released it all, trying to blast myself an escape way.

Blackness followed.

Gildor's POV

I called the dark elf's name several times. When Raven did not react at all, did not even open his eyes, I moved around the fire and touched him.

And knew I had made a mistake.

I had sensed something about Raven before, could tell something had occurred that Raven was hiding. Weak shields were one thing, because not everyone had the same ability for mind-speaking, and one who did not mind-speak in the first place did not need shields. But no shields were quite another thing, and Raven was, I could sense that, a very good mind-speaker. No shields for a mind-speaker also meant that everything touching the hröa would backlash as pain upon the fea. When I had trained for the basic healing skills I had heard about that. I knew from personal experience that it was true to some degree, but now I found a case of completely.

I was a good mind-speaker myself, with some ability for far-speaking and a little empathy. That was useful for a healer, enabled me to speak to Faire as I did. But right now, it was devastating.

Wherever Raven was at the moment, and whatever he felt, hit me with the force of a sledgehammer. The dark elf's eyes flew open and he stared at me blankly, trying to jerk free of my touch. I held on because of sheer training, lowered my own shields, and found us both – somewhere – and sucked away. I had no other word for the sensation, and no time to find one. In the battles of the First Age I had known elves who had willingly forsaken their body after receiving eventually deadly or maiming injuries, after losing partners or mates. I knew the signs. And I knew there was nothing I could do if the person wanted to die.

Within the flash of a moment of touching Raven's mind I knew what had happened. Soulbound. But nothing like I had ever seen before. Unrestricted and complete. So complete, in fact, that their fёar had been almost one, that the death of one party inevitably meant the same for the other. For some reason – no, the reason was obvious – wherever he had taken the strength to do it, Raven's partner – damn, his brother - had been killed and yet somehow managed to sever the bond and prevented Raven from dying with him. And left him with – half a fёa. Not that this would be possible, but that was the feeling. Of shreds blowing within a wind from the void of everlasting darkness. Raven was teetering somewhere on the edge, wanting and not wanting to let go. I didn't know the dark elves had that power. Not even Darkstone had ever mentioned it.

One chance, I thought. The healers called it fёa-raika, calling the fёa back to the body. A ritual more than a procedure, involving long and extensive preparations to minimize risk for both parties. And at least two other persons, better three.

Hell, I couldn't have them now, so I had better decide.

"Raven come back" Of course he couldn't hear me You were soulbound. He wanted you to live. You can't die. You don't want to! I followed his presence further into – whatever – felt him retreating.

One chance. I reached out, caught his fёa with my own and found – aquapahtiё. The fullest and severest I had ever thought was possible. Raven's mind was strange, full of incomprehensible sensations and images, but this was the last shields he had.Basic, instinctive shields every mind possessed, even that of mortals who were completely ignorant of the possibility of mind-speech. But he controlled them, and all his willpower was in them. I found myself scrabbling against their solidity like a cat trying to climb a glass wall.

Any touch on fёa or hröa backlashed upon the other. Raven screamed, tried to break our contact by pulling back, writhing in my grasp and at the same time spinning our minds further into the void. I could not hold him forever, not even for a while, I realized frantically. Raven fought me with the ferocity of a cornered animal, and the double strain of keeping his fёain check and preventing him from physically pounding me into the cave floor would soon wear me out. One chance still. I could worry about right or wrong later.

I enveloped the dark elf's fёa with my own, shields and all, and pulled back, digging mental teeth and claws into the ground as I did so. Suddenly we were out of the spirit world, and lying on the stony cave floor. I felt like collapsing right then and there. We were not finished. Raven jerked his head around, staring at me with a look of pure terror on his face. Pinning his wrists with my greater weight I could feel Raven's frantic heartbeat. If the pain did not kill him he would die of fright. He had no idea I meant to help him.

I bit my lip. This was like a catapult. I could not release my hold on Raven's fёanow or we would probably both be flung – where? I dared not think about it.

'I can help you. Lower your shields!'

"No!"

'Raven, please. You do not want to die'

°NO° No what? In any case, he had no choice but to say no, I realized. All else would have been surrender, and that was unacceptable. I understood that very well.

'I won't let you die'

With a strength I had not known I possessed I held Raven's fёa with me and assailed his shields, shredding them away with greater and finer honed skills. I had to get through to the hurt his brother's death had caused Raven, and only then could I seal it away for Raven to deal with when – if ever – he had the strength. When he understood what had happened.To seal it away, leave it be was the only way. To try and heal it would be folly. And complete misunderstanding what it was all about.

Now. It took me a moment to gather my remaining strength and set to work on constructing seals. Just a moment of hesitation, and Raven lashed out. For a second, his fёaslipped from my control, twisting as I had never thought was possible for a fёaand I felt him centring literally all his power. He was going to kill us both - …if you can not counter a blow, deflect it, avoid it – I twisted my own shields up, made them malleable, and sensed the scorching power explode around me – it passed me, vanished – I made a new grab for Raven's fёa and snatched it back from fading like a hawk binding to his prey.

Do.not.faint. I ordered myself. Just.do.not.faint. … I fervently hoped that was his last strike. I had no strength to counter anything else.

Quickly, I wove the shields fёa-raika detailed as seals and set them in place, trying to heal what I could before finally breaking our contact.

Raven was – out cold. He would probably kill me when he woke.

Right now it seemed rather like the question what would kill him first – his fёa or his hröa.

Chapter Notes:

Quote at the beginning from the song "Thru the End" by Kenziner (album "Timescape")

Fёa-raika: (Q) I do not speak Quenya and here is another proof. (Q) raita- or raika means "to catch something in a net". Fёa-raika is supposed to signify a procedure to call a fea back to the body it wishes to forsake. Ask Gildor for specifications, not me, please.

Shields: (Q) aquapahtiё means "fully-closedness" of a mind to telepathic transfers/communication. I assume it is not too farfetched to refer to whatever technique is needed to achieve aquapahtiё as "shielding". That, like mind-speech, is also borrowed from Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar-books. (Q) osanwё is usually translated as "telepathy", so when any character refers to "mind-speech" or "mind-magic" you should think of whatever forms of osanwё that may be possible. As for the idea that physical contact is necessary for a 'complete' mental connection, another little bow to Mr. Spock and his pointy-eared kin on Vulcan.

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