Chapter 12

Dwarves are at home deep in the earth, in our caverns and mines. Underground, I can use scent, sound, and the slightest vibrations of earth and air to track anyone who seeks to hide from me. But out in the fields and forests with their riot of noise and color, wide open to the endless blue vault of sky overhead, following someone is a bit more challenging.

Not impossible, of course. Sometimes it's as easy as stopping a farmer and asking if he'd seen a dwarf pass by. Farmers always notice strangers, and despite their suspicions they are often willing to provide information that will make an outsider go away. They become especially willing to help when you promise to make an outsider stay away. So I pretended to be a thief-taker and assured them my quarry would be locked up for good, if only I could catch up to her.

It seemed that Var was heading for the Tower Hills. She was moving fast and resting only briefly, but I could tell by the remains of her small campsites that I was gaining on her. If my luck held, I would find her within another day.

But why was she going there? The Tower Hills lie west of the Shire, near the sea. The place got its name because the elves built three tall towers there, probably so they could conduct some weird elf magic. Smart dwarves would give the place a wide berth. I had no idea what kind of dwarf Var was, anymore.

On the third day, I found her. I almost blundered right into her, pushing my way through the bushes all leafed out in fluffy green spring foliage, twigs crackling endlessly beneath my boots. This is the trouble with trees—they're always shedding branches and throwing out roots, causing a racket and tripping you up, and making it impossible to creep up on someone.

I crouched behind a tree as she knelt by a forest stream, drinking out of her cupped hands. She took off her traveling pack and rummaged through it, removing something. When she turned, she held a dagger and something wrapped in cloth. With the dagger, she scored a rune in the bark of a tree. Then she sat down at the foot of the tree and unwrapped the cloth. It held some bread and a bit of cheese.

It was only polite to let her finish her meal before I confronted her. I wasn't just watching her to watch her. There's not much opportunity to learn a person's deepest secrets just from the way they chew their food. Besides, her head was hanging down, so I couldn't see her face very well. Her shoulders were hunched in, her elbows resting on her knees. She wiped the back of her hand against her eye. I guess she was tired. I knew I was.

When she was done, she packed up the dagger and the cloth, and slung her pack on her back. She started walking in my direction. When she got close enough, I leapt out and grabbed her, twisting her arm into a secure arm-lock.

"Hello, Var. Going somewhere?"

She shrieked and struggled. I had her pinned to me, her back to my front, with her one arm twisted up behind her. It was tricky to hold her without doing any damage—I hadn't had much experience in the non-damage-doing area, and she was fighting me with every bit of strength she had. Her comments were mostly along the lines of, "Let me go," "Stay away from me," and "Why have you followed me?"

I answered the last one. "You owe me an explanation."

"That's the last thing I can give you," she said, panting. She was wearing herself out, kicking her heels at my shins and throwing her head back in a futile attempt to connect with my nose. "Why couldn't you just leave me alone? I told you I was trouble. Why can't you listen to me?"

"Tell me why you're so much trouble. Just explain it, and I'll go." I didn't bring up the matter of our night together. Somehow, it didn't seem gentlemanly. "What's so difficult about that?"

She went limp, letting her head fall back against my chest. I could see tears sliding back towards her temples. "Because you can't know. The fact that you don't know is the only thing that can keep you safe. Keep you alive."

"Right. Because if you told me what's going on, you'd have to kill me." I went a little heavy on the sarcasm there, but it certainly seemed justified. "Don't you think I can keep a secret?"

She swore. "No, you can't. Nobody can. Not against someone who can rip the thoughts right out of your mind. Not when it's someone who is ready to kill to keep their secrets safe."

That sounded a little melodramatic. But the world was filled with evil. Although I'd never experienced it, I was pretty sure that orcs and goblins got even bigger kicks out of torturing people than they did just killing them in battle. Even the toughest person could be made to reveal everything. "Then how are you safe, when you know this terrible secret?"

"I'm not. I'm not. And I haven't got much time left." She wasn't sobbing, but tears were falling fast and hard. Her body was soft and familiar as I held her pressed to me. "But I've got something I have to do. A promise to keep."

I could feel myself weakening, moved by her tears and her softness and my own foolish desire for her. Not good, as Thorin would have said. I tightened my grip on her. "Well, too bad. You'll just have to do it with me by your side."

A sharp point dug into the back of my neck, and a new voice spoke behind me. "And what have we here?"

I froze as a dozen elves materialized around us, bows drawn. I could see the light glinting off the arrowheads as they aimed at us from point-blank range. They were all tall and sinuous, with long straight hair falling from the tops of their heads but hairless everywhere else. A couple of them had silver circlets on their brows. Somehow, elves always reminded me of snakes—maybe not all bad, but definitely not warm and fuzzy. Just our luck to be discovered by a patrol of elves.

Then Var spoke in a commanding tone. "Please, I must speak with Poldor. My need is urgent. Tell him that Var, the daughter of Gamil, seeks his aid, according to the promise he made long ago."

The arrow points wavered a little at that. A murmur ran around the group—they evidently knew this Poldor. And so did Var. My heart dropped into my boots.

"You're in league with elves?" I released my hold on her. There didn't seem to be anything else I could do, if these were her conspirators. I could probably have fought them, but there didn't seem to be much point.

She glared at me. "I told you to leave me be." She stepped back, rubbing her shoulder. Well, I had been twisting her arm. But not very hard.

The arrow-point dug into my neck again. The voice behind me said, "What shall we do with this one?"

"Shall I kill him?" said a blond elf in front of me, drawing his bow-string tight. He was aiming right at my heart. At that moment, I was almost too fed up to care. Anything, even death, would be better than the pain and sheer exasperation I felt.

Var flung herself in front of me. "No! Don't hurt him!"

"Oh, stop it," I growled, pushing her out of the way. "He'd be doing me a favor."

She turned and looked me in the eyes. When you're going to war, and you're saying goodbye to someone you'll never see again, you look at them in a certain way. You try to see everything about them, not just what they look like but who they are to you, the times you've spent together, all the memories good and bad. That was the way she looked at me, full of love and longing and the knowledge of loss. Whatever she was about to do, Var didn't think she would come out of it alive.

Mahal, I just wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled in her head. Maybe she didn't have to die. I could help her, if she would only trust me. Why wouldn't she let me in?

Then she addressed the elves as if she were their commanding officer. "He is coming with me."

The blond one shrugged and un-nocked his arrow, and the others formed up around us.

We came to one of the towers and mounted the stairs. Mahal, there were a lot of stairs, winding up and around the inside of the tower like a corkscrew. At the top was a small stone room, a study with a domed roof and windows all around, like a cave floating in the sky. It gave me the creeps.

The study was pleasant, as long as you didn't look out the windows. There were plenty of books and scrolls, quill pens and measuring tools, and lots of paper. Tiny mechanical toys, just like you'd see in a dwarven nursery, were strewn about. There was a small metal eagle with hinged wings that probably flapped up and down if you moved a lever. I saw another one that was just like a toy I had in my youth, a series of chutes and gears that could be set in motion by a small sphere rolling down its length.

There was also a decoration shaped like an anvil and forge in one corner. I decided it couldn't be a working forge, because there were no burns or dents or marks of any kind on it. Strange piece of artwork, but that's elves for you.

In an elegant armchair in another corner sat an elf with long ebony hair. He rose and came forward, dismissing the patrol with a gracious nod of his head. The patrol elves left, after giving me some ugly looks clearly intended to frighten me into being on my best behavior. I folded my arms across my chest and ignored them.

Holding his hands out to her, the elf said, "Var, daughter of Gamil. Namarie, my dear. It has been too long."

"Poldor," Var said, and flung herself at him, hugging his waist. Then she burst into tears. "Daddy's dead."

The elf looked mildly surprised, as if he'd suddenly noticed that he had an extra quill pen in his pocket. He patted Var's shoulder awkwardly, half in comfort and half in an effort to detach her weepy self from his smooth perfection. I didn't think he was the kind to appreciate tear-stains on his beautiful robes.

"I am sorry for your loss," the elf said. "Your father was my friend, and one of the most skilled smiths I ever knew. Sit down. Tell me what brings you here, for I see that there is more to tell. News of your father's death had reached me already."

She sat at his work table, her feet swinging a bit from the elf-sized seat. I hadn't been invited, so I stayed on my feet, positioned where I could watch both the door and the elf as he sat with Var.

"I know. But it's worse than that," Var said. She took a deep breath. "Poldor, before he died, my father told me you made him a promise, that if he or one of his own came to you for help, you would do whatever they asked without question or hesitation. Now, in the name of my father, I beg you to honor your solemn promise."

The elf nodded. "Of course I will, for the love I bore your father, and equally for my affection for you."

Var's wide blue eyes were pleading. "Then help me now, by giving me a draught of tamuril."

"What?" Poldor the elf nearly shouted. Instantly, I dropped into battle-ready mode. Whatever tamuril was, it wasn't good. "No! Why would you ask such a thing?"

Var's voice remained steady. "I am fully aware of what I am asking you to do. The burden is mine. I accept it. And I can give you no explanation. Please, please, do as I ask."

The elf was shaking his head. "No. There must be another way. This is madness."

"There is none," Var said.

Poldor turned to me, his smooth face purple with rage. "Is this your doing?"

"He doesn't know either," Var said. "I haven't told him anything."

"That's for damn sure," I said. "What is tamuril?"

One of the patrol elves appeared at the door. "Poldor, you have another visitor, a most distinguished one. Curunir himself has arrived."

Var turned white as chalk. Her voice was shaking with panic. "Poldor, if you love me, give it to me now. NOW!"

"You are a fool, Var," the elf replied angrily. He stepped to a shelf and took down a bottle of green liquid and poured some in a glass. "Very well then, if this is your choice. So be it, and may I be held guiltless of this crime."

She snatched the glass out of his hand and stared with loathing down into its murky green depths. Then she looked at me in despair.

"I love you," she said.

She drank it, and fell to the floor.