Someone or something was on the bed beside her-The bedclothes rustled when it moved. The change of locations from the fiery mountain to her home in Highcliff was striking. It was cool and blessedly quiet here-A pleasure to just breathe. Take a breath, hold it-Let it out. There was a weight... no, that wasn't quite right. Someone held her left hand in a firm, yet gentle grip.
The woman sitting beside her, holding her hand, had to be the oldest moon elf she had ever seen. "You are back with us, I see. Call me ai'tara," she said, her voice sounded like someone Lillith knew and loved instantly. She squeezed Lil's hand and asked; "So, how do you feel? You have taken quite a shock."
"I'm tired... stiff... sore," Lillith replied, stretching her arms to get a feel of her misery. There was surprisingly little pain. Her right arm brushed something velvety soft that squeaked a greeting. "Moonbow," she smiled as she picked up her weasel friend.
"Do you remember... where you were? What happened to you?" the moon elf asked her kindly. On Lil's return, she'd used her unique ability to take on the pain suffered at the trial of the mother on Mount Galardrym. In time, the memories would return, but by then the pain of loss would not be as sharp.
"No... it's like... a bad dream." It was taking quite an effort for her to recall anything about their battle with the undead. Stroking Moonbow's soft fur seemed to calm her. When her eyes fell upon the unsheathed Sea Dragon cutlass that had returned with her, Lillith visibly stiffened. She looked up at little mother, her lips trembled, her eyes spilled over. "My husband," she said in a small, lost voice. "I've... killed him."
The commotion in the atrium drew the Heavenly Starsinger from her elven reverie. The quiet here in Sehanine's Temple of the Moon was so seldom broken that anyone entering commanded her attention. Exiting the lunarium, she encountered three of her sentinels returning from assignment on Mount Galardrym. They escorted a disheveled moon elf boy who looked to be on the verge of a physical breakdown.
Her heart went out to the young one who stood before her. She could not show her sympathy though, that would insult his sense of honor. After all, he was just a boy, but he was a novice sentinel. Instead, drawing herself up, she fixed him with a stern look. She waited.
In spite of being bloodied, exhausted, and filthy, Galcuiva en Teu-tel'Quessir sketched a perfect bow and reported; "My Lady, Heavenly Starsinger, I... I have failed in my charge and my... duties." He dropped his eyes to the floor. "The father's soul was damned and... and the mother was taken away." He shuffled his feet while wiping at his eyes. "I can only hope the petitioners have called her... home. It's all my fault." His voice broke on the last word.
She looked up from the distraught boy at her senior sentinel. He, along with the other two guardians, had stayed encamped while Sehanine's Three had climbed the mountain. Her raised eyebrow asked a question; Did he fail?
The old warrior, knowing the path that the boy had had to follow, smiled his pride and shook his head. He mouthed a single word-No. He and his comrades seemed to stand a bit taller.
Taking his chin in hand, she raised the boy's head to look into his sky-blue eyes. "Have you forgotten, sentinel?" she asked him sternly. "Judgment is for The Daughter of the Night Skies alone, not her children."
He swallowed, the fearful look not quite leaving his face. "Yes, My Lady... I mean No My Lady," he amended, recalling her question.
"Then, you have just enough time before evensong to make yourself presentable," she said with a touch of motherly reproach. "If your heart is pure, you have nothing to worry about. I am sure that Our Lunar Lady will take into account that this is your first true trial. Now, I'll see you at prayers before evensong, do not be late," she said, dismissing him.
While Lillith mourned her husband's loss in Highcliff, Ammon Jerro sat at the writing desk in his room at the Phoenix Tail Inn at Crossroad Keep. After re-reading his letter of reproof addressed to the Knight-Captain, he balled it up with a muttered curse and threw it into the fireplace. Writing, a coward's solution, his mind rebelled. The only way she'll listen is a confrontation-Face-to-face, he thought. His mind was made up.
Ammon knew that every day they sat around here at Crossroad Keep, doing nothing, the King of Shadows grew stronger. Re-forging the Sword of Gith was their next step on the path to the Vale of Merdelain. The Zerth believed that the Knight-Captain now possessed enough shards to complete the only weapon with any chance of harming the Guardian. Until last night, how to restore the blade was just a missing piece of a maddeningly incomplete puzzle.
Last night, he'd lain awake after returning from helping the girl at the Seat of the Mountain. Though he was exhausted, the release of sleep eluded him. His mind wandered that hazy plain of pre-sleep-Gith...dragons... nine hells... the Silver Sword... He sat up so abruptly, he almost fell out of bed. A single word blew away any thought of rest for him; Nolalothcaragasint. He spent the night re-living his encounter with the crystal dragon and fell into an uneasy doze as the rising sun painted the window in his room with blood.
The King of Shadows must be stopped, not delayed, not walled up... destroyed, his fist on the writing table made the ink bottle dance, threatening to spill. A thought gave his heart a twinge-The pregnant girl and Shandra's spirit. He sighed-Sadly, they'd have to wait. If he survived the encounter in the vale, he would pursue her resurrection. By then, it will be too late, a cynical voice chided him. Be silent, he hissed back at it.
Tomorrow, the Knight-Captain would understand why they should move on the King of Shadows right away. To avoid any scrying eyes, Ammon decided not to gate in to Highcliff-He'd have to walk.
"You have done well my child," ai'tara told an anxious mother-to-be. "You waited. Instead of acting rashly-out of anger at your loss-you forestalled that anger and let love guide your blade. To truly love, one must understand when to let go."
"And what is my consolation, mother of all?" a distraught Lillith asked. "Am I to grow old alone? Raise a... fatherless child? The goddess forbid," she swore, her golden eyes flashed.
Ai'tara's face was firm. "If it is Our Lady's will. Then that is what will be done," She said with the voice of the true believer. "Show her your faith." The tiny moon elf woman sighed. "Come, child," she invited with open arms. "Let me ease your hurt."
"Nay, mother," She declined kindly. Lil's chin was up. Her elven eyes blazed. "I want to feel the pain-I want to feel it all. Now I know what I must do." With that said, she snatched up her late husband's cutlass and left their bedroom without donning a robe.
Little Mother looked heavenward and smiled. "My Lady, your chosen one is most high spirited. If I may say-You have chosen well," she whispered, slipping into reverie to witness a holy ascension. A noble spirit would begin a new life on the rising full moon. "Show Our Lady your faith, my child," ai'tara repeated her admonishment.
The full moon was on the wane. An errant cloud raced by, dimming Selune's countenance before hurrying on. Lillith smiled. You are here Astalder, she breathed, bringing the bright blade to her lips. She kneeled to the wooden floor of Isilme'len's upstairs hideaway and held the cutlass in her palms above her head. She spoke;
"Sehanine Moonbow, Daughter of the Night Skies, I am your servant in life to my death."
"I have done as you willed and complained not."
"Grant me your knowing... My Lady, sweet Moonlight Mystery... Please... Show me."
The half-elven mother-to-be was bathed in silver moonlight-It surrounded her in a brilliant curtain. With each breath she drew, it pulsed-A dimming, then brightening that gave its aura a life of its own. The cutlass she held as an offering glowed a steady pale blue.
"Your heart is true," the voice of a woman, pitched for her ears alone intoned. "And now, my keen blade of Eilistraee... show me your edge."
She stood, bowed gracefully, and presented the blade by touching the foible to her forehead. Lillith's trial would conclude with a dance of the sword;
Lillith lost all track of time-It flowed, then seemed to stand still, then it ran on again. She whirled, the blade in her hands emitting a shower of sparks where it cut the silvered drape surrounding her. The cut healed in an instant, leaving an embroidered weal spiraling around in the blade's wake.
The setting moon's fading light lifted its silver curtain. The glowing blade in her hands was all the light that remained. Lillith did not see the small sable creature sitting at the base of a moonflower vine growing from a silver planter at the floor's edge. The creature's pale gold eyes glowed with an inner light-It was watching Lillith's every move.
Sehanine's Chosen felt the joy the dance infused in her begin to fade. Again she presented the blade to her lips and kissed him good-bye. Feeling the pain of his loss returning, she reversed the long blade in her grip toward the floor-The motion was almost a snap of her wrists. Looking heavenward, she said, "My Lady, your will-Let it be done," and drove the point into the wooden floor with all her might.
Three moon elf women resting in their separate rooms witnessed the miracle; Ai'tara was in the chosen ones' bedroom, Isilme'len was seated on her marriage bed, and Lady Tiernah was in the Edgewater's guest room. A common connection the elve's called communion allowed them to witness Lillith's invocation.
Lillith sat on the floor upstairs facing the planted blade, whose glow arose into the starlit heavens and enveloped her and the creature watching. The spirit departed the one and entered the other as the new day began. The bright light faded, leaving all in darkness.
Mother and babe, safe in their bed, shared an elven communion. They descended into restful reverie, as did the Highcliff three. Moonbow, once Shandra's spirit vessel, now just another silvan creature, crawled slowly into her summer nest in the tangle of moonflower vines, blinked her brown eyes, and slept.
Ai'tara watched the mother-to-be in silence as dawn drew near. Darkness still ruled. She liked this time of day. It was a time to reflect-to remember. Her hands worked seemingly with a mind of their own. Melyanna's first gift, a coverlet, was almost done. The final tie was done. She pulled the corners out and examined the knitting with a critical eye. The first washing would draw the weave up and tension the yarn just the way she wanted it.
She folded the knitting and looked up at Lillith, seated on the bed facing the open window. "She's such a beautiful child," little mother whispered, knowing she would be heard. "Her young one will be pleasing to the eye as well." Upon hearing him in the sitting room, ai'tara stood and said, "He comes. So, child, your final trial begins."
Even in reverie Lillith heard little mother's voice in the sitting room. "Good morn, father of Melyanna. Welcome home-Go right in. She will be overjoyed to see you."
She was re-living lost dreams of him. His smell, his touch, his being surrounded her. The voice singing an elven lullaby, so much like elven fathers through the ages, was his as well. His warm presence at her back drew her from a pleasurable reverie.
"Begone unwelcome wraith," she moaned, refusing to look over her shoulder at him. "Your presence here torments my soul."
The warmth withdrew. A gentle hand caressed the tender spot between her shoulders, causing her to suppress a shiver. "Your Li'l Liantelle has changed-She has... matured." His voice was as warm and alive as his presence. "She is... beautiful, as are you, Arwenamin , Anaramin. Vanimle sila tiri. His finger's tracing of the silvered spider tattoo on her back gave her a shiver she couldn't suppress.
Lillith picked up her mirrors-A wedding present from the groom's parents. One was round with a handle carved of aged teakwood. The other was a mirror glass set into a square frame. She kept the round one and passed the other back to him. "So the tattoo's changed," she said, still refusing to look at him. "The itch back there has been maddening since I got back. Only now, after ai'tara has treated it, has it finally faded. The irritation is almost gone now." She held the glass up. "Please, show me," she entreated.
After he held his mirror up behind her back, she took a long look and sighed, "It has changed... after meeting that... dark elf... on the mountain." she shook her head in confusion. "I'm still not sure what happened there."
"It's over, you're safe now," his tone was soothing. He set his glass aside.
Hers was turned up so she could see his face clearly. She regarded his reflection with suspicion. "Tell me wraith-Are you real? Why are you here?" she challenged.
He shrugged. "Last time I looked it was me," he said lamely, looking around their bedroom. "I've come home. Where else would I go?"
Was that anger she heard in his tone? Her suspicion remained. "If you are my husband, then you will know that blade-Next to the one you brought with you. Tell me," she commanded, pointing to the longsword in the weapon rack next to the sheathed Sea Dragon cutlass that she'd left in the floor upstairs last night.
Her vehemence seemed to startle him. "Uhh, I brought the scabbard for the cutlass back with me. I... I thought the blade was lost, but it was stuck in the floor upstairs. Why in the blazes was it there?" His temper was fraying.
Ignoring his question, she still refused to look directly at him. "The. Long. Sword," She repeated, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.
He rolled his eyes. "Same old Lil," he muttered. "The longsword was a gift from my father. It is a mithril blade forged by the Dwarf-Elven of Illefarn. It is named Atar en Illefarn, that means..."
Her crushing embrace and passionate kiss on his lips interrupted his answer. She broke her kiss. "It is you. Thank the gods you're home."
They sat together on their marriage bed getting caught up. "Where did you go?" she asked, absently fingering a long scar on his forearm. "I thought the giants got you..." She left her statement unfinished, biting her lower lip.
"It's all a blur... the last thing I remember, we attacked the fire giants... then I woke up in a farm field outside Waterdeep. That walk home was the longest three days of my life."He scratched at the scar on his arm and thought for a moment. "Not knowing where you and Gale were made the walking that much longer-If anything had happened to you..." He looked up at her. "What happened to Gale?"
She shook her head, making her braids fly-Their beads made a musical sound that he would always associate with his wife. "Don't know," she sighed, "I thought he was with you. Is there anything we can do?"
He looked sadly at the fine blades in the weapon rack in the corner of their room. "All we can do now is pray."
What memories remained of their ordeal on the mountain were clouded as if years instead of just days had passed. The passing of time would eventually erase them completely-The young ones would move on.
"She's awake. Can you feel her moving?" Lillith sighed again and leaned back into his arms.
His hands explored. "She's agitated-can't keep still. How can you stand all that moving around?" he wondered out loud.
"Mmm..." she sighed with pleasure and laid her head back on his shoulder. She sat up and looked back at him. "Uhhh... It... It won't be much longer." She took a deep breath, grunted again and said, "I think it's time." She raised her voice, startling her husband again; "Ai'tara, I need you, please."
Rolan looked up. Someone had taken his arm-His mother. "Vedui, 'ta. Lil is..." He pointed at his wife, who looked to him to be cramped by a bout of gas.
"It's time, son," his mother said cryptically, leading him to the bedroom door. "You have time to take a bath," she wrinkled her nose, "and get something to eat while the mid-wife and I do a woman's work." She herded him toward the kitchen before turning back. "Lillith will be alright-It always sounds worse than it is." She swatted his shoulder with affection. "Tie's watching the fire in the kitchen-She'll feed you and heat the bath water if you ask nicely," She said with a wink and turned away.
Gray Co. Elven Translations;
ai'tara-little mother.
Astalder-Valiant one.(Rolan's lore name)
Melyanna-Precious Gift.(Rolan and Lil's child's baby-name)
Arwenamin-My Lady.(fam.)
Anaramin-My Sun.(Lillith's lore name)
Vanimle sila tiri-Your beauty shines bright.
Liantelle-Little Spider.
A/N Thanks to Wyl for reminding me that Rolan has to walk to get around...