90 Years Ago
The elf stood silently near the new grave, hidden in the shadows…watching the mourners file past stoically, one by one. She did not move, nor even seem to breathe. If one did not know to look for her, then they would easily overlook her.
She watched each face as they approached the fresh, ruthless soil. All silent and serious. She read their thoughts like words in a book. Each mourner wore the drab greys and homespun fabrics of the Grey Company, and they had all come to say farewell to one of their own.
She had heard the whispers throughout the camp the last several days. Whispers about her. The elf tilted her head and wondered what these silent mourners would say to her if they noticed her…how many would curse her as a murderess…how many would simply look away from her in confusion. Perhaps some would take her hand in understanding? No, that much she could not expect…it felt like the only one of their number that truly understood her was now cold beneath that ruthless soil.
Did he understand why he was there, beneath the earth? Could he? The huntress shook her head. She did not truly understand it…how could he? How could she have chosen?
As the line of silent mourners finished passing a cold rain began to fall, driving the last of the stragglers away. As was the custom of these men, no words were said beside the grave, no benedictions offered to some apathetic deity. To these men death was simply the last stage of an endless struggle that they all would face. When one fell, another stepped forward. It was as simple as that.
The elf stepped towards the now deserted grave…staring down at the simple carved stone left in the dirt. Whispering his full name aloud. “Gemniphred of Harndirion.”
He had never let her call him that. Even from that first night she spent with the Grey Company after he brought her out of the dungeons of the wizard, after their leaders had satisfied themselves that she was not in fact a spy of their enemies. As she huddled in a tent, arms around her knees, her eyes huge and staring, he had brought her hot food and a blanket. His red hair was unkempt, his smile lopsided. All she could do was stare at him mutely as he spoke softly, slowly to her, as if she were a traumatized horse. He insisted that she call him Gem even as he continued to call her Lethril, promising that she would be safe, that she would never be hurt again…that it would all be alright, somehow. She simply nodded and he smiled that lopsided smile until he was driven out by her silence and her wide, staring eyes.
That first night she was able to keep from crying until after he had left.
In nights to come she was not always able to manage that…and when she failed he held her as she wept like a child and continued to insist that the dawn would come and everything would be alright...until she really came to believe it.
And so he was Gem to her, as he was to his many friends. He called her by her child name, Lethril, for months until the evening of an orc attack on the Company’s camp, just after the sun had set. They had denied her arms until then, still wondering how deeply into her mind the enemy had dug, but that night there was no choice. As good men fell and died around her she picked up a bow for the first time in nearly 6 years….and became herself again.
Her arrows turned the battle from a rout to a victory, flying faster and truer than any of the Company could manage….and on that field of blood she gained her place with them. Gem came to her then, as she stood defiant and proud looking over the burnt tent and the bodies of friend and foe, and embraced her, though his red hair was still unkempt and his smile still lopsided. “By the kings….Truly Lethril you are like a sharp, cleansing wind, turning aside the shadows of dusk. You are the Nightwind and we follow in your wake to victory.”
On that day, she became Nightwind, a valued member of the Grey Company, and left the name Lethril behind again. On that day also Gem saw her with totally different eyes then had first beheld her in that cage. Her dark hair had grown back in, her eye had regained its fire and her heart its determination. At that moment with a bow in her hand he saw her as victim no longer…but as huntress and warrior…and more.
For several years, Nightwind traveled with the Company, protecting the roads and villages of Dunland and Enedwaith against the rising shadows and the always more prevalent bands of orcs. In that time, she gained great respect for her fellows and came to see Gem in particular with different eyes as well. She had once seen the red-haired ranger as a well-meaning fool…but as the months turned to years, she came to see him in many roles…as a loyal friend, a stalwart ally…and finally a tender lover. The fact that he also proved to be a somewhat awkward suitor for her hand amused her to no end, and his attempts at convincing her to take his ring, full of ardor and poetry, often ended up just making her laugh, pleading that she could not bear to choose between friend, and lover, and husband, until he silenced her laughter with ardor of another kind.
All of those roles were on her mind when news reached the Company that a scouting party he led through the Bonevales had met with disaster. His men returned to camp wounded and demoralized, saying that Gem had stood against fell spirits to ensure their escape and was captured by the enemy. The Grey Company sent a force into the Bonevales, with Nightwind at the fore to bring brave Gem back safely…but when they found the son of Enedwaith he was surrounded by a stronger force of wights and beasts than they had expected, and they soon realized why. Something far darker had arrived…a Cargil of Mordor, intent on making Gem one of their own.
As the rangers of the Grey Company tried to fight through to their friend, Nightwind climbed nimbly up to the top of a tomb spire to behold a terrible sight. There just within the limits of her range was Gem, his red hair streaked with blood, the foul sorceries of the Cargil twisting his mind and body in agony, the malignant spirit of a long dead servant of shadow seeking to overwhelm him and make him as they were, a creature of evil and sorrow, neither living nor dead. A petty wraith who served a horrible master.
That Gem had resisted them for so long paid amble testament to his strength and innate goodness…but it was clear to the elf that he was losing the battle. She knocked an arrow and let fly, forcing the red robed Cargil back as she nocked a second shaft, but the spirit had done its work and the horrid black aura was surrounding Gem, enveloping him, consuming him. That which was no longer fully Gem of Enedwaith locked eyes with Nightwind, with his lover…and she knew in that moment the choice he was asking her to make.
She let fly, the arrow hammering the man in the shoulder. She hoped the sudden shock of the wound would weaken the hold of the spirit but he was too far gone, his humanity had been draining away like sand in an hourglass, and now it was almost spent. Biting her lip she nocked one more arrow and met the eyes of her target again, bowstring taut, facing the choice she had never imagined.
A cry went up from the creature of darkness before her…two statements wrapped around one another like a knotted vine, two different voices crying with one tongue. The newly born Cargil of Mordor howled “NO, SHE-ELF”…while the last remnants of Gem of the Grey Company whispered “Please, Lethril”.
And she chose.
She turned away before the arrow landed. She did not need to see the Cargil perish, and she could not bear to watch her lover die.
And now she stood before his grave…the man she had slain, the man she had saved…and all she felt was alone. Silent tears fell to the fresh earth.
A hand rested on her shoulder….the Captain spoke in low tones. He did understand what she had lost. “You are welcome to remain with us, Nightwind. What you did was necessary, despite how terrible it was.”
The elf shook her head…carefully unpinning the silver starburst from her shoulder. “No…I am Nightwind no longer. She ended with Gem...and I am Xanderian once more. My place…my road…lies elsewhere…”
She offered the Captain the star, her hand trembling and he shook his head in refusal. “Keep it…you will always have a place with us should you want it. Gem would wish it so.”
She nodded and slipped it into her pouch…whistling softly to summon her horse.
The Captain watched her mount, and called out to her as she brought the beast around towards the open country. “Where will you go, huntress?”
Xanderian regarded him with cold, grey eyes before riding out into the rain. “I ride East…I go to hunt alone.”
And so she did….for better than the lifetime of a mortal man. She could not bear to risk having to make a choice again.
