Willow's End - Jera Skyspear
Elvish words/phrases linked to Glossary OR hover mouse to see translation.
The Library: Part Three

Ashe and Jera began walking along the Road, which to mortal eyes might appear as nothing but darkness surrounding them, but to the elves the air is suffused with a light glow.

"Nicely done, a'maelamin." Her voice was very quiet as she and Ashe walked along together in the easy stride of equals. "I always feel as though I should whisper here."

"Hmm... I recall the first time I walked the Road with Mother. I was afraid to speak." He grinned.

"Not certain if it is fear or reverence, or not wanting to miss anything."

"Perhaps a bit of all. And perhaps also the knowledge that the Road could easily bewitch one like you or I with our strong sense of curiosity."

"Truly that is a risk. I have to keep myself from straying off to ... well... everything."

Ashe nodded toward their left as the sounds of women singing some ritualistic chorus could faintly be heard. "Such as that. It seems the Road has an affinity for the Mysteries. Perhaps someday, it might tempt me, but not for a long time... and perhaps never." Jera smiled and nodded, then cocked her head to listen. "Of course, there's always an ear perked for the Bells."

"Aye, the Silver Bells... that can make a mortal forget all else." He kept up their pace as they talked and Jera found herself lightly humming a tune not quite the same as what the women were singing, but similar and quietly, as she strode comfortably beside him.

"Amazing how many of the old gods of this island traverse the Road so easily, but many of them seem to like cloaking themselves in mists and illusions." Ashe grinned to himself at some thought.

"One wonders... I wonder... how I would choose to be, if I chose to tarry here. Best not think much on it, I suppose."

Ashevathallion nodded gravely, "I've no knowledge of any who choose to make their home here, but it would surely drive a human mad... and perhaps elves as well."

Jera nodded then turned her head. "Trumpets. A herald of trumpets. War or pomp and circumstance?" she wondered aloud. Ashe stopped to listen and Jera turned after a moment as she had still been looking for the trumpeters, thus missing his pause. After a moment, Ashe was sure he'd identified the sound, "Hmm... auroch's horns, Druid ceremony." He needed only a couple of paces to catch up to Jera and they began walking again. It was unwise to stand still for too long on the Road.

Ashe was thinking about other ventures here. "I've met some of the Gods. Arawn, for one. He seemed to dote on Ian's mother for some reason. I always find it amusing that the deity who supposedly gave pigs to mankind should hold a fondness for Ian and his mother, seeing as how Ian has been called the pig farmer on occasion."

She laughed lightly, "Has he? That does seem more than coincidence."

They walked in some silence then, until Ashe voiced his further wandering thoughts. "The other thing about the Road is that it's a good place to hide if you don't want to be found. Yarrow is still at large... and Mornaur."

"Aye, true enough, for hiding. I once used the Road as an escape, but only that. I was not in a... it would not have been good to stay within, however much I wanted to at the time."

Ashe turned his head to smile at her, "No, for then we might never have ever met." He was silent for a few steps, then resumed. "I think the most interesting person I met here was Gwydion, Angharad's brother. The Welsh call the Milky Way, Gwydion's Castle. He is a great intellect, and according to the tales, was amazingly convoluted in plots that never seemed to work out the way they should have."

"The Welsh seem to have unusual names for most everything. And they do appear to like structures. I believe they're calling Raumo Korda... something Chair? Idris or such?" She chuckled, "I'll not say much of plots that do not play out."

Stretching out his hand, Ashe pointed to a sigil that seemed to hang in the air to their right. "Look. Almost there." Jera drew up to look where he indicated as he explained the marker. "It's recent. Only those of our race can see that. A precaution."

"Do you feel a pull from there? I mean, I've not gone back. I dare not, still. So, how is it to go home from the Road?"

Ashe tilted his head slightly, thinking for a moment, "How is it to go home from anywhere? Although, I confess that Camelot feels as much like home to me now as any place. Why have you stayed away so long? I doubt any in the Silences hold any ill will to your clan."

Jera watched her feet upon the lighted path for a few paces, "I'm beginning to feel the same for Camelot, though Willow's End is still home." She glanced up to Ashe again, "Nae, no ill will, but... The Forest of Green Silences was never my home really, was it? We collected there. We traveled from and back to it, but we had left our home, at least all who are not of your father's house."

"Ah... that... Well, Father has never forbidden anyone to speak their mind or to leave if they chose and he's never punished anyone for disagreeing with him."

"Not saying I disagree. My family chose to see out the long journey to its end. But, we were speaking of home, and Green Silences is not that, not for me." She stopped walking a moment and Ashe paused with her. "Perhaps not, love," he said, quite solemnly, "But it is as close as you can ever get to our first Home without fighting."

She nodded and looked up into Ashe's eyes. "When I said I had not gone back, I meant, to Raumo Korda. Not your home." She then turned to see the sigil and nodded to some thought passing through her mind, then again to Ashe. "Yes, of course. Let us go." Her slight frown was again a smile and she started walking.

He smiled at her as they renewed their pace, "My hope is you will come to think of the Green Silences as home."

A decidedly crooked grin graced Jera's lips, "Wherever you are and when I am with you, then do I feel more at home than I have in years on years."

Ashe reached for her hand and Jera let her fingertips trace into his palm. He spoke softly, "As do I love. As do I." With his free hand he gestured to their destination or at least the termination point of the Road for this journey. "It's just ahead. Perhaps I should warn you about where this will lead us."

No sooner had he spoken than the glow thinned and suddenly the two stepped out into a room. From the looks of it, one that had not been used for some time. There were two beds, a desk, an assortment of books, and other items scattered about on two tables. A small casement window let in a bright shaft of sunlight illuminating the tables.

The words Jera thought she'd spoken seemed to be temporarily suspended in the transition, then they caught up when the pair entered the room, "Do tell... and be mindful of your promise to throw yourself twixt me and any---" she stopped and looked around them.

Ashe finished her sentenced with a chuckle, "Dust bunnies?" Jera laughed with him as he struck a heroic pose. He swished an imaginary sword in the air, "Have at thee, wee filthy vermin!" while Jera brushed aside a floating cobweb or two, checking first to see that they were unoccupied. Ashe stopped his sword play then and glanced about, "I see the castle staff have left the room alone again."

Jera grinned and teased, "Small for a library."

He smiled at her, "No library. This was my... our bedroom... when I was young."

"Was it?" Jera stepped in further then to have a look around, now quite interested.

"No doubt the maids are terrified Yarrow will pop into view."

Jera leaned and squinted to try to read the book bindings on the shelves and to glance over the other items laying about. "Yes, I'd think that might be a reasonable thought really." She looked into the light and smiled, though squinting a bit more.

Ashe chuckled, "We were so proud of ourselves, finding a ley line to run an entrance to the Road right here in our room. It was years before we discovered Father had known all along and was using it to keep tabs on us."

She laughed, "Your father is as wise as reported then."

"Better he knew of our comings and goings this way than forbid them and have us find another way onto the Road." Ashe laughed too then picked up a book himself and ran a fond hand over the binding. Jera turned toward him, now silhouetted in the light. "And I am sure you would have, one or both of you."

"Oh, we would. Count on it. We were much like Calen and Conn, sticking hands and noses into everything." He glanced a bit wistfully around him. "As it was, we didn't have all that much time to play. We were fighting the humans overnight, it seems."

Jera looked back toward the matched beds, "I can almost... almost envision you there, stretched out, reading... or napping under a book." Ashe pointed to the bed nearest the door, "That one was mine, except on those nights we wanted to confuse the servants and Yarrow and I would swap."

She shook her head, mirth mostly gone. "What that started..."

"It was the game of children, Jera. Calen and Conn play the same tricks. Ian and Skye can tell them apart, but no one else can." He looked again at the book in his hands. Jera caught it and asked, "What have you there? A cherished one?" She stepped closer for his answer, "This... is from the 'Chronicles of the Foundings'... a history of the earliest days of the Clans, full of heroes and great Sithryn kings."

"Did you ever dream of being one of them?"

Ashe chuckled and nodded, "Ah... the nights we fought over who would get to play the Oak King."

With a snicker, Jera recalled her own brother's foray into such thoughts, "Aye, Dagaz was assured to be the greatest archer in all the planes... or so he told it."

"At any rate, another advantage of this room..." he tipped his head in the direction of the door, "... the Library is across the Hall. Convenient, since we took our lessons there." Ashevathallion tucked the book under his arm, and held out his hand to show the way, "Shall we see if the Chronicler is in?"

Jera looked around the room again, committing it to memory and taking with her the vague images of Ashe and his brother here, then proceeded, "Let's do."

(from 2002 1115) © DHP and Bill West

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