Interlude: Qucalion of Celene

 

by Michael S. Webster

 County of Tillahi, Celene
 Snowflowers 21, 5038 OC (Coldeven 21, 576 CY)

 Four elves, obviously weary from their travels, approached the crest of a rise in the road. As the other side of the hill came into view, they saw a carriage escorted by several armored figures. The figure at the head of the formation spotted the elves and kicked his horse into a gallop. As he approaches, Countess Tillahi waved in greeting to her castellan.

Drawing up to the group, the Castellan dismounts and bows. “Countess, we were concerned when you hadn’t returned. You were spotted on the road, and we were alerted to your return.”

Sir Juffer, consort to Countess Tillahi, speaking wearily, “Well-met you are, Castellan Finrael. Although coming into sight of home had bestowed wings to our legs, they are nonetheless glad to see you brought conveyance.”

“Well said, love.” Tillahi replied, relief in her voice. “I trust all is well, Castellan.”

The carriage and the entourage arrived at the top of the hills and the mounted soldiers dismounted and offered waterskins and a basket containing bread and fruit to the travelers. “Yes, My Lady. All is well, despite a couple disturbances who are now residing in cells.”

Sir Juffer assisting their two companions into the carriage, turned to assist his Lady. “Lord Castellan, I trust they can keep one more day so that the countess may rest and recover?”

“Indeed, Sir Juffer.  They have kept this long, a day or two will not matter.”

“Excellent. After a hot bath, a warm meal, and a cool bed, I should be set aright on the morrow,” agreed Tillahi. Accepting Juffer’s hand into the carriage, he followed her in.

The carriage turned around and headed back to the manor. By the time it arrived at the doors, the four elves were asleep.

 

Prisoner Cells, Tillahi Manor, County of Tillahi, Celene
Snowflowers 23, 5038 OC (Coldeven 23, 576 CY)

Although the morrow upon which Tillahi awakened was a day later than estimated, the rest did much to recuperate her tired body and ease her troubled mind. Now, it is time to return to business. Escorted by her castellan and consort, they entered the cells beneath the manor house.

“The prisoners here have been well looked after, Countess,” assured Finrael. “On an unrelated note, I have dispatched a messenger to notify her Fey Majesty of your return.”

“Excellent. Know this, Castellan Finrael,” she turned to the elf with a smile, “While I had concerns over whether we would return home, I had no doubts it had been left in very capable hands. Let us meet our . . . guests, shall we?”

“Thank you, Countess, and here are our first two guests. Siblings. Twins, in fact.”

Looking into the cell, she observed a lanky wood elf. He appeared thin, gangly, and disheveled, even having what appeared to be twigs and leaves in his hair. Reclining on the pallet provided, he smiled a grin that spoke not of congenial sanity, but one of insane mirth. Raising a hand, he snapped his fingers and pointed in the general direction of the viewers.

“D…R…T!” was all he said.

“I thought you said there were…”, Tillahi started when from an adjacent cell the countess heard the snapping of fingers followed by “Right there.”

“We had to separate the two. They are given to arguing and fighting each other,” explained Finrael.

“As siblings do!” stated the male elf in the cell, followed by insane giggling from both cells.

Tillahi looked into the other cell and spied a mirror-image, although female, of the male. “What are their offenses?”

“Disorderly conduct, brawling, and attempted murder. They fought others with the same intensity as themselves. Apparently, there was some disagreement over a contest of archery, and they proved their point by placing several arrows into their opponents.”

“They all survived!” said the female elf.

“They can walk it off!” chimed in the male.

“Just rub some dirt in!”

“Their names?” asked Juffer.

“The male is called Arty’ll, and the female is L’ree, surname is Bhrygaid. They originate from the Welkwood. They were tracking a bounty in the Kron Hills when they arrived in the area.”

“Interesting. I may have a job for them myself soon,” stated Tillahi. “You said there was a third.”

“Yes, Countess. This one, you may know…”

Stepping up to another cell, Tillahi nodded. “Ridorr…”

 

A Barn, County of Tillahi, Celene
Tinklingice 7, 5037 OC (Ready’reat 7, 575 CY)

The smell of hay stored for the winter months in the upper level of the barn was fragrant and masked the scent of lovemaking lingering on a cloak in the straw. The lovers reclined in the warmth of the barn supplied by the animals below against the chill of the coming winter.

Airawyn, youngest sister to the Countess Tillahi, lay her head upon the shoulder of her lover, a half-elf named Ridorr of Gomel. “I wish we could be wed, Rid.”

Kissing the top of her head, Ridorr smiled sadly. “If only we could. My bastard heritage wouldn’t be overlooked by your sister. She would never countenance the scandal.”

“We could petition Her Fey Majesty,” suggested Airawyn.

“Our chances would be better with your sister, Aira.” Both sighed. “We can steal these moments and hope for the best.”

The lovers stood and returned their clothing to their allotted positions and climbed down from the hay loft. As they opened the door, Ridorr turned to his love, “If I had the chance to prove my love…”

“It will be difficult to prove from a cell, Ridorr of Gomel!” stated an authoritarian voice. Suddenly the lovers were surrounded by guards commanded by the Lord Castellan. “Ridorr of Gomel, you are under arrest for …”

“…for the crime of being in love above my station?” Ridorr suggested.

The castellan was taken aback by the tacit accusation of class bigotry. Ridorr took the discomfort on the castellan’s face as a minor victory.

“…for the betrayal of your refugee status to the Countess Tillahi, seduction of her sister, and the rape of…”

No one was prepared for the slap to the face of the castellan. Least of all the castellan himself.

Airawyn shook her sore hand and glared at the scarlet handprint she left behind. “Take care, castellan. I may only be the younger sister of the Countess, but I will not truck what lies about me and my love you might make up!”

Castellan Finrael refused to give the satisfaction of rubbing where the young elf maiden’s hand landed. Indicating two guards, “You two! Escort the Lady Airawyn home. Place this bastard in chains and take him to the cells. Countess Tillahi will deal with him when she returns!”

Struggling against the grasp of the guards, Airawyn was led away while manacles were placed on the compliant Ridorr. A small smirk appeared on the half-elven face.

“Smirk all you want, Ridorr. We’ll see how well time in the countess’s cells will cure you of that amusement.”

 

Prisoner Cells, Tillahi Manor, County of Tillahi, Celene
Snowflowers 23, 5038 OC (Coldeven 23, 576 CY)

“Hello, Countess.” Ridorr stood and gave a slightly mocking bow. “I am genuinely glad for your safe return.”

Tillahi turned to her castellan. “So, he is in here for his dalliances with my sister, yes? As much as I detest his laying his hands upon her, and how much I would like to seal this cell with stone, I fear…”

Finrael interrupted. “Ahem. Countess, there is a, um… a complication.”

Tillahi turned to him. “A complication.”

“Yes ma’am.” Leaning closer to the countess’s ear, he whispered. The shock on Tillahi’s face matched Ridorr’s!

“She’s pregnant?!” shouted Ridorr in a mixture of shock and joy. “I’m going to be a father! Now you must let us marry!”

Tillahi glowered at the half-elf before turning away and returning to the upper levels of the manor.

 

Council Chambers, Tillahi Manor, County of Tillahi, Celene
Snowflowers 23, 5038 OC (Coldeven 23, 576 CY) 

“That damned half-breed bastard!” The anger Tillahi expressed was palpable. Stopping and calmly breathing, she said calmly, “Perhaps I have a way to resolve this in a more noble manner.”

“What do you have in mind, love?” asked Sir Juffer.

Before Tillahi could relate her plans, the doors to the chamber burst open as a herald stumbled in and started to announce the guest who barreled past him.

Her Fey Majesty, the Faerie Queen, Lady Rhalta of all Elvenkind, and Ruler of Celene, Yolande had entered the room like a storm. She immediately embraced the her cousin with the force of a refreshing summer storm.

“Cousin! We had feared the worst but are most joyful that our fears were for naught!”

Returning her embrace, “We were fearing the worst as well.” Countess Tillahi of Celene and her consort, Sir Juffer became visibly calmer and more relaxed. “We were rescued in time before our fates could be decided. Such courage must be rewarded.”

Yolande stepped back and took her Tillahi’s and Juffer’s hands in hers. “I look forward to hearing your story. We must celebrate.”

“Thank you, your Fey Majesty…” began the countess.

“Please, we can forego all the honorifics, Tillahi, Juffer. Taking care of you two after your traumatic experiences is more important than protocol.” Yolande embraced her cousin again.

“Thank you, dear cousin,” sighed Tillahi wearily. “We’re grateful for your generosity as much as we are grateful for being back in Celene.”

***

 A small feast was prepared, and the four noble elves shared in it. Countess Tillahi and her consort, Sir Juffer sat across the table from each other.  Taking the remaining side was Queen Yolande and Castellan.

Yolande contemplated the wine in a crystal goblet. “I wholeheartedly agree these souls should be rewarded for their gallantry. I also think that sending those three to deliver that reward to its destination is a good plan. However, I would like to make a small change to your plan…”

 

Reception Hall, Royal Palace, Enstad, Celene
Snowflowers 21, 5038 OC (Coldeven 21, 576 CY)

“Mother…”

Queen Yolande was adamantly against her son’s plans for adventure. She was well aware of the dangers the Flanaess proffered, and noble status was no safeguard. “Qucalion, I cannot have you become a vulgar ‘adventurer’ and risk your death.”

Qucalion sighed. This was a common argument between him and his mother. It didn’t help that she was the Queen, not only of Celene, but of all Elvenkind. He felt restless and a burning desire to see what was over the hill, and then the next and so on. Wanderlust.

“Mother, I have no real responsibilities in your realm. I have four brothers and sisters who will ascend the throne before I would. All the titles and honors have gone to them, and rightfully so.  I’m not jealous of them. I just want to explore the world. Like my father did.”

“Qucalion, I can accept you have more of your father in you, but I do not want to lose you like I did him. It is out of the question, and I will sooner consign you to house arrest than allow you to go ‘adventuring’. I have spoken!”

Qucalion recognized the Official End of Discussion. It came earlier than normal this time. Perhaps the worry over her cousin Tillahi dissipating had something to do with it.

As the young elf strode to his quarters, he planned his escape…

 

Courtyard, Tillahi Manor, County of Tillahi, Celene
Snowflowers 27, 5038 OC (Coldeven 27, 576 CY)

Countess Tillahi looked over the motley group. If anything, they looked like the part adventurers. 

Castellan Finrael addressed the group. “You have been selected to carry out a promise the Lady Countess Tillahi has to reward her rescuers. While each of you have your own separate reasons for going, you will go nonetheless to carry this reward to the Heroes of Hommlet.  Some of you have additional missions which you will carry out.”

Finrael waved to the guards holding the manacles of the two wood elves, who then removed them.  “Arty’ll and L’ree Bhrygaid of the Welkwood.  You will serve as guardians of this party, leading them to Hommlet.  After which your mission is accomplished, and you WILL return to the Welkwood and stay out of Greater Celene for the remainder of your lives.”

The twin elves shouldered their bows and quivers and shrugged noncommittally. “Whatever,” they spoke in unison.

“One, two, three – jinx!” shouted L’ree. “The next round is on you!”

Arty’ll simply grumbled.

Shaking his head, he turned to a young grey elf in the liveries of a cleric of Corellon Larethian. Shorter than most elves, Finrael looked down at the cleric, almost apologetically.

“Tyroc of Tilac. You have been charged with escorting this group to Hommlet after which you will return to Tilac to continue your ministrations. Hopefully, some of your wisdom will be absorbed by these others.” Tyroc simply nodded.

Finrael approached a young grey elf and bowed graciously. “Prince Qucalion. You have been included in this party by decree of Her Fey Majesty in order to represent the nobility of Celene. You have the responsibility of leading this group to their destination as well as to distribute the rewards to all involved.”

Qucalion simply nodded with a wry grin.  He understood this was to “cure” the wanderlust he felt. His own suit of elven chainmail and the magical shield once wielded by his father was for his protection, as were as the longsword and bow he carried. Being a fighter and magic-user, he also had his spell book to aid in the defense of his party. After this delivery to Hommlet, Qucalion was expected to return…

Finrael turned to Ridorr as the half-elf was checking the gear on his horse. Before the castellan could speak, Tillahi stepped forward.

“Ridorr Fenbalar of Gomel,” Tillahi’s voice cold and stern. “As we have discussed, you will continue past Hommlet and join the Heroes of Hommlet in their quest and bring honor to you and your house. After which I will positively consider your petition.”

Countess Tillahi used other language in private conference with Ridorr. “If have any honor, you will go to Hommlet where you will join the Heroes of Hommlet in their quest.  Should you earn the Badge and Title of Fencing Master, I will knight you as Protector of Celene and grant you leave to marry my sister Airawyn’s hand including her dowry.  I hear rumors you have about 100 of your people still scattered about.  They live here and there as refugees.  Bring honor to Celene and my sister Airawyn and they shall be granted citizenship here in Celene.”

Ridorr made a courtly bow to the countess. He understood the mission.

The party then mounted their steeds and Qucalion was about to give the order to move out when Arty’ll spurred his horse onward.

“Last one to Hommlet is a dirty, stinking, goblin-whore!”

“You mean your mom?”

“She’s your mom, too!”

Qucalion shook his head and motioned for the others to move out at a more relaxed pace.

Entering the open countryside and catching up to Arty’ll and L’ree, “I must ask a favor of you all.  Do not call me “prince” or any such honorific. I am simply Qucalion and hope you treat me as an equal with you all.

Ridorr smiled sadly. “You casually cast away what I would have for myself and my love.”

“Ridorr, I will help you earn the honors for the sake of you and your love.  This I promise you.”

“Humility is a good lesson to learn for pauper or prince,” said Tyroc sagely. “Hopefully this adventure will bring us humility as well as experience.”

   

Gratitude for the use of their characters:

 Mark F. Anderson
    ·        L’ree Bhrygaid

Fredrick J. Rourk
    ·        Ridorr Fenbalar of Gomel

Michael S. Webster
    ·        Arty'll Bhrygaid
    ·        Qucalion of Celene
    ·        Tyroc of Tilac