Queen of the Mountains

Chapter 1:

Visitors

She felt the rain before she heard it. Uncurling herself from the chair by the sleeping fire, she crossed to the solid oaken door and unlatched it. She paused in the doorway and sniffed the night air, smelling rain and tree smoke, weighing the time and the weather. Then she stepped across the threshold and out onto the wooden awning, wrapping her shawl closer around her bare shoulders. The rain fell smoothly down from the sky, sheeting consistently across the ground all around her. The lantern by her left ear cast light on the small covered porch, but did not illuminate far past the little house. Normally she didn’t mind, enjoying the feeling of isolation in the rain, enjoying peace and quiet after the long months she spent working in busy taverns to be able to live here. The house she owned, her father having left it to her before being called away to service the king in Raquen’s Port. It was still somewhat new to her having to live by herself, but she managed. Her father had made arrangements for the village lads to come up to the cabin in the hills every once in a while to help with chores that a young women would have difficulty completing. She welcomed the company when it came, and made friends with a few of the lads. It was not uncommon for them to pay extra visits on the pretense of helping with work, and despite her usually self-sufficient attitude, she always found something heavy or cumbersome that she needed them to lift. More often than not she invited them to dinner, and more often than not they accepted. However on a night like this, they were all undoubtedly busy with caring for their own families, and would huddle around their own fires. She sighed and went to the side of the porch to gather the neatly stacked firewood to feed the dwindling flames inside.

She smiled wryly. Queen of the Mountains they call me, she thought. Just because I live on the outskirts of town and spend my time hunting herbs for potions. She was still relatively new to the area, but she expected the villagers would sing a different tune once her supplies were complete and she stocked useful everyday remedies to bring into town to sell for a reasonable price. However, the resident doctor’s business was steady, and his potions just as effective as her own, if his ego and prices were a bit more inflated. Thus she had resorted to part time work in the local tavern to get her by. This season she looked forward to exploring the woods further and venturing into town only when necessary.

She re entered the wooden cabin and started stacking the wood onto the fire. A damp breeze brushed her neck, and she looked up to the door she had left open with her arms full of wood. On impulse, she left the rest of the wood on the floor, and went to the door again. Peering out into the steady rain, she saw nothing, yet she waited, shivering, in the doorway. What am I doing? she wondered, what am I waiting for?

A pale figure materialized out of the downpour. Then another, and another. Walking slowly, up from the road toward her house. Her eyes widened and she gripped the doorframe. Four, five. Six. The figures marched up to the door, pale faces in pale, dripping clothing. She gulped as she realized she was alone, and her weapons were in the back room. She could not tear her gaze from the advancing figures to even think about reaching for them. Long narrow sheaths clanked at their hips and ankles, yet they paced easily. They know how to use those swords, she deduced nervously.

They had reached the house. One stepped forward, a man. She realized they were all men, with stern, lean faces. Her heart beat faster. The man’s ears were pointed.

"We need shelter for a time. One of our members is injured. Will you accommodate us?" His words came bluntly, his gaze piercing.

"Sure," she heard herself say weakly. She stepped to the side as a group of them detached and they let themselves into the house through the open doorway. The spokesman stayed outside in the rain. He turned and looked out to where they had come from, ignoring the girl in the doorway. He gave a short, quick signal to the remaining men beside him and they issued silently into the house as well.

She tore her gaze from outside, and entered the cabin herself.

Water had dripped from their sodden cloaks and pooled on the floor. Their clothing lay dripping across chairs and tables, and they crowded the small room with their tall forms. They spoke in a language she had never heard. One man knelt on the floor finishing stacking the firewood she had started. Two more were helping to lie what she assumed to be the injured man down onto her small bed. The air was damp and tense.

A flash of red blood overcame her initial paralyzing shock of these strangers. She elbowed her way to the kitchen to fetch a cauldron to boil water in. She pushed her way back through the crowd with the heavy pot and hooked it over the fire. She went to get clean bandages, towels, and other medical supplies, which she laid on the table. She went back out to the porch, because the door was still open. Two more tall men came over the railing of the porch, glanced at her, and went into the house. The spokesman came up the stairs, indicated that she should get inside, then followed her in and bolted the door behind her. She faced the crowd of people---elves---her mind registered. But no one met elves, they weren’t even believed to be real….

"We do not often impose on mortals," the lead elf said, addressing her directly. "We have no choice tonight."

"I see," she murmured, although she did not see at all. She couldn’t help staring at them all. Eight or nine of them crowded into the small cabin, some at the table, some near the window, most just standing and talking in the low foreign tongue. She swallowed and looked toward the motionless elf on the bed.

"What’s wrong with him?" she asked. The leader elf’s eyes narrowed.

"He was injured," he repeated stiffly. "We will be gone soon."

"I’m a healer," she offered. "Can I help you? I have herbs here."

The elf’s face softened. "Do you have menthiral flowers?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "I’ll get them."

He grunted in approval.

She returned with the herbs, set them on the table, and moved to make a potion.

"That won’t be necessary," on of the elves attending the stricken one said, and took the herbs from her. They proceeded to make their own medicines, though they used the hot water and bandages she provided to bind the torso of the now unconscious elf. She backed away and sat by the window, occasionally glancing out at the falling rain. She saw another figure out this time, smaller, and darker. She got to her feet, the nearest elf catching her eye, and she indicated the window.

"Another of your party?" she asked tiredly. He looked to the rain and stiffened, hissing out a command to his fellows as he backed against the wall, away from the panes of glass. She was grabbed from behind and clutched to an elven chest, her face buried again warm, slightly damp fabric. She struggled but was held tightly, and told to hush. The cabin became silent with only the flickering fire making noise. One of the group hefted a bow and crept out of the door. Some time later he returned, blood on his hands. He said something in what she assumed to be elvish, and the hold her captor had relaxed. She stumbled out of his now indifferent grip.

"What was that?" she breathed. They ignored her. She cleared her throat. "What’s going on?" she asked a bit more loudly. A few narrowed their gaze on her, and muttered darkly. She gulped again.

The elves attending the one on the bed announced something. The spokesman’s mouth tightened into a thin white line, and he issued commanding tones to the group. He turned to her.

"We must spend the night," he told her. He looked at her as if he expected her to refuse. As it was, she was still at a loss for words. He took her silence as acceptance. He issued another string of words to the elves. They stirred from their positions and began setting up places to sleep. One stationed himself firmly at the window--- a scout, she supposed. The others settled down on their cloaks and sprawled their long bodies across floor and furniture.

She tried staying awake, but kept nodding off while leaning against the cabin wall. She curled up on the only unoccupied piece of furniture in the house, her fireside chair, but that didn’t work either. As she shook herself awake for the fourth time, a pale hand came up to grip her wrist and pull her gently to the floor. She nearly jumped in surprise, but the hand held on, not painful, but not letting go either. The elf insistently tugged, and she found herself sprawled next to him on someone’s cloak. She remained rigid, unsure of what to do, and what they were doing. She fidgeted on the hard floor. A dark irritated voice floated softly through the air from the other side of the room. The elf behind her murmured something in reply and a warm hand found its way to the nape of her neck. Long fingers rubbed the tense muscles deftly and she felt herself relax almost involuntarily. Soon her eyes closed and she slept, with house full of elves and the rain still falling outside.