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An Unpleasant Introduction



The house seemed solid enough, and the wood and plaster looked as if they were cemented together very firmly, but upon closer approach the boards were warped and sagged, and luminous green moss grew in the chinks where dark liquid oozed out. Parnard shuddered as a chill dampness settled around his throat. The place smelled like a rotting tomb. He wondered what evil designs awaited them inside the derelict house, if the outside was this bad, but he chastised himself saying, “None of these sorts of Men or their ghosts and spirits amount to anything.” As he looked from the decaying timbers to puzzle at the weathered oak door with its vicious wolf's head carving, Duzir grinned up at Danel. The Black-Dwarf seemed to have materialized from the curls of gloomy mists that rose up from the nearby swamp.

“What, pray, are you?” she said to him in surprise. “You are unlike any Dwarrow I have ever met before.”

Ignoring her, Duzir said to the group of men, “The Lady is expecting you all, naturally. Where is Captain Naraal?” he asked Balkumagan.

“Captain Naraal met us and guided us here, and has ridden on to report to the King. He will return, if it is His will.”

“And where is the rest of your crew?”

“Many died on the path. Several slew each other, isn’t that right, Jexson?”

“And the High Lord killed a few others,” Pharazagar interrupted before Jexson could say a word and embarrass his friend, and wishing to laud their success rather than admit their losses, said, “The Lady said to bring the elves unmarred, and so we have.”

Duzir regarded Jexson the Bree-lander from underneath thick wiry eyebrows. “You have a wild look about you: have you the rabies?” he said. 

“Rabies, are ye a fool? That scourge does not affect true Men! I thirst - that’s all.” Jexson wiped a palm across his face and licked his cracked lips. “I be wantin’ me reward right enough!”

“Then come inside. There's wine a-plenty for the conquering heroes. You might as well rest now - while you can. What is this!” cried the dwarf, grabbing the chain around Parnard’s neck and yanking it so that he pitched forward. Duzir swiped at the streak of dried blood on his forehead and sighed with relief. The elf was unharmed: it was not his blood, after all.

“You will get naught from him if you choke him senseless,” said Danel.

The dwarf threw his head back laughing. “Ho ho ho! We will take extra good care of him – never you fear, Niminy-Piminy,” and ignoring her glare, pushed Parnard away and threw open the door to the house.

“Shall we see the Lady?” Balkumagan asked him.

“Indeed! She is waiting for you at this very moment. Come into our parlour, esteemed guests. Won’t you have some tea and biscuits? Hurry up and get the elves inside, Thirsty,” he said to Jexson, then muttered something about useless drunkards under his breath when the big man was out of earshot. 

The elves were brought to a spacious room and made to sit on two high-backed velvet chairs. On a long table before them was tempting wine of every tint, some bronzy gold, some the color of rubies, and some pale yellow like the moon in the early evening sky. For the first time in his long life, Parnard realized that he did not desire any of it, and sat blinking in amazement while the dwarf bustled around serving large silver goblets. “Is it elegant enough for your tastes, my dears?” he asked the elves.

“Why do ye care what they think?” said Jexson.

Duzir turned to him with a broad smile on his face, and making a big show of conviviality said that he would pour out a cup full of the strongest spirits for him because wine is far too puny to slacken a brave man’s thirst. 

“Never mind yer addled brains ‘bout that,” Jexson replied, and reaching out a meaty hand mussed Danel’s hair.

“Stop that, uncouth brigand!” said Balkumagan.

Duzir took up a brown earthenware bottle and poured out a large glass of brandy for Jexson. “There you go! A big goblet for a big gobbler! Now, mind your manners and keep your hands to yourself, you naughty boy.” 

“Are we ter tell ye what happened, or is the Great Lady condescendin’ ter talk ter us,” Jexson said, taking up the glass. 

“Try not to miss me,” Duzir said in cryptic reply, and blew a kiss at Danel before scurrying out of the room and up the creaking stairs to Zairaphel’s bedroom. 

“The elves are here,” he told her, twirling his mustache, “as is a big oaf with a crazed look about him. ‘Tis true that most of the men are dead! King Azrazôr will not be pleased!” 

Zairaphel paused, then decided against putting away in its oblong box the venomous red cobra that clung stubbornly to her shoulder. “It is just as I told you, Duzir,” she said. 

“Yes, yes, of course, my Lady. I meant no disrespect. Your powers are so vast that they continue to astonish and overwhelm!”

The High Sorceress nodded, satisfied with Duzir’s apology. She knew it already, of course, as she knew what Khahaynd would say next:

“Is Naraal with them?” 

“No. He rode to our King to report their arrival,” said Duzir.

Khahaynd glanced sideways. Perhaps she had been too quick to inquire about her brother. “Ah - that is well. My thanks. He will not understand why the elves were brought here. Did you tell the men?” she asked.

“Tell them yourself! I have no time for chit-chat; I am too busy waiting hand-and-foot on imbeciles.” 

“Du–zir!” chided the High Sorceress. “You must show our guests all the courtesy that they deserve.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Duzir mumbled.

“My nephew will tell your brother to hurry back, and then we will divulge our plans to him,” said Zairaphel. She held up an ivory handled mirror to primp and pat her long golden-red hair, still crimped in waves from the plaits that Duzir had combed out. She and the elves would be long gone before Naraal’s return, and any report to Azrazôr would be delayed. It was unfortunate.

“I must speak with Naraal, I suppose,” said Khahaynd. 

Zairaphel lowered the mirror. “The other elves draw near to rescue their friends,” she whispered. “There is not much time. We shall look upon our prizes and allow a short respite before we depart for Umbar. Come!” Gathering her skirts around her, she glided to the stairs as silently as any snake.

“Welcome, welcome, to my humble house in the wilderness,” she said upon entering the room, and even managed a modest blush at Balkumagan. “Shipmaster Balkumagan, welcome!” Then she drifted over to Pharazagar and extended her hand. “I congratulate you, Swordsman,” she said with an arch smile as the young gallant approached her in his best manner, introduced himself, kissed her hand, and expressed his desire to preserve her and her family, and serve the King, not only in words, but in deeds, and this was only the beginning of his service. “There is no man quite like an Umbari,” she laughed softly, not displeased in the least at this bold annunciation, as he was a tall, good-looking man with a well-proportioned figure and unusual golden eyes as keen as an eagle’s. As part of her retinue, he would keep pace with the fashion of the day (she would see to that herself) and would become a fast favorite. “And here are my elves! How lovely!” 

“Lady Zairaphel, you could have just invited us?” said Danel. 

“But then you would have declined my company, would you have not?” she pouted, moving between the chairs to finger Danel’s silky red hair. Her own hair was just as silky, if not silkier, and she could turn her hair the same color if she wished in the blink of an eye. Captain Naraal liked red-headed women. Would it quicken his pulse to see her with hair as red? 

“Where did you take the halflings?” Danel asked. 

“Do not worry about the rats,” Zairaphel crooned, not liking how calm and unafraid the elves seemed to be. Danel’s thoughts were hidden from her, so she let her cobra scent the elf’s warm skin with its flickering tongue and bend its scaly coils close to her face. “The silly creature likes you,” she said, her gaze settling on Parnard. “But you seem worn and weather-stained. Do not fret! We shall take good, good care of our guests. See to the High Lord’s ablutions and raiment, Duzir: we cannot have him looking like a filthy barbarian, and he will have no need of this armour any more.” Then she reached out to caress Parnard’s cheek and stroke her fingers through his dark hair. The Wood-elf was mortified and dumbstruck at this unwanted attention: no Woman had touched him in such a familiar way before, and his spirit shuddered with revulsion. Help unlooked-for came when Jexson, who had been struggling to quaff the goblet of brandy, vomited on the table.

“You poor, poor man,” Zairaphel said, turning on Jexson, her dulcet-toned voice now shrill.

“I am sorry, Lady - “ groaned Jexson, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. The elven sea-longing ring on his pinky finger twinkled in the dim hall and Duzir’s eyes glistened with avarice. “I am never ill save when I lose a bet. Every time I be near water, or even look at water, I feel sick.” 

“You are feverish. Come with me and I shall guide you to a place of rest and prepare a remedy.” 

“Yer so kind, my Lady.” 

“Duzir, take the High Lord to his chamber. Khahaynd, we ladies must retreat from the eyes of these curious men: take Danel upstairs. Balkumagan, await my return,” for she did not like how Balkumagan stared at Danel, and her special plans for the elf-woman would not tolerate any chivalrous interruptions.

“Yes, Lady Zairaphel.” He reminded Parnard of the hopelessness of escape, and bid Pharazagar to guard him.

Down a narrow staircase Parnard was led. The air grew rank and clammy, and a painful anxiety rose in him as they descended into the cellar. Then he saw the source of it - a strange shadowy object standing in a corner. A vaguely-remembered unwanted feeling washed over him, one that he had not felt for many years, and his blood ran cold; his legs grew weak and began to tremble, and he pressed his hands to his eyes so that he might not see the fearful thing, feeling a childish impulse to stand perfectly still in the hope that it would not notice him there. 

“Come along, High Lord, we have no time for dawdling,” said Duzir, and thrust him through the doorway of an adjacent room. Pharazagar followed close behind the dwarf, and the door was shut fast.