Llewellyn’s Song

Samantha Winston

This story is a sequel to Elf Song, but can be read
independently

In the land of Hivernia, the whispers of war have grown
louder. At the request of his king and in order to save his people, Llewellyn,
a forest elf, goes to the far north seeking Frostbone, the ice-demon king. But
on the way he finds a wounded d'ark t'uath, one of the women warriors of the
hidden valley. Proud and untamed, these women have no use for men…but Tamara
finds herself falling in love with the tall, one-eyed elf who rescues her.

Tamara and Llewellyn have to learn acceptance of each
other's beliefs in order to join forces and warn Hivernia of impending war.

Llewellyn

Agony unlike anything he’d ever felt tore through his body.
Everything shook—his hands, his legs, and even his teeth chattered
uncontrollably. Darkness crushed him like a physical thing and he tried to push
it away, but it pressed down, harder and harder. Confusion followed the shock
and pain, and then little bits of memory trickled back. Visions flashed across
his mind, bringing with them more terror and pain.

Dragons with dull, iron-gray scales and rusty armor stalking
next to hordes of enemy soldiers. The Mouse King, a shape-shifter with a talent
for controlling dragons, riding the mightiest dragon, his scepter held aloft.
Prince Branagh, in a last, desperate try to stop him, knocking him off the
dragon and fighting him in vicious hand-to-hand combat. And he and his brother
facing the enraged dragon on their own.

They’d succeeded, killing it when all hope seemed to have
fled. But the beast had lashed out one last time, catching his brother across
the chest and belly with its razor-sharp claws. Elloran had died in his arms,
his pain first washing over Llewellyn then slowly ebbing into cold and
darkness.

“No!” An agonized scream echoed in his ears and Llewellyn
shot up in his bed, arms outstretched as if to ward off blows. His breathing
whistled in his throat as he fought to control his racing heart. Icy sweat
trickled down his back and chest. No dragons faced him, no screams assailed his
ears, only the silence of the night and his heart pounding in his ears. Slowly
he pulled the covers up over his shoulder with hands that still shook from the
nightmare.

He wanted to die, for surely death would take away the
anguish. He wanted to die, because each day he lived, each minute, every hour,
his brother’s last minutes came to him as a torture. He rubbed his forehead and
a sigh shuddered from him. Elloran had been his twin, and everything he’d felt,
Llewellyn had felt, from joy to love…to excruciating death. Sometimes he feared
to open his one good eye after the nightmare, sure to find his sheets drenched
with blood. His other eye was nothing but a memory, and an ache sometimes when
the weather turned. One battle had cost him an eye and his twin. Some days are
better not lived.

Llewellyn pushed the covers back and sat up. He wouldn’t be
getting any more sleep that night, and sweat had soaked his bed. Shivering a
bit, though not from cold, he got up and went to the window. Outside, starlight
glittered off a sprinkle of new snow. Winter settled its mantle upon the land.
In the darkness an owl hooted softly and hoofbeats sounded. He lifted his head
and peered into the night. Two riders, from the sound of it. His mouth
twitched. It must be Sebring and Merlin, come to tell him about their sister’s
wedding. And they would be wanting something hot to drink and a warm fire. He
pulled a tunic over his head and tossed a handful of tinder into the embers.

The horses and riders came out of the darkness, the horses
trotting with a light step, the riders wrapped in warm cloaks and nodding with
fatigue. They stopped in the pool of light spilling from his window, and
Llewellyn stepped outside to greet his friends. “Sebring, Merlin!” He took the
horses’ reins and nodded toward the house. “You know where the tea is, and the
water should be hot. Let me take your mounts.”

“Thanks.” Sebring yawned, then he threw his arm over his
brother’s shoulder and said, “Merlin, you owe me a gold piece, I told you
Llewellyn would be awake. See, we didn’t drag him out of bed.”

Merlin looked at Llewellyn and a shadow seemed to pass over
his eyes, but he grinned crookedly and said, “Sorry to arrive at such an
ungodly hour, but we have some news we thought you should hear.”

Llewellyn felt a prickle of disquiet. Merlin’s voice had
been matter of fact, but he’d caught an undercurrent of tension. But best not
to speak out of doors, one never knew whose ears could listen in. He tugged on
the horses’ reins and led them to the stables. He took off their saddles and
bridles, rubbing them down with handfuls of dry straw and then putting warm
blankets over them before tying them in their stalls.

As he worked, he thought about what might have brought
Merlin and Sebring here so soon after their sister’s wedding. No doubt the
festivities would be shortened, due to the king’s death not long ago. But the
wedding had been only three days ago, and it took two days to ride to Hivernia
from here. Frowning, he closed the stable door and dropped the latch.

Firelight danced on the walls. Merlin and Sebring had lit
the lamps so that his house glowed with light. Llewellyn winced. The light
showed him to be a deplorable housekeeper. A pile of dirty dishes in the sink,
clothes strewn about, cobwebs everywhere.

“Well, it looks like you haven’t found a maid yet.” Sebring’s
eyes twinkled as he poured a glass of hot mulled wine and handed it to
Llewellyn. “Here, have a drink. We found some wine in your pantry and warmed it
up. You didn’t think we’d be content with just tea, did you?”

Llewellyn grimaced. “So you got out my good wine and added
honey to it.” He took a sip. “Heat, honey, spices and dried orange peel. How to
ruin perfectly good wine. And as for a maid, I can’t think of any woman who
would agree to live in the middle of nowhere.”

“You should move nearer the village. We’re getting to be
quite well known there,” said Merlin with a wink.

Llewellyn raised his eyebrows. “In that case I imagine they’ll
be kicking you out any day. Don’t worry, you can always stay here, I haven’t
rented your rooms out yet.”

Merlin rubbed his hand over his eyes. Though tired, he still
had his cocky grin. “The years we spent here made us appreciate the hustle and
bustle of the city, eh, Sebring?”

“There is such a thing as too much quiet,” Sebring agreed.

“I took you in and what do I get?” Llewellyn looked at his
empty cup and poured himself some more wine. Had he already finished his glass?

“You’d like the village,” continued Merlin, eyeing the
pitcher of wine with interest. “They have running water in the houses, and you
can get fresh eggs and milk every day. There’s even a marketplace.”

“Sounds dreadful,” said Llewellyn, passing the pitcher to
Merlin. “Here, finish this. If I drink any more I’ll fall asleep.”

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Merlin yawned but poured
the last bit of wine into his glass. “You still have the nightmares, don’t you?”
His voice was suddenly careful, and Llewellyn felt a chill, like a cold breeze
at his back.

“Yes.”

“We all do.” Sebring rubbed his thumb along the top of his
glass, not meeting Llewellyn’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “So does Branagh.
He says he sees him in his dreams, all crooked-like.”

The chill deepened. “Branagh? Sees him?”

Sebring stared at his glass, his thumb resting on a tiny
chip in the rim. Then he looked up and said quietly, “No one ever saw his body.
Branagh fought until they both nearly died, and then you and Elloran killed the
dragon king.”

A pang as sharp as an ice sliver shot through him, but
Llewellyn kept his face still. “He drew most of his power from that dragon. As
soon as it died, a foul wind swept over the battlefield and the Mouse King’s
army turned and fled. We found the Mouse King’s armor—empty but so full of
blood we thought he’d surely perished…” His voice trailed off and he stared at
his hands. Scars striped them, scars from swordfights with demons. “We’ve had
so many years of peace.” He looked at the two brothers. “Has he come back then?”

“We don’t know.” Merlin drained his cup and set it down
gently. “We came to tell you what we’ve heard and what we’ve seen with our own
eyes. It started with the ice demon in the cave, the one that nearly killed
Prince Branagh. Then, barely a week after Branagh returned to Hivernia, his
father died as he rode through a narrow pass. An avalanche, yes, but still…it
happened in a place made for treachery. Why he passed that way we’ll never
know. His path lay to the west. Had he gone astray?” Merlin shook his head. “Branagh
became king sooner than he’d ever dreamed and Melle had to wait for her
wedding. A year of mourning with Hivernia decked in black.”

Llewellyn nodded. “All that I know. Tell me what you
discovered recently.”

“Rumors from the north,” said Sebring. He finished his glass
of wine and frowned at it. “Demons getting bolder, and then someone said they
spotted a dragon. More people spoke up, and it’s been hell trying to verify
everything. Branagh has run the legs off our horses ordering us around the
kingdom. ‘Go here, go there, check out that’, you’d think he’d been king all
his life.” Sebring gave a wry grin. “We’ve spied out the entire western
territory. There are more ice demons than usual, that we’ve ascertained. But
dragons, none.”

“What does Branagh want me to do?” Llewellyn picked up the
pitcher then remembered there was no more wine. “No, don’t say it. I already
know.”

“You once spoke to Frostbone, years ago. It shouldn’t be
impossible to see him again.” Merlin’s voice had gone soft. A breeze would have
been louder.

Llewellyn felt the chill again, and this time it settled in
his belly. Frostbone, demon king, leader of the ice demons. Not that demons
lived by any rules he understood. But they were bound to a king, and years ago
they had been slaves to another king, the Mouse King. Branagh had put an end to
that and so had he, and not in a small way.

The hole where his eye had been ached and he rubbed the
patch he wore over it. Winter came. He would have to set out immediately if he
wanted to breach the high pass before the heavy snows fell.

“All right. I’ll go north.”

“We’re going with you.” Sebring yawned and cupped his chin
in his hands. “After we get a good night’s sleep, that is. Have you any clean
sheets in this place?”

Merlin sighed. “Now you’re asking too much, Sebring. Come
on, let’s go. I can’t stay awake a second longer. Goodnight, Llewellyn, we’ll
see you tomorrow.”

Llewellyn watched them go, remembering two smaller, younger
boys heading up the same stairs together. After the battle, and after they’d
lost everything, as he had, he’d taken them in and raised them. Not that they’d
needed much raising, being almost grown. He’d taken them in because their sister
had been his brother’s wife.

He blinked at the fire. How time flew by. It seemed only a
week ago he and his brother had whistled at a pretty girl, and she’d turned…and
smiled at his brother. Melle. He’d forgotten to ask about her wedding. He shook
his head. He’d seen her first wedding—to his brother. He’d gotten drunk that
night, but only to give his brother some semblance of privacy…for their minds
and bodies had been linked in a way that enabled them to share things that
perhaps they shouldn’t have shared, but they couldn’t help it.

Elloran had never minded, and Melle had never known, but she’d
sensed something, sensed his passion for her, a passion born of Elloran’s
passion. And so, when Elloran died, she’d fled. To get away from him and to
give him a chance to heal. She’d left behind her brothers, Sebring and Merlin.
On purpose? Perhaps. At any rate, the boys had helped him more than he’d been
able to help them.

A wry smile tugged at his mouth. Melle. Just the thought of
her and his body tensed, his cock swelled and his heart…well, it had been
broken into so many pieces there wasn’t anything left of it, but somehow it
managed to go on beating and go on hurting. He pushed his hand against the hard
ridge of his cock and sighed. There would be no sleep for him. Dawn colored the
sky gray and the dishes needed doing. If he left the cottage this way he’d come
home to an army of mice. A violent shiver ran down his spine and he swallowed
hard. Something was not right in the world and he could feel it, had felt it
for a long time, but had been too caught up in his own pain to see it for what
it was.

The Mouse King had returned.

* * * * *

Llewellyn packed his bag in silence and stole out of the
cottage. He turned and looked at the peaceful clearing where his cottage and
the stables nestled, then he set off toward the north. A forest elf, his feet
left no trail and he knew that Sebring and Merlin would not be able to track
him. They wouldn’t even try. He’d left a note on the table—

I’ll go faster by myself, and Frostbone won’t tolerate
any strangers in his lands. You two will just slow me down and would be in much
danger. Go back to Hivernia and tell Branagh I’ll see him before winter sets
in. If I hurry I’ll make it over the pass and back before it’s blocked.

Llewellyn

PS—clean the cottage for me, will you? You know where the
dishes go.