“The tale of Auraewn’s love for Rydel the Hunter, is one that has been recounted down through the generations of our people. It was said that he wore the Wolf-Mask also. Descendant of Agnadeas, he was blamed as much for the sins of his distant forefather as his father had been.

  His father had been so loathed; he had been hunted as a beast by the tribes of Mt-Cyndaerea. It was Rydel’s desire to avenge his father, after he had buried him upon the isle of Bryle, to the east of here. What the Wolf-Masker could not have foreseen though, was that as he approached, alone from the south with vengeance in his heart the daughter of the Elf who had slain his sire, was alone also.

  She had taken to the southern side of the mountain, and had taken to dance and song, wherefore the eagles, hawks, falcons and ravens had all descended. Called hither to encircle and dance about her, so enchanted were they by her song.

  Beautiful beyond comparison, amongst the tribes of our people, as magnificent as the Lunar-Haired maid who had split us asunder, save she was suns-blessed.

  For she wore in her mane, a colour never before seen amongst the Sagndar, one that they had never ere that time known any other than the Elves could have worn in her hair; red. So crimson were her locks that it was said that the heavens shone when she awoke and danced about were set ablaze, with the light of a third sun. This was why she was dubbed the ‘suns-blessed’. The cause for this was that her father had begat her upon the goddess of one of the suns, Sól.

  Having never before seen such beauty, Rydel fell at once in love with her, and revealed himself to her, raising his mask and lowering his spear as he did so. As taken by him, as he was her. Save where he had not recognised her, she certainly knew him at once from when his father had been slain. Auraewn fled. Giving chase, Rydel trailed her for a whole day and night, until at last she halted, to attempt to dissuade him from following her.

  He simply called out though, Sólteirva ‘sun-blessed’. This melted her heart and she at once sang her love to him.” Recounted Aragwyn to the travelers as they were rowed along the Auraewn-River, having taken to telling them the tale of how the river gained its name.

  Divided into six small-row boats, the lead one carried Lyr and Connor, along with Bardulf, all three of whom rowed with all their might. The next boat was that of the Wilder-Elves and Aragwyn, and then followed that of Andvari, éothérod, Daegan and Fergus. The last boat had three of the hunters of the Moutnain-Elves, along with Ronald.

  Rowing with as much strength as his father did just behind her, Glarald encouraged the princess of the tribe from Mt-Cyndaerea, “Do go on, after they met what became of them?”

  Aragwyn smiled, pleased at his interest, “It became that her father, Kildor chieftain of the Mt-Cyndaerea tribe was to become outraged when Rydel was presented before him. Refusing to acknowledge him as a possible good-son, yet unable to slay him as tradition dictated that all potential bride-grooms were to not be harmed.

  He could however place before him conditions, ere he could wed Auraewn. The first challenge given was for the Hunter to hunt down an Erde-Wyrm, this he did by venturing far, far north into the lands that most now call Tuathmurdún. Thereupon the Dread-Fields, he attacked it with his father’s spear, passed down through the generations of his family, going back to the age of King Silthan. The wyrm struck back with its fiery breath and claws, though this was a futile gesture.

  In the end, he slew it and returned to Mt-Cyndaerea wherefore Rydel presented to Kildor the heart of the beast. The next beast he was tasked to hunt was a Stymphalian-Bird, on Mt-Cyril, this he did and returned with the beak of the beast. After this he was sent out to hunt a Sea-Drake which he struggled with.

  The wood of his spear snapped against this beast, and he was near devoured. It was at that moment that Auraewn revealed herself, joining him in the slaying of the beast with her arrows until she threw him a dagger, with which he cut through the drake’s gum so as to seize one of its fangs. It was this tooth that he used to slay the Sea-Drake, cutting it from crown to knave.

  Presenting the rest of the fangs before her father, he was then sent upon another quest. By this time thoroughly angered at the successes that Rydel had had in his previous hunts. Kildor decided to set before him an even greater hunt; this one was to include the hunting of a Unicorn.

  Revered amongst the children of the Mountains, as the most holy of beasts to slay one was sacrilege, and the demand for it was heresy. Still though, the people of Kildor supported this challenge, if only by virtue of their disdain for Rydel.

  Realizing he was trapped, and that he had to bring its horn to his would be good-father as proof of his deed, he departed as one resigned to his death might have. Auraewn came to him then, to beg that they elope yet this would have been dishonourable, and he knew it would only cause her more pain than was necessary, therefore he refused at once.

  ‘Have faith dear lady, I shall return with the horn’ he assured her, ere his departure for the distant woods that lay to the distant west. The woods of Glasradh was where the largest of Antillia’s Unicorns, it was there that he hoped to find his prey. There where the tower of Iaranntùr was later to be built by the Dwarves, shortly after they made common-cause with the Centaurs centuries after this tale.

  It was in the forest that he cornered and trapped the Unicorn, with its gleaming silver mane and fur. Its horn was nigh on a meter long, glorious so that it could well have cut through the armour of the finest of Gallian knights.

  Staring into the eyes of the Unicorn, Rydel was to lose his will to slay the creature. It was a terrible sin to commit such a thing, and this he knew for Unicorns are the most beauteous of creatures.” By this time Aragwyn took a breath, only to decide that now was a good time to take a long gulp from her tankard.

  “They are indeed the most beautiful of creatures,” Glarald agreed at once, eyes shining with earnestness, smiling he asked uncertainly. “He did not slay it did he?”

  “Nay, though the Unicorn urged him to do so,” Aragwyn admitted if against her will, adding hurriedly, “It knew that it’s time had come and that it was time for it to perish. Attuned to the destiny of the world, and as she had long since lost her mate she had no wish to live herself. It fell upon his great friend, Amlrynn the Wanderer, to slay the Unicorn.

  As in love with the lovely Aurawen as Rydel was, it was Amlrynn who sacrificed his good-fortune for him, for he wished more than all else for his brother to be happy. It was however Amlrynn, who agreed to be cast out from the lands of the Misty-Isle and to depart for the east. Taking with him the curse that befalls all those who slay a Unicorn.”

  “What a horrid man, to have done so,” Lauma uttered in disgust, her voice brimming with utter revulsion at the mention of the figure of Amlrynn.

  “Lauma!” Glarald hissed disgusted by her impoliteness towards their guide who shrugged her shoulders in response.

  “Bah, as though you are much more civilised, Amlrynn was the greatest of the Sagndar at the time. It was he and he alone who had chosen exile alongside Rydel’s father years prior to the father’s death, and he alone who in the whole of our history chose damnation over life. All for friendship, it was Amlrynn who was exiled to the distant east. I think he was quite noble, and only wish I had half the courage he had.” Aragwyn uttered sincerely.

  “Same,” Daegan agreed at once, earning for herself a great smile from the sister of éothérod, Andvari and the Mountain-Elves themselves. “To do something so noble, ought to be honoured and admired!”

  “Indeed,” éothérod said though with a hesitant glance over his shoulder, “It is the sort of deed that comes naturally to both our people, unlike those of the forests or from within the mountains.”

  This remark sparked anger in the heart and eyes of Andvari, the half-mad Dwarf who was never far from a loss of temper, snapped at him, “Watch your mouth Kelf!”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “Watch your own, for the next time you throw such a slur about; I shall be sure that it is the last word you utter.” éothérod menaced with a scowl on his face, the image of the genial host he had presented shortly after their initial arrival vanished from the world, as from his face.

  “Quiet the both of you, Aragwyn is continuing on with the tale,” Daegan hissed at them, always keen for tales of love and of Elves. Both made her think of Cormac, but also of her father and mother.

  The two men continued to glower at each other, with equal enmity as Aragwyn continued with her tale though not without a stern look in her brother’s direction. “Amlrynn was to stay only long enough to help convince the father of Aurawen of the rectitude and justice of the union with Rydel. Convinced at last, he gave his blessings to the union, which took place shortly after the spring solstice.

  It was then that the two were bound to one another, and together they remained for many a long years. The many tribes of the Sagndar were brought together, by the virtue of such a love and by the desire on the part of Rydel for there to be forgiveness and love between all of them. This was how most of the tribes came to live together, in harmony and friendship with one another, none of them to forget the sacrifice of Amlrynn.

  The peace was not to last as it was not solely Amlrynn who had held a fierce, unrequited love for the beautiful suns-blessed maiden of Mt-Cyndaerea. The shaman of the village near the slopes of the mountain, filled with envy was to pray to dark spirits, many of whom entered him and misshaped him into a terrible beast. Some said he became a large wolf, others a great crimson bull with three horns upon his brow, regardless he slew dozens of our people.

  In their misery, the people turned now to Rydel’s good-father for protection, wherefore the Elf-chief swore to venture forth to save them from the monster that hunted them. He was however aged by this time, and would surely have perished, for this reason Rydel ventured forth without him. It was Rydel along with several of the other hunters who sought to trap the beast, without success, only for it to rear upon its back-hooves.

  Horns up it tore a great gash in what it thought to be Rydel, but truth was that Aurawen had thrown herself in the way of those horns for fear for her husband. In an act of great rage, Rydel threw himself upon the bull and slew him just as it slew him in turn. Outliving him by mere hours, Rydel’s wife was however healed of her wounds by her father, only to throw herself into the river, leaving the upbringing of her sons and daughters to her father.

  In time, the sons of Rydel were to discover that the bull had revived and fled north. They would hunt it, and cast the body into the sea in the north of the island. Whereupon from that corpse it was said, the lands of Tuathmurdún soon sprung.”

  “How terrible, so their noble deed yielded such misery,” Calandra gasped her sensibilities as offended as those of Kyrenas and her sister.

  “That is not how I heard, the land of Tuathmurdún came to be,” Andvari retorted adding for good measure, “And as my people have a far, far longer memory than thy own I think it more likely to be true.” Ignoring the glowers that came from all the Elves, along with the Wolfram, he added rather bluntly. “It is our view that the land was created by a fallen Elf of your ilk, though not his corpse. Our people passed down the tale that, out of jealousy for his brother rising to the post of chieftain, he left north to forge an alliance with the Colubar. Wherefore, he summoned up from the sea with the aid of the dark-god Lokrinn the dark lands of Tuathmurdún.”

  “What a ridiculous tale,” Lauma declared sharply.

  “Both tales, strike me as rather similar in nature,” Bardulf judged wisely, taking a moment to row for some time, ere he continued with his thoughts. “I do wonder do these tales predate the arrival of the armies of Darkness, during the Second Wars of Darkness.”

  None of those around him answered, most if not all were of a mind that only their tale was true. So that those without a tale to tell, of how Tuathmurdún were to attempt to distract from the disagreement. It was to fall upon Daegan to seek to distract them from the disagreement regarding the far-north of the isle.

  “What of Amlrynn, what became of him? Surely the curse did not dog him across the sea?” Daegan inquired of the Mountain-Elf maid who studied her at length, the grimace on her face remained on her face as she answered.

  “Aye it did, and in time came to lead to his death,” Aragwyn informed her, adding rather melancholically, “It is said that the curse may also have dogged his descendants down through the generations.”

  “How so?” Calandra asked now, wishing to remain optimistic.

  “Because, his was the line of the royal dynasty of the Shindstélálfar or so goes our tales, I have also heard that his wife was of the line of Aub?lion.” Aragwyn admitted with a shrug of her shoulder, “Or so Mythandralius once told our father. There is a song, if you should wish to hear it Daegan I could translate it for you.”

  “Oh please do!” Glarald said eagerly, reacting before she could, with far more excitement than she might well have shown.

  Kyrenas scowled at his son, who did not notice.

  Amused, and giggling to herself, Daegan was to scowl shortly thereafter at those she shared a boat with, as they gazed disapproving upon her. Quite why, was not a mystery, for where she thought it romantic that Glarald should react so. éothérod and his hunters were hardly keen to see the son of Kyrenas behave in such a manner.

  Blue below them was matched by that far above their heads. The sea reflected the great wonder of the cloudless heavens, which for the first time since their arrival upon the Misty-Isle appeared bright as can be. Or so it appeared to their minds, as they felt their hopes renewed if briefly so, for the future. Suddenly their quest did not seem so much a burden.

  There was to either side were the vast green fields, the left-hand side showed those of the Unhallowed Plains that had terrified them mere days ago. To the right of them, lay those great fields that the people of the island knew by the name of Hylonome. They were the fields that according to Andvari had once been the free-fields upon which the Centaurs, those first inhabitants of Antillia had trod.

  The fields were vast, without trees and with only the odd mounds here and there that had by this time become as entrenched into the land as the roots of trees tended to. Those mounds were as Daegan guessed at once, great burial places for the ancient kings and chieftains of the Centaurs. Only the greatest of their line of kings had been buried there, with the sight of them once a source of great pride for the half-horse tribes, only for them now to have become a painful vision for them.

  How could they not be, when they were a continuous reminder of how far from kingship over their island they had fallen? They had fallen, from being the sole people to rule over the fields and fields, to now being cast aside and pushed farther and farther westwards.

  It was with the mounds to the north and the plains of the dead to the south, and the bright mood of those half-ignorant of what lies all around themselves that, those upon the boats enjoyed the song of Amlrynn. Sung by one of the fairest Elf-maids to have ever walked upon the land of the Misty-Island!

  “Amlrynn was the finest of hunters,

  Of friends he was the noblest,

  Of warriors the fiercest,

  And of goodness he was the hardiest,

  Amlrynn who did love the maid most fair,

  And who fired arrows sharp as blades,

  Accepted his friend’s fate though it be unfair,

  To the east he did leave for, leaving many maids,

  To weep for his fate,

  Where he dwelleth none know yet for him all hope.”

  When the song was concluded they all offered up words of praise, not only for her high-lilting voice but for the beauty of the hymn. Even Andvari was moved to tears by her voice, and the words that had flowed so magnificently from her lips, as the river does from the sea.

  If only she could have maintained such beauty, without giving way in the next moment to haughty arrogance, so common among her people, “You see? Ours is the most beautiful of all tribes, and peoples, can your own people possibly sing such beauty?”

  The last person that any of them expected to hear object was Glarald. His fervour for the daughter of Selvan though dimmed at that moment, as he scolded her, “Simply because we have yet to sing of our homeland, does not make it any less than your own.”

  “Well-spoken my son,” Kyrenas said approvingly with a glower towards the maiden who flushed a bright-red colour, similar to the hair of her ancestress.

  “My sister I think spoke correctly,” her brother piped up with the same immaturity of spirit. “You may think us ignorant, but you do not see the daughters of our chieftain, fleeing from him. As the two of you did, towards your mother.” This last part he uttered in the direction of the daughters of Arduinna.

  Both of them became red-faced, just as their cousins did.

  But their anger was naught compared to Connor, who leapt up to his feet bellowing in the loudest roar that any of those present had ever heard, in all their lives. “You knave, were you nearer to me I would have you flogged and beaten! You shall not speak of the good lady Arduinna, in such a manner again, in my presence!”

  The children of Selvan stared; neither could have predicted that the Bairaz would react with such fury. Though he was pulled back down by Lyr, he would not pick back up his oars to get back to rowing, until they had properly apologised.

  They grumbled, it was not until Aragwyn caught sight of just how her words had displeased Glarald that she softened a little, enough to mumble an apology. In response, this was rejected until she at last uttered it loudly enough for the Bairaz to hear her. As to her brother, it took nigh on an hour ere he gave in, daunted though he would not admit it by the glare of the pig-man.

  “Good, remember this in the future; ladies such as Arduinna ought to be honoured and respected,” Connor growled sharply with such venom that even Bardulf stared in wonder at him.

  “Do you treat all ladies so?” This time it was Calandra who spake, addressing the Bairaz with a curious if pleased look.

  “I honour only those worthy of it; such as my ma’, the lady Rional adoptive sister of my king and his wife the Queen Muirgel,” Said Connor continuing to stare sternly at the daughter of Selvan the Sagndar.