Winter was near. The sun set early. A cold wind blew from the northern mountains. The trees were bare. All around was dreary. Some of the Kabadri had travelled in this region, and knew that there was a high dale among the hills, sheltered from the worst of the weather. That valley was called Líath Uludhyanedh, the Forgotten Places; for in all the wars of the Doitherúna, it had been spared from destruction and violation. Only the Entellári sojourned there when they passed by.
It was almost the middle of the night when the weary Kabadri climbed up into that valley. They had few lights but they made shift to set up a camp which they could call their home until they found a stronghold. Despite all their sorrow, a kind of peace filled their hearts as they settled to sleep as best they might among their gear and their beasts: it was some virtue of the valley itself.
Just at that hour all the Kabadri in the encampment heard a sound of voices. Or rather, a soft music and fair words entered their minds. It came as a song of hope and joy within. Grey figures were seen approaching along the narrow path into the dale, but they were not outwardly singing. The Kabadri felt no fear, but sat and wondered at the folk that came into view. They seemed all to be female, and they were carrying glimmering lanterns, and their faces by the light of these were wondrous fair, their hair as golden as the lamps of the Kabadri. As soon as they were close enough, the leading one spoke.
Grekkonanaskhon, hail, great-hearted; hail Kabadka exiles.
Entellári greet you; give you peace and comfort.
Silsawistë I am named; seven sisters with me.
We, the folk of Tithiánë, Lady of the Entellári
Welcome you within this valley, ever guarded by our mind
Through good fortune coming, restoration here to find.
At these words most of the Kabadri were overcome with awe, and many went down on their knees. And Grekkonanaskhon said:
‘O honoured lady of the Entellári, we poor Kabadri greet you, and appeal to you in our time of need! Is there some place in the mountains where we can make a new home for ourselves, tend our animals and crops, and bury our brother Hannartikhoth? Then we will leave your valley again, for now we understand that it is hallowed for your habitation alone!’
And the Lady Silsawiste replied:
Three things we can do for you, and in four ways we can help you.
When Kabadka folk are rested, at the sunrise we can show you
Places such as Kabdath favour for themselves and for their cattle.
Hannartikhoth is not fated yet to lie in lonely tomb:
Entellári have some skill at healing even death-cold’s blows.
Counsel too we’ll give to guard you from the grasp of deadly foes.
Grekkonanaskon said:
‘Twice we have begged for shelter, first with our kinsmen of Kalípo Kalhondrim, and then with the Hyúvandri that call themselves ‘men’, dwelling at the village Uxul a day’s journey hence. Both of these clans refused us because we bear not the Yoke of Negobith. And our kinsmen at Kalípo have indeed accepted this Yoke. But surely the name of Negobith is evil?’
On hearing this the eight Entelláka maidens spoke urgently to one another for a while. Then Silsawiste said:
Friends, this news you bring us is not greatly to our liking.
That hawk-headed ones should be out and roaming,
And the Yoke of Negobith, or Oigenas the Cursed
Now is placed upon your folk, and will be on Hyûvandri.
Oigenas the cursèd one has indeed arisen!
Entellári straight away now must start their labours
Four of these my sisters shall at first light go to Ingos
Warn him of the danger that is threatening his people
And, in passing, try to turn the hearts of the Hyûvandri.
But now, put care away, and let your hearts take comfort.
We shall bring Hannartikhoth back unto his folk again!
Then she beckoned, with a wide gesture showing that all the Kabadri should follow, and they arose wondering and followed the Entellári, the eight tall, graceful people of Tithiánë, who turned towards the dark inner parts of the Forgotten Place.
Further up that valley there was a grove. The Kabadri passed among the trees, which were scarcely visible as more than a dark mass, but as they drew near it could be seen that though leafless, they were straight and well-shaped. The Kabadri followed the lamps of the Entelláka maidens into the heart of the grove, where the valley’s wall rose steep and rocky before them. Here they could hear the sound of a spring flowing from the rocks; the rushing water momentarily glistened as the lamps drew near. The Lady Silsawiste turned to one of her companions and said:
Mánagil-ta Hyúvas dúanifî Mirutháli-e fiyussniké!
(I pray thee, Mirutháli, give me the Heartwood of Life.)
Then her companion, Mirutháli, drew something from a case that she bore by her side. In the light of the lanterns it seemed to the Kabádri that she held a metal bowl that shone dimly. But what was in it they could not see in the darkness and at a distance. Some dark substance it seemed.
Then Silsawiste went to the spring and held the golden bowl under the flowing water till it was filled, and the things within were soaked and floating. She watched them for a while, then took them out and gave them back to Mirutháli, who received them in a cloth and wrapped them up securely. Silsawiste turned back to Grekkonanaskhon and said:
Friend, let some Kabadri go — with my sisters’ lamps to light them
Let them gently bring to us your deathcold stricken chieftain
In this water we have steeped a portion of the heartwood
Of a tree the like of which grows not in the Midworld.
Its name is Mánagil ta-Hyúvas in the healing lore of old
For it has a virtue that can banish the deathcold.
Soon four Kabadri returned, flanked by four of the Entellári with lamps, bearing on a stretcher the body of Hannartikhoth the chieftain of Kabadkabâ, and they set him down gently at the feet of Silsawiste.
Placing the golden bowl upon the ground, she held her hands over it and spoke some quiet words in an unknown tongue. Then she gave the bowl to Grekkonanaskhon, and said:
With this water lave the body of your stricken Hannartikhoth.
So Grekkonnaskhon poured water from the bowl along the whole length of Hannartikhoth’s body, which shone deathly white in the light of the lamps. As they watched, it gradually took on the natural light and shade of living flesh. When Grekkonanaskhon had finished he gave back the bowl to Silsawiste. Then Hannartikhoth suddenly sat up and stretched himself. He opened his eyes and cried out in a voice of terror:
‘No, never, not the Master of Ombros, no!’
And then, seeing the company surrounding him in the soft light of the lamps of the Entellári, he became calm; and he caught sight of Grekkonanaskhon and called to him, questioning where they were and what had taken place. And Silsawiste counselled Grekkonanaskhon, saying,
Take your brother and bestow him gently in a place of comfort
Mind you stay and speak with softness; calm away his fearfulness
In the morning he shall rise up strong in mind and body.
All meanwhile must turn to sleeping; counsel waits for light of day.
At that, all the Kabadri returned to their encampment, rejoicing and marvelling at the restoration of Hannartikhoth, and settled once more to sleep. But the Entellári seated themselves by the spring and kept watch together through the night. Once more the soundless song was heard. At dawn, Mirutháli and three companions rose up, and, bowing to the other Entellári, set off back the way they had come, to warn the Lord Ingos urgently of the return of Negobith.
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