Part 17
Midsummer Eve 347 SR

Smaed meets Thalandor

Smaed woke to an early dawn on Midsummers Eve. At these high latitudes in midsummer, dawn came early. Indeed, for two or three short weeks it never became fully dark, for although the sun dipped below the horizon for a few hours each night it never dipped far enough for its light to entirely disappear from the northern skies.

He broke camp and and as had been his wont for the last few days of waiting he went into the tavern to break his fast. Riva had heard some news, that in the small hours Thalandor had returned to Silverleaf. It began to look as though the meeting Smaed had waited for was now at hand. He spent most of that day waiting and keeping a look out, but the late afternoon shadows were growing longer when he went for yet another look around. He waited a while then saw a tall elf approaching from the other side of the brook. He was bareheaded and dressed in green and brown, and wearing a travel-stained cloak. He carried a bow and on his back, sticking up over his left shoulder could be seen a quiver of arrows. Smaed went forward to hail him, and their paths met outside Aegnor’s house.

He had thought much over how best to address the elf and had decided the direct approach was best.

“Greetings, sir, my name is Smaed Fretting, I seek an elven ranger called Talis.”

At this the elf’s eyes widen with surprise and perhaps something else that Smaed couldn’t interpret. He plunged on:

“He escorted my aunt Agnes Fretting, together with me and my cousin Jern, to Trinsic when I was but 8 years old. Sir, the thing is that I think, or believe, that the elf Talis may be my father.”

Thalandor paused, clearly taken aback. First looking uncertain then deep in thought, it seemed to Smaed like an age before he finally spoke, appearing to choose his words carefully. There is no need here to repeat the conversation in its full detail, ‘twas long and somewhat tortuous, as if Thalandor was wracked by guilt. But as Thalandor’s account slowly emerged it became clear to Smaed that he had visited Leafsta and met Agnes. Thalandor recounted that summer day, that Agnes was lithe and full of joy, enjoying the forests and life itself and that the had talked much.

Smaed looked intensely, listening with full attention. At this point Thalandor shifted uneasily from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable and uncertain as to what he should say or how to say it. Thalandor continued: “Well, erm....it was nearly midsummer...the night was warm and comforting. I gave her the name I use when doing business with humans....they knew me then as Talis the Ranger.”

Smaed knew he had found his father.

But now Smaed, with some embarrassment, told how he knew of the name Talis by reading in his aunt’s private diary. Smaed looked as if he would say something but stopped and nodded. He had noticed that Thalandor’s demeanour seemed to change. He appeared to have made some sort of decision. Drawing breath, Thalandor dew himelf up straight, his eyes cleared and he continued in a firmer voice. He recounted how it was midsummer with its strange powers, while he being an elf and she a human would make everything complicated.

Smaed looked sad and sighed. He thought back to his days in the Yew Militia - the same old story of human intolerance. He smiled crookedly, and nodded in understanding.

Here is not the place to repeat the long conversation that ensued. Suffice it to relate that Smaed had at last found his father, and that Thalandor recognised Smaed as his son. They parted with an embrace of filial affection.