The Last Satyr: The Company is Formed Part 1
The Elders

They came to a circular park, or theater, having a round, white marble floor ingrained with specs of black granite. The outer circle was formed by a short, flat stone wall meant for the audience to sit on, while one side had two tiers of raised marble steps on which rested three marble chairs. Three elves sat upon the chairs, two men and a woman, the woman in the middle. Around the low wall sat many elves, obviously waiting for their arrival. Halmuth brought them all to the center of the circle, facing the three who stood up before Graybeard.

“Greetings to our keeper,” they said, bowing in respect.

“And greetings to you in return,” said he, bidding them to take their seats. “These are my friends. The boys are Marroh the dwarf, young Joe the human, Ronthiel the west elf, and the satyr is known simply as the boy. This man,” he said, “is Amien, of the distant west.”

“I have never been to the distant west,” said the elf woman. “Are there many elves there?”

“None that I know of,” Amien replied with a bow of respect. “But they may be there. Their tree houses are invisible to me and their green camouflage hides them too well. I only met my first elves after having taken a vow of service to them.”

“How can a human serve an elf except by leaving?” asked the male elf on the left.

“I did leave for here and I serve with my sword.”

“We have no enemies,” the first male told him.

“Then why do you place guards upon your wood?” asked Amien back.

“Graybeard commands it,” answered the woman, her eyes meeting Graybeard’s, “And we have obeyed.”

“You are wise to obey,” said Amien. “A black cloud rises from the south.”

“So we are constantly told,” said the male elf on the right, glancing at Graybeard as the obvious source.

“And, evidently, told rightly,” the woman said back to him. “For the south pass is blocked.”

“It is blocked by weather and nothing more,” said the other.

“A weather that never leaves!”

“We battled goblins and dire wolves to get here,” said Amien.

“Your offer of the service of your sword is appreciated if ever needed,” said the one on the left.

Amien bowed and stepped back, his business finished.

“May we release the boys to see your city?” asked Graybeard now. “For their business is not your business and your business is not their business.”

The three nodded.

“You may go and enjoy yourselves,” Graybeard told the lads. “Halmuth here shall be your guide.”

The boys eagerly jumped to explore the wonders of the city.

“All except you,” Graybeard said to the boy. “You shall stay here.”

Oh! Darn!

The boy would have preferred to leave, not only to join in the others’ fun but to avoid being around serious adults who were always the opposite of fun.

“Come forward, goat boy,” commanded the male elf on the left. “We understand you are captain to our keeper. Is that true?”

The boy nodded reluctantly, squirming uncomfortably before so many eyes. It reminded him of being asked a question by his teachers at school.

“And what is it you command him to do?”

“To get horses,” said the boy.

The elves gave no response to that except to question him further.

“I understand you number seven?” asked the one on the right. “I only count six.”

“The seventh died in the mines of the Mithril Mountains,” stated the boy.

The elves shifted uncomfortably now too at just the mere mention of a mine. They asked no more about the mine.

“Who was it that died?”

“Belam, a man of the south,” replied the boy, “killed by goblins.”

“Why did a man of the south want to come here?”

“He was a sworn member of my company,” the boy said, carefully avoiding the word “gang”.

“And where will you take our keeper after you get your horses?”

“Back to the west by the south side of the snow-covered pass,” he said.

There was a long, pregnant pause. They were now through questioning the boy. Their eyes all went back to Graybeard to hear this.

“We will not help you,” said the elf on the left. “We will not go underground.”

“What he means is that we are all cowards,” added the woman in the middle.

“We are not cowards simply because we fear the dark!” he countered.

The woman turned her head to the one who had spoken. “If we fear the dark, then we are cowards,” she retorted.

“Enough!” said Graybeard. “I know full well why you will not help me. It is why I recruited these others.”

“We would rather you did not go,” the one on the right said. “We fear for your safety.”

“I am already dying,” said Graybeard, “as are you. Cannot any of you tell?”

There was another quiet hush.

“We still will not go underground,” said the one on the left, finally breaking it.

“Again, I do not ask you to,” answered Graybeard. “But I shall accept safe passage to the east plus whatever other aid you can give me and my company.”

“We cannot guarantee you safe passage to the east. The men of the Rim are not our friends, for humans are forbidden here. We do not wish them to come here. What they see, they want. What they want, they take. What they take, they destroy.”

Amien took no insult.

The lady’s eye rested on Graybeard. “Halmuth tells us you said another follows you—one that will slip by our watch. Word arrived today of just such a thing,” she said. “The tracks of a strange creature have been found behind you and heading this way. Nothing like it has ever been seen here before and it produces such fear in our men that none of them will dare even track it—for they say it comes from the Abyss of Lolth and even that it is Lolth herself. It moves fast, yet it is not heard. It is big and yet it not seen. It follows after you as if with a terrible hunger. Whatever it is, we do not wish to know. And, whatever it is, we cannot protect you from it. “

The mysterious creature’s presence, shrouded in mystery, was like a shadow cast by an unseen moon, its absence of form a puzzle waiting to be solved. They waited on Graybeard's explanation of it.

Yet it was Amien who spoke up first. “Am I to understand that you twice fail your own keeper, denying him his wishes?” he boldly demanded.

“We do not deny it. It is simply beyond our power to grant,” said the woman.

“My lady,” Graybeard assured the woman. “I ask for nothing but a simple thing. Some mead for my stay and the safest passage east you can provide. That is all I ask.”

The man beside her answered for her. “We shall do our best.”

“Thank you,” said Graybeard graciously. “As for that thing that follows us, do not interfere with it.”

The elves all looked on with expressions of surprise to hear him say this. A restless murmur passed amongst them.

"My friends," warned Graybeard, seeing their response. "What lurks in the shadows behind us is no mere creature. It’s a force from the darkest abyss, a presence that strikes terror into the hearts of even the bravest. This is not a time for boldness or curiosity. It’s a time for caution. Get out of its way! Do not underestimate the peril that trails us; it’s something you cannot comprehend—a manifestation of the dark arts. Even I, with my many years in these realms, cannot fully comprehend its nature. My advice to you, wise elves, is to let it pass."

That hardly eased the elves concern. Graybeard's warning was met with doubt and nervously exchanged gazes. Yet none received it with the alarm of the boy whose eyes widened and his mouth fell open. What?! His eyes turned to the elf's keeper. Leave it alone? Again?!

“It is beyond your abilities to stop it," Graybeard continued. "And you would not like it if you ever met it, accidentally or otherwise. Let it pass to the east and stay out of its way. That is my advice to you. You should take it.”

That may have been Graybeard's advice. Yet it certainly wasn't the boy's. Had he been allowed to speak up, he would have.

For deep down, he knew it hunted him. Letting it pass and do so unhindered was the exact opposite of his desire. Had he had his way, every elf archer to be found would be ordered to replace and stop the thing.

But his turn to speak was past.