Galen and Elana

as told by June, 3/11/04

This tale takes place in the days of the Age of the Sorcerer, before the true power of Torrin Macalir was fully known…

It had been daytime for several hours already, but the sun had yet to climb over the mountains to the east.  In the dim light, Galen could make out the shape of a wolf devouring a lamb.  Galen knocked his arrow and pulled the bowstring taut, carefully aiming his bow toward the wolf.  The first beam of sunlight glinted off of the wolf’s eyes and Galen let fly his arrow. 

‘No longer will you harass this village’s flock.’ 

Galen was a Ranger.  He grew up in Feladan, but city life was not for him.  Upon reaching the age of choice, he picked up his bow and headed out of town.  Over the next few years, he learned how to live off the land and became adept at tracking down and destroying the evil aberrations that nature generated from time to time. 

‘Only corrupted wolves,’ thought Galen, ‘would prey on a shepherd’s flock.’ 

Galen carefully moved down the slope toward the fallen wolf, intent on recovering his arrow and anything else of value he might salvage from the carcass.  He knelt down, removed the arrow, and deeming the wolf’s pelt worth taking, took out his knife and began to harvest the pelt.  As he did, Galen heard a rustling in the bushes a few yards behind him.  By the time he turned, an Orc was charging toward him, sword drawn.  Before Galen could draw his sword, the Orc fell, pierced by an arrow. 

‘Even an Elf as young as you should know that these kinds of wolves are pets of the Orc tribes living in these parts.’

Galen had not yet seen who had fired the shot, but the sound of the speaker’s voice and the distinctive fletching on the arrow were enough to tell him it was one of Feladan’s scouts, and that he had been saved by a woman. 

‘Good shot on the wolf though.’

Out of the brush walked an Elf, dressed in leather and wielding a great yew bow.  Galen thanked her for taking care of the Orc, saying how fortunate it was that she had been so close by.  

‘Indeed, this Orc and its wolf pet are all that were left of a band that attacked a small elvish settlement near here.  I tracked down his other friends and make them pay for the destruction they brought against us.  You, my young friend, saved me a shot.’

In gratitude, the scout invited Galen to return with her to the village.  On the way, Galen learned the scout’s name was Elana and that she was part of the scant defense the village was allotted by the Elvish Militia.  The village was on the fringes of the elvish border, and Elana’s main job was to patrol the border and raise the alarm if marauding bands of werewolves, Orcs, or anything else dangerous approached.  More often than not, this meant slaying rogue wolves, but Elana had become an exceptional tracker and archer thanks to years of practice.  Elana’s next patrol did not start for a few days, so she and Galen remained in town, enjoying each other’s company.

Two days before Elana’s next patrol, a small company of scouts from Feladan arrived in the village.  The company’s captain had orders to investigate the strange goings-on out past the eastern frontier, as very odd rumors were floating around about black magic being practiced there.  Every militia member adept with a bow stationed in the village was ordered to join the company and investigate.  As a Ranger, Galen was technically part of the militia, so he and Elana joined the other Elves on their trek east. 

After crossing the plains for several days, the band stopped as they reached the foothills of the eastern mountains.  The company would break into two person teams and each team would take a separate direction into the mountains.  Galen and Elana paired off and together, they headed into the hills. 

Two days after they left the other Elves’ company, a feeling of foreboding began to settle on the pair.  The sun did not shine as brightly and there were no longer birds singing in the trees.  Both elves felt as though they were being watched.  The path they followed began to climb into a high mountain, twisting and turning as they ascended.  The world was deathly silent around them and even their footfalls seemed muted.  The path twisted once more, and to the pair’s astonishment, a vast gate appeared, spanning a pass between two summits and blocking the path.  Although it was midday, the gate seemed to be surrounded by an aura of darkness and the sun’s rays did not seem to reach the stone. 

Nervous though they were, Galen and Elana had a mission to complete, so they crept toward the gate.  As they moved closer, they began to notice that the gate’s portcullis was open and there did not seem to be anyone or anything guarding the wall at all.  Regaining her confidence, Elana brazenly crossed the threshold into the fortress.  Galen had no intention of going inside the fortress, abandoned or not, and shouted for Elana to get out, saying they already had enough information and that it wouldn’t do any good if neither of them made it back.  Persuaded, Elana ran back to the gate, but just as she reached it, the massive portcullis crashed to the ground, trapping her within the walls.  A booming voice seemingly coming from the entire fortress said,

‘You are mine, She-Elf.  Young one, be gone or you will share your friend’s fate.’

Eerie shapes began to appear in the shadows of the gate’s inner wall.  Both elves tried desperately to find a way for Elana to escape, but there was no escape for her.  Elana held out her bow and knocked an arrow.

‘Get out of here, Galen.  Tell the Militia about this place.  I will see you again, somewhere….’

Galen hesitated for a moment, but did as he was told.  He turned and ran, looking back only once to see the shadows close in on Elana, but still hearing the twang of her bowstring.

Two weeks later, Galen and a company of crack Elven warriors were back in the eastern mountains, on their way to the gate.  The last two days of their journey, the company had been taking casualties from an unseen bowman.  Galen was ordered to leave the company and track down this foe.  Picking up the trail from the last attack, Galen followed a narrow path leading back toward the gate.  As he reached the top of a small hill, the gate came into view and he could see the company entering the gate.  He started to run toward the gate to stop them, but as he did he heard the twang of bowstring and an arrow hit the ground in front of him.  He turned and there stood Elana.  But not Elana.  Her eyes had a green glow to them and she had the same dark aura as the gate.  She spoke and her voice sounded like an echo:

‘dddddDraw your SworDddddd’

The sound of the portcullis crashing to the ground rang out. 

‘No, Elana, I will not fight my friend.’ 

‘tttttThen you will join Usssssss’

Elana fired an arrow, hitting Galen in the left arm.  Sounds of metal clashing came from the gate as the company tried to fight off their adversary.  Elana knocked another arrow, and Galen knew this second shot would not be a warning.  The sounds from the gate grew dim. 

‘llllllLast ChanCccccce’

Galen focused himself and called upon nature to protect him.  Great roots sprang from the ground, ensnaring ‘Elana’.  Galen sprinted away, using nature’s blessing to increase his speed and mask his trail.  He fled far and wide and never stopped, unable to kill and not wanting to be killed by his former friend.  I have heard that Galen still roams the eastern mountains, trying to escape Elana and the shame he felt for not being able to save her.