Lady of Fangs

Gwillum watched as the last warg fell snarling, an arrow piercing its throat.  From his vantage in the upper branches of the tree, he could see where the arrows had originated, but his apparent savior remained hidden amongst the stand of birch trees some yards away.  Just as Gwillum made up his mind it was safe to climb down, a lithe figure stepped silently out of the shadows and made its way over to the wargs.  By the time he reached the ground, the dark-haired figure had finished inspecting the beasts and was waiting for him.

"You should not be here," she said.

Gwillum had seen a group of elves once, passing through the forest near his family's homestead.  He had found them strangely compelling, and the sound of their laughter had echoed in his dreams for many weeks. By contrast, the stern elf-maid standing before him did not look likely to laugh anytime soon.

"I'm sorry, mistress elf lady ma'am." Gwillum silently cursed his awkwardness.  "I was looking for sheep.  That is, part of my flock.  They strayed, y'see."

The elf-maid's green eyes gave him the once over as he spoke.  

"You were not injured by these...creatures?"

Gwillum could only shake his head mutely.  The elf-maid nodded once, satisfied by his answer, then turned to scan the surrounding trees.  Freed from that unnerving stare, he had a moment to notice her comely features.  Idly, he wished he could see what a smile might do for such a lovely face.  As she turned back to him, he ruthlessly squashed such wild thoughts.  

"I've been tracking this pack for two days.  They did not kill your missing sheep in that time, though there could be other packs in the area.  You should return home at once lest they find you."

Looking down at the huge corpses, he shuddered but shook his head.  "Begging your pardon, miss, but I have to find my sheep.  I can't just leave 'em out here.  My da' will have my hide if I come back empty handed."  

Gwillum felt his face flush hot and red as he realized what he had said.  The corner of the elf-maid's mouth twitched briefly as she weighed him in her gaze for an uncomfortable moment.  

"Very well.  I shall help you."

Unable to believe his good fortune, Gwillum opened and closed his mouth twice before finding words.  

"My many thanks, er--thank you so much, miss.  I'm Gwillum."

"You may call me Fimbrethiel."

*****

Gwillum watched the slender elf-maid ghost through the trees ahead.  Stumbling over a root, he glanced back up to find that she had vanished.  Gripped with uncertainty, he stood there staring foolishly about for a minute...then two.  The forest was silent all around.

He jumped and nearly shrieked as a hand fell on his shoulder from behind.  Turning to see Fimbrethiel, he let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.  The elf scowled and whispered fiercely at him.

"Will you at least *try* to make less noise?"

Gwillum swallowed nervously, then nodded and waited for her to take the lead again.  Once her back was turned, he wiped sweaty palms on his roughspun breeches.  Somehow, all his expectations had been stood on their head.  Everyone said that elves were given to singing and dancing, or else sitting around being sad and wistful.  This one might bite his head off at any moment.  

He focused on moving as silently as possible, following her lead through the dense undergrowth.  He thought he might be getting the hang of it when she suddenly stopped and pressed one finger over her mouth.  He peered through the tangled leaves and saw something large and furry move up ahead.  

Fimbrethiel looked down at his belt, where his knife hung.  He drew it and held it up for inspection, but she shook her head.  Instead she drew her own dagger and offered the handle to him.  It was marvelously light and slightly curved.  He swung the blade a few times as she watched with an unreadable gaze.  

Gesturing for him to remain in place, she faded into the deep shadows of the trees.  He waited anxiously as the minutes dragged by.  Suddenly a chilling howl split the air and brought uncontrollable shivers.  He wanted nothing more than to run as far and fast as he could, but something stopped him.  Maybe he didn't want to disappoint this fierce elf-maid. Maybe he was afraid of what she might do to him.  Instead of running, he straightened up and clenched his hand around the dagger.  

A crashing noise came through the bushes to his left and a warg appeared, fleeing its hunter.  It saw him and paused warily, giving Fimbrethiel's arrow time to find its mark.  She sped into the open as the warg fell, another arrow already trained on three more bounding into view from the right.  One fell pierced through the eye and the other two closed as she drew her thin blade.  She parried their advances with moves almost too quick for him to follow.  They split apart to flank her, but she took this tactic in stride.  Drawing a second sword, she seemed to watch both wargs at once as they circled her.  She easily sidestepped each snap of jaws.  

The young man watched in awe as the combat became a graceful dance, the elf-maid always a step or two ahead of her fearsome partners.  Without warning she feinted toward one beast, driving it back; her second blade whipped up behind her and skewered the second warg as it lunged.  As she turned to her last foe, he saw her eyes flash with an anger as frightening as that of the wargs.

Gwillum felt as much as saw movement from the corner of his eye.  He turned to see a warg creeping silently up from behind. When it saw him looking, it sprang forward with a single leap.  He brought the blade up reflexively as the warg plowed into him, all dripping fangs and red eyes.  They crashed to the ground in a heap and the warg gave a yelp.  Instinct took over as he struggled to fend off the huge maw with one hand, stabbing blindly with the other.  It snapped at his throat but got his forearm instead, fangs sinking deep into flesh. He kept thrusting with his blade until the thing jerked, jaws clenching down tighter on his arm, its struggles weakening until finally it lay still. 

Fimbrethiel's face appeared above him, filled with calm concern.  She pried open the jaws with some effort and shoved the corpse to the side, but hot pain threatened to overwhelm him. Admonishing him to lie still, she rummaged in her pack for a moment before bringing out a small glass vial and a length of bandage. 

"I am not my mother, so this is going to hurt, and it won't be pretty when I am finished.  But I would have died long ago if I had not learned enough skill to dress my own wounds in the field."

She gently inspected the wound, washing it with water to better see the lacerations.  All Gwillum could do was lie there in a haze of pain and shock, trying to put on a brave face.

"Your bodies are less resilient than ours, but this will heal cleanly in time.  There is no sign of poison, and the bones are still whole."

She spread some sort of green salve on the wound, stinging fiercely and then numbing the ragged punctures.  After wrapping it in clean bandages, she offered him a hand up.  For a moment they stood regarding each other silently, then Fimbrethiel nodded encouragement.  Together they walked on through the forest, though this time she made no complaint at the noise of his passing.

******

Gwillum watched the sunset paint vivid colors in the sky as he stumbled wearily through the brush.  They had found the three strays not 10 minutes from the site of their battle and the elf-maid had insisted on escorting him back home.  

He was surprised to find night so near.  Somehow, he had failed to notice the time as he traveled with Fimbrethiel, though clearly it had been a matter of some hours.  Finally, the trees broke and they came out into the open fields.  His homestead lay across the pastures, smoke curling lazily from the chimney.  Fimbrethiel stopped.

"I should think that would be enough adventure for you for the time being.  Do try to keep out of trouble. And keep that wound clean and well-wrapped."

The bite in her tone was markedly dimished, but he still struggled to find adequate words to express his gratitude. Gwillum decided he had best stick with something simple.

"Thank you, Fimbrethiel."

She nodded gravely, and clasped his shoulder. 

"You did well, young one.  Few shepherds have killed such a beast and lived to tell the tale."

He moved to pull the elven dagger from his belt, but she waved him off. 

"Keep it.  You might need it again some day soon."  

Gwillum flushed with pride at the respect in her voice and grinned as he turned towards home, ushering the sheep before him.  As he reached the homestead, his family welcomed him with exclamations of dismay quickly turning to joy.  Fimbrethiel watched from the margin of the wood as the sun touched the horizon.  If Gwillum had turned back at that moment, he might have been granted his wish to see the elf-maid smile.  When he did look up, she had already disappeared back into the trees like a dream.