Elfsong - Elaine Cunningham [0]
Songs and Swords 02 -
Elfsong
Elaine Cunningham
Prelude
In the heart of the Northlands, a few days' travel from the great city of Water-deep, lay a vast, primeval wood known as the High Forest. The adventurous few who braved the forest brought back tales of strange sights and magical beasts, and many were the legends and songs that told of the land's beauty and its dangers. One tale, however, did not find its way into fireside boasting or bardic lore.
The villain of the untold tale was a green dragon named Grimnoshtadrano-Grimnosh, to his friends and victims-and this lack of notoriety hampered the dragon in his pursuit of his favorite pastime. Grimnosh collected riddles as avidly as he hoarded treasure. He waylaid and challenged all those who passed near his woodland lair, offering them their lives in exchange for a new riddle. Travelers were scarce, and none had offered a riddle that Grimnosh could not answer. The dragon had let two or three go free regardless, in hope that their stories might lure more worthy challengers to the forest: riddlemasters and bards in search of fame and adventure. Of course, in accordance with his nature, the dragon intended to eat these learned men and women as soon as he separated them from their riddles.
Unfortunately for the dragon, the travelers he'd set free had scuttled away into grateful anonymity, and more than a century had passed since the dragon's last riddle challenge. He was therefore surprised when a lone traveler came to the forest with a challenge of her own, a magical summons powerful enough to reach into his labyrinth of caves and shatter his winter sleep.
Grimnosh emerged into a world of stark contrast and icy brilliance. It was the morning of the winter solstice, and the forest was shrouded with a deep, unblemished blanket of snow. Except for the small clearing directly in front of the cave's mouth and the narrow road that lay beyond, the trees grew so close that even in winter they all but blotted out the sky. Their entwined dark branches were glossy with ice, and draped with so many icicles that the forest resembled a cave carved from diamond and obsidian.
The dragon's hooded eyes narrowed into golden slits as he studied the woman who'd ventured into this forbidding land. Swathed in a gray cloak and bent with age, she was seated upon a small, fine-boned white mare. Little of her was visible-a deep cowl covered her head and obscured her face-but the dragon's keen nose caught the tantalizing scent of elven blood. His first impulse was to devour the foolish elfwoman who had summoned him out into the snow and the cold, but he remembered the force of the spell that had wakened him. Grimnosh had been without diversion for too long, and the elven sorceress seemed promising.
So the dragon listened to her, all the while padding in slow circles around her, weaving his sinuous green tail in patterns as deft and ominous as a wizard's arcane gestures -taking her measure. When she finished her outrageous request, Grimnosh sat back on his haunches and let out a burst of derisive laughter. The thunderous roar sent a tremor through a stand of ancient oak trees. Like harps reverberating to a plucked string, the living wood echoed the deep, thrumming sound of the forest dragon's voice. Winter-bare branches shook, sending icicles crashing down around the elfwoman like so many descending fangs.
"The great Grimnoshtadrano does not bargain with elves," the wyrm said, malevolent humor in his golden eyes. "I eat them."
"Do you think that the best I can offer you is a light lunch?" she demanded in a voice worn thin by the passing of years. "In my time I have been a bard and a riddle-master, and I am a sorceress still." A tiny, ironic smile deepened the wrinkles that creased her face, and she added in a wry tone, "And, lest you spoil your digestion, you should know that I am a half-elf."
"Is that so?" rumbled the dragon, taking a step closer. He was both annoyed and intrigued by this woman who showed no fear. "Which half of you should I eat?" The tip of his