Cleomithir represents the Wesmere elves at the council. They are here mainly because he himself applied pressure to the Kal’ian to support Estbryn Forest. While Cleomithir may have lived in Wesmere for thirty years, he is still very protective of his home forest. At the council meeting, Tric learns that Ash, too, is part of the Wesmere force. He resolves to track his brother down—and sneak up on him if at all possible.
Mate helps, of course, since there is a lot of ground to cover. Tric narrows his search to the northern edge of the forest. Ash certainly would not be in the village, and considering he had previously been told never to go to Estbryn Forest at all, he is likely on the outskirts. Since the fighting will be to the northeast, that seems a likely direction to investigate. Tric knows a few good secluded spots up there from various fishing trips. He is not silent himself as he searches. Rather, he addresses the creatures and trees around him. “I’ve roamed these boughs since I was a lad. My brother is but a stranger here. I’m sure he will have turned a leaf here or there. We know there are different trees where he’s from. So lend me your leaves, and I will take my bow.” Tric nods his head in acknowledgement of his woodland audience as the magic of the silver tongue swirls around him.
With senses thus heightened, he quiets down and studies the plants around him for signs of passage. There is the slight bend of a twig here, the slight fold of a leaf there, all of which lead him to a fine stand of trees. Before Tric can crane his head up to search further, though, Ash drops down in front of him. Tric manages to not startle. For a moment, he considers how hilarious it would be for Mate to swoop down and yank Ash’s hood down over his eyes. That would probably end poorly for the magpie, though, so Tric does not send any such signal. Rather, he says, “I was wondering when you were going to jump down,” and then throws his arms around his brother in a big hug.
Ash is startled for a moment, not expecting the hug, but then he embraces Tric back. Ash, apparently, has mothers who know how to hug properly. When they separate, Tric informs Ash of what gave him away. Spring comes a little sooner to Estbryn Forest than to the Heart Mountains, and the trees are of different types. Ash benefitted from more leaves to hide among, but that also meant more to rustle through. Ash nods, graciously taking the feedback, and compliments Tric on his sharp eyes. At that point, Mate does swoop down, and Tric admits, “It helps when you have four of them.”
“I am here to help you with your undead issues, as you helped me with mine,” Ash tells him. The Wesmere force is a small group, really a vanguard in its entirety. They intend to serve as swift scouts, providing initial intelligence on battlefield conditions and performing quick strikes along the edges, as necessary. Estbryn elves are likely to perform similar functions, since they do not have anywhere near the amount of troops as all the human groups.
Tric, who has seen Horse Clan warriors in action, advises Ash that their mounted troops can be just as swift in the open terrain where much of the travel and fighting is likely to happen.
“Our forces may skirt around those fields, taking a more southerly route through the northern reaches of your Estmark Hills,” Ash tells him.
“Ah, well, then do be mindful walking through the swamps, such as the Foul Fen,” Tric says with worldly wisdom. “And bring a hock of ham,” he adds with a grin. He goes on to tell Ash about his plans to destroy Mal-Ravanal’s old fortress using dwarvish powder. “Once the battle is won, that’s what Heppa and I will be doing. Oh, and, probably it doesn’t matter, but I did receive information that the orcs got hold of Anador’s circlet,” Tric adds casually. He pushes back his sleeve, showing off the amethyst-inlaid bangle he wears. “Same as this, but fits on an elf’s head. If you happen to spot it, let me know.”
“You’re looking to recover it?” Ash asks.
“I want to make sure it doesn’t get misused,” Tric says. “Or desecrated. Recovery or burial, yup, that’s what we’re looking for.”
Ash frowns at Tric. “We’re going into war. Secrets do not benefit anyone,” he says, sensing that Tric is leaving out some critical details.
“Do you want to be burdened with emotional baggage?” Tric asks. “Would you say you’ve made peace with our non-present father?”
“I have never engaged with our father. I’ve never thought of it in terms of needing to make peace with it. Anador’s not part of my life. All the emotional baggage is on my mother,” Ash points out.
“Well, I have a certain amount myself,” Tric says bluntly, “since his very identity was kept secret from me for the past thirty years. And… he was an elvish lord. There’s someone not doing that job now. And I’m not saying it’s me—”
“You’re saying it’s me?” Ash asks, eyes wide in alarm.
“Oh! Oh, no. No, I’m not saying it’s you either,” Tric assures him. “I’m saying there are responsibilities not being fulfilled, and honestly, it sounds like he wasn’t fulfilling them all during his life anyway.”
“Do you think recovering the circlet is necessary for those responsibilities to be fulfilled?” Ash asks, still trying to understand the nature of the problem.
“It is not necessary, no… But let me put it this way. Our Uncle Thrandolil—you’ve probably never met him—he is Anador’s brother. They were very close when Anador was around, is my understanding. He didn’t take his death very well. I’m pretty sure he also knows that this circlet is there. But I’m not sure that he’s going to react positively if he encounters it.”
Ash is not entirely sure what Tric is struggling with, but he knows his own competencies. “Would it help your plans at all to have a sniper who does not have emotional baggage?” Ash asks. “Nor an attachment to Lord Thrandolil?”
Tric lets out a long slow breath, remembering Bzzazz’s augury. The battle does not end when the foe is defeated, that’s what Bzzazz saw. And here we thought it would be humans fighting each other. Will it be elves? If Tric agrees to this, it does not mean a death warrant for Thrandolil, it just means backup. Ash’s arrow might be the key to disrupting a plan, even if it misses its mark. Not that Tric doubts Ash’s aim, but he has seen shadows leap in front of mages to defend them before. If Thrandolil is capable of raising Anador from the dead, who knows what else he might be capable of? “Yes,” Tric finally says, heart heavy as he accepts Ash’s offer. “Yes, that would. So, uh, have you checked out that fishing spot there?”
The unpleasantness of the future is set aside as the two brothers enjoy some quiet time together, Tric fishing and Ash catching fish.