The Last Satyr: The Two Paths Part 2
An Underground Lake

The gates of Mills Breath cautiously opened one more time, this time to exit. After making sure it was safe to do so, the first through was Leradien, the magnificently beautiful drider. Riding on her was the equally handsome Ronthiel. Following them, and limping and hobbling along, were tens and tens of dwarves and satyrs, all the wounded previously left behind. Lolth’s army had found them but not killed them, preferring to put a guard over them and let them recover as future slaves. They were now rescued, at least for now. To prevent their being seen by the orc guard at Thera Pass, Ronthiel put away his elf lantern. Those they rescued followed blindly, the ones in the lead placing a hand on Leradien’s abdomen and one hand back for the next one in line to hold, the result being a very long line leaving the city.

“We head for the Three Candles,” Ronthiel instructed.

“Obviously,” Leradien replied. “But we cannot take the road. It will be in use by the enemy. We must cross by the cavern floor. It will be a long and rough going for these injured.”

This time, no flutes played.

Back with unconscious young Joe, Marroh and the boy frowned with concern as Amien an antidote amongst the six vials he'd found.

“This one,” decided Amien, selecting one of the dead drow scout’s vials as a cure.

“Why that one?” asked the boy.

“Because it looks the least used,” answered the human, applying it to young Joe’s lips.

After several seconds, young Joe coughed, sputtered, and woke up.

“Oh!” he moaned. “I feel awful!”

“Consider yourself lucky to be feeling anything at all,” said Marroh. “You should be dead.”

“If not for Amien here, you would be,” said the boy.

“It’s the least I can do for my captain,” Amien told young Joe with a smile.

More dwarves were appearing around them, attracted by Amien’s light, and in surprising numbers.

“Meet the rest of us,” said Marroh.

Amongst them was Arnen Fang. Yet it was Amien who spoke first.

“If you escaped the city?” he asked. “Why are you all still here outside the walls?”

“We’ve no choice, really,” replied the dwarf leader. “The road to The Three Candles lies clogged with Lolth’s man-orcs. And in our hurry to leave the city, we left our wounded behind. If we leave them there, Lolth shall sell them as slaves. So we’ve been looking for a way to rescue them.”

Suddenly, they heard the sound of claws on rocks behind them. They abruptly turned towards it, weapons drawn.

“Look no further! For you needn’t worry about me or for your wounded,” a familiar female voice full of sultry invitation called, “For they are all with me.”

Amien shined his light in her voice’s direction, illuminating the beautiful drider leading a host of dwarves and satyrs hobbling along and following behind her through the rock maze.

“Leradien!” cried the boy.

“It is good to see you too,” she said.

On her back rode Ronthiel. He gazed at the boy in astonishment and then jumped off Leradien to run to the boy and give him a hug.

“Oh! You are a sight to see, Master Satyr! When we didn’t find you at Mills Breath, we figured you were dead—or worse! And look!” he said. “Here’s Marroh, who also should be dead! And Amien and young Joe! You have me wondering if we’re not all ghosts to be meeting again! And look at all these dwarves! And Arnen Fang! I don’t understand how any of this is possible, but I am most glad to see it!”

“And I to see you!” said the boy. “How is it that you rescued all these wounded? And how did you reach Mills Breath before us? We began ahead of you!”

“You should know the answer to your second question,” replied Ronthiel. “Leradien travels over rock like the wind and, being able to climb on ceilings and walls, she always takes the shortest route.”

“And the answer to my first?” asked the boy.

“That was Ronthiel’s doing,” answered Leradien. “I may have gotten him to the city walls, but I was useless after that. I killed not a single orc. They used me as a pincushion for their arrows. If not for Ronthiel, I would have died. I could not even break down the enemy’s door. Yet Ronthiel slew them all and rescued me. He is a true hero!”

The boy was amazed. “You killed all the orcs by yourself?”

“There weren’t that many,” said Ronthiel. “And my aim was lucky, like an arrow finding its mark.”

“Did you not kill ten and five?” asked Leradien. “And without ever missing?”

“Well! It was something like that,” the elf admitted.

The boy looked up at Leradien in curious wonder.

“How is it you can count?” he asked her.

“Before my spider demon was summoned, I attended elf school.”

“Then you have taken the women’s classes in women's obedience!” Ronthiel declared at this discovery.

“I have,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I listened or learned.”

“I am most impressed,” Amien now congratulated Ronthiel. “That is quite a score. But it could be none and I would be just as glad now to see that you are here.”

“And I to be here!” declared Ronthiel.

“This is all good news,” said the boy. “All we have to do now is head back up the way we came and we can all reach The Three Candles and be out of this dreadful place once and for all!”

“I have seen the lights of The Three Candles,” Ronthiel shared. “It is not far. And trust me! They are a beautiful sight! I look forward to leaving these caves twice as much as you!”

As they celebrated, Arnen Fang held a group meeting with the dwarves on whether they should stay in the retaken city or depart for The Three Candles with the others. While they did so, Amien, young Joe, Ronthiel, and the boy slipped off to the impressive underwater lake the boy had found earlier while the wounded rested. They left Leradien behind, for they had “man’s business” to attend.

The “man’s business” at hand was skinny-dipping and smoking.

The underground lake was like a gem, its crystal-clear waters shimmering like a treasure hidden deep within the earth as they gathered around it. The boy had a pouch of fine Shire tobacco he had accidentally on purpose chanced upon in the city. Someone broke out pipe, a flint struck, and a pipe load passed around as they lounged on the edge of the beautiful black waters, lighting it and the shimmering, crystalline rocks around them with their elf lights. They soon went from the joy of reunification to peaceful serenity.

Even Ronthiel partook of a few tokes and, to his own surprise, found it to his liking.

“It amazes me that, in such a terrible place as this, there can still be such beauty,” he said.

“Aye,” agreed Joe. “It’s lovely. The only thing greater than this magnificent underground lake is the fact that we’re all alive together here now to enjoy it.”

“I’ll agree to that,” said Amien.

“And I too,” said the boy, blowing a smoke ring like Amien did only to then have Amien blow an arrow through it to the impression of all the others.

“By tomorrow,” said Ronthiel, “once the road clears of man-orcs, we can take the wounded up the road and we’ll be out of this place. I guarantee you I shall never see a more beautiful light of day!”

“I agree,” said the boy, kicking up his hooves to partake. “But right now, this is great!”

“Yes,” said Joe, “It is. We are back to the good life.”

“Speaking of the good life,” said the boy towards Ronthiel. “Are those wedding bells I hear?”

“I suppose,” said the elf with a shrug. “That is how we do things,” he admitted. “You’re right. Elves only fall in love once. I did not see that I loved her at first. I thought I took those darts for her because she was saving me. But when they stuck her full of arrows and I thought her dying, then I knew. She was right. I do, indeed, love her. However, first, mind you, I must properly court Leradien. Elves do have their ways and never rush into anything.”

“How long will that take?”

“As long as possible!” said Ronthiel with a laugh. “But that reminds me. How is it that Leradien can fall in love with you and then with me if she has the nature of a Light Elf?”

“Oh! She told me that herself,” answered the boy. “She once said Leradien the Dark loved me but not Leradien the Light. Leradien the Light had not yet fallen in love. Hence, her true half could fall in love with you.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Joe.

“I must confess my ignorance,” said Amien. “Of what do you speak?”

“About the sparks between Leradien and Ronthiel,” answered young Joe. “The boy tells me they’ve kicked up quite a flame.”

“A Light Elf and a drider?” asked Amien. “I am amazed!”

“No one more than I,” admitted Ronthiel.

“She is certainly lovely to look upon,” agreed Amien, “even if she is a drider.”

“I’ve grown used to that,” said Ronthiel. “She is so beautiful, I think I actually prefer her that way. Though she is still a tad scary, even to me.”

“A tad?” laughed the boy. “I should say more than a tad! But now that you raise it, after you’re married, which of you is to be the boss?”

“We have already had that discussion,” said Ronthiel assuredly.

“And?” asked the boy.

“I laid it right out for her, clear as can be. I made it plain and simple. I said, ‘Leradien, there’s one thing you need to know. If we’re to be married, I’m to be the boss’.”

“You told her that, did you?” asked the boy.

“I most certainly did! I held nothing back! A man’s got to take his stand on this and I took mine.”

“You really told her?”

“I did. I laid the law out to her, straight as can be. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. ‘Leradien’, I said, ‘I’m to be the boss, and that’s it!’ You’ve just got to lay down the law to a woman, pure and simple.”

“That’s putting her in her place,” said young Joe.

“Yes,” said Amien. “I quite agree. That took courage.”

But the boy just smiled to himself and cast a knowing glance towards Ronthiel as the elf took another toke on the pipe, pumped up with his pride and glory.

“She’s going to be the boss, isn’t she, Ronthiel?” he asked.

“Absolutely!” the elf conceded without hesitation as he exhaled. “I never had a chance.”

Young Marroh now arrived.

“What’s this?” he cried. “You’re all smoking? And not inviting me?”

“We left you with your King, Arnen Fang,” said the boy.

“Bah!” scoffed the dwarf. “He’s no king of mine! He’s just an elected governor by the locals. My loyalty lies to the gang.”

“Does that mean you’re coming back to join us?” brightened young Joe.

“Of course!” said Marroh. “I only stayed because I won’t run from a fight, but now there’s no fight to run from. The rest of the dwarfs back there have all decided to stay in the city. They doubt Lolth is interested in keeping it or her army never would have left it, and I agree. I’m betting there will be no more fighting here. So my place amongst them is ended. And, remember, a dwarf never abandons his friends and you’re my friends. Besides! There’s nothing to mine around here. I thought maybe they’d found mithril to fight so hard for this place. Yet there’s none to be had! All they do is cut rock to build a city. A dwarf doesn’t need a leader to do that. I’m better off with the gang. Speaking of which,” said the dwarf, “have we divided up the treasure yet? I’ve got three shares coming!”

“No, we haven’t,” said the boy. “Shall we do it now or when we reach the surface?”

“When we reach the surface,” said Joe. “That way I can see.”

“What treasure?” Amien asked.

“We’ve been looting and robbing,” replied the boy. “That’s why we’re a gang.”

“Really?” asked Amien, raising his eyebrows. “No one told me.”

“It’s a secret,” said Joe. “We’re sworn not to tell anyone. But we’re no ordinary thieves, mind you. We rob from the rich and give to the poor.”

“The poor being yourselves?” guessed Amien.

“Why, yes!” gasped young Joe in wonder. “That’s right! How did you know?”

“Oh, call it a learned guess based upon who is our leader,” answered Amien, glancing towards the boy with a wink.

The boy watched his hero in return, knowing he was neither a thief nor a robber, to see if he would disapprove.

Yet Amien passed no judgment.

“The elves have already bought and paid for my services,” he said, seeing the boy’s look. “You need not count me in for a share.”

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“Might I suggest,” Amien offered instead, “we allow the wounded satyrs who wish to come with us to rest another hour and then start up to The Three Candles? The road should be clear of returning man-orcs by then.”

“That’s right,” noted Marroh. “The man-orcs have all turned around from The Three Candles and have been coming back all day. They must have been defeated there.”

“Then the way out will be clear,” said the boy. "If we can get by the man-orcs, we can escape this place to the surface!"

"Aye!" Marroh agreed, but then warned , "but if any of those man-orcs coming down the road meet us on the way up it, they'll catch us all for sure. For the wounded cannot flee or fight. We'll all be put in the orcs East Prison or made slaves."

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