And a week and two days after the Lian had ridden forth, dispatches began coming from the siege at Drimmendeeve, where the Elven forays into the Foul Folk lines became increasingly bloody.

And Death Redes came all unbidden to loved ones left behind, final messages somehow passed from love to love though no messengers arrived. And grief settled like a pall upon the forest entire, as if the trees themselves somehow knew of many deaths afar.

"Lord, oh lord," said Beau in hushed tones to Tipperton, "endless lives lost, lives they had just begun no matter their age."

Tip did not reply, but instead strummed his lute, while tears ran down his cheeks to fall glittering like diamonds upon the silver strings.

In the dawn of the twenty-second of July, as Silverlarks returned to sing sweetly overhead, Loric, Phais, Tip, and Beau all set out from Wood's-heart, the four once again mounted upon four horses, Loric and Phais riding in the lead, Tip and Beau upon packhorses drawn behind.

Due north they rode through the towering trees, aiming for a shallow ford across the Quadrill, some eight or nine leagues away. And enwrapped in the soft gloaming shadows down among the trees Beau fell adoze in his makeshift packsaddle, while Tipperton strummed his lute.

And thus they made their way through Darda Galion, a land of many rivers-the Rothro, the Quadrill, the Cel-lener, and the Nith, and all of their tributaries, their sparkling waters flowing down from the northern wold or from the nearby Grimwall Mountains to course easterly through the forest and issue at last into the broad rush of the mighty Argon. In all, the four companions would have to cross two of the great forest's primary rivers- the Rothro and the Quadrill-though they would splash through many of the lesser streams.

And as before, they rode at times, at other times walked, and occasionally paused to relieve themselves or to give the horses a drink in a stream or to feed the steeds a bit of grain. And little was said on the journey, for the Eld Trees were hush, and to gravely disturb the quiet seemed at odds with the nature of these woods. And so Beau drowsed and Tip strummed softly, mastering notes and chords.

It was late in the day when they came at last unto the Quadrill, where they splashed into the crystal flow, pausing in the pellucid stream just below the eastern end of a mid-river isle to let the horses drink, while Silverlarks caroled their evensongs and flew, to vanish in midflight as well as midsong, the forest somehow bereft with their absence.

"We will camp just beyond the far bank," said Loric, Phais nodding in agreement.

Horses watered, they surged on across and up, and into the twilight beyond.

The next day they turned to the northeast, aiming for Olorin Isle, and in early morn they splashed through the Rothro, the river running down from the wold lying beyond the north marge of the Larkenwald.

"Ten leagues," answered Loric to Beau's question, "but we will not ride that far. Instead we'll spend the night with the march-ward and cross the Argon midday on the morrow."

And in the evening they came unto an Elven camp, where warders on these bounds of the Eldwood were eager for any news of the progress of the war. And even as Loric and Phais told what they knew, one of the listeners cried out in anguish dire and fell stunned unto her knees.

A Death Rede had come.

In a sudden burst of wings and song, Silverlarks heralded the dayrise, appearing from nowhere, from everywhere, from the between, as they crossed on the morn into Mithgar.

After break of fast, while Tip and Beau rolled blankets and gathered gear, Loric and Phais saddled the horses, then lashed the goods to cantles and pack frames.

Bidding farewell unto the warders, they made ready to depart, but ere they did so Beau stepped unto the rede-stricken Dara, she yet pale and grieving, and he hugged her and whispered something into her ear, then turned and let Loric lift him to his mount.

Tipperton did not ask him what he had said, and Beau didn't volunteer.

"Lor'," breathed Beau, "but what a river."

Out before them stretched the mighty Argon, its broad waters sparkling under the midday sun. Beyond midriver lay Olorin Isle, and at its northern end they could see smoke rising from a few sparse dwellings of the River-men. Down before the comrades a ferry dock jutted out into the river, and from the pier an overgrown path bore southward alongside the stream. They all dismounted and led the horses down to the jetty.

"Why, it must be more than a mile across," said Beau, yet marveling at the width of the river, as Loric haled on the pull-rope to ring the summoning bell.

After a while they could see the ferry, with four men rowing, leave an island pier; a mule stood in their midst. As the oared barge crossed the wide stretch, the river current carried the float southerly; it would land somewhat downstream below the dock.

"So these are the Rivermen, eh?" said Tip, staring over water at the rowing men, their backs to the near shore, though now and again they turned their faces 'round to gauge their progress. "The ones whose kith pirated from an island upstream?"

Phais nodded. "From their fortress on Great Isle-Vrana was its name, I've heard."

"Hmm," mused Beau, "from here they don't look like looters."

"Those who are seduced by the Evil One oft look fair," said Phais. "Yet recall, these on Olorin Isle claimed innocence, and nought could be shown otherwise."

"Besides," said Tip, "that was long past… some twenty-five hundred years."

"Maybe they're like the Chabbains," said Beau, "and hold their grudges long."

Still the ferry drifted southward.

"Should we ride along the path to meet it?" asked Tip.

Loric shook his head. "The mule will haul it here. Else on the journey back we could miss the island altogether."

Beau frowned. "Why are we going to the isle when it's the other side we want?"

" 'Tis the way of the Rivermen: one ferry to carry us to the isle, another from there to the far shore."

"A twofold toll?" asked Beau, grimacing.

"Grudge them not their double fare," said Phais, "for they are few and scrape for every silver penny, and without the twofold toll there would be no shuttle at all."

"Oh well, then…" said Beau, yet the frown did not leave his face.

Some time later, harnessed to the ferry, the mule came plodding along the pathway, one man leading the animal while the three other men fended with poles to keep the float from grounding against the shore. And when the men saw the Warrows they whispered among themselves of children of Elvenkind.

The barge landed nearly five miles downstream on the long shores of Olorin Isle, where the comrades offloaded and mounted up and rode along the tow path toward the northern point of the island, where the second ferry was docked on the eastern side.

The sun moved two hands across the sky ere they reached the north end and rode in among ramshackle cabins, collapsed and abandoned for the most part, though here and there stood an occupied dwelling. A few men and women and a child or two-all ill-clothed-watched as the four rode past, some to step from their cotes to do so. And they too looked wide-eyed at the buccen. And when the strangers were gone, they spoke briefly among themselves before resuming whatever tasks they had pursued ere the Elves and their children had come, some Rivermen to step back into their dwellings, others to resume a vigil for river flotsam, hoping for a wreck upstream.

When the four reached the east ferry and dismounted, once again four men and a mule were there to greet them. Loric paid the second fare and then he and Phais led the horses onto the barge, Tip and Beau coming after, the men and the mule already aboard.