Chapter 7

There is an area west of the kingdom where the trees are younger and the forest thinner. Though it still lies within the bounds of the Greenwood realm, it is considered a hinterland by any means. Turi was looking through the darkened windows of a smallish hut, surrounded by thin and crooked trees.

She knew that Taryan had been banished from Greenwood, but the family had been allowed to take up residence here in view of the circumstances (*). 

Being exiled was considered a grave sentence indeed, and one that wasn't handed out lightly or frequently. It brought shame upon a family, and generations could suffer from being expelled from the elven community. It was considered a shame to interact with anyone receiving such punishment.

Turi was not impressed with such conservative notions. In fact, she was quite exited to have found a reason to visit her old mentor. Events seemed to be rapidly spiraling out of control, and truth was, she really needed all the help she could get. Surely, here was one elf who'd be able to give her the much needed background this case required.

Suddenly the door of the hut flew open and a young elf ran out to greet her. She closed her arms around his tiny frame, planting a kiss of his crown. Taryan and Eärwen followed closely after, and both hugged her. Turi's face reddened with the glee of seeing them, and simultaneously the guilt for not coming to see them any sooner.

After they'd sat down and enjoyed some forest fruits and bread together, Turi got to the point of her visit. As soon as they started to talk shop the young son lost interest and went for a stroll with his mum.

Turi smiled warmly at Taryan, who seemed eager to hear about what had been happening. She recounted the murders, her findings so far, and the tone and content of the cryptic notes by the ever so mysterious cat.

'So you're thinking this is a group with a political motive?' Taryan summarized. 'Sure sounds like it,' Turi bit her lip 'but an extremist one at that. And why these victims?'

Taryan nodded. 'Greed, not honouring elven spiritual lore, and claims of corruption. A tall order indeed.' 

Turi smiled. This felt like old times.

'And we have nothing more to go on?' Taryan asked. Turi shook her head. 'Border patrol aren't the most subtle bunch, but they have been pretty diligent in combing both scenes. The clues we are finding are the ones the perpetrators are leaving for us.'

Truth was, because the elven race tended to maintain internal order and good conduct of and by itself, no other form of policing force had ever been required besides the office of internal surveys and border patrol. Neither of these were specialised in violent crimes of this nature. Turi sighed and straightened her simple green outfit.

'A few years back' Taryan started, leaving Turi to croon. She knew full well this might mean as much as a few centuries or as little as a decade when Taryan went in story-telling mode. 'Ok, ok, about 1600 years back or so' he shot her a meaningful look 'there was a sort of opposition against Thranduil's reign.' Turi's eyes widened in shock. 'Really? No?'

'Yes, yes pen neth – young one. I don't recall the details but...' he paused, frowning and blowing his cheeks. 'Yes?' Turi asked greedily. He had her attention.

'There was criticism on our lifestyle, which supposedly had become too indulgent. And this from elves in the highest echelons of power' Taryan said, still frowning. Turi looked pleading. 

'No. Sorry I just don't recall any further specifics.' Taryan flashed her a grin. 'Anyways, the whole thing went nowhere in the end.'

Turi smiled. She'd missed his stories. And if Taryan suspected a connection than this might just kick start her investigation. They hugged, and as Turi mounted her horse her old friend promised her to have another good think.

Now Turi had an important visit to make – time to see her king.

(*) see Just Turi