Chapter 1

Ethuir

Among the cold shallows of an icy stream, high above the open plains, four small figures were splashing. Though from a distance they would have appeared to be children, they were not. And neither were they Elves, though from rather closer up you might make that mistake as well. These were Elflings, and they were on an adventure—or, rather, they were soon to embark upon one, as you will soon see.
      And what precisely is an Elfling? Well, for now you may think of them as smaller versions of Elves—those fair cousins of men who have inhabited the enchanted forests and hidden vales since time began. Though perhaps less enchanted than their larger cousins, Elflings are much like Elves in many respects, as they tend to be light of foot, quick at need, and quite fair to look upon.
      Much like the Elves, Elflings are now quite rare. In all of Entira, there is now only once place where Elflings yet live. It is a place called Laurelindor: a broad tract of superbly arable land lying within the protective embrace of the Laurelstone Mountains. In this place they have prospered by working the land, through the simple growing of fruits and vegetables, the raising of livestock, and the practise of those sundry rustic crafts which are the mark of a practical country people.
      Yet, these particular Elflings (around which this present story revolves), were not at present in Laurelindor, for they had decided on seeing the world before settling into the “humdrum” of “respectable” adult life. And so over the mountains they had wandered, nigh to the place where the River Ethuir has its beginnings as icy springs bubbling up amid the scraggly branches of mountain laurel and rhododendron. Along this widening stream they had wandered: talking and gazing, singing and splashing. All Elflings possess a love of Nature and things wild, so it is little wonder that they soon were well engaged in the tracking and observation of the wondrously varied little creatures that play out their lives within, upon, or near the winding watercourse. There were mysteries aplenty lurking under leaves or hiding ’neath cool rocks, and as the party descended further from the chill mountain heights, and as the first harbingers of spring began to unfold, their opportunities for discovery increased rapidly.
      It was on a fine morning after descending to the gently tumbling foothills below that came their first encounters with the denizens of the air. Small flocks of birds passed swiftly overhead on annual northward migrations. Geese and ducks began to appear in the slower-moving stretches of the now widening river, and on the ponds that lay in the folds of the land. Cranes waded and hawks soared. Raucous groups of cawing crows alighted on the new grass by the river to search for tiny morsels.
      With unabated fascination were our young travellers witnessing these spectacles, when into their midst exploded a large, ferocious-looking owl. Despite his formidable appearance, the carnivorous bird made no sound as his ear-tufts tossed in the breeze and his bright bib flashed in the morning sun. His broad wings beat a slow, irregular pattern, his large, yellow eyes spying all, and despite the imposing look of his frowning beak and brow, the Elflings marveled to see how he moved with such grace and skilful elegance.
      The owl was clearly on the hunt (for crow, not Elfling). Yet, despite his flawless technique, the predatory bird narrowly missed his mark. As the flock leapt up and noisily filled the clear, blue sky, the owl beat a slow retreat. Winging his way northward he drew the watching eyes thither, up a nearby slope, when the watchers suddenly noticed that an old man was there. Beside the man was a large, white horse, and the two strode side-by-side over the rise toward where the Elflings stood. The horse was a remarkably beautiful specimen, quite obviously very strong and healthy, though its gait was marked with a slight limp.
      Now the owl wheeled round and perched upon the shoulder of the old man. As the man was not alarmed at this, the Elflings surmised that the owl must be some sort of pet. Watching the pair approach, the youths saw that the stranger was garbed in a travel-stained cloak of mottled leather, and that he bore a great sword strapped to his back. Upon his hands were large, green gloves, and great leathern boots he wore on his obviously well-travelled feet.
      ‘Hello there!’ said the old man with a smile upon reaching them. Old though he was, they could plainly see that he was still quite hale, and able-bodied, and also that he had quick eyes that seemed never to rest. ‘You lads must be lost,’ he said, ‘as I believe Laurelindor lies some miles from here!’
      ‘No, Sir,’ replied Dannadar, the second youngest among them, and undoubtedly the most enthusiastic: “We are journeying far and wide, in search of high adventure !’ The other Elflings merely looked on, unsure as yet what to make of this curious person who kept company with a bird.
      ‘I see,’ chuckled the old man good-naturedly. He smiled broadly at them, for he was fond of Elflings. ‘I am sure a fitting quest will find you in good time, my young masters,’ he said. ‘I am Raavan,’ he continued, and he extended a large hand in greeting.
      ‘Raavan the wizard !’ cried one named Fifin. ‘Then there is some truth to the old stories. Well known is your name in certain districts of our land, (most especially in the ale-houses!), though it is generally agreed that you are no more than a character of fable.’
      ‘O, I am real enough, I assure you!’ replied the man. ‘Well, as real as the rest of you, at any rate. And have you names, my little fellows?’
      One of the companions strode forward then. He was thin and handsome, with hair long and straight—black as night it was, but with a moon-like sheen and the occasional silver strand. Upon his back was a quiver filled with many arrows, and in his hand a sinewy bow of yew. ‘I am Talen Featherby,’ he said, ‘this is Falco Whiteleaf, and these are Dannadar Hawksbill and his cousin Fifin Frothmaster.’
      Now they all stepped forward to take turns at eagerly shaking the wizard’s hand.
      ‘Is it true, then, that you slew the Cyclops of Dorilinth?’ enquired Falco.
      ‘And that you banished the Djinni of Roth?’ added Dannadar.
      The others excitedly chimed in too, with queries of a similar nature. Their voices were high and clear, and their blue eyes sparkled with the wonderful vigour of youth.
      Raavan held up a hand in friendly protest and shook his head of disheveled white hair. ‘Alas, but I’m afraid I do not have time today to set straight the record of my (great many) exploits—though I assure you, it would please me very much to spend the afternoon entertaining you thus! Yet I am already delayed somewhat by the condition of my injured friend,’ and here he gestured to his horse.
      ‘What is the matter with her? She is fine—magnificent, even,’ said Talen, who was the oldest of the companions (but only just so, for Falco trailed him by less than a month).
      ‘Just a sprain,’ said the wizard, ‘yet it’s been enough to slow our pace considerably.   In all likelihood I shall have to leave Fanta with some old friends at a farmstead down the road and see if I can find a steed to replace her for the further journey.   If my business were not so pressing I would tarry a while as she recooperates.   Alas, time is short just now.’
      A moment of quick thought, and Talen’s eyes lit up. ‘Well, Sir, we have an extra pony which carries our gear,’ said the Elfling. ‘She is no stallion, but I think she could bear you for some miles.’ Talen was clearly only too pleased to be of assistance to one of such high renown:   Raavan the wizard—what luck! thought he.
      ‘Hmmmm, a pony would do in a pinch,’ mused the aged sorcerer, ‘and this is a pinch, to be sure.’ The old man pulled at his stubby white beard as he eyed the pack animal thoughtfully. ‘Yes, perhaps she would do for the time being. But what price were you thinking? My purse is a bit light at the moment…’
      ‘Well, actually,’ said the Elfling (with a devious look in his eyes), ‘we could lend her to you for free —if you just let us join you on your quest!’ The others of course nodded in agreement as Talen visually polled his mates.   They all appeared quite hopeful, now smiling impishly and nodding their little heads with great eagerness as the wizard chuckled openly at their enthusiasm.
      ‘Ah—well, lads, this quest that I’m on (if you want to call it that) isn’t exactly a grand adventure , as you might imagine it,’ explained the elder. ‘You see, I’m merely traveling to meet some colleagues at Aberlaven in the mountains of eastern Arenya… and, it is several hundred miles hence…’
      ‘It is no matter’, Falco assured him. ‘We are bold and hardy travellers, and do not fear the long miles, nor the dangers they may present.’ With some effort they all set about looking bold, some even convincingly so.
      Raavan paused only briefly. Smiling modestly, he accepted their offer. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘The miles will be less lonely for it—and the dangers more easily swept aside, what with our collective strength and gallantry! Together, then!’
      ‘Together!’ echoed the Elflings, who now beamed with pride, for they were beginning to feel genuinely bold, even the two young cousins.
      ‘What will become of your pretty horse?’ asked Fifin.
      After some consideration Raavan decided: ‘I think I will send her home. She knows the way and will return there with such speed as her injury permits.’ At this he spoke softly into her ear so that the Elflings heard not what was said, though the mare pricked up her ears, looked once at her master (to which he quickly nodded in return), and made off at a leisurely gait back the way she had come. The Elflings were of course quite impressed at this, and they decided that their meeting had been exceptionally fortuitous. Indeed, adventure could not be distant now that they were in the company of a famous wizard!
      And so they unloaded their pack animal and redistributed the weight to their own steeds. And off they went: the wizard, the Elflings, the owl, and the ponies, bold adventurers all, off to the south in pursuit of their collective and intertwined destinies.