Chapter 2

Imrë Aithiúil

The weather was fine as they all picked their way down from the foothills of the mountains. Down onto the grassy plains they went, and the sun went with them, warming the brown world with the promise of green to come. Indeed, already a hint of green had subtly begun to arrive, and the occasional trees that dotted the fields were aware of its welcome coming. Tiny blossoms bedecked their spreading branches, and their scent was in the air. The world was ready to awaken once more, to stow winter’s garb away.
     Along they rode, and they were in no great hurry. They were glad to be in good company, all of them, and they were glad for the warmth of the noonday sun. At length the Elflings ventured to speak with their new companion, to enquire as to the nature of his business in the south.
     ‘Raavan, would you mind telling more about your journey?’ asked Fifin as they trotted slowly along. ‘We are all burning with curiosity.’
      ‘What would you like to know?’ asked Raavan.
      ‘Well, for starters, we should like to know precisely where we are all going,’ answered Talen. ‘And where exactly are you coming from ?’
      ‘Indeed,’ said the wizard, with an agreeable nod. ‘Well, to answer your second question first, I am now four days out from my home in the north, a city that used to be known as Caer Carnoch.’
      ‘Why do you say used to be ?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Because the city of Caer Carnoch is no more,’ answered Raavan. ‘It was destroyed during the last Great War, over a thousand years ago. The ruins remain, however, and a tower stands there still which is called Teliirinendi. That is my home.’
      ‘So wizards do live in towers,’ mused Dannadar.
      ‘They do not all live in towers,’ said the wizard. ‘It suits me to live in a tower, and so I do. Why I live in this particular tower is a personal matter.’
      ‘Do you live there alone?’ asked Fifin.
      ‘Yes,’ said the wizard. ‘But it was not always so. I knew many goodly people at Caer Carnoch. It is a quiet place now, but once it was a fine city. My memory of it then has faded but little, so I do not feel quite alone when I am there. It pleases me to think that the spirits of good people linger on in that place, even if only in memory.’
      ‘But I thought you said that the city was destroyed over a thousand years ago,’ insisted Falco.
      ‘That I did, lad,’ replied Raavan.
      ‘Then how can you remember it?’ asked Falco with some incredulity.
      ‘O, I can remember much further back than even that,’ said the wizard. ‘I have seen several ages of the world, and I may yet live to see the beginning of another.’
      ‘Then you must be very old indeed!’ cried Dannadar.
      ‘You could say that,’ replied the wizard. ‘And now to answer your first question: our destination is Aberlaven, which is several hundred miles to the south, in Arenya.’
      ‘Why are you going there?’ asked Talen.
      ‘The Kastairi—the order of wizards to which I belong—reside there,’ explained the wizard. ‘I have been summoned by my colleagues regarding an important matter, which needn’t concern you. But I spend as much time at Aberlaven as at Teliirinendi. I had retired to my tower in the north to rest my mind for a short time, for I have been grappling with a difficult problem that has taxed my strength overmuch. But the world, it seems, will not allow much leisure for an old wizard. In truth, I had little hope of taking a holiday. Teliirinendi is where I go when I need to do my best thinking. It is a good place for serious concentration.’
      ‘What exactly is this dilemma that faces you?’ asked Talen.
      To this the wizard replied: ‘Do you not have a saying in Laurelindor? I believe it goes: meddle in the affairs of wizards if you want to become a toad .’
      ‘That we do,’ laughed Talen, ‘but it seems worth the risk just to pry a bit!’
      ‘You would be wise not to question common wisdom, my good Elfling!’ said the wizard good-naturedly. ‘It is there for good reason—and free to all who would use it, last I checked. After all, curiosity has killed in its day more than Faelyni’s proverbial cat.’
      ‘Will you not give us even so much as a hint, then?’ Talen pressed on.
      ‘Let us just say that there are dark forces awakening that I would like to have seen sleep a while longer.’ The wizard would say no more on the matter, and they were indeed wise enough not to press further. They wondered to themselves what dark forces he might mean, but it was difficult to imagine anything foul on such a pleasant day, so they did not dwell upon it.
      Just then the owl that had been riding on the wizard’s shoulder leapt into the air and spread his wings. A quick flap and a glide took him a short distance away, where he alighted on the ground to gaze intently at his feet.
      Fifin watched the dappled brown bird with some apprehension, for he had seen the raptor’s pointy talons and found them too long and sharp for his comfort. ‘What is your bird-friend doing, Raavan?’ he asked, still watching the owl.
      ‘He appears to be having a belated meal,’ answered the wizard as the owl reached down with his beak to produce a dead mouse. ‘Airi’s not had his breakfast today. He’s got a bit of a cold, and I think his hunting prowess has suffered somewhat because of it.’
      ‘Yes, we saw him take a dive at a flock of crows this morning,’ recalled Falco, ‘though he was not able to catch any. Does he always travel with you?’
      ‘Airi and I have known each other for quite a long time,’ said the wizard. ‘We try to avoid being separated. He is my eyes and my ears, you might say. I also enjoy his company.’
      As they passed nearer to the owl they watched him throw back his head as he bolted down the mouse—head first. Looking rather more pleased now, he flew back to his shoulder perch to digest his meal.
      ‘An Elfling back home used to keep pet birds,’ recalled Dannadar, ‘but I can’t remember his name.’
      ‘You mean old Iske ,’ said Falco with a wry smile.
      ‘O, yes,’ said Dannadar, smiling as well. ‘Yes, of course—old Iske Aaghan. Rather an unusual fellow, he was. He kept crows and robins, and even a nightingale or two, I think. But he never had an owl that I can recall. Did you find Airi when he was young, Raavan?’
      ‘He was young when I got him,’ replied the wizard, ‘but I didn’t exactly find him. My old master presented him to me as a parting gift soon after Airi had fledged. His parents had been with my master for a very long time as well.’
      ‘Do all wizards keep owls?’ asked Talen.
      ‘No,’ replied the wizard. ‘Some keep owls, some falcons, but many dispense with the practise altogether. It is an old tradition, now rarely observed.’
      ‘I thought wizards kept Dragons as pets,’ said Falco.
      ‘Good heavens, no!’ said Raavan. ‘Dragons do not make for good pets. But some wizards used to take on the occasional Dragon as an apprentice . Indeed, the practise was quite common long ago. I’ve known a few fine drakes myself. Now there are very few dragons about at all, and they have become rather wary of wizards it seems.’
      ‘Then Dragons are not so very dangerous after all?’ asked Talen.
      ‘They are most definitely dangerous!’ replied the wizard. ‘Be glad that you are likely never to meet one. Quite apart from their physical strength they are cunning and crafty beyond all ken. Fortunately, not all Dragons are bad at heart and there have even been some that were quite noble. Indeed, the world would be very different today were it not for a certain number of their kind.’
      ‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Talen.
      Raavan replied, ‘There have been Dragons who have fought in the Great Wars, to the great consternation of our common foe. But for their aide, all would have been lost, and this on more than one occasion. We owe much to them—more than can be repaid, perhaps.’
      At this the talk subsided as the Elflings pondered all they had heard from their distinguished fellow traveller. To hear tell of such weighty matters from so respected an authority was different entirely from hearing the same over a mug at Clackfriar’s Pub. Their minds were ajumble with Dragons soaring, their hot breath melting bastions of steel and turrets of stone in wars fought long before their time, and in places that no longer exist. They were reminded of the immensity of the world and its history, and of the smallness of their own lives.
      As they drifted out of reverie they saw that the sky had begun to cloud over and soon a cool breeze set in that had them checking the buttons on their cloaks. A final spur of the Laurelstone Mountains thrust its foot out nearly in their path, but they continued on with little change in course and in time the grey peaks fell behind, leaving only wide, open lands before them. A rumbling in their stomachs told them that it was time for dinner and so they halted to prepare a meal and make their camp for the night.
      That night it rained and their fire died early, but not before they had eaten. The Elflings were little used to travel still and the hot meal had refreshed them.
      As they lay close under the tarpaulin they marveled again at their good fortune in meeting the wizard. Whatever was the crisis of which he darkly hinted, they felt certain that great doings were at hand and they each indulged in fantastical imaginings featuring themselves as warriors serving some noble cause. Talen saw himself fighting beside Raavan in a Great War, with shiny blades flashing in the sun, bright banners rippling in the wind, and Dragons passing overhead to rain their burning wrath upon the enemy. As he fell into slumber the waking visions permeated into his sleep, giving him dreams both great and fearful. Toward the end of night, however, he drifted irresistibly into a dreadful nightmare. He was fighting a dark figure alone, but was unable to overcome the foe. The figure grew into an immense shadow that covered the land, and the entire world was swallowed up by it. He woke suddenly. The night was quiet, the rain having let up, and before long he had slipped back into dreamless slumber.
       
       
      They awoke to a cool morning, white with dense fog, and rose to stretch their limbs. They were starting to find that long hours of riding made for sore muscles, which a sleep on hard ground did little to relieve. A hot meal would have been just the thing, but no dry tinder was to be found and so they sat round the muddy ashes of the previous night’s fire and chewed quietly on their cold breakfast. Yet, their enthusiasm was not broken and they eagerly struck the camp in order to get under way.
      The thick fog made for slow going, but it lifted after an hour or two and by mid-morning their path had merged with a stony track that appeared to be the remains of an ancient road. This they followed southward amid tall grasslands that grew greener by the mile. Several tiny streams crossed their path and at one of these they stopped to refill their skins. They washed their faces in the chill water, feeling then much refreshed, and after that it was easier to enjoy a day that was shaping up to be as promising as the previous. The bumblebees were buzzing and the riders began to spy the occasional butterfly winging erratically about.
      As noontide approached the party began to think about taking a quick lunch. Along the way there had been occasional brakes of trees along the odd grassland stream and they looked for one of these, for they were convenient places to rest. As they were looking about in the distance for such a likely spot, some of them noticed a low hill off to the left which appeared to be strewn with the remains of some ancient castle or other.
      ‘What is that place I espy on yon hill?’ asked Dannadar of Raavan. ‘Is it an ancient ruins?’
      Raavan squinted in the direction Dannadar was pointing. ‘Ah, yes—Imrë Aithiúil. A great castle once stood in its midst, but there are nought but broken walls there now.’
      ‘Let us rest there!’ said Dannadar.
      ‘Yes, let’s!’ said Fifin. ‘I should very much like to see a real castle.’ The other Elflings eagerly agreed.
      ‘Ah! But I have just told you there is no castle there, lads,’ countered Raavan with a clever smile.
    ‘Yes, but castle remains shall do just fine for our purposes,’ insisted Fifin. ‘I for one have always wanted to explore an ancient ruins.’
      Raavan sighed. ‘Why not? I suppose we can bear a slight delay. But let us not make an all day affair of it.’ The Elflings gave their promises, and that was that. Before long they had reached the hill and were climbing to the top. Now they approached the outermost rubble, which in some places grew into low walls that were not yet fully toppled. They saw that the ruins were indeed very old and that nature was doing her best to make the castle become one with the hill again. Many of the tumbled rocks were moss-covered, and leafy vines were running on the aged walls and climbing up the failing ramparts. Small trees even grew in places, sending their searching roots through cracks in the weathered flagstones. As Talen looked upon the hard grey stone and the contrasting colours of the grass and trees he wondered at the propensity of new life to arise from the midst of ruin.
      ‘Rather an untidy place, isn’t it?’ noted Fifin, climbing down from his pony and kicking at the rubble. The others dismounted also and began quietly to look around. The cousins strayed off together, eager to explore every nook and cranny of the stony labyrinth, while Talen, Falco, and Raavan meandered slowly about the grassy periphery.
      The three wandered silently at first, enjoying the fragrant breeze that wafted up from the fields below. Talen began to wonder to himself who were the people that had lived in that place, what joys had touched their lives, and how they had met their end: ‘What happened here, Raavan? I can almost envision a thriving city about this hill. Yet, now it is deserted.’
      ‘It does seem an ideal place to have a castle,’ noted Falco, ‘commanding as it does such an excellent view of the surrounding lands. It must have been a strong fortress at one time. I am surprised that it fell.’
      ‘Much that was once strong no longer stands tall,’ replied the wizard as he worked at lighting a long-stemmed pipe. ‘That is the way of things. I have seen many faces that are now not to be seen this side of the grave. And I fear that much that still remains and is fair in Entira may yet slip into darkness during our lifetimes. But to answer your question, young Talen, Imrë Aithiúil was indeed a strong fortress, of a time. Like many of the strongholds of the East it was destroyed in the last Great War.’
      ‘Like Caer Carnoch,’ said Falco.
      ‘Just so,’ said Raavan.
      ‘What was the Great War about?’ asked Talen. ‘I mean,   who were they fighting?’
      Raavan puffed at his pipe with one hand while with the other he returned a small tinderbox to an inner pocket. ‘These people were fighting the same foe against which all the free world struggled at the time: a Deathlord named Mythron. The Alliance included Men, Elves, and Dwarves, and even an Elfling or two as I recall,’ said he, casting a glance and a pair of raised eyebrows at his small companions. ‘The men of the East were especially hard hit, however, and very few survived. It is said that the soil of Aresse is rich with the blood of the Eastmen.’
      ‘Then the Alliance was defeated?’ said Talen.
      ‘Fortunately for us all, no !’ replied Raavan. ‘Otherwise, we would not be here to enjoy this fine afternoon. The enemy was cast down at the last, but as in all the Great Wars, it was a victory won at great expense. It is a wonder the world has room for so much sorrow.’ Just then he stopped to gaze at a pile of rubble before a crumbling wall on their right. The Elflings tried to guess what had occupied that place, but the wizard said nothing and they felt too awkward to ask. After a moment the old man looked up and gazed unseeing into the distance.
      Returning quickly to the present he managed a weak smile and winking at his newest friends continued on in the direction they had been walking. ‘Let us see if we can find a place to sit comfortably and enjoy a smoke on this fine day. Have you brought your pipes?’
      ‘We don’t smoke, Sir,’ replied Falco.
      ‘Hmm. Too bad,’ replied the wizard, his pipe hanging out the left side of his mouth as grey smoke puffed out the right.
      Just then they heard a shout from somewhere among the ruins.
      ‘That sounds like Fifin.’ said Talen. ‘And he is shouting for help!’ In a flash he and Falco made like to rush off, but Raavan commanded them to stop.
      ‘Hold! From where do the cries come?’ asked Raavan. They listened for a moment as the voice called out several times more. It was clearly Fifin, and he was calling their names.
      Falco pointed off toward a more built-up part of the ruins where the jagged edge of a partially collapsed tower reared up against the sky. ‘That way!’ said the alert Elfling.
      ‘Then let us proceed there will all swiftness and caution, but stay close behind me, and watch your step,’ said the wizard to the Elflings as he led them in the direction of their distressed comrade. Airi took wing then and went on ahead, leading them from the air.
      They flew now over the rugged terrain, clambering often over great, jumbled piles of rock. Talen and Falco found that keeping up with the old man was not as easy as they might have expected, for he moved quickly and decisively through the myriad alleys and corridors that led surely (though with some circuity) onward toward the broken tower from whence the cries came.
      Within minutes they had nearly reached the tower. They knew they were nearing the distressed Elfling because they could hear his clear voice calling from close at hand. Raavan and Falco called back and soon they were nearly upon him.
      Talen, who trailed just a bit behind, began to hurry along even faster. Suddenly, out the corner of his eye he caught a movement among the rocks just a short distance away on the right. As he looked there he saw what appeared to be a statue depicting a grotesque, winged creature little larger than himself. Though he was quite sure it was only a sculpture, he was struck by the detail and the realism of it. It occurred to him then that the beast was sculpted in an oddly unsettled posture, looking almost as if ready to make a leap. Even as he looked on he fancied that the thing had shifted its weight ever so slightly, though he knew it could not be so.
      It was the distraction of the statue that caused the Elfling to fall. His foot had caught on one projecting stone and with a cry he landed upon another. Hearing his cry, Falco ran back to help him up while Raavan looked on from atop a broken staircase.
      ‘Are you all right, lad?’ called the wizard as Falco aided his fallen friend.
      ‘I’ve scraped my arm pretty well, but I think I’ll be fine,’ Talen replied. ‘Go on without me! I shall catch up in a trice.’
      Both Raavan and Falco went on ahead, and now Talen hobbled along not far behind. When he reached the staircase upon which Raavan had stood a just minute before, he saw that he had come to a ledge. A small leap took him down to the stone floor below where Raavan, Falco, and Fifin huddled close about the base of a tree. As he came closer to them he saw that they were gazing into a large crevasse that had opened in the floor.
      The voice of Dannadar trailed up out of the black chasm, but they could see nothing of the Elfling below. ‘I am quite all right—trust me! I’ve taken falls far worse before.’
      ‘We were both standing near this tree when this pit just opened up beneath us. Only I was able to scramble away without falling in,’ explained Fifin. The Elfling was still a little upset by the ordeal and also out of wind from all the shouting.
      ‘Well, the thing to worry about now is not how he got into that place, but how we will get him out,’ said Raavan.
      ‘We’ve rope in our packs, but they are back with the ponies,’ observed Falco. ‘I suppose I shall have to run back and fetch a length now.’
      ‘Actually, I may be able to climb up these tree roots,’ called Dannadar from his subterranean prison, ‘but I think you should all come down here first, because I’ve found something I think you should see.’
      ‘We’ve all had the good sense not to go falling into any holes, and now you think we are going to just hop in there with you?’ shouted Falco into the crevasse.
      ‘What is it that you have found in there, Dannadar?’ asked Raavan.
      ‘I don’t quite know, but it is an odd place,’ answered Dannadar, ‘with statues and the like. I think it might be a tomb of sorts.’
      Raavan sat down on a protruding flagstone and wiped his sweaty brow. ‘I seem to recall that this was supposed to be a rest—and a brief one at that.’
      No one spoke for a moment. Then Fifin said shyly: ‘I have always wanted to see an ancient tomb...’
      Raavan sighed and replaced his handkerchief into his pocket. Standing once again, he said, ‘Very well. Let me climb down and see that it is quite safe. If I find it an easy descent then the rest of you may come down also, but please , do be careful!’ With that, the old man removed his broadsword and placed it leaning against the makeshift seat along with his wooden staff. He then grabbed hold of a large root that trailed down into the hole and with great care and much looking back he climbed slowly down feet-first into the crevasse.
      ‘How is your arm, Talen?’ asked Falco when the wizard could be seen no more.
      ‘It will be fine, I think,’ answered Talen. ‘At least, it is no longer bleeding.’
      ‘What happened to you?’ asked Fifin.
      ‘My foot caught on a stone as I was running to catch up with Raavan and Falco and I ended up falling on a nasty rock,’ answered Talen.
      ‘He was competing with you for our attention, Fif. It was quite intentional, I am sure!’ laughed Falco.
      ‘Actually, it was my attention that was diverted—by a statue of this horrid beast: a Gargoyle, I think,’ answered Talen.
      Fifin gasped, placing a hand on Falco’s arm. ‘I just remembered: Dann saw one of those Gargoyle statues moving , as if it were alive! He said he saw it folding its wings as if it had just landed, plain as day. I told him he was full of codswallop, but he swears he saw it just the same.’
      ‘It sounds to me like your cousin has spent too much time in your father’s ale-house, Mr. Frothmaster,’ said Falco. ‘Anyway, the two of you should have been spending more time watching where you were going instead of gawking at stone monsters.’
      Talen objected: ‘The Gargoyle I saw also seemed alive, Falco. That is why I tripped—I could not tear my eyes from the thing. I thought I was day-dreaming, but now I wonder.’
      ‘Well, I for one have not seen any mythical sculptures come to life,’ said Falco. ‘Then again, this place does have a strange feeling about it. More likely than not, these old ruins have sparked your imagination a bit.’
      ‘I think we should tell Raavan about it when he comes up again,’ said Talen.
      ‘I thought we were going down with them,’ said Fifin hopefully.
      Falco called down into the hole: ‘Is it safe to come down now, Raavan?’
      ‘Yes,’ came the answer. ‘But be careful !’
      And so they all scrambled down into the dark, gaping hole. Talen went last, and went slowly at that, in consideration of his injured arm. He had very little difficulty, however, and as he neared the bottom two pairs of arms took hold of him and provided guidance till he stood safely in the uncollapsed portion of the room. He turned round then to see that the arms belonged to Falco and Fifin. In the dim light of a single torch fixed to one wall he was also able to see Raavan bent over the reclining form of Dannadar. The wizard was inspecting the Elfling’s legs and feet and soon concluded that he had only a slightly twisted ankle and a few bruises besides.
      ‘You are very lucky,’ said the wizard to Dannadar as they both stood up again, the Elfling leaning heavily on one leg. ‘I am beginning to entertain the notion that Elflings might have seven lives after all.’
      ‘I think the number is more like seventy-seven,’ said Falco. ‘That, or Dann here has got more than his fair share.’
      ‘Indeed,’ said the wizard. ‘Now let us see what sort of place you have got us into, my boy.’ At this, the wizard took the torch from the wall and began to go over the room in detail.
      They saw that there were indeed statues lining two of the walls: statues of men and also a few of women, though more like gods and goddesses they looked than any of the real men the Elflings had seen. And there was a sarcophagus, a very rich-looking one, with glittering gems set in the stone and gold tracery along the edges. On the top was sculpted the likeness of a man lying in repose with an unsheathed sword in his hands. The sword was real and appeared pristine, apart from the cobwebs and the shrivelled, hanging insects which were draped along its length. Raavan gazed intently at the man and at the impressive weapon.
      ‘So it is a tomb, then,’ said Talen.
      ‘Yes, it is a tomb,’ replied Raavan. ‘And I would very much like to know whose.’ He began to look more closely along the edges of the long sarcophagus.
      ‘He was probably a king,’ offered Fifin.
      ‘Well, of course he was a king!’ said Dannadar. ‘Look at the crown on his head.’
      At length Raavan found what he was looking for at the head of the coffin just below the top edge. ‘Here it is:

       
      ‘So, it was Folláineádlan,’ mused the wizard. ‘I did not recognise him from the sculpture. People often are idealized after death; kings especially so.’
      ‘Why did they bury his sword down here with him?’ said Falco. ‘I should think it would have been more useful to give it to someone else.’
      ‘Well, kings often were buried with ceremonial blades,’ said Raavan, ‘even those who never wielded one in life. This, however, is no mere ceremonial weapon, for this is Noromendor, Sword of the East.’
      ‘You know of this sword?’ said Talen incredulously.
      ‘I know a great deal about this sword,’ replied the wizard. ‘I just did not know it was here. Long years pass and one loses track even of those things which have altered the course of history. Noromendor is one of the Swords of Power.’
      ‘That sounds important,’ said Falco.
      ‘It is,’ replied the wizard. ‘There were originally three Swords of Power, forged long ago at Ilimath by the Dwarves and the Elves as a gift to the three kingdoms of men.’
      ‘The same three kingdoms mentioned in the inscription?’ said Fifin.
      ‘Just so,’ said Raavan. ‘Noromendor was the Sword of the East, Niisilme the Sword of the South, and Nifredir the Sword of the West. Only Niisilme was still known to exist. It hangs high on the wall behind the throne at Pencairn, where it has rested for a thousand years. May it rest there a thousand more.’
      ‘Why do you say that?’ asked Falco.
      ‘Because I do not hope for war,’ replied Raavan. ‘I’ve seen my share, and more. Nevertheless, such a token of power does not fall lightly into one’s hands, and so I think that I should take this, just for safe keeping.’ With that, he slid the lengthy blade out of the king’s hands, wiped it clean on his breeches and tucked it beneath his belt.
      ‘Let us see where these other passages lead,’ continued the wizard. Now he held the torch aloft and they observed that there was a doorway in each of the walls excepting the south, which was piled high with rubble from the collapse of the ceiling. ‘Of course, they are most likely to lead to yet other tombs. The queen is obviously not here, so she must lie in some antechamber, I would think.’
      The east and north ways turned out to be blocked, their walls having caved in long ago. Only the western passage was intact. After descending a half flight of stairs they were led to a room much like the previous, but mostly collapsed, save for the easternmost end.
      They again found statues which mostly were toppled and broken, as well as some old, rusty blades and armour which were scattered on the floor among the loose rubble. Shattered pottery and the bones of small animals lay there among the detritus, too.
      In a corner Talen discovered a very old pouch with very old draw-strings that were tied fast. Inside he could feel there was a smooth, heavy ball of sorts. As he stood fumbling with the strings Dannadar stooped to pick up a rusty sword, which nearly disintegrated in his hands. ‘Well, that’s not much use, now, is it?’ he said.
      ‘You should not go taking souvenirs from a tomb, anyway,’ said Raavan. ‘Show at least some respect for the dead.’
      ‘But you just took that sword from out of the hands of the king!’ said Dannadar incredulously.
      ‘Yes, but that is different,’ replied the wizard. ‘Different entirely.’
      At this the Elflings began to roll their eyes and wag their heads as they mimicked the aged wizard: ‘O, yes! O, of course—different entirely. That is very different indeed! ’
      The wizard frowned mightily at them, his great, bushy eyebrows bristling with indignation. But as the Elflings continued their ridiculous sport he found it increasingly difficult to hold on to his irritation, and soon he burst out in laughter. They all joined him in this mirth, and he commented to them: ‘I must say, every wizard should have a merry gang of Elflings in his company to help him maintain his good humour.’
      Fifin bowed low, then said: ‘Our entertainment is always free of charge.’
      ‘How very fortunate am I,’ replied the wizard.
      Just then a bright light filled the room, and they all saw that Talen held in his hands a glowing crystal globe of sorts, about the size of a large apple. Having finally pried open the pouch, this is what he had discovered within.
      ‘What is it?’ cried the other Elflings.
      ‘I do not know,’ replied Talen. ‘I found it in the corner over here. I suppose it must have belonged to whatever prince or queen was buried in this chamber.’ As he gazed into the sphere, he thought he could just discern many tiny points of brighter light among the lesser rays that were emanating brilliantly forth.
      ‘Let me see it, Talen,’ said the wizard, and Talen handed him the shimmering orb.
      ‘Hmm,’ said the wizard. ‘It certainly has some charm upon it or other. I have never seen its like before, though it occurs to me that it may be Elven, seeing as it is rather beautifully wrought.’
      The other Elflings were eager then to inspect the curious bauble, which went from hand to hand. ‘May I keep it, Raavan?’ asked Talen when it came to him again.
      Raavan reluctantly nodded his head in assent. ‘I suppose it may come in handy, if ever again you are in a dark place such as this. I should keep it concealed though, if I were you, and draw it out only when needed. Such things may attract more attention than one would like.’
      ‘I shall keep it in the pouch that held it,’ promised Talen.
      ‘Very good,’ said Raavan. ‘Now let us continue our journey south, for this rest has taken longer than I would have liked. Also, I think we may see that our progress will go somewhat slower now that some of us are more sore-limbed than before.’