Chapter 3

Aresse

They climbed out of the tomb with little difficulty, though Dannadar and Talen did require a bit of assistance. When they emerged again they saw that Airi was perched in a nearby tree, the sun shining dully behind him. By the time they had made their way back to the tethered ponies the afternoon was wearing on and they began to think about the coming of evening.
      ‘Perhaps we should camp here for the night, seeing as we’ve only a few hours more of daylight,’ said Fifin.
      But Raavan insisted that they continue. ‘Let us ride at least until nightfall, and perhaps a bit beyond. The way should be safe even after dark, for the road is straight and the terrain quite smooth.’
      Thus they rode for several hours more and were becoming very weary when finally Raavan called a halt. ‘I think we have gone far enough for today. Let us find a likely spot and get a fire going.’
      The ponies were tied and the uninjured set about searching for wood to build a fire. Talen assisted in the effort by providing light from the crystal sphere.
      ‘There is remarkably little firewood hereabouts,’ commented Fifin. ‘I will be surprised if we find enough for more than a hastily cooked meal.’
      ‘Few trees means little firewood,’ replied Falco. ‘What did you expect to find in a grassland?’
      ‘It’s too bad we can’t burn grass,’ lamented Fifin. In time, enough wood was collected for a modest blaze. The weary travellers gathered round it then to eat and then rest, and also to recount the events of the day. Talen set the crystal aside, as the flames threw light enough, but he did not return it to its pouch, being too tired to bother for the moment.
      ‘Tell us more of this sword, Raavan,’ said Fifin. ‘What did you say it was called?’
      ‘Noromendor it was called by the Elves,’ said Raavan, ‘though the Dwarves may call it differently. The Sword of the East , the Green Flame —these are the names by which men mostly know it.’
      ‘Why Green Flame ?’ asked Falco.
      ‘Because it glows with a flaming green light when wielded in battle,’ said the wizard.
      ‘Ooh, I should like to see that,’ said Fifin.
      Raavan continued, ‘It is not only light that the blade emits—the flame will sear the flesh of any foe that dares to defy its wielder. But it must be wielded by the heir of the land or the flame will not respond. When in the proper hands it is a formidable weapon. There are few that can withstand it.’
      ‘Who is the proper wielder of the sword?’ asked Talen. ‘Will it respond to you?’
      The wizard shook his head. ‘I am not the Chosen One, so I cannot unlock the flame. Only the sword knows who is the proper heir, and indeed kings have been chosen this way.’
      ‘That sounds like an awful lot of faith to have in a mere hunk of metal,’ observed Dannadar, who was trying to fight off sleep.
      ‘That may well be,’ said the wizard. ‘But the Three have always chosen well. Anyway, it is not our place to question these things. There are higher powers at work in the world. Even my wizardry does not match that of he who imbued the Three with their special magic.’
      ‘And the other two have a flame also?’ said Talen.
      ‘Yes,’ replied Raavan, ‘but of different colours: blue for Niisilme and red for Nifredir. Noromendor is green for the grasslands of the East. Niisilme glows blue like the sea at Pencairn. Nifredir shines red with the blood of the Westmen, who were slaughtered in great numbers at the end of the First Age, and who have ever slaughtered each other in their endless internecine wars. The colours were chosen to remind the wielders of their homelands during battle, that they may be given the resolve to fight on against even the strongest adversary.’
      ‘What did the inscription on the tomb mean, Raavan, about uniting the three kingdoms?’ asked Talen.
      Raavan answered, ‘The men of different nations have not always acted as members of the same race. Minor squabbles have ever obscured the fact that they are much more similar than different. Of course, the same could be said of the Dwarves, or even the Elves, for that matter. Sadly, the only times the nations act as one are when they are threatened by a common enemy. So it was, the last time I saw Noromendor on the battlefield. Folláineádlan apparently fancied he would go forth one day with this mighty talisman and take his place in history as one who united the Three Kingdoms of men. But Folláineádlan never took this sword into battle, to my knowledge. I am afraid his glory falls far short of his fine epitaph. It is a monument only to his ambition.’
      ‘But I thought Imrë Aithiúil was destroyed during the last Great War,’ objected Falco. ‘Surely, Folláineádlan wielded the sword in defence of his kingdom?’
      ‘No,’ replied Raavan, ‘Folláineádlan came after the war. He tried to restore the former might and glory of the East, starting with Imrë Aithiúil, but he was not successful. The East was too heavily reduced by the war, and it has only languished since.’
      ‘Raavan,’ said Talen, changing the subject, ‘when we were at the ruins, I saw something very strange—a Gargoyle, I believe it was. At first I thought it only a statue, but now I am not so sure. I may actually have seen it moving , and I’d swear the beast was watching me.’
      ‘Yes, Dann said the same!’ exclaimed Fifin casting a glance at Dannadar, who was by now fast asleep.
      ‘Interesting,’ mused the wizard. ‘But I would guess that it was your imagination getting the better of you. Those statues were originally meant to instill fear, after all.’
      ‘Are there really any Gargoyles in the world?’ asked Fifin. ‘I mean, aren’t they mythical?’
      ‘No indeed!’ replied Raavan. ‘Gargoyles once were quite real. The skies were filled with them in the early days before the coming of men to Entira. In the days of the Old Kingdoms there were wizards who had gained command of them somewhat. It became a mark of high status for any baron or earl who could employ such a wizard, that his walls were guarded at night by these blood-sucking beasts. During the day they were much in prominence as they slept atop the battlements, still as statues, as it were. In time the practise evolved into an architectural feature as the lesser barons tried to emulate their betters by putting up sculpted decorations in the likeness of the grotesque guardians. Now only the statues remain. Gargoyles and men never did get along well, and the beasts have not returned even as the men of Aresse have dwindled. It is likely that the Gargoyles have gone extinct, at least within Entira.’
      The Elflings were much fascinated by all the old man told them. Once again his stories transported them to times of the deep, deep past. All of this talk was filling their heads and more questions were forming in them when they suddenly were startled to see a flash of light swish by, just outside the circle of firelight.
      ‘The crystal!’ cried Falco, who instinctively grabbed his bow and ran off into the night as the shimmering of the bauble receded. He was followed by Talen and Fifin, who had also grabbed their bows and their quivers of arrows as well.
      ‘Pixies!’ muttered Raavan. ‘Do not harm them!’ he yelled. ‘They are simple mischief-makers, and it will only bring bad luck down on us if they are harmed!’
      It is doubtful that the others heard him, for they were caught up in the chase, and a tenacious Elfling on the hunt is not easily distracted. As they followed the bobbing orb it seemed to them that it ran on several pairs of legs, with fluttering wings too weak to lift it any great distance into the air. Fast it ran on its many legs, but faster still was Falco. He would have caught the fleeing bauble but for its evasive twists and turns, which had him constantly making corners too sharp for any Elfling to properly negotiate. Fifin followed close behind, and he it was who caught the globe at last, as his smaller physique made for sharper turns, and also he quickly cut corners whenever he saw Falco had been outmanoeuvered.
      When Talen arrived just seconds later an intense and confusing struggle ensued as Fifin and Falco tried to hold on to the shifting, bobbing bauble. He was at quite a loss as to how to help them, but after a moment more that became unnecessary, for Raavan stepped up and snatched the glowing ball in his big, green-gloved hand. Falco and Fifin let go then, and for the first time they could see that dangling from the globe were four or five little creatures, wholly naked, and with long, slender legs and wings. The latter were all gyrating frantically in an attempt to wrest the globe from Raavan’s powerful hand.
      The old man held the purloined crystal up to his bearded face. He frowned mightily then at the tiny creatures who would still not relinquish the relic. So grim was his countenance as he glared at them however that the legs and the wings all stopped at once in apprehension of what might follow.
      ‘Go away!’ shouted he after an odd moment of stillness, and at once the rascally sprites dropped off and slipped into the night.
      ‘Pixies,’ the wizard explained. ‘They’ve a mighty liking for gaudy things such as this, and a mightier liking for mischief. It is good that you did not harm them, though. I would rather that they had gotten away with their prize than that you would have injured any of them. It is extremely bad luck to visit any harm on a Pixie, for any reason whatsoever.’
      He then handed the globe to Talen, who held tightly onto it, looking round as if he expected the little rascals to mount another attack. ‘Now, if you please, good Sir,’ continued the wizard, ‘keep this thing covered up, and bring it out only when you really need it! I do not fancy traipsing off into the dark on another wild chase like that one.’
      They returned then to their campsite, where a yawning Dannadar demanded to know what was all the hullabaloo . A short explanation was all he needed before returning to his slumber. As it was getting late they all decided to partake of some much-needed rest, for it had been a long day and the goings-on had them all very tired indeed.
       
       
      They woke to a grey morning, as mornings tend to be in early spring. A fine, misty drizzle began to fall just as they were setting out. Their hoods cast over their heads, they trotted along quietly, their appetite for adventure temporarily sated by the haps and mishaps of the previous day.
      As they trotted leisurely along an occasional sparrow could be heard chipping in earnest nearby, even in the dwindling rain. Soon meadowlarks could be seen also, flashing their yellow plumes in courtship to the occasional whistled melody:


By noon the rain had ceased entirely and the sun broke through the expanse of clouds. The day was shaping up quite nicely and the travellers became more spirited.
      ‘Truly am I glad that the rain has stopped,’ said Fifin. ‘These gloomy mornings are for the birds—though I must say, even the birds seem happier when the sun shows her pleasant face.’
      ‘I think we all feel happier with her watching over us,’ said Dannadar. ‘Indeed, I feel so revived I think I could tolerate a song or three. We’ve not had one in days. How about it, Talen? Will you bring out your fife and lead us in a sprightly tune?’
      Talen obligingly rummaged through his pack till he found his instrument. A quick flick of the fingers and a scale or two were all that he needed to find a fitting piece, and he was soon joined by the flowing sweetness of clear, harmonious voices:
       
      A basket full of apples ripe
      A jar of golden honey
      Sweeter still to my ears is
      A song of bright harmony
       
      Warble on high!
      Warble on low!
      Warble the warble wherever you go!
      Lalala-lalala-lalala-la!
      So warble the warble wherever you go!
       
      The morning passes sweetly
      With a tune to pass the hours
      I’d rather hear a tune so clear
      Than sniff whole fields of flowers
       
      Yodel above!
      Yodel below!
      Yodel the yodel wherever you go!
      Lalala-lalala-lalala-la!
      So yodel the yodel wherever you go!
       
      The fullness of the day is wasted
      Only by the silence
      So beat the drums and make more strums
      In noisy, twanged defiance
       
      Carol it quick!
      Carol it slow!
      Carol the carol wherever you go!
      Lalala-lalala-lalala-la!
      So carol the carol wherever you go!
       
      If they were not in a merry mood after this they certainly were before much longer, for many other silly rhymes poured forth in accompaniment to Talen’s florid fifing. Even Airi, still perched on Raavan’s shoulder, felt inspired by all the merry-making, bobbing his head and hooting in a deep voice after each new song. He appeared especially intrigued by Talen’s high-pitched instrument and hopped at one point onto the Elfling’s shoulder for a view of the shiny tube with the vibrant, bird-like voice. So much did he like it that from that time forward whenever Talen played the owl would immediately perch upon the performing Elfling’s shoulder.
      The miles were thus passed quite merrily that day and it seemed to the travellers that evening came on much sooner than it should. The horizon went red as the sun fell down upon it and all the world was awash with the extra depth and colour that only a brilliant sunset can bring.
      As dusk was gathering and the night-chill settled about them small bats could be seen flitting to and fro above the darkening seas of grass. A pale moon added little to the waning light of evening, though the sky was clear, and the first few stars began to shine forth from the inky field above. They had just decided to camp for the night and had stopped their steeds in the road when from behind them came winging a low, black shape, far too large to be a bat or any type of bird that they knew. It passed them just off to their right, arcing sharply away, and none of them got enough of a look to identify the creature.
      ‘I should very much like to know what that was,’ said Fifin.
      ‘So should I,’ said Raavan as he turned to the Elflings behind him. What he saw then were four drawn bows with four nocked arrows, all pointed off in the direction in which the strange creature had flown. They had been drawn instinctively and without the wizard’s notice, indeed without even a sound. The creature did not return, and in a moment the bows were relaxed as the Elflings cautiously lowered their guard.
      ‘Perhaps we should keep a watch tonight, in case that thing returns,’ suggested Falco.
      ‘That may not be a bad idea,’ said Raavan, ‘though I doubt we’ve anything to fear.’ Although he sounded confident when he spoke, the wizard continued to gaze into the night for several minutes more and the Elflings began to wonder if he guessed more than he revealed.
      They remained alert as they set up the camp, but they soon had a fire going and a contented, sleepy feeling came to them after supper was had. An hour and a quarter into the night only Talen and Falco remained, and also the wizard, who sat quietly puffing his pipe and gazing into the fire. The others had all drifted off to sleep.
      ‘Do not stray from the firelight as you keep your watch tonight,’ said Raavan with only half a glance at the Elflings. They were watching with heavy eyelids as the old man smoked up a storm and they gave no more than a grunt in acknowledgement. Before very long they were both asleep, and only the wizard remained awake.
      When the Elflings awoke the next morning the wizard was nowhere to be found. They knew they had slept quite late, for the light was full upon the land and a very fine morning was unfolding. Raavan’s pony was still tethered along with theirs, so they knew at least that he had not gone ahead without them.
      ‘I had quite forgotten that Elflings can be such terrible lazybones,’ boomed a voice from behind the camp, startling the companions as they finished chewing on a cold breakfast.
      ‘Where have you been?’ they all asked of the wizard, anxious for any news.
      ‘I have been up and about for several hours already,’ he replied. ‘I watched the sun come up, as I’ve not done for quite a while. I trust you all enjoyed your lengthy repose.’
      ‘Yes, and thank you for not waking us,’ said Talen, ‘though I think it would have been safer for us all had a watch been kept as we intended.’
      ‘I kept watch,’ replied Raavan. ‘I had much thinking to do, and there was no need to disturb the rest of you.’
      ‘You stayed awake all night?’ asked Dannadar. ‘Do wizards not require sleep like the rest of us normal folk?’
      ‘Wizards do require sleep like the rest of you normal folk ,’ said Raavan with feigned indignation. ‘Most especially so when they are encumbered by travel-guests who require frequent guidance and rescue.’ A smile and a raised hand forestalled their objections to his jest. ‘I should say, rather, when they are daily and hourly entertained by fine musicianship and conversation. In any event, I took a brief nap shortly before dawn, which is all I really need when my mind is wrapped around a problem.’
      ‘What problem is that, or dare we ask?’ said Dannadar.
      ‘It is the problem of the road ahead,’ replied Raavan. ‘I had been intending to follow this ancient track as it turns to skirt the Glassie Fens, but now I think we will leave the road and proceed straight through, for I’ve a small side trip I now wish to make.’
      ‘You mean into the swamp?’ Dannadar said doubtfully.
      ‘Yes,’ replied the wizard, ‘but the way is not dangerous, or at least not overly so, and we will be going only part way into the swamp itself. I have an old friend who lives there in a drier region interior to the fens. Ferrymore it is called—though by whom, apart from he and I, is rather hard to imagine, for he rarely has visitors and I don’t seem to recall anyone else having the good sense to live in the place.’
      ‘No doubt,’ said Talen.
       
       
      They set off just as soon as they were able to strike the camp. Morning was passing rapidly and there was much activity in the meadow. Birds were engaged in their courtship displays, deer were seen grazing off in the distance and they even espied a few lone foxes darting betwixt the grassy corridors. The flowers of the field began to show their faces to the passers-by with increasing regularity, for not only was the spring advancing but the company were daily moving further south, where the springtime held to a progressively earlier schedule.
      Towards noon there was some talk of taking a brief rest. The sun was so delicious and the meadow so inviting they just wanted to lay on the velvet green and stretch their cramped riding-limbs. They had left the old road far behind and were now cutting their own trail down toward the lower lands.
      When they came to a rocky-banked rill they decided to stop and take lunch on the bank by the cool, murmuring stream. They dabbled their feet in the water as they chatted gaily and nibbled on wafers and various dried fruits which they had brought along from home. Behind them rose the lush, green foliage adorned with all manner of flowery blossoms, the scent of which intoxicated them so that their lunch was that much tastier.
      ‘I am starting to really like this land,’ said Fifin. ‘It is much like Laurelindor, only with many more types of flowers.’
      ‘It is grassier, too,’ added Dannadar. ‘I never knew so much grass grew in the world. I am beginning to think all the world is just a great, big, flowery meadow.’
      ‘Well, if you are hoping for a change of scenery you are about to get one,’ said Raavan. ‘By evening we should be approaching the margin of the fens.’
      ‘Not to be rude, Mr. Wizard, Sir, but why again are you leading us into the lovely bogs?’ asked Falco with undisguised sarcasm.
      Raavan replied, ‘I am leading you toward the lovely bogs , Mr. Whiteleaf, because there is a colleague there with whom I wish to confer.’
      ‘A wizard?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Yes, he is a wizard,’ said Raavan, ‘and a member of the Kastairi, though he rarely attends our conferences nowadays. Indeed, I cannot remember when last he did make the journey. Anyway, he may be joining us if I can persuade him to come to Aberlaven. He is not overfond of travel, however, so it may take some convincing.’
      ‘O my!’ cried Fifin. ‘These flowers are alive! ’
      ‘Well of course they are ali—’ replied Raavan, but he stopped abruptly in mid-sentence, for he and the other Elflings suddenly saw what it was that had so alarmed the youth. The Elfling had stood to brush the crumbs from his breeches and then had stooped to smell the large red blossoms which grew there. At his feet, the others observed, were several creeping plants with long vine-like stems. The stems ended in paired petals edged with tiny tooth-like filaments. What was so remarkable was that these mouth-like parts were snapping animatedly at the crumbs which lay on the ground near the feet of the astonished Elfling.
      Their surprise turned quickly to fascination, and then the Elflings gathered round Fifin and the hungry plants to feed them the tiny morsels left over from their lunch.
      ‘Have you ever seen anything like this before, Raavan?’ Talen asked, still gazing in wonder at the tiny, snapping mouths.
      ‘No,’ replied the wizard with a combination of intrigue and mild concern.
      The Elflings continued to feed the little green mouths. They especially enjoyed the tickling sensation on their outstretched palms as they were continually mouthed by the voracious plants. Little Fifin, who had strayed several yards into the deep thicket began to call back: ‘There are larger ones out here. Whoa—much larger!’ He was able to say no more, for just then an enormous green mouth lunged up and swallowed the poor Elfling—all except for his legs, which dangled out of the tightly closed lips. Just as abruptly the Elfling and the great carnivorous plant disappeared amid the vast, tangled thicket.
      Raavan acted at once. He lurched forward, staff in hand, toward the place where Fifin had been standing and there he began to beat wildly with his staff. Though he thrashed the bush energetically the wizard did not seem to be making any progress.
      ‘Do you see him?’ called out the Elflings who watched anxiously from the bank. They were of course eager to assist in the rescue of their comrade, yet they also were understandably wary of being swallowed up themselves.
      ‘No,’ answered Raavan, who now was furiously beating down the bush, now ranging out to cover a larger area around where Fifin had disappeared. The Elflings hesitantly stepped forward to aide in the search, but Raavan hastily warned them to stand fast: ‘Do not come in here! You will only get swallowed up like Fifin and then I will have to rescue the whole lot of you.’
      ‘Well, where is he?’ Dannadar called out frantically, but the wizard paid no heed. Now he carefully poked the ground with his long, stout staff, as if probing beneath the top layer of foliage. A moment later there was a rustling sound, as of something rushing off toward the right, and Raavan immediately gave chase. He soon caught up with his quarry, and then the Elflings could see him grab hold of a pair of legs and pull at them with all his might. A great tug-of-war ensued then which the wizard appeared to be losing.
      This was too much for Talen and Falco and Dannadar, who rushed in then despite Raavan’s warnings. They all grabbed hold of Fifin’s frantically kicking legs and proceeded to battle the rogue plant for possession of their dear friend. Raavan gave up pulling and instead drew out his great broadsword. With a mighty swing he hewed the stalk clean through and the Elflings all fell over, the dead plant sprawling on top of them.
      Raavan threw the plant off of them as they struggled to their feet. When they pulled Fifin from the limp jaws he was much too dizzy to stand. He sat weeping miserably as his companions stood about him, still too shocked to speak. Raavan leant wearily on his broadsword as he regained his own breath. They all rested a minute more before removing back to the bank of the rill at Raavan’s insistence.
      ‘That was intense,’ said Dannadar. ‘Are you sure you’re quite all right, Fif?’
      ‘I’m just a bit bruised, I am sure,’ replied Fifin. ‘Thankfully, that horrid plant did not have real teeth. I’ve picked up a terrible stink, though. I cannot imagine what had been in there before me.’
      ‘Well, you can wash yourself off in the stream,’ said Raavan.
      ‘Just watch out for the gigantic fish,’ said Dannadar, who endured powerful glares from all of his companions till he added, ‘I am sorry! It was only a joke.’
      ‘And not a very good one,’ said Raavan. ‘Besides, you should be the last person to ridicule a fellow who has fallen into trouble. The next time you find yourself in some dark or smelly hole I might think twice about pulling you out again.’ That was enough to quiet Dannadar, at least for a while.
      Fifin’s humour soon returned despite his terrible ordeal. ‘I cannot really blame the poor plant,’ said the Elfling. ‘After all, it was only trying to secure a good meal. Everything has got to eat to survive, plants included—even unnaturally big ones like that. I just wish it had chosen a different main course; or at least hadn’t such bad breath. Whew! What a stinkard!’
      ‘That is all well and good,’ said Raavan, ‘but we still may find someone to blame for this before too long, I fear.’ What he meant by this he would not say, and the Elflings thought it a very curious comment.
      ‘There he goes with his mysterious hints again,’ whispered Dannadar to Falco.
      Falco whispered back: ‘Perhaps you should not speak about him behind his back—he may turn you into a toad. And I daresay toads would not last very long in this neighbourhood.’ An ominous glance at the thicket nearby had Dannadar pursing his lips.
       
       
      When they all had been cleaned up and were more or less recovered from their ordeal they remounted their steeds and moved on. The rest of the afternoon was fairly uneventful and they covered many miles before evening came on. The character of the land had slowly begun to change, there now being more small trees and flowering bushes. The grasslands were coming to an end, though the companions had not yet reached the fens. The land was still quite pretty in spring and their spirits were rather high, despite their traumatic morning.
      When night had fallen dark about them they halted once more to make camp. Firewood was not difficult to obtain, and they had a good blaze going in no time. Round the fire they sat reflecting on the discoveries and the tribulations of the first few days of their journey.
      ‘I would like to have spent more time at the ruins,’ said Dannadar. ‘I am sure there is much there to see that we missed, and probably much that has never been seen before—or at least not in a very long time.’
      ‘If you wanted to stay you should have spoken up sooner,’ said Falco. ‘We needn’t have gone through all that trouble to rescue you from the tomb.’
      ‘Yes, but then Raavan would not have discovered the sword, nor Talen the glowing crystal,’ said Dannadar. ‘Imagine what else we may have found, had we spent another day rummaging about.’
      ‘Another day in that place would only have gotten you into more trouble,’ said Raavan. ‘Indeed, even Talen’s crystal orb has so far been more trouble than it is probably worth.’
      ‘Raavan, why did you caution us so strongly against harming the Pixies when we recovered the orb?’ asked Talen.
      ‘The harming of Pixies is said by some to bring terrible bad luck,’ replied the wizard, ‘but even were that no more than an old wives’ tale still would I hesitate to harm any innocent creature except in the greatest of needs.’
      ‘I have never seen a Pixie,’ reflected Dannadar. ‘In fact, I never knew they really existed.’
      ‘Some old tales have it that the Pixies once were true Elves,’ said Raavan. ‘Caught stealing gold from some Dragon who was also a powerful sorcerer, they were reduced in size as punishment so that they would no longer be strong enough to carry off any but the smallest of treasures.’
      ‘That would explain their interest in showy little knickknacks, like Talen’s bauble,’ noted Fifin, ‘though they did not seem to have much difficulty walking off with that. But how did they acquire wings? Surely Elves have not got wings!’
      ‘No, indeed,’ answered the wizard. ‘Legend has it that another powerful wizard, encountering the poor little wretches years later, took pity on them and endowed them with wings as a protection against foxes and badgers. Other stories tell that they stole the wings from dragonflies and attached them using Elven-magic. Which is the truer, I cannot say. Perhaps neither.’
      ‘What other legends do you know, Raavan?’ asked Fifin. ‘Let us pass the hours with a tale or two of deeds great and ages long past.’
      ‘I know many,’ said Raavan. ‘Which would you like to hear?’
      ‘Tell them all,’ said Dannadar. ‘We’ve got all night.’
      ‘That would be a very long night indeed!’ said the wizard. ‘Well then, I shall choose: let me tell you the tale of Edenedain and Elvellyr, whom the Elves call Aurostar, for she wore upon her brow a gem that shone brightly even in the dark of night. It was the gleaming of this jewel that caught the eye of Edenedain as he hunted alone among the forest-shade on the island of Lúva.
      ‘When he saw her standing there on the edge of a moon-lit glade Edenedain was filled with awe, but also with fear, for though Elvellyr possessed surpassing beauty like to that which he had never seen, he thought then that he was seeing a spirit of the wood, a siren , and he feared for his life. Indeed, Elvellyr the Elf-princess had upon her person a curse, a spell by Síoraíoch the necromancer which caused her mere appearance to instill fear in any who might otherwise deign to rescue her.
      ‘Imprisoned on the island by the villainous necromancer, she had wandered barefoot and naked through woods at night for countless years and more, while her father Thuair gave up hope that she ever would be found. When Edenedain came upon her she was covered with the filth of the earth, yet her beauty shone through both the dirt and the spell, and the brave hunter held to his courage and approached her. She likewise was drawn to this gallant warrior whose bravery was greater than that which the necromancer’s spell could overcome.
      ‘The spell thus broken, they were joined in marriage and lived together for many years in a quiet corner of Lúva. But Elvellyr’s wish to see her father again grew very strong, for she knew that he grieved her loss and likely counted her among the dead. Therefore Edenedain built a ship for her and they sailed together from Lúva. The day of Elvellyr’s return had come and she was much overjoyed, for she had seen in a dreamy vision that she would return to her home in Edenedain’s arms, and the vision brought her tears of sweet joy.
      ‘Yet as they reached the shores of Vesser, the land of Thuair her father, a mighty storm tossed the ship into the rocks that dotted the headlands. The vessel foundered then and the crew was lost, and Elvellyr the Elf-princess was drowned. Her body washed ashore beside Edenedain, who was himself barely alive. The warrior took his cold bride and carried her across the land till he came to the court of the Elven king, Thuair. Thus did the princess return to her homeland in the arms of her beloved, but the tears that were shed that day were not of joy, but of deep sorrow, for to see her lifeless body brought sadness anew. Yet, to know she had lived for a time in happiness with her rescuer Edenedain brought her father some consolation.
      ‘So grateful was King Thuair for the return of his lifeless daughter that Edenedain was offered a place beside Elvellyr on the princess’ sacred pyre. Together they passed through the Elvenfire, and their place in the further worlds has been set aside till the day when they will be finally united, for Elvellyr the Aurostar has gone into the night sky where she shines more brightly than any other, and she is followed in her nightly journey by the Edenstar. It is said that in time the Edenstar will catch up to the bright-glowing princess and they will be united forevermore, till the stars all burst and the world is made anew.
      ‘And there they are,’ continued the wizard, pointing up to the twinkling firmament. ‘Their chase goes on unhindered far above the comings and goings of all the worldly creatures below. Even now they look down upon us and can see the future toward which we blindly rush headlong.’