Then the one sitting atop Galain pulled him up by the tunic, his other hand drawn back with a knife ready to kill him. He faltered, exclaiming, “Eledhel!” followed by a sentence in a language unknown to Arutha.
Suddenly the attackers ran forward, but no attempt was made to kill Arutha’s party. Hands restrained them while Galain’s attacker helped him to his feet. They spoke rapidly in the other language, and Galain motioned to Arutha, then the rest. The others, dressed in grey hooded cloaks, nodded and pointed toward the east.
Galain said, “We must go with them.”
In soft tones Arutha said, “Do they think us renegades, and you one of them?”
The normal elven mask was dropped and Galain revealed confusion in the gloom. “I don’t know what wonder we have stumbled into, Arutha, but these aren’t moredhel. They’re elves.” He glanced about the clearing. “And I’ve never seen any of them before in my life.”
They were brought before an old elf, who sat upon a wooden seat, elevated by a platform. The clearing was seventy or so feet wide, and on all sides elves squatted or stood. The surrounding area was their home, a village of huts and small buildings of wood, but totally lacking the beauty and grace found in Elvandar. Arutha glanced about. The elves stood arrayed in unexpected garb. Grey cloaks, much like those worn by the moredhel, were common, and the warriors wore an assortment of leather armour and furs. Odd decorative jewellery of copper and brass, set with unpolished stones, or necklaces of animal teeth hung about many of the warrior’s necks. The weapons were rude but efficient-looking, lacking the fine craftsmanship common to those elven weapons Arutha had seen before. That these were elves was certain, but they possessed a barbaric aspect that caused Arutha no small discomfort. The Prince listened as the leader of those who had captured them spoke to the elf upon the seat.
“Aron Earanorn,” whispered Galain to Arutha. “That means King Redtree. They call that one their king.”
The King motioned for the prisoners to be brought forward and spoke to Galain. Arutha said, “What did he say?”
The King said, “What I said was that had your friend not been recognized, you’d all most likely be dead now.”
Arutha said, “You speak the King’s Tongue.”
The old elf nodded. “As well as Armengarian. We speak the tongues of men, though we have nothing to do with men. We have learned it over the years from those we have captured.”
Guy seemed angered. “It has been you who have been killing my people!”
“And who are you?” asked the King.
“I am Guy du Bas-Tyra, Protector of Armengar.”
The King nodded. “One-eye, we have heard of you. We kill any who invade our forest, whether men, goblins, trolls, or even our dark kin. We have only enemies without the Tauredder. But this” - he pointed at Galain - “is something new to us.” He studied the elf. “I would know you and your line.”
“I am Galain, son of one who was brother to one who ruled,” he said, not using the names of the dead in elven fashion. “My father was descended from he who drove the moredhel from our homes. I am cousin to Prince Calin and nephew to Queen Aglaranna.”
The old elf’s eyes narrowed as he studied Galain. “You speak of princes, yet my son was slain by the trolls seventy winters ago. You speak of queens, yet my son’s mother died in the battle for Neldarlod, when our dark brothers last sought to destroy us. You speak of things I do not understand.”
Galain said, “As do you, King Earanorn. I do not know where lies this Neldarlod you spoke of, nor have I heard of our people living north of the great mountains. I speak of those of our kin who live in our home, in Elvandar.”
Several elves said, “Barmalindar!”
Arutha said, “What is that word?”
Galain said, “It means “golden home - place - land”; it’s a place of wonder. They think of it as a fable.”
The King said, “Elvandar! Barmalindar! You speak of legends. Our ancient home was destroyed in the Days of the Mad Gods’ Rage.”
Galain was silent for a long while, as if deeply considering something. Finally he turned to Arutha and Guy. “I am going to ask that you be taken from here. I must speak of things, things which I lack the wisdom to know if it is proper to share with you. I must speak of those who have gone to the Blessed Isle, and speak of the shame of our race. I hope you understand.” To the King he said, “I would speak of these things, but they are for the eledhel only to hear. Will you take my friends to a place of safety while I speak?”
The King nodded and waved for a pair of guards, who escorted the five humans to another clearing. There was no place to sit, except upon the ground, so they hunkered down upon the damp soil. They could not hear Galain speak, but they caught the faint sound of his voice on the night wind. For hours the elves held council and Arutha drifted off into a doze.