Luincale walked through the densest part of the Southern Forest. Trees closed in to form numerous slender gates and pathways. Behind him followed his sister, Mirluin. The two of them continued to head south as the dusk of the day began. It had rained that morning. The forest floor was still damp and the smell of wet soil hung in the air. Many trees and brush had dried, yet with the bending of branches as the two elves passed a sporadic spray of water could be heard hitting the layer of leaves upon the earth.
"The air is fresh and cool today," Luin said, "It makes for an easy hike."
With his words he stepped over several large roots. He turned to look at his sister, a smile forming on his face as he pushed back the branches of several firs. A clear, wooded pathway shown now in front of them. They passed under cherry trees and by a large white stone. Though it bore no designs, the stone had carved in it two slender lines of elvish:
Glade of Auk'estel
What bane is there to a fool's hope?
Luincale looked upon the stone as he passed into a wide, open glade. Apple trees suddenly surrounded him, and the orange glow of the setting sun reflected from well-kept, but dented armor that, after his sight surveyed the treeline, was taken off and set uder a blooming ceridian. He pulled a blue cloak from his pack and slipped his arms through it to take the armor's place.
"I shall tend to a fire, Mirl, if you shall tend to some cider and dinner."
With that, he bent down, his staff balancing his kneel. The inside of his pack held nothing now but a bundle of logs and two stones. He quickly untied the bundle and set it within the middle of the glade. The two stones hit together with a crack as the elf began to work the fire up slowly, finding what dry litter he could.
The Glade of Auk'estel
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Mirluin nodded silently to Luin's words, kneeling down to unpack her own burden. There was fresh fish they had caught in the Trolls Vein river, already cleaned, and some bread she had bought in town. A flask of cider was next and two worn goblets, and several pieces of strawberry cake wrapped in a clean cloth. Her harp she set aside, along with a scroll marked with a dark ink.
As Luincale set fire to the logs, she pulled out a small pan and readied the fish for frying, then poured them both a cup of cider. As dusk fell upon the glade, they were settled by the fire, eating their supper.
Mirluin smiled at her brother. "I have finally finished the song." She looked across the dancing flames, watching his reaction. After taking another sip from her cup, she spoke again. "Did you bring your flute?"
As Luincale set fire to the logs, she pulled out a small pan and readied the fish for frying, then poured them both a cup of cider. As dusk fell upon the glade, they were settled by the fire, eating their supper.
Mirluin smiled at her brother. "I have finally finished the song." She looked across the dancing flames, watching his reaction. After taking another sip from her cup, she spoke again. "Did you bring your flute?"
Luincale now held a finished plate of strawberry pie in his hand. He put it on the ground to his side amongst several fallen, blue buds. Mushroom rings also were scattered about the glade and his log seat, especially since the morning rain. He looked over to his sister as she finished her own piece of pie,
"Be sure to remind me to thank Gilbert for his good baking."
He sat there quietly for a time sipping on the cider until Mirluin spoke again, asking him of his flute. The elf nodded and answered immidiately.
"You have finished it? An excellent thing, and of course I have my flute with me."
Luincale put his hand to an upper pocket of his cloak. He lifted the wooden instrument from the pocket and placed his finger down along the multiple holes. A tree, small and simple in design, but similar to the one he now sat by, was carved into the bottom. His emerald-jeweled ring caught the light of the fire.
"Is it the melody you taught me before?" he asked her, glancing up from the flute before putting it to his mouth, "I have been practicing it."
He awaited her response and count before beginning any tune, but seemed excited to hear the song's words.
"Be sure to remind me to thank Gilbert for his good baking."
He sat there quietly for a time sipping on the cider until Mirluin spoke again, asking him of his flute. The elf nodded and answered immidiately.
"You have finished it? An excellent thing, and of course I have my flute with me."
Luincale put his hand to an upper pocket of his cloak. He lifted the wooden instrument from the pocket and placed his finger down along the multiple holes. A tree, small and simple in design, but similar to the one he now sat by, was carved into the bottom. His emerald-jeweled ring caught the light of the fire.
"Is it the melody you taught me before?" he asked her, glancing up from the flute before putting it to his mouth, "I have been practicing it."
He awaited her response and count before beginning any tune, but seemed excited to hear the song's words.
Mirluin had cleaned their plates and then sat once more by the fire. She read over the scroll, the writing barely visible in the moonlight even with her elven eyes. "Aye, it is the same melody." Then she took up her harp and struck it softly it several times, before falling still and silent for a moment.
She began softly strumming her harp, closing her eyes as the soft, haunting melody was picked up in Luincale's flute. The music swelled, then waned, then she took up the song with her voice, singing;
A great forest stands aside the plain, nigh to the sea
Long it is in shadows and heavy in the green
Softly swaying boughs dance to the whispering pine
While morning mists rise amidst the fern and the vine
Deep in this old wood lies a wildly beating heart
Light and shadow, musk and life, all the forest art
Within this heart is set a secret hidden glade
Carved with care, tended with love, a sweet serenade
A ring of fruit trees stands at guard, circled all around
Cherry blossoms mark the path where the glade is found
A stone of white is set therein and night flowers grow
Branches sigh and whisper as gentle breezes blow
Elf and elfess rested there, of the kin of Auk’estel
The makers of the glade then fell under faerie spell
Aside the fire, beneath the stars, lights set a magic spark
Laughter, pale as blossoms dew, tittered from the dark
A golden ring appeared, the fire caught the emerald stone
Twas then the elf and elfess knew they could not be alone
A gift, a token, a precious thing, from the magic folk
They called to the woodland spirits hidden in their cloak
A mist swirled up and circled round, glittering with light
Voices spoke from shadows deep, echoes of delight
Dance, they said, Sing, they cried, to the elven maid
So dance she did, under the stars, within the forest glade
The logs went out, the fire spent, but darkness did not fall
Lights grew brighter in the glade as they answered magic’s call
All night they danced under the stars, unknown the pass of time
Another gift was granted them, a silver flask of elven wine
The stars fell to heavenly rest, the dancers followed suit
They rested upon the dewy grass, set aside the harp and flute
Just as first blush of breaking dawn marked the end of night
A third gift was bestowed, a necklace of glittering green light
The faeries swept around and away, safely hidden once more
The magical night was like a dream, soon to pass into lore
Within the secret glade came to grow a fair ceridian tree
The mark of their house, with blossoms blue, hope shall ever be
The Glade of Auk’estel they named it, and keep it clean and fair
Upon his hand and at her throat, green stones mark the pair
The softly swaying boughs dance to the whispering pine
While morning mists rise amidst the fern and the vine
Mirluin finished the melody with her brother, harp and flute finished on a last soft high note, then quiet fell upon the glade.
"What did you think of it, brother? Have I caught the story with my poor words?"
She began softly strumming her harp, closing her eyes as the soft, haunting melody was picked up in Luincale's flute. The music swelled, then waned, then she took up the song with her voice, singing;
A great forest stands aside the plain, nigh to the sea
Long it is in shadows and heavy in the green
Softly swaying boughs dance to the whispering pine
While morning mists rise amidst the fern and the vine
Deep in this old wood lies a wildly beating heart
Light and shadow, musk and life, all the forest art
Within this heart is set a secret hidden glade
Carved with care, tended with love, a sweet serenade
A ring of fruit trees stands at guard, circled all around
Cherry blossoms mark the path where the glade is found
A stone of white is set therein and night flowers grow
Branches sigh and whisper as gentle breezes blow
Elf and elfess rested there, of the kin of Auk’estel
The makers of the glade then fell under faerie spell
Aside the fire, beneath the stars, lights set a magic spark
Laughter, pale as blossoms dew, tittered from the dark
A golden ring appeared, the fire caught the emerald stone
Twas then the elf and elfess knew they could not be alone
A gift, a token, a precious thing, from the magic folk
They called to the woodland spirits hidden in their cloak
A mist swirled up and circled round, glittering with light
Voices spoke from shadows deep, echoes of delight
Dance, they said, Sing, they cried, to the elven maid
So dance she did, under the stars, within the forest glade
The logs went out, the fire spent, but darkness did not fall
Lights grew brighter in the glade as they answered magic’s call
All night they danced under the stars, unknown the pass of time
Another gift was granted them, a silver flask of elven wine
The stars fell to heavenly rest, the dancers followed suit
They rested upon the dewy grass, set aside the harp and flute
Just as first blush of breaking dawn marked the end of night
A third gift was bestowed, a necklace of glittering green light
The faeries swept around and away, safely hidden once more
The magical night was like a dream, soon to pass into lore
Within the secret glade came to grow a fair ceridian tree
The mark of their house, with blossoms blue, hope shall ever be
The Glade of Auk’estel they named it, and keep it clean and fair
Upon his hand and at her throat, green stones mark the pair
The softly swaying boughs dance to the whispering pine
While morning mists rise amidst the fern and the vine
Mirluin finished the melody with her brother, harp and flute finished on a last soft high note, then quiet fell upon the glade.
"What did you think of it, brother? Have I caught the story with my poor words?"