Chapter 26 of The King of Elfland's Daughter, by Lord Dunseney. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 26 The Horn of Alvarec Northward to lonely lands through wearying years, Alvarec wandered, where windy fragments of his gray gaunt tent added a gloom to chill evenings, and the folk upon lonely farms, as they lit their lights in their houses, and the ricks began to darken against the pale green of the sky, would sometimes hear the rap of the mallets of Niv and Zend coming clear through the hush from the land that no others trod. And their children, peering from casements to see if a star was come, would see perhaps the queer gray shape of that tent, flapping its tatters above the last of the hedge-rows, where a moment before was only the gray of the gloaming. On the next morning there would be guesses and wonderings, and the joy and fear of the children, and the tales that their elders told them, and the explorations by stealth to the edge of the fields of men, shy peering through dim green gaps in the last of the hedge-rows, though to look toward the east was forbidden, and rumors and expectations, and all these things were blended together by this wonder that came from the east, and so passed into legend, which lived for many a year beyond that morning, but Alvric and his tent would be gone. So day by day and season after season that company wandered on, the lonely, mate-less man, the moon-struck lad and the madman, and that old gray tent with its long twisted pole. And all the stars became known to them, and all the four winds familiar, and rain and mist and hail, but the flow of yellow windows, all warm and welcome at night, they knew only to say farewell to. With the earliest light in the first chill of dawn, Alvric would awake from impatient dreams, and Niv would arise shouting, and away they would go upon their crazed crusade, before any sign of awakening appeared on the quiet dim gables. And every morning Niv prophesied that they would surely find Elfland, and the days were away and the years. Thill had long left them, Thill who prophesied victory to them in burning song, whose inspirations cheered Alvric on coldest nights and led him through rockiest ways. Thill sang one evening suddenly songs of some young girl's hair, Thill who should have led their wanderings. And then one day in the gloaming a black bird singing, the may in bloom for miles, he turned for the houses of men, and married the maiden, and was one no more with any band of wanderers. The horses were dead, Niv and Zend carried all they had on the pole. Many years had gone. One autumn morning Alvric left the camp to go to the houses of men. Niv and Zend eyed each other. Why should Alvric seek to ask the way of others? For somehow or other their mad minds knew his purpose more swiftly than saying intuitions. Had he not Niv's prophecies to guide him, and the things that Zend had been told on oath by the full moon? Alvric came to the houses of men, and of the folk he questioned, few would speak at all of things that lay to the east, and if he spoke of the lands through which he had wandered for years they gave as little heed as if he were telling them that he had pitched his tent on the colored layers of air that glowed and drifted and darkened in the low sky over the sunset. And the few that answered him said one thing only, that only the wizards knew. When he had learned this, Alvric went back from the fields and hedgerows, and came again to his old-grade tent in the lands of which none thought, and Niv and Zend sat there silent, eyeing him sideways, for they knew he mistrusted madness and things said by the moon. And next day when they moved their camp in the chill of dawn, Niv led the way without shouting. They had not gone for many more weeks upon their curious journey when Alvric met one morning at the edge of the fields men tended, one filling his bucket at a well, whose thin high conical hat and mystical air proclaimed him surely a wizard. Master, said Alvric, of those artsmen dread, I have a question that I would ask of the future. And the wizard turned from his bucket to look at Alvric with doubtful eyes, for the traveler's tattered figure seemed scarce to promise such fees as are given by those that justly questioned the future. And such as those fees are, the wizard named them. An Alvric's wallet held that which banished the doubts of the wizard, so that he pointed to where the tip of his tower appeared over a cluster of myrtles, and prayed Alvric to come to his door when the evening star should appear, and in that propitious hour he would make the future clear to him. And again Niv and Zend knew well that their leader followed after dreams and mysteries that came not from madness nor from the moon, and he left them sitting still and saying nothing, but with minds full of fierce visions. Through pale air waiting for the evening star, Alvric walked over the fieldsmen tended, and came to the dark oak door of the wizard's tower, which myrtles brushed against with every breeze. A young apprentice in wizardry opened the door, and by ancient wooden steps that the rats knew better than men, led Alvric to the wizard's upper room. The wizard had on a silken cloak of black, which he held to be due to the future, without it he would not question the years to be. And when the young apprentice had gone away, he moved to a volume he had on a high desk, and turned from the volume to Alvric to ask what he sought of the future, and Alvric asked him how he should come to Elfland. Then the wizard opened the great book's darkened cover, and turned the pages therein, and for a long while all the pages he turned were blank. But further on in the book much writing appeared, although of no kind that Alvric had ever seen. And the wizard explained that such books as these told of all things, but that he, being only concerned with the years to be, had no need to read of the past, and had therefore acquired a book that told of the future only, though he might have had more than this from the College of Wizardry, had he cared to study the follies already committed by man. Then he read for a while in his book, and Alvric heard the rats returning softly to the streets and houses that they had made in the stairs. And then the wizard found what he sought of the future, and told Alvric that it was written in his book how he should never come to Elfland while he carried a magical sword. When Alvric heard this he paid the wizard's fee, and went away doleful. For he knew the perils of Elfland, which no common sabre forged on the anvils of men could ever avail to parry. He did not know that the magic that was in his sword left a flavor or taste on the air, like that of lightning, which passed through the border of twilight and spread over Elfland, nor knew he that the elf king learned of his presence thus, and drew his frontier away from him so that Alvric should trouble his realm no more. But he believed what the wizard had read to him out of his book, and so went dolefully away. And leaving the stairs of oak to time and the rats, he passed out of the grove of myrtles and over the fields of men, and came again to that melancholy spot where his gray tint brooded mournfully in the wilderness, dull and silent as Niv and Zend sitting beside it. And after that they turned and wandered southwards, for all journeys now seemed equally hopeless to Alvric, who would not give up his sword to meet magical perils without magical aid, and Niv and Zend obeyed him silently, no longer guiding him with raving prophecies, or with things said by the moon, for they knew he had taken counsel with another. By weary ways and lonely wanderings they came far to the south, and never the border of Elfland appeared with its heavy layers of twilight. Yet Alvric would never give up his sword, for well he guessed that Elfland dreaded its magic, and had poor hope of recapturing Lyrizel with any blade that was dreadful only to men. And after a while Niv prophesied again, and Zend would come late on nights of the full moon to wake Alvric with his tales, and for all the mystery that was in Zend when he spoke, and for all the exultation of Niv when he prophesied, Alvric knew by now that the tales and the prophecies were empty and vain, and that neither of these would ever bring him to Elfland. With this mournful knowledge in a desolate land he still struck camp at dawn, still marched, still sought for the frontier, and so the months went by. And one day where the edge of the earth was a wild, untended heath running down to the rocky waste in which Alvric had camped, he saw at evening a woman in a hat and cloak of a witch sweeping the heath with a broom. And each stroke as she swept the heath was away from the fields we know, away to the rocky waste eastwards towards Elfland. Big gusts of black-dried earth and puffs of sand were blowing towards Alvric from every powerful stroke. He walked towards her from his sorry encampment, and stood near and watched her sweeping, but still she labored at her vigorous work, striding away behind dust from the fields we know, and sweeping as she strode. And after a while she lifted her face as she swept and looked at Alvric, and he saw that it was the witch Zerunderel. After all these years he saw that witch again, and she saw beneath the flapping rags of his cloak that sword that she had made for him once on her heel. Its scabbard of leather could not hide from the witch that it was the very sword, for she knew the flavor of magic that rose from it faintly and floated wide through the evening. Mother Witch, said Alvric, and she curtsied low to him, magical though she was, and aged by the passing of years, that had been before Alvric's father, and though many in Earl had forgotten their lord by now, yet she had not forgotten. He asked her what she was doing there on the heath with her broom in the evening, sweeping the world, she said. And Alvric wondered what rejected things she was sweeping away from the world, with gray dust mournfully turning over and over as it drifted across our fields, going slowly into the darkness that was gathering beyond our coasts. Why are you sweeping the world, Mother Witch, he said? There's things in the world that ought not to be here, she said. He looked wistfully, then, at the rolling gray clouds from her broom that were all drifting towards Elfland. Mother Witch, he said, can I go to? I have looked for twelve years for Elfland, and have not found a glimpse of the Elfin Mountains. And the old witch looked kindly at him, and then she glanced at his sword. He's afraid of my magic, she said, and thought our mystery dawned in her eyes as she spoke. Who, said Alvric, as the runed rail lowered her eyes? The king, she said. And then she told him how that enchanted monarch would draw away from whatever had worsted him once, and with him draw all that he had, never supporting the presence of any magic that was the equal of his. And Alvric could not believe that such a king cared so much for the magic he had in his old black scabbard. It is his way, she said. And then he would not believe that he had waved away Elfland. He has the power, she said. And still Alvric would face this terrible king and all the powers he had, but Wizard and Witch had warned him that he could not go with his sword and how go unarmed through the grizzly wood against the palace of wonder. For to go there with any sword from the anvils of men was but to go unarmed. Mother Witch, he cried. May I come no more to Elfland? And the longing and grief in his voice touched the witch's heart and moved it to magical pity. You shall go, she said. He stood there half despair in the mournful evening, half dreams of Lerazel. While the witch from under her cloak drew forth a small false weight, which once she had taken away from a cellar of bread. Draw this along the edge of your sword, she said, all the way from hilt to point, and it will disenchant the blade, and the king will never know what sword is there. Will it still fight for me? said Alvric. No, said the witch. But once you were over the frontier, take this script and wipe the blade with it on every spot that the false weight has touched, and she fumbled under her cloak again and drew forth a poem on parchment. It will enchant it again, she said. And Alvric took the weight and the written thing. Let not the two touch, warned the witch, and Alvric set them apart. Once over the frontier, she said, and he may move Elfland where he will, but you and the sword will be within his borders. Mother Witch, said Alvric, will he be wroth with you if I do this? Wroth, said Zarender Elf. Wroth, he will rage with the most exceeding fury beyond the power of tigers. I would not bring that on you, Mother Witch, said Alvric. Ha, what care I? Night was advancing now, and the more and the air growing black like the witch's cloak. She was laughing now and emerging into the darkness, and soon the night was all blackness and laughter, but he could see no witch. The Alvric made his way back to his rocky camp by the light of its lonely fire. And as soon as morning appeared on the desolation and all the useless rocks began to glow, he took the false weight and softly rubbed it along both sides of his sword until all its magical edge was disenchanted. And he did this in his tent while his followers slept, for he would not let them know that he sought for help that came not from the ravings of Niv, nor from any sayings that Zend had had from the moon. Yet the troubled sleep of madness is not so deep that Niv did not watch him out of one wild sly eye when he heard the false weight softly rasping the sword. And when this was secretly done and secretly watched, Alvric called to his two men, and they came and folded up the tattered tent and took the long pole and hung their sorry belongings upon it, and on went Alvric along the edge of the fields we know, impatient to come at last to the land that so long eluded him, and Niv and Zend came behind with the pole between them, with bundles swinging from it and tatters flying. They moved in lend a little towards the houses of men to purchase the food they needed, and this they bought in the afternoon from a farmer who dwelt in a lonely house, so near to the very edge of the fields we know that it must have been the last house in the visible world, and here they bought bread and oatmeal and cheese and a cured ham and other such things, and put them in sacks and slung them over their pole, then they left the farmer and turned away from his fields and from all the fields of men, and as evening fell they saw just over the hedge lighting up the land with a soft strange glow that they knew to be not of this earth, that barrier of twilight that is the frontier of Elfland. Lyrizel shouted avaric and drew his sword and strode into the twilight, and behind him went Niv and Zend, with all their suspicions flaming now into jealousy of inspirations or magic that were not theirs. Once he called Lyrizel, then little trusting his voice in that wide weird land, he lifted his hunter's horn that hung by his side on a strap, he lifted it to his lips and sounded a call weary with so much wandering. He was standing within the edge of the boundary, the horn shone in the light of Elfland. Then Niv and Zend dropped their pole in the unearthly twilight, where lay like the wreckage of some uncharted sea, and suddenly seized their master. A land of dreams, said Niv, have I not dreams enough? There is no moon there, cried Zend. Alvaric struck Zend on the shoulder with his sword, but the sword was disenchanted and blunt and only harmed him slightly. Then the two seized the sword and dragged Alvaric back, and the strength of the madman was beyond what one could believe. They dragged him back again to the fields we know, where the two were strange and were jealous of other strangeness, and led him far from the sight of the pale blue mountains. He had not entered Elfland, but his horn had passed the boundary's edge and troubled the air of Elfland. Across its dreamy com, one long, sad, earthly note. It was the horn Lerazel heard as she spoke with her father. End of Chapter 26 The Horn of Alvaric Chapter 27 of The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunseney. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 27 The Return of Lurulu Over Hamlet and Castle of Earl, and through every nook and crevice of it, spring passed. A mild benediction that blessed the very air and sought out all living things, not missing even the tiny plants that had their dwelling in most secluded places, under eaves in the cracks of old barrels, or along the lines of mortar that held ancient rows of stones. And in this season Orion hunted no unicorns, not that he knew in what season the unicorns bred in Elfland, where time is not as here, but because of a feeling he had from all his earthly forefathers against hunting any creature in this season of song and flowers. So he tended his hounds and often watched the hills, expecting on any day the return of Lurulu. And spring passed by and the summer flowers grew, and still there was no sign of the troll returning, for time moves through the delves of Elfland, as over no field of man. And long Orion watched through fading evenings, till the line of the hills was black, yet never saw the small round heads of trolls bobbing across the downs. And the long autumnal winds came sighing out of cold lands, and found Orion still watching for Lurulu. And the mist and the turning leaves spoke to his heart of hunting, and the hounds were whining for the open spaces, and the line of scent like a mysterious path crossing the wide world. But Orion would hunt nothing less than unicorns, and waited for his trolls. And one of these earthly days, with the menace of frost in the air and a scarlet sunset, Lurulu's talk to the trolls and the wood being finished, and their scamper swifter than hairs, having brought them soon to the frontier, those in our fields who looked, as they seldom did, towards that mysterious border where earth ended, might have seen the unwanted shapes of the nimble trolls coming all gray through the evening. They came dropping a troll after troll, from the soaring leaps they took high through the boundary of twilight, and landing thus unceremoniously in our fields, came cabering, somersalting, and running, with gusts of impudent laughter, as though this were a proper manner in which to approach, by no means, the least of the planets. They wrestled by the small houses, like the wind passing through straw, and none that heard the light rushing sound of their passing, knew how outlandish they were, except the dogs whose work it is to watch, and to know of all things that pass, their degree of remoteness to man. At gypsies, tramps, and all that go without houses, dogs bark whenever they pass. At the wild things of the woods they bark with greater abhorrence, knowing well the rebellious contempt in which they hold man. At the fox, for his touch of mystery and his far wanderings, they bark more furiously. But tonight the barking of the dogs was beyond all abhorrence and fury, many a farmer this night believed that his dog was choking. And passing over these fields, staying not to laugh at the clumsy scared running of sheep, for they kept their laughter for man, they came soon to the downs above Earl, and there below them was night, and the smoke of men all gray together, and not knowing from what slight causes the smoke arose, here from a woman boiling a kettle of water, or there because one dried the frock of a child, or that a few old men might warm their hands in the evening. The trolls forebore to laugh, as they had planned to do, as soon as they should meet with the things of man. Perhaps even they, whose gravest thoughts were just under the surface of laughter, even they were a little awed by the strangeness and nearness of man, sleeping there in his hamlet with all his smoke about him. Though awe in these light minds rested no longer than does the squirrel on the thin extremist twigs. In a while they lifted their eyes up from the valley, and there was the western sky still shining above the last of the gloaming, a little strip of color and dying light so lovely that they believed that another elf land lay on the other side of the valley, two dim diaphanous magical elven lands hemming in this valley, and few fields of men close upon either side. And sitting there on the hillside, appearing westward, the next thing they saw was a star. It was Venus low in the west, brimming with blueness, and they all bowed their heads many times to this pale blue beautiful stranger, for though politeness was rare with them, they saw that the evening star was nothing of earth and no affair of man's, and believed it came out of that elf land they did not know on the western side of the world. And more and more stars appeared till the trolls were frightened, for they knew nothing of these glittering wanderers that could steal out of the darkness and shine. At first they said, There are more trolls than stars, and were comforted, for they trusted greatly in numbers. Then there were soon more stars than trolls, and the trolls were ill at ease as they sat in the dark underneath all that multitude. But presently they forgot the fancy that troubled them, for no thought remained with them long. They turned their light attention instead to the yellow lights that glowed here and there on the hither side of the greyness, where a few of the houses of men stood warm and snug near the trolls. A beetle went by, and they hushed their chatter to hear what he would say, but he droned by, going home, and they did not know his language. A dog far off was ceaselessly crying out, and filling all the still night with a note of warning, and the trolls were angry at the sound of his voice, for they felt that he interfered between them and man. Then the soft whiteness came out of the night, and lit on the branch of a tree, and bowed its head to the left, and looked at the trolls, and then bowed over to the right, and looked at them again from there, and then back it left again, for it was not sure about them. An owl said Lurulu, and many besides Lurulu had seen his kind before, for he flies much along the edge of Elfland. Soon he was gone, and they heard him hunting across the hills and the hollows, and then no sound was left but the voices of men, or the shrill shouts of children, and the bay of the dog that warned men against the trolls. A sensible fellow, they said of the owl, for they liked the sound of his voice, but the voices of men and their dog sounded confused and tiresome. They saw sometimes the lights of late wayfarers crossing the downs towards Earl, or heard men that cheered themselves in the lonely night by singing, instead of by lantern's light, and all the while the evening star grew bigger, and great trees grew blacker and blacker. Then from underneath the smoke and the mist of the stream, there boomed all of a sudden the brazen bell of the friar out of deep night in the valley. Night and the slopes of Earl and the dark downs echoed with it, and the echoes rode up to the trolls, and seemed to challenge them with all accursed things, and wandering spirits and bodies unblessed by the friar. And the solemn sound of those echoes, going alone through the night from every heavy swing of the holy bell, cheered that band of trolls among all the strangeness of earth, for whatever is solemn always moves trolls' celebrity. They turned merrier now and tutored among themselves. And while they still watched all that host of stars, wondering if they were friendly, the sky grew steely blue and the eastern stars dwindled, and the mist and the smoke of men turned white, and a radiance touched the further edge of the valley, and the moon came up over the downs behind the trolls. Then voices sang from the holy place of the friar, chanting moon matins, which it was their want to sing on nights of the full moon, while the moon was yet low. And this rite they named, moon's morning. The bell had ceased, chance voices spoke no more, they had hushed their dog in the valley and silenced his warning, and lonely and grave and solemn, that people's song floated up from before the candles in their small square sacred place, built of gray stone by men that were dead for ages and ages. All solemn the song welled up in the time of the moon's rising, grave as the night, mysterious as the full moon, and fraught with a meaning that was far beyond the highest thoughts of the trolls. Then the trolls leaped up with one accord from the frosted grass of the downs, and all poured down the valley to laugh at the ways of men, to mock at their sacred things and to dare their singing with levity. Many a rabbit rose up and fled from their onrush, the thrills of laughter arose from the trolls at their fear. A meteor flashed westwards, racing after the sun, either as a portent to warn the hamlet of Earl, that folk from beyond earth's borders approached them now, or else in fulfillment of some natural law. To the trolls it seemed that one of the proud stars fell, and they rejoiced with elvish levity. Thus they came, giggling through the night, and ran down the street of the village, unseen as any wild creature that roams late through the darkness, and lurely led them to the pigeon loft, and they all poured clamoring in. Some rumor arose in the village that a fox had jumped into the pigeon loft, but it ceased almost as soon as the pigeons returned to their homes, and the folk of Earl had no more hint till the morning that something had entered their village from beyond the borders of earth. In a brown mass thicker than young pigs are along the edge of a trough, the trolls encumbered the floor of the pigeon's home, and time went over them as overall earthly things, and well they knew, though tiny was their intelligence, that by crossing the border of twilight they incurred the wasting of time, for nothing dwells by the brink of any danger and lives ignorant of its menace. As conies and rocky altitudes know the peril of the sheer cliff, so that that dwell near earth's border know well the danger of time, and yet they came, the wonder and lure of earth had been over strong for them, does not many a young man squander youth as they squander immortality, and lure loose showed them how to hold off time for a while, which otherwise would make them older and older each moment, and hurl them on with earth's restlessness all night long, then he curled up his knees and shut his eyes and lay still. This, he told them, was sleep, and cautioned them to continue to breathe, though being still in other respects. He then slept in earnest, and after some vain attempts the brown trolls did the same. When sunrise came, awakening all earthly things, long rays came through the thirty little windows and awoke both birds and trolls, and the massive trolls went to the windows to look at earth, and the pigeons fluttered to rafters and jerked side-long looks at the trolls, and there that heap of trolls would have stayed, crowded high on each other's shoulders, blocking the windows while they studied the variety and restlessness of earth, finding them equal to the strangest fables that wayfarers had brought to them out of our fields, and though lure loose often reminded them, they had forgotten the haughty white unicorns that they were to hunt with the dogs. But lure loose after a while led them down from the loft and brought them to the kennels, and they climbed up the high palings and peered over the top at the hounds. When the hounds saw those strange heads peering over the palings, they made a great uproar, and presently folk came to see what troubled the hounds, and when they saw that massive trolls all round the top of the palings, they said to each other and so said all that heard of it, there is magic in earl now. End of Chapter 27 The Return of Lurelu Chapter 28 of The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunsany This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 28 A Chapter on Unicorn Hunting None in earl was so busy but that he came that morning to see the magic that was newly come out of Elfland, and to compare the trolls with all that the neighbors said of them, and the folk of earl gazed much at the trolls and the trolls at the folk of earl, and there was great merriment for as often happens with minds of unequal weight, each laughed at the other, and the villagers found the impudent ways of the bare brown nimble trolls no funnier, no more meat for derision than the trolls found the grave high hats, the curious clothes, and the solemn air of the villagers. An Orion soon came too, and the folk of the village doffed their long thin hats, and though the trolls would have laughed at him also, Lurelu had found his whip, and by means of it made the mob of his impudent brethren give that salutation that is given in Elfland to those of its royal line. When noonday came, which was the hour of dinner, and the folk turned from their kennels, they went back to their houses, all praising the magic that was come at last to earl. During the days that followed Orion's hounds learned that it was vain to chase a troll, and unwise to snarl at one, for apart from their elvish speed the trolls were able to leap into the air far over the heads of the hounds, and when each had been given a whip they could repay snarling with an aim that none on earth was able to equal except those whose sires had carried a whip with hounds for generations. And one morning Orion came to the pigeon loft and called to Lurelu early, and he brought out the trolls, and they went to the kennels, and Orion opened the doors, and he led them all away eastwards over the downs. The hounds moved all together, and the trolls with their whips ran beside them like a flock of sheep surrounded by numbers of collies. They were away to the border of Elfland, to wait for the unicorns, where they come through the twilight to eat the earthly grasses at evening.  And there they lurked as earth's darkness grew, and waited for the great unicorns. Each hound had its troll beside it with the troll's right hand along its shoulder or neck, soothing it, calming it, holding it still, while the left hand held the whip. The strange group lingered there motionless and darkened there with the evening. And when earth was as dim and quiet as the unicorns desired, the great creatures came softly through and were far into earth before any troll would allow his hound to move. Thus, when Orion gave the signal, they easily cut one off from its elven home and hunted it, snorting over those fields that are the portion of men. And night came down on the proud beast's magical gallop, and the hounds intoxicated with that marvelous scent and the leaping, soaring trolls. And when jackdaws on the highest towers of Earl saw the rim of the sun all red above frosted fields, Orion came back from the downs with his hounds and his trolls, carrying as fine a head as a unicorn hunter could wish. The hounds weary but glad were soon curled up in their kennels and Orion in his bed, while the trolls in their pigeon loft began to feel as none but Lurulu had felt ever before the weight and the weariness of the passing of time. All day Orion slept in all his hounds, none of them caring how it slept or why, while the trolls slept anxiously, falling asleep as fast as ever they could in the hope of escaping some of the fury of time which they feared had begun to attack them. And that evening while still they slept, hounds, trolls, and Orion there met again in the Forge of Gnarl, the Parliament of Earl. From the Forge to the Inner Room came the twelve old men rubbing their hands and smiling, ruddy with health and the keen north wind, and the cheerfulness of their forebodings, for they were well content at last that their lord was surely magic and foresaw great doings in Earl. Folklings said Gnarl to them all, naming them thus after an ancient want, is it not well with us and our valley at last? See how it is as we planned so long ago, for our lord is a magic lord as we all desired, and magical things have sought him from over there, and they all obey his heasts. It is so, said all but Gazzik, a vendor of bees. Little and old and out of the way was Earl, secluded in its deep valley, unnoticed in history, and the twelve men loved the place and would have it famous, and now they rejoiced as they heard the words of Gnarl, what other village, he said, has traffic with over there. And Gazzik, though he rejoiced with the rest, rose up in a pause of their gladness. Many strange things, he said, have entered our village, coming from over there, and it may be that human folk are best and the ways of the fields we know. Oth scorned him and Threl, magic is best, said all. And Gazzik was silent again, and raised his voice no more against the many, and the mead went round, and all spoke of the fame of Earl, and Gazzik forgot his mood and the fear that was in it. Far into the night they rejoiced, quaffing the mead, and by its homely aid gazing into the years of the future, so far as that may be done by the eyes of men. Yet all their rejoicing was hushed, and their voices low, lest the ears of the friar should hear them. For their gladness came to them from lands that lay beyond thought of salvation, and they had set their trust in magic, against which, as well they knew, boomed every note that rang from the bell of the friar whenever it told at evening. And they parted late, praising magic in no loud tones, and went secretly back to their houses, for they feared the curse that the friar had called down upon unicorns, and knew not if their own names might become involved in one of the curses called upon magical things. All the next day Orion rested his hands and the trolls and the people of Earl gazed at each other. But on the day that followed, Orion took his sword and gathered his band of trolls and his pack of hands, and all were away once more, far over the downs, to come again to the border of nebulous opal, and to lurk for the unicorns coming through in the evening. They came to a part of the border far from the spot which they had disturbed only three evenings before, and Orion was guided by the chattering trolls, for well they knew the haunts of the lonely unicorns, and Earth's evening came huge and hushed till all was dim as the twilight, and never a footfall did they hear of the unicorns, never a glimpse of their whiteness. And yet the trolls had guided Orion well, for just as he would have disparate of a hunt that night, just when the evening seemed holy and utterly empty, a unicorn stood on the earthward edge of the twilight where nothing had stood only a moment before. Soon he moved slowly across the terrestrial grasses a few yards forward into the fields of men. Another followed, moving a few yards also, and then they stood for fifteen of our earthly minutes moving nothing at all except their ears, and all that while the trolls hushed every hand motionless under a hedge of the fields we know, darkness had all but hidden them when at last the unicorns moved. And as soon as the largest was far enough from the frontier the trolls let loose every hand and ran with them after the unicorn with shrill yells of derision, all sure of his haughty head. But the quick small minds of the trolls, though they had learned much of Earth, had not yet understood the irregularity of the moon. Darkness was new to them, and they soon lost towns. Orion in his eagerness to hunt had made no choice of a suitable night. There was no moon at all, and would be none till near morning. Soon he also fell behind. Orion easily collected the trolls.  But not a hand would leave that pungent magical scent for any horn of man. They straggled back next day, tired, having lost their unicorn. And while each troll cleaned and fed his hound on the evening after the hunt, and laid a little bunch of straw for it on which to lie down, and smoothed its hair, and looked for thorns in its feet, and unraveled burrs from its ears, Luralu sat alone, fastening his small sharp intelligence, like the little white light of a burning glass, for hours upon one question. The question that Luralu pondered far into the night was how to hunt unicorns with dogs in the darkness, and by midnight a plan was clear in his elvish mind. End of Chapter 28 A Chapter on Unicorn Hunting Chapter 29 of The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunsaney This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 29 The Luring of the People of the Marshes As the evening that followed was beginning to fade, a traveler might have been seen approaching the marshes, which some way southeastwards of Earl lay along the edge of the farmsteads, and stretched their terrible waste as far as the skyline, and even over the border and into the region of Elfland. They glimmered now as the light was leaving the land. So black were the solemn clothes and the high grave hat of the traveler that he could have been seen from far against the dim green of the fields, going down to the edge of the marsh through the gray evening. But none were there to see at such an hour beside the desolate place, for the threat of darkness was already felt in the fields, and all the cows were home and the farmers warm in their houses, so the traveler walked alone. And soon he was come by unsure paths to the reeds and the thin rushes, to which a wind was telling tales that have no meaning to man, long histories of bleakness and ancient legends of rain, while on the high darkening land far off behind him he saw lights begin to blink where the houses were. He walked with the gravity and the solemn air of one who has important business with men, yet his back was turned to their houses and he went where no man wandered, traveling towards no hamlet or lonely cottage of man, for the marsh ran right into Elfland. Between him and the nebulous border that divides earth from Elfland there was no man whatever, and yet the traveler walked on as one that has a grave errand.  Thus he went on over the deadly marsh, with the deportments suitable to the slow procession, when the elders opened the market on special days, and the gravest blesses the bargaining, and all the farmers come to the booth send barter. And up and down, up and down, songbirds went wavering home, skirting the marsh's edge on their way to their native hedges. Pigeons passed landward to roost in high dark trees, the last of the multitude of rooks was gone, and all the air was empty. And now the great marsh thrilled to the news of the coming of a stranger, for no sooner had the traveler gravely set a foot on one of those brilliant mosses that bloom in the pools, than a thrill shot under their roots and below the stems of the bullrushes, and ran like a light beneath the surface of the water, or like the sound of a song, and passed far over the marshes, and came quivering to the border of magical twilight, that divides Elfland from earth, and stayed not there, but troubled the very border, and passed beyond it, and was felt in Elfland. For where the great marshes run down to the border of earth, the frontier is thinner and more uncertain than elsewhere. And as soon as they felt that thrill in the deep of the marshes, the will of the wisps soared up from their fathomless homes, and waved their lights to beckon the traveler on, over the quaking mosses at the hour when the duck were flighting. And under that whirr and rush and rejoicing of wings that the ducks made in that hour, the traveler followed after the waving lights further and further into the marshes. Yet sometimes he turned from them, so that for a while they followed him, instead of leading, as they were accustomed to do, till they could get round in front of him, and lead him once more. A watcher, if there had been one in such a bad light, and in such a perilous place, had noticed, after a while, in the venerable traveler's movements, a queer resemblance to those of the hen-green plover when she lures the stranger after her in spring away from the mossy bank where her eggs lie bare. Or perhaps such a resemblance is merely fanciful, and a watcher might have noticed no such thing. At any rate, on that night, in that desolate place, there was no watcher whatever. And the traveler followed his curious course, sometimes towards the dangerous mosses, sometimes towards the safe green land, always with grave demeanor and reverent gait, and the will of the wisps and multitudes gathered about him. And still that deep thrill that warned the marsh of a stranger, throbbed on through the ooze below the roots of the rushes, and did not cease, as it should as soon as the stranger was dead, but haunted the marsh like some echo of music that magic has made everlasting, and troubled the will of the wisps even over the border in Elfland. Now it is far from my intention to write anything detrimental to will of the wisps, or anything that may be construed as being a slight upon them. No such construction should be put upon my writings. But it is well known that the people of the marshes lure travelers to their doom, and have delighted to follow that avocation for centuries, and I may be permitted to mention this in no spirit of disapproval. The will of the wisps that then were about this traveler redoubled their efforts with fury, and when still he eluded their last enticements only to the very edge of the deadliest pools, and still lived, and still traveled, and the whole marsh knew of it, then the greater will of the wisps that dwell in Elfland rose up from their magical mire, and rushed over the border, and the whole marsh was troubled. Almost like little moons grow nimbly impudent, the people of the marshes glowed before that solemn traveler, leading his reverend steps to the edge of death, only to retrace their steps again, to beckon him back once more. And then in spite of the great height of his hat, and the dark length of his coat, that frivolous people began to perceive that mosses were bearing his weight, which never before had supported a traveler. At this their fury increased, and they all leaped nearer to him, and nearer and nearer they flocked wherever he went, and in their fury their enticements were losing their craftiness. And now a watcher in the marshes, if such there had been, had seen something more than a traveler surrounded by will of the wisps, for he might have noticed that the traveler was almost leading them, instead of the will of the wisps leading the traveler. And in their impatience to have him dead, the people of the marshes had never thought that they were all coming nearer and nearer to the dry land. And when all was dark but the water, they suddenly found themselves in a field of grass, with their feet rasping against the rough pasture, while the traveler was seated with his knees gathered up to his chin, and was eyeing them from under the brim of his high black hat. Never before had any of them been lured to dry land by a traveler, and there were amongst them that night those eldest and greatest among them, who had come with their moon-like lights right over the border from Elfland. They looked at each other in uneasy astonishment, as they dropped limply onto the grass, for the roughness and heaviness of the solid land oppressed them after the marshes.  Indeed, though stouter and rounder, he was not quite so tall. Who was this, they began to mutter, who had lured will of the wisps, and some of those elders from Elfland went up to him that they might ask him with what audacity he had dared to lure such as them. And then the traveler spoke. Without rising or turning his head, he spoke where he sat. People of the marshes, he said, Do you love unicorns? And at the word unicorns scorn and laughter filled every tiny heart in all that frivolous multitude, excluding all other emotions, so that they forgot their petulance that having been lured, although to lure a will of the wisps, is held by them to be the gravest of insults. And never would they have forgiven it if they had had longer memories. At the word unicorns, they all giggled in silence. And this they did by flickering up and down like the light of a little mirror fleshed by an impudent hand. Unicorns, little love had they for the haughty creatures. Let them learn to speak to the people of the marshes when they came to drink at their pools. Let them learn to give their due to the great lights of Elfland and the lesser lights that illumined the marshes of earth. No said an elder of the will of the wisps. None loves the proud unicorns. Come then, said the traveler, and we will hunt them. And you shall light us in the night with your lights when we hunt them with dogs over the fields of men. Venerable traveler, said the elder will of the wisps. But at those words the traveler flung up his hat and leaped from his long black coat and stood before the will of the wisps, stark naked, and the people of the marshes saw that it was a troll that had tricked them. Their anger at this was slight, for the people of the marshes had tricked the trolls, and the trolls have tricked the people of the marshes, each of them so many times for ages and ages that only the wisest among them can say which has tricked the other most and is how many tricks ahead. They consoled themselves now by thinking of times when trolls had been made to look ludicrous and consented to come with their lights to help to hunt unicorns, for their wills were weak when they stood on dry land, and they easily acquiesced in any suggestion or followed any one swim. It was Louralu who had thus tricked the will of the wisps, knowing well how they loved to lure travelers, and having obtained the highest hat and gravest coat he could steal, he had set out with a bait that he knew would bring them from great distances. Now that he had gathered them all on the solid land and had their promise of light and help against unicorns, which such creatures will give easily on account of the unicorn's pride, he began to lead them away to the village of Earl, slowly at first while their feet grew accustomed to the hard land, and over the fields he brought them limping to Earl. And now there was nothing in all the marshes that at all resembled man, and the geese came down on a huge tumult of wings. The little swift teal shot home, and all the dark air twanged with the flight of the duck. End of Chapter 29. The Luring of the People of the Marshes Chapter 30 of The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunseney. The sleeper box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 30. The Coming of Too Much Magic In Earl that had sighed for magic, there was indeed magic now. The pigeon loft and old lumber lofts over stables were all full of trolls, the ways were full of their antics, and lights bobbed up and down the street at night long after traffic was home. For the will of the wisps would go dancing along the gutters, and had made their homes round the soft edges of duck ponds, and in green-black patches of moss that grew upon oldest thresh. And nothing seemed the same in the old village. And amongst all these magical folk, the magical half of Orion's blood that had slept while he went amongst earthly men, hearing mundane talk each day, stirred out of its sleep and awakened long sleeping thoughts in his brain. And the elfin horns that he had often heard blowing at evening blew with a meaning now and blew stronger as though they were nearer. The folk of the village, watching their lord by day, saw his eyes turned away towards Elfland, saw him neglecting the wholesome earthly cares, and at night there came the queer lights and the gibbering of the trolls. A fear settled on Earl. At this time the parliament took council again, twelve gray beard quaking men that had come to the house of Narl, when their work was ended at evening, and all the evening was weird with the new magic of Elfland. Every man of them, as he ran from his own warm house on his way to the forage of Narl, had seen lights leaping, or heard voices gibbering, which were of no Christam land. And some had seen shapes prowling, which were of no earthly growing, and they feared that all manner of things had slipped through the border of Elfland to come and visit the trolls. They spoke low in their parliament, all told the same tale. A tale of children terrified, a tale of women demanding the old ways again, and as they spoke they eyed window and crevice, none knowing what might come. And Elf said, let us folk go to the lord Orion as we went to his grandfather in his long red room. Let us say how we sought for magic, and lo we have magic enough, and let him follow no more after witchery, nor the things that are hidden from man. He listened acutely, standing there amongst his hushed comrade-neighbors. Was it goblin voices that mocked him, or was it only Echo, who could say? And almost at once the night all around was hushed again. And Threl said, nay, it is too late for that. Threl had seen their lord one evening standing alone on the downs, all motionless and listening to something sounding from Elfland, with his eyes to the east as he listened, and nothing was sounding, not a noise was a stir, yet Orion stood there called by things beyond mortal hearing. It is too late now, said Threl, and that was the fear of all. Then Guhik rose slowly up and stood by that table, and trolls were gibbering like baths away in their loft, and the pale marsh lights were flickering, and shapes prowled in the dark. The pip-pat of their feet came now and then to the ears of the twelve that were there in that inner room. And Guhik said, we wished for a little magic, and a gust of gibbering came clear from the trolls, and then they disputed a while as to how much magic they had wished in the olden time when the grandfather of Orion was Lord Enurl, but when they came to a plan this was the plan of Guhik. If we may not turn our lord Orion, he said, and his eyes be turned to Elfland, let all our parliament go up the hill to the witch Zerunderel, and put our case to her, and ask for a spell which shall be put against too much magic. And at the name of Zerunderel the twelve took heart again, for they knew that her magic was greater than the magic of flickering lights, and knew there was not a troll or thing of the night, but went in fear of her broom. They took heart again and quaffed Narl's heavy mead, and refilled their mugs and praised Guhik. And late in the night they all rose up together to go back to their homes, and all kept close together as they went, and sang grave old songs to affright the things that they feared, though little the light trolls care, or the will of the wisps for the things that are grave to man, and when only one was left he ran to his house, and the will of the wisps chased him. When the next day came they ended their work early, for the parliament of Earl cared not to be left on the witch's hill when night came, or even the gloaming. They met outside Narl's forge in the early afternoon, eleven of the parliament, and they called out Narl. And all were wearing the clothes they were want to wear when they went with the rest to the holy place of the friar, though there was scarcely a soul he had ever cursed that was not blessed by her, and away they went with their old stout staves up the hill. And as soon as they could they came to the witch's house, and there they found her sitting outside her door gazing over the valley away, and looking neither older nor younger, nor concerned one way or the other with the coming and going of years. We be the parliament of Earl, they said, standing before her all in their graver clothes. I, she said, you desired magic, has it come to you yet? Truly they said, and to spare. There is more to come, she said. Mother Witch said, Narl, we are met here to pray you that you will give us a goodly spell, which shall be a charm against magic, so that there be no more of it in the valley, for over much has come. Over much, she said, over much magic, as though magic were not the spice and essence of life its ornament and its splendor by my broom, she said, I give you no spell against magic. And they thought of the wandering lights and the scarce seen gibbering things, and all the strangeness and evil that was come to their valley of Earl, and they besought her again, speaking suavely to her. Oh, Mother Witch, said Guthick, there is over much magic indeed, and the folk that should tarry in Elfland are all over the border. It is even so, said Narl, the border is broken, and there will be no end to it. Will of the wisps should stay in the marshes and trolls and goblins in Elfland, and we folk should keep to our own folk. This is the thought of us all, for magic, if we desired it somewhat years ago, when we were young, pertains to matters that are not for man. She eyed him silently with a cat-like glow increasing in her eyes, and when she neither spoke nor moved, Narl besought her again. Oh, Mother Witch, he said, will you give us no spell to guard our homes against magic? No spell indeed, she hissed, no spell indeed. By broom and stars and night writing would you rob earth of her heirloom that has come from the olden time? Would you take her treasure and leave her bare to the scorn of her comrade planets? Poor indeed were we without magic, whereof we are well stored to the envy of darkness and space. She leaned forward from where she sat and stamped her stick, looking up in Narl's face with her fierce, unwavering eyes. I would sooner give you a spell against water that all the world should thirst, than give you a spell against the song of streams that evening hears faintly over the ridge of a hill, too dim for wakeful ears, a song threading through dreams whereby we learn of old wars and lost loves of the spirits of rivers. I would sooner give you a spell against bread that all the world should starve, than give you a spell against the magic of wheat that haunts the golden hollows in moonlight in July, through which in the warm short nights wander how many of whom men knows nothing. I would make you spells against comfort and clothing, food, shelter and warmth, I and will do it sooner than tear from these poor fields of earth, that magic that is to them an ample cloak against the chill of space, and a gay raiment against the sneers of nothingness. Go hence, till your village, go, and you that sought for magic in your youth but desire it not in your age, know that there is a blindness of spirit which comes from age, more black than the blindness of eye, making a darkness about you across which nothing may be seen or felt or known or in any way apprehended. And no voice out of that darkness shall conjure me to grant a spell against magic. Hence. And as she said hence, she put her weight on her stick and was evidently preparing to rise from her seat. And at this great terror came upon all the parliament, and they noticed at the same moment that evening was drawing in and all the valley darkening. On this high field where the witches' cabbages grew, some light yet lingered, and listening to her fierce words they had not thought of the hour. But now it was manifestly growing late, and a wind roamed past them that seemed to come over the ridges a little way off from night, and chilled them as it passed, and all the air seemed given over to that very thing against which they sought for a spell. And here they were at this hour with the witch before them, and she was evidently about to rise. Her eyes were fixed on them. Already she was partly up from her chair. There could be no doubt that before three moments were passed she would be hobbling amongst them with her glittering eyes peering in each one's face. They turned and ran down the hill. End of Chapter 30 The Coming of Too Much Magic Chapter 31 Of the King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunseney This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 31 The Cursing of Elfin Things As the Parliament of Earl ran down the hill, they ran into the dusk of evening. Grayly it looked in the valley above the mist from the stream. But with more than the mystery of dusk the air was heavy. Lights blinking early from houses showed that all the folk were home, and the street was deserted by everything that was human, save when with hushed air and almost furtive step, they saw their Lord Orion like a tall shadow go by, with will of the wisps behind him, towards the house of the trolls, thinking no earthly thoughts. And the strangeness that had been growing day by day made all the village eerie, so that with short and troubled breath the twelve old men hurried on. And so they came to the holy place of the friar which lay on the side of the village that was towards the witch's hill, and it was the hour at which he was wont to celebrate after bird song as they named the singing that they sang in the holy place when all the birds were home. But the friar was not within his holy place, he stood in the cold night air on the upper step without it, his face turned towards Elfland. He had on his sacred robe, with his border of purple, and the emblem of gold around his neck. But the door of his holy place was shut, and his back was towards it. They wondered to see him stand thus. And as they wondered, the friar began to intone, clear in the evening with his eyes away to the east, where already a few of the earliest stars were showing. With his head held high he spoke as though his voice might pass over the frontier of twilight and be heard by the people of Elfland. Cursed be all wandering things, he said, whose place is not upon earth. Cursed be all lights that dwell in fens and in marriage places. Their homes are in deeps of the marshes, let them buy no mean stir from there until the last day. Let them abide in their place and their await damnation. Cursed be gnomes, trolls, elves and goblins on land, and all sprites of the water. And fawns be accursed, and such as follow pen, and all that dwell on the heath, being other than beasts or men. Cursed be fairies, and all tales told of them, and whatever enchants the meadows before the sun is up, and all fables of doubtful authority, and the legends that men hand down from unhallowed times. Cursed be brooms that leave their place by the hearth. Cursed be witches in all manner of witcheries. Cursed be toadstool rings, and whatever dances within them. And all strange lights, strange songs, strange shadows, are rumors that hint of them. And all doubtful things of the dusk, and the things that ill-instructed children fear, and old wives' tales, and things done amid summer nights. All these be accursed with all that leaneth toward Elfland, and all that cometh fence. Never a lane of that village, never a barn, but a will of the wisp was dancing nimbly above it. The night was gilded with them. But as the good friar spoke, they backed away from his curses, floating further off as though a light wind blew them, and danced again after drifting a little away. This they did both before and behind him, and on either hand, as he stood there upon the steps of his holy place, so that there was a circle of darkness all around him, and beyond that circle shone the lights of the marshes and Elfland. And within the dark circle in which the friar stood making his curses were no unhallowed things, nor were there strangenesses such as come of night, nor whispers from unknown voices, nor sounds of any music blowing here from no haunts of men. But all was orderly and seemly there, and no mysteries troubled the quiet, except such as have been justly allowed to man. And beyond that circle, when so much was beaten back by the bright vehemence of the good man's curses, the will of the wisps rioted, and many a strangeness that poured in that night from Elfland, and goblins held high holiday. For word was gone forth in Elfland, that pleasant folk had now their dwelling in Earl, and many a thing of fable, many a monster of myth, had crept through that border of twilight, and had come into Earl to see. And the light in false but friendly will of the wisps danced in the haunted air, and made them welcome. And not only the trolls and the will of the wisps had lured these folk from their fabled land through the seldom traversed border, but the longings and thoughts of Orion, which by half his lineage were akin to the things of myth, and of one race with the monsters of Elfland, were calling to them now. Ever since that day by the frontier when he had hovered between Earth and Elfland, he had yearned more and more for his mother. And now, whether he willed it or no, his Elfin thoughts were calling their kin that dwelt in the Elfish fells. And at that hour, when the sound of the horns blew through the frontier of twilight, they had come tumbling after it. For Elfin thoughts are as much akin to the creatures that dwell in Elfland as goblins are to trolls. Within the calm in the dark of the good man's curses, the twelve old men stood silent, listening to every word. And the words seemed good to them, and soothing and right, for they were over weary of magic. But beyond the circle of darkness, amidst the glare of the will of the wisps, with which all the night flickered, amidst goblin laughter and the unbridled mirth of the trolls, where old legends seemed alive and the fearfulist fables true, amongst all manner of mysteries, queer sounds, queer shapes and queer shadows, Orion passed with his hands eastwards towards Elfland. End of Chapter 31 The Cursing of Elfin Things Chapter 32 of The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunseney This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 32, Lerazel yearns for earth. In the hall that was built of moonlight, dreams, music and mirage, Lerazel knelt on the sparkling floor before her father's throne, and the light of the magical throne shone blue in her eyes and her eyes flashed back a light that deepened its magic, and kneeling there she besought a rune of her father. Old days would not let her be, sweet memories thronged about her. The lawns of Elfland had her love, lawns upon which she had played by the old miraculous flowers before any histories were written here. She loved the sweet soft creatures of myth that moved like magical shadows out of the guardian wood and over enchanted grasses. She loved every fable and song and spell that had made her elfin home, and yet the bells of earth that could not pass the frontier of silence and twilight beat note by note in her brain, and her heart felt the growth of the little earthly flowers as they bloomed or faded or slept in seasons that came not to Elfland. And in those seasons, wasting away as every one went by, she knew that Alvric wandered, knew that Orion lived and grew and changed, and that both, if earth's legend were true, would soon be lost to her forever and ever when the gates of heaven would shut on both with a golden thud. For between Elfland and heaven is no path, no flight, no way, and neither sends ambassador to the other. She yearned for the bells of earth and the English cal slips, but would not forsake again her mighty father, nor the world that his mind had made. And Alvric came not, nor her boy Orion. Only the sound of Alvric's horn came once, and often strange longing seemed to float in the air, beating vainly back and forth between Orion and her. And the gleaming pillars that held the dome of the roof or above which it floated quivered a little with her grief and shadows of her sorrow flickered and faded in the crystal deep of the walls, for a moment dimming many a color that is unknown in our fields, but making them no less lovely. What could she do who would not cast away magic and leave the home that an ageless day had endeared to her while centuries were withering like leaves upon earthly shores? What could she do whose heart was yet held by those little tendrils of earth which are strong, strong enough? And some translating her bitter need into pitiless earthly words may say that she wished to be in two places at once. And that was true. And the impossible wish lies on the verge of laughter, and for her was only and holy a matter for tears. Impossible? Was it impossible? We have to do with magic. She besought a ruin of her father kneeling upon the magic floor in the midmost center of Elfland, and around her arose the pillars of which only song may say, whose misty bulk was disturbed and troubled by Lyrazel's sorrow. She besought a ruin that wherever they roamed throughout whatever fields of earth, she restored her to Alvaric and Orion, bringing them over the border and into the Elfin lands to live in that timeless age that is one long day in Elfland. And with them she prayed, might come, for the mighty runes of her father had such power, even as this, some garden of earth or bank where violets lay, or hollow where cow slips waved, to shine in Elfland forever. Like no music heard in any cities of men, or dreamed upon earthly hills, with his elven voice her father answered her. And the ringing words were such as had power to change the shape of the hills of dreams, or to enchant new flowers to blow in fields of fairy. I have no ruin, he said, that has power to pass the frontier, or to lure anything from the mundane fields, be it violets, cow slips, or men, to come through our bulwark of twilight that I have set to guard us against material things. No ruin but one, and that the last of the potencies of our realm. And kneeling yet upon the glittering floor of whose profound translucence song alone shall speak, she prayed him for that one ruin, last potency though it be of the awful wonders of Elfland. And he would not squander that ruin that lay locked in his treasury, most magical of his powers and last of the three, but held it against the peril of a distant and unknown day, whose light shone just beyond the curve of the ages, too far for the eerie vision even of his for knowledge. She knew that he had moved Elfland far afield and swung it back as tides are swung by the moon, till it leapt at the very edge of the fields of men once more, with its glimmering border touching the tips of the earthly hedges. And she knew that no more than the moon had he used a rare wonder, merely wafting his regions away by a magical gesture. Might he not, she thought, bring Elfland and earth yet nearer using no rarer magic than is used by the moon at the neap.  She spoke of the magical orchids that came down once over cliffs, like a sudden rosy at foam breaking over the elfin mountains. She spoke of the downed clusters of queer mauve flowers, which bloomed in the grass of the Dells, and of that glory of blossom that forever guarded the lawns. For all these wonders were his. Bird song and blooming of flowers alike were his inspirations. If such wonders as song and bloom were wrought by a wave of his hand, surely he might by beckoning bring but a short way from earth some few fields that lay so near to the earthly border? Or surely he might move Elfland a little earthward again, who had lately moved it as far as the turn in the path of the comet, and had wrought it again to the edge of the fields of men? Never, he said, can any ruin but one or spell or wonder of any magical thing move our realm one wings width over the earthly border or bring anything fence here? And little they know in those fields that even one ruin can do it. And still she would scarce believe that those accustomed to powers of her wizard sire could not easily bring the things of earth and the wonders of Elfland together. From those fields, he said, my spells are all beaten back, my incantations are mute, and my right arm powerless. And when he spoke thus to her of that dread right arm, at last perforce she believed him. And she prayed him again for that ultimate ruin, that long-horded treasure of Elfland, that potency that had strength to work against the harsh weight of earth. And his thoughts went into the future all alone, appearing far down the years. Mora gladly had a traveler at night in lonely ways, given up his lantern, and had this elvish king now used his last great spell, and so cast it away, and gone with it into those dubious years. Whose dim forms he saw, and many of their events, but not to the end. Easily had she asked for that dread spell, which should appease the only need she had. Easily might he have granted it were he but human. But his vast wisdom saw so much more of the years to be, that he feared to face them without this last great potency. Beyond our border, he said, material things stand fierce and strong and many, and have the power to darken and to increase, for they have wonders too. And when this last potency be used and gone, there remains in all our realm no rune that they dread, and material things will multiply and put the powers in bondage, and we without any rune of which they go in awe shall become no more than a fable. We must yet store this rune. Thus he reasoned with her, rather than commanded, though he was the founder and king of all those lands, and all that wandered in them, and of the light in which they shone, and reason in Elfland was no daily thing but an exotic wonder. With this he sought to soothe her earthward fancies. And Lerazel made no answer, but only wept, weeping tears of enchanted dew, and all the line of the Elfin mountains quivered, as wandering winds will tremble to notes of a violin that have strayed beyond hearing, down the ways of the air, and all the creatures of fable that dwelt in the realm of Elfland felt something strange in their hearts like the dying away of a song. Is it not best for Elfland that I do this? said the king. And still she only wept. And then he sighed and considered the welfare of Elfland again. For Elfland drew its happiness from the calm of that palace, which was its center, and of which only song they tell, and now its spires were troubled, and the light of its walls were dim, and a sorrow was floating from its vaulted doorway all over the fields of fairy, and over the delves of dream. If she were happy Elfland might bask again in that untroubled light and eternal calm, whose radiance blesses all but material things, and though his treasury were open and empty, yet what more were needed then. So he commanded, and a coffer was brought before him by Elf and things, and the night of his guard who had watched over it forever came marching behind them. He opened the coffer with a spell, for it opened to no key, and taking from it an ancient parchment scroll he rose and read from it while his daughter wept. And the words of the rune as he read were like the notes of a band of violins, all played by masters chosen from many ages, hidden on Midsummer's midnight in a wood with a strange moon shining, the air all full of madness and mystery, and lurking close but invisible things beyond the wisdom of man. Thus he read that rune, and the powers heard and obeyed it, not alone in Elfland, but over the border of earth. End of Chapter 32. Lerazel yearns for earth. Chapter 33 of The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lloyd Dunsaney. This Slyvervox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 33, The Shining Line. Alveric wandered on alone of that small company of three, without a hope to guide him. For Niv and Zend, who were lately led by the hope of their fantastic quest, no longer yearned for Elfland, but were guided now by their plan to hold Alveric back from it. They vacillated more slowly than sane folk, but clung with far more than sane fervor to each vacillation. And Zend, that had wandered through so many years with the hope of Elfland before him, looked on it, now that he had seen its frontier, as one of the rivals of the moon. Niv, who had endured as much for Alveric's quest, saw in that magical land something more fabulous than was in all his dreams. And now, when Alveric attempted lame cajoleries with those swift and ferocious minds, he received no more answers from Zend than the Kurtz statement, It is not the will of the moon, while Niv would only reiterate, Have I not dreams enough? They were wandering back again past farms that had known them years before. With their old-grade tent more tattered they appeared in the twilight, adding a shade to the evening, in fields wherein they and their tent had become a legend. And never was Alveric unwatched by some mad eye, lest he should slip from the camp and come to Elfland and be where dreams were stranger than Niv's and under a power more magical than the moon. Often he tried creeping silently from his place in the dead of night. One moonlight night he tried first, waiting awake till all the world seemed sleeping. He knew that the frontier was not far away as he crept from the tent into the brightness and black shadows, and passed Niv sleeping heavily.  Round came Zend's face and newly inspired by the moon, he shouted and leapt at Alveric. They had taken away his sword, and Niv woke and came towards them with immense fury, united to Zend by one jealousy, for each of them knew well that the wonders of Elfland were greater than any fancy that their minds would ever know. And again he tried on a night when no moon shone, but on that night Niv was sitting outside the camp, relishing in a strange and joyless way a certain comradeship that there was between his ravings and the interstellar darkness. And there in the night he saw Alveric slipping away towards the land whose wonders far transcended all Niv's poor dreams, and all the fury the lesser can feel for the greater awoke at once in his mind, and creeping up behind him without any help from Zend, he smote Alveric insensible to the ground. And never did Alveric plan any escape after that, but that the busy thoughts of madness anticipated it. And so they came, watchers and watched, over the fields of men, and Alveric sought help of the folk of the farms, but the cunning of Niv knew too well the tricks of sanity, so that when the folk came running over their fields to that queer grey tent from which they heard Alveric's cries, they found Niv and Zend posed in a calm that they had much practiced while Alveric told of his thwarted quest of Elfland. Now, by many men, all quests are considered mad, as the cunning of Niv knew. Alveric found no help here. As they went back, by the way by which they had marched for years, Niv led that band of three, stepping ahead of Alveric and Zend, with his lean face held high, made all the leaner by the long thin points to which he had trained his beard and his moustaches, and wearing Alveric's sword that stuck out long behind him at its hilt high in front. And he stepped and perked his head with a certain air that revealed to the rare travelers who saw him that this sparse and ragged figure esteemed itself the leader of a greater band than were visible. Indeed, if one had just seen him at the end of the evening, with the dusk and the mist of the Fenlands close behind him, he might have believed that in the dusk and the mist was an army that followed this gay, worn, confident man. Had the army been there, Niv was sane. Had the world accepted that an army was there, even though only Alveric and Zend followed his curious steps, still he was sane. But the lonely fancy that had not fact to feed on, nor the fancy of any other for a fellowship was for its loneliness mad. Zend watched Alveric all the while as they marched behind Niv for their mutual jealousy of the wonders of Elfland bound Niv and Zend together to work as with one wild whim. And now, one morning, Niv stretched himself up to the fullest possible height of his lean inches and extended his right arm high and addressed his army. We are come near again to Earl, he said, and we shall bring new fancies in place about worn things and things that are stale, and its customs shall be henceforth the way of the moon. Now Niv cared nothing for the moon, but he had great cunning, and he knew that Zend would aid his new plan against Earl, if only for the sake of the moon. And Zend cheered till the echoes came back from a lonely hill, and Niv smiled to them like a leader confident of his hosts. And Alveric rose against them then and struggled with Niv and Zend for the last time, and learned that age or wandering or loss of hope had left him unable to strive against the maniacal strength of these two. And after that he went with them more meekly, with resignation, caring no longer what befell him, living only in memory and only for days that had been, and in November evenings in this dim camp in the chill he saw, looking only backwards through the years, spring mornings shine again on the towers of Earl. In the light of these mornings he saw Orion again, playing again with old toys that the witch had made with a spell. He saw Lerazel move once more through the gracious gardens, yet no light that memory is able to kindle was strong enough to illumine much that camp in those somber evenings, when the damp rose up from the ground and the chills swooped out of the air, and Niv and Zend, as darkness came stealing nearer, began to chatter in low eager voices, schemes inspired by such whims as throve at dusk in the waste. Only when the sad day drifted wholly tense, and Albaric slept by flapping tatters that streamed from the tent in the night, then only was memory unhindered by the busy changes of day, able to bring back Earl to him, bright, happy, and vernal, so that while his body lay still in far fields, in the dark and the winter, all that was most active and live in him was back over the wolds in Earl, back over the years in Spring, with Lerazel and Orion. How far he was bodily and sheer miles from his home, for which his happy thoughts each night forsook his weary frame, Albaric knew not. It was many years since their tent had stood one evening a gray shape in that landscape, in which it now waved its tatters. But Niv knew that of late they had come nearer to Earl, for his dreams of it came to him now soon after he fell asleep, and they used to come to him further on in the night on the other side of midnight and even towards morning, and from this he argued that they used to have further to come, and were now but a little way off. When he told this secretly one evening to Zend, Zend listened gravely but gave no opinion, merely saying the moon knows. Nevertheless he followed Niv, who led this curious caravan, always in that direction from which his dreams of the Valley of Earl came soonest.  They reached some port or other, though they strayed down the years with little foresight enough, were it otherwise what would become of us. And one day the upper parts of the towers of Earl looked at them out of blue distance, shining in early sunlight above a curb of the Downs. And towards them Niv turned at once and led directly, for the line of their wandering march had not pointed straight to Earl, and marched on as a conqueror that seized some new city's gates. What his plans were Alveric did not know, but kept to his apathy. And Zend did not know, for Niv had merely said that his plans must be secret. Nor did Niv know, for his fancies poured through his brain and rushed away. What fancies made what plans in a mood that was yesterday's, how could he tell today? Then as they went they soon came to a shepherd, standing amongst his grazing sheep and leaning upon his crook, who watched and seemed to have no other care but only to watch all things going by, or when nothing passed, to gaze and to gaze at the Downs till all his memories were fashioned out of their huge grass curves. He stood, a bearded man, and watched them with never a word as they passed. And one of Niv's mad memories suddenly knew him, and Niv hailed him by his name, and the shepherd answered, and who should he be but Vand? Then they fell talking, and Niv spoke swavly, as he always did with sane folk, aping with clever mimicry the ways and the tricks of sanity, lest Alveric should ask for help against him. But Alveric sought no help. Silent he stood and heard the others talking, but his thoughts were far in the past, and their voices were only sounds to him. And Vand inquired of them if they had found Elfland, but he spoke as one asks of children if their Tory boat has been to the Happy Isles. He had had for many years to do with sheep, and had come to know their needs and their price, and the need men have of them, and these things had risen imperceptibly up all around his imagination, and were at last a wall over which he saw no further. When he was young, yes, once he had sought for Elfland, but now, why now he was older, such things were for the young. But we saw its border, said Zend, the border of twilight. Amist, said Vand, of the evening. I have stood, said Zend, upon the edge of Elfland.  No, not Elfland, he said. And never agreed with Vand, for he watched his mood, studying the ways of sanity. And they spoke of Elfland lightly, as one tells of some dream that came at dawn and went away before waking. And Alvarick heard with despair, for Lerazel dwelt not only over the border, but even as he saw now beyond human belief, so that all at once she seemed remoter than ever, and he still lonelier. I sought for it once, said Vand, but no, there's no Elfland. No, said Niv, and only Zend wondered.  And just beyond his sheep and coming towards them he saw a shining line. So long his eyes stayed fixed on that shining line coming over the downs from the eastward that the others turned and looked. They saw it too, a shimmering line of silver, or a little blue like steel, flickering and changing with the reflection of strange passing colors. And before it, very faint like threatening breezes, breathing before a storm came the soft sound of very old songs. It caught, as they all stood gazing, one of Vand's furthest sheep. And instantly its fleece was that pure gold that is told of in old romance. And the shining line came on and the sheep disappeared altogether. They saw now that it was about the height of the mist from a small stream, and still Vand stood gazing at it, neither moving nor thinking. But Niv turned very soon and beckoned curtly to Zend, and seized Elveric by the arm and hastened away towards Earl. The gleaming line that seemed to bump and stumble over every unevenness of the rough fields came not so fast as they hastened, yet it never stopped when they rested, never wearyed when they were tired, but came on over all the hills and hedges of earth, nor did sunset change its appearance or check its pace. Chapter 34 The Last Great Rune As Elveric hastened back, led by two madmen, to those lands over which he had long ago been lured, the horns of Elfland had sounded in Earl all day. And though only Orion heard them, they no less thrilled the air, flooding it deep with their curious golden music, and filling the day with a wonder that others felt, so that many a young girl leaned from her window to see what was enchanting the morning. But as the day wore on, the enchantment of the unheard music dwindled, giving place to a feeling that weighed on all minds in Earl, and seemed to bode the eminence of some unknown region of wonder. All his life Orion had heard these horns blowing at evening, except upon days on which he had done ill. If he heard the horns at evening, he knew that it was well with him. But now they had blown in the morning and blew all day like a fanfare in front of a march, and Orion looked out of his window and saw nothing, and the horns rang on, proclaiming he knew not what. Far away they called his thoughts from the things of earth that are the concerns of men, far away from all that casts shadows. He spoke to no man that day, but went among his trolls, and such Elfin things as had followed them over the border, and all men that saw him perceived such a look in his eyes as showed his thoughts to be far in realms that they dreaded. And his thoughts were indeed far-thence once more with his mother, and hers were with him lavishing tendernesses that the years had denied her in their swift passage over our fields that she never had understood, and somehow he knew she was nearer. And all that strange morning the will of the wisps were restless, and the trolls leaped wildly all about their loves, for the horns of Elfland tinged all the air with magic, and excited their blood, although they could not hear them. But towards evening they felt impending some great change, and all grew silent and moody. And something brought to them yearnings for their far magical home, as though a breeze had blown suddenly into their faces straight off the tarns of Elfland. And they ran up and down the street, looking for something magical to ease their loneliness amongst mundane things, but found nothing resembling the spell-born lilies that grew in their glory above the Elfin tarns, and the folk of the village perceived them everywhere and longed for the wholesome earthly days again that there were before the coming of magic to Earl. And some of them hurried off to the house of the friar, and took refuge with him amongst his holy things from all the unhallowed shapes that there were in their streets, and all the magic that tingled and loomed in the air. And he guarded them with his curses, which floated away the light and almost aimless will of the wisps, and even at a short distance, awed the trolls, but they ran and capered only a little way off. And while the little group clustered about the friar, seeking solace from him against whatever impended, with which the air was growing tenser and grimmer as the short day wore on, there went others to Narl and the busy elders of Earl to say, See what your plans have done? See what you have brought on the village? And none of the elders made immediate answer, but said that they must take counsel one with another, for they trusted greatly in the words said in their parliament. And to this intent they gathered again at the forage of Narl. It was evening now, but the sun had not yet set, nor Narl gone from his work, but his fire was beginning to glow with a deeper color among the shadows that had entered his forage. And the elders came in there, walking slowly with grave faces, partly because of the mystery that they needed to cover their folly from the sight of the villagers, partly because magic hung now so gross in the air that they feared the eminence of some portentous thing. They sat in their parliament in that inner room, while the sun went low and the elfin horns, had they but known it, blew clear and triumphantly, and there they sat in silence, for what could they say? They had wished for magic, and now it had come. Trolls were in all the streets, goblins had entered houses, and now the knights were mad with will of the wisps, and all the air was heavy with unknown magic. What could they say? And after a while Narl said they must make a new plan, for they had been plain bell-fearing folk, but now there were magical things all over Earl, and more came every night from Elfland to join them, and what would become of the old ways unless they made a plan. And Narl's words emboldened them all, though they felt the ominous menace of the horns that they could not hear, but the talk of a plan emboldened them, for they deemed that they could plan against magic, and one by one they rose to speak of a plan. But at sunset the talk died down, and there dread that something impending grew now to a certain knowledge. Authent Threl knew at first, who had lived familiar with mystery in the woods, all knew that something was coming, no one knew what, and they all sat silent, wondering in the gloaming. Louraloo saw at first he had dreamed all day of the weed-green tarns of Elfland, and growing weary of earth had gone all lonely to the top of a tower that rose from the castle of Earl, and perched himself on a battlement and gazed wistfully homewards. And looking out over the fields we know, he saw the shining line coming down on Earl, and from it he heard rise faint, as it rippled over the furrows, a murmur of many old songs, for it came with all manner of memories, old music and lost voices sweeping back again to our old fields what time had driven from earth. It was coming towards him bright as the evening star and flashing with sudden colors, some common on earth and some unknown to our rainbow, so that Louraloo knew it at once for the frontier of Elfland. And all his impudence returned to him at sight of his fabulous home, and he uttered shrill gusts of laughter from his high perch that rang over the rooftops below, like the chatter of building birds. And the little homestick trolls in the lofts were cheered by the sound of his merriment, though they knew not from what it came. And now Orion heard the horns blowing so loud and near, and there was such triumph in their blowing, and pomp, and with all so wistful accruing, that he knew now why they blew, knew that they proclaimed the approach of the princess of the Elfin line, knew that his mother came back to him. High on her heels Arunderil knew this, being forewarned by magic, and looking downward at evening, she saw that star-like line of blended twilight of old lost summer evenings sweeping over the fields towards Earl. Almost she wondered as she saw this glittering thing flowing over the earthly pastures, although her wisdom had told her that it must come. And on the one side she saw the fields we know, full of accustomed things, and on the other side looking down from her height she saw behind the myriad tinted border the deep green Elfin foliage, and Elfland's magical flowers and things that delirium sees not, nor inspiration on earth. And the fabulous creatures of Elfland prancing forward and stepping across our fields and bringing Elfland with her, the twilight flowing from both her hands, which she stretched out a little from her, was her own lady, the Princess Lyrizelle, coming back to her home. And at this site, and at all the strangeness coming across the fields, are because of old memories that came with the twilight, or bygone songs that sang in it, a strange joy came shivering upon Zerunderel, and if which is weep, she wept. And now from upper windows of the houses, the folk began to see that glittering line, which was no earthly twilight. They saw it flash at them with its starry gleam, and then flow on towards them. Slowly it came as though it rippled with difficulty over earth's rugged bulk, though moving lately over the rightful lands of the Elf King it had outspeeded the comet. And hardly had they wondered at its strangeness when they found themselves amongst most familiar things. For the old memories that floated before it, as the wind before the thunder, beat in a sudden gust on their hearts and their houses, and lo, they were living once more amongst things long past and lost. And as the line of no earthly light came nearer, there rustled before it a sound as of rain on leaves, old sighs breathed over again, old lovers whispers repeated.  Not yet had that line of starlight and bygone loves lapped at the walls of Earl or foamed on the houses, yet it was so near now that already there slipped away the daily cares that held folk down to the present, and they felt the balm of past days and blessings from hands long withered. Now elders ran out to children that skipped with a rope in the street to bring them into the houses, not telling them why, for fear of frightening their daughters. And the alarm in their mother's faces for a moment startled the children, then some of them looked to the eastward and saw that shining line. It is Elfland coming, they said, and went on with their skipping. And the hounds knew, though what they knew I cannot say, but some influence reached them from Elfland, such as comes from the full moon, and they bade as they bay on clear nights when the fields are flooded with moonlight. And the dogs in the streets that always watched lest anything strange should come knew how great a strangeness was near them now, and proclaimed it to all the valley. Already the old leather worker in his cottage across the fields looked out of his window to see if his well were frozen, saw a May morning of fifty years ago and his wife gathering lilac, for Elfland had beaten time away from his garden. And now the jackdaws had left the towers of Earl and flew away westward and the baying of the hounds filled all the air and the barking of lesser dogs. This suddenly ceased and a great hush fell on the village as though snow had suddenly fallen inches deep. And through the hush came softly a strange old music, and no one spoke at all. Then where Zerunderel sat by her door, with her chin on her hand gazing, she saw the bright line touch the houses and stop, flowing past them on either side, but held by the houses as though it had met with something too strong for its magic, but for only a moment the houses held back that wonderful tide, for it broke over them with a burst of unearthly foam, like a meteor of unknown metal burning in heaven, and passed on and the houses stood all quaint and queer and enchanted, like homes remembered out of a long past age, by the sudden waking of an inherited memory. And then she saw the boy she had nursed step forward into the twilight, drawn by a power no less than that which was moving Elfland. She saw him and his mother meet again in all that light that was flooding the valley with splendor, and Alvaric was with her, he and she together a little apart from attendant fabulous things that escorted her all the way from the veils of the Elfin mountains. And from Alvaric had fallen away that heavy burden of years and all the sorrow of wandering. He too was back again in the days that were with old songs and lost voices, and Zerundarille could not see the princess's tears when she met Orion again after all that separation of space and time. For though they flashed like stars, she stood in the border in all that radiance of starlight that shone about her like the broad face of a planet. But though the witch saw not this, there came to her old ears clearly the sounds of songs returning again to our fields out of the glens of Elfland wherein they had lain so long, which were all the old songs lost from the nurseries of earth. They crooned now about the meeting of Lirazel and Orion, and Niv and Zend had eased at last from their fierce fancies, for their wild thoughts sank to rest in the calm of Elfland and slept as hawks sleep in their trees when evening has lulled the world. Zerundarille saw them standing together where the edge of the downs had been a little way off from Alvaric, and there was Vand amongst his golden sheep that were munching the strange sweet juices of wonderful flowers. With all these wonders Lirazel came for her son and brought Elfland with her that never had moved before the width of a hair bell over the earthly border. And where they met was an old garden of roses under the towers of Earl, where once she had walked and none had cared for it since. Great weeds were now in its walks and even they were withered with the rigor of late November, their dry stalks hissed about his feet as Orion walked through them and they swung back brown behind him over untended paths. But before him bloomed in all their glory and beauty the great voluptuous roses gorgeous with summer. Between November that she was driving before her and that old season of roses that she brought back to her garden, Lirazel and Orion met. For a moment the withered garden lay brown behind him then it all flashed into bloom and the wild glad song of birds from a hundred arbors welcomed back the old roses and Orion was back again in the beauty and brightness of days whose dim fair shades his memory cherished such as are the chief of all the treasures of man. But the treasury in which they lie is locked and we have not the key. Then Elfland board over Earl only the holy place of the fryer and the garden that was about it remained still of our earth. A little island all surrounded by wonder like a mountain peak all rocky alone in air when a mist dwells up in the gloming from Highland valleys and leaves only one pinnacle darkly to gaze at the stars. For the sound of his bell beach back the ruin and the twilight for a little distance all round. There he lived happily contented not quite alone amongst his holy things for a few that had been cut off by that magical tide lived on the holy island and served him there and he lived beyond the age of ordinary men but not to the years of magic. None ever crossed the boundary but one the witch Zerunderel who from her hill that was just on the earthward border would go by broom on starry nights to see her lady again where she dwelt unvexed by years with Alveric and Orion. Since she comes sometimes high in the night on her broom unseen by any down on the earthly fields unless you chance to notice star after star blink out for an instant as she passes by them and sits beside cottage doors and tells queer tales to such as care to have news of the wonders of Elfland. May I hear her again. And with the last of his world disturbing runes sent forth and his daughter happy once more the Elphin king on his tremendous throne breathed and drew in the calm in which Elfland basks and all his realms dreamed on in that ageless repose of which deep green pools in summer can barely guess and Earl dreamed too with all the rest of Elfland and so passed out of all remembrance of men for the twelve that were of the parliament of Earl looked through the window of that inner room wherein they planned their plans by the forage of Narl and gazing over their familiar lands perceived that they were no longer the fields we know. End of chapter 34 the last great rune end of the king of Elfland's daughter by Lord Dunsaney. This has been recorded for you by Michelle Fry. It was a privilege to read it and I thank you for listening.