Elatair sat in the ancient chamber of the elatanlor. It was old and dusty. The hangings were crumbling tatters, that once would have shown the history of the elves of this forest, and the walls were covered in an assortment of life from wood-eating beetles to an impressive array of fungi, which was not great for the tree they inhabited. He knew that his people rarely, if ever, came to this place. This was a shame, for without their presence, the great monarch of the forest, who had received them in his halls, was dying. Elatair soon put that particular wrongdoing to right. The magnificent oak surged with new life and shot up a good ten meters of new growth with a glorious verdant crown rich in life. However, there was still a problem. Elatair’s people were no more it seemed, lost in the annuals of time. He did suppose that, perhaps, two thousand years was a long time, even by elven standards, and he might have been unreasonable in hoping they still lived around the great monarch and his much-shrunken forest. He wondered what had happened to them since he had left all those years ago. The land had changed and the power of the land flowed in different, stronger ways. He had left a mere elven youth and now returned a Wizard, one of only a handful who actually deserved that title. Suddenly he felt them; the Council numbered nine, which meant one had died recently or worse their number could no longer be replaced. They took their newly restored seats.
“Greetings great Wizard, why had you installed yourself in the most sacred place of the High Elven people?”
“This place is not sacred to you because the elves hold no place sacred and thus can regard all as sacred. Anyway the elves I knew would never have allowed the Hall to fall into such ill health.”
“You speak as though you are one of us but you are not, Wizard. Your words are true. Our people are diminished. Only twenty thousand elves dwell here in scattered dwellings and tribes and we can go no further north than the city of Noskepak for the Dark Elves rule the northern forest. We have not the strength to spare to heal the Hall and maintain him as he rightly should be.”
“If you are abandoning your friends, why do you wonder that you are diminished? The Monarch of the Forest who is the Hall is the history of our people and a close adviser to all who seek his wisdom, whether they be great rulers or foolish, young lovers. To lose such powerful allies, at a time when you are under such pressure, would surely be more harmful than wasting some of your power healing an old tree?”
“Wizard, what are you and how do you know so much of the elves of this land? You are a newcomer but you seem to have dwelled here for a thousand years. We do not like this. If you are some spirit of the Nethersphere come to tempt us, as you tempted the Dark Elves, know that the High Elves, however diminished, will fight and die to defend this land!”
The room crackled with power and the High Elves began to shine with an inner light, similar to moonlight, and they spin with their hands arcane symbols and glyphs from moonbeams. Laughter rings out, the high, happy peals of gaiety with a slight fey undertone. Elven laughter.
“My name is Elatair, o great champions of this land, and I am no threat nor am I a spirit come to tempt you. I am a newcomer, I suppose, for I have not dwelled here in nigh on two thousand years and, as for how I know so much about the elves, we never were a people prone to change for change’s sake. I was of this tribe, long ago, and as its oldest and most powerful member I claim the right to head the elatanlor and to lead these people. Muster your folk, brave ela, for you are now lords and ladies of the forest, as you should be. A new elven kingdom will be forged this day!”
The ela departed, after rather sheepishly apologising for their over-reaction, and soon the elves are gathered, for the entire forest whispers with a thousand throats of the One-Who-Healed-The-King and, with each new throat that joins the whispering, the sound swells until, resoundingly, the entire forest with the news and new life and purpose spread forth. The King yet lives! Even the deafest of elves could hear the forest’s new voice and they came hurrying to the King to find out what all the commotion was about. Elatair left the ela to explain and instead turned his attention to the wider world. His most immediate concern would be the citadel of Ceros to the north, which he could barely perceive, so thick were its wards. He examined the work carefully. The wards were extremely well constructed, blocking access to any being of Ethereal, and they had the distinctive appearance of elven magic, however the magic was vicious. Anything that crossed the wards would die. It was dark elven magic. He had heard whispers of a dark elven Wizard of great power in his travels through the Nethersphere. Arya the Terrible had come to Ethereal. There were also orcs to the east and barbarians to the south, again led by Wizards. They were also an assortment of castles and cities, as yet unaligned, of various races and more Wizards of different races further afield. He would have to negotiate with the cities of Noskepak and Griskglan and work out Arya's role. Elatair doubted that he would be a friend, nor would he want him as one, but would he be an enemy?
He reached out to a pack of forest wolves on the westernmost fringe of the forest with his mind and told them to rely the following message to their kin on the great plains.
“Oh kindred of the great plains who art the proud servants and friends of the gnolls. Elatair of the High Elves has this message for your masters. Convey it to them with all haste.
‘Proud gnolls of the city of Griskglan! You are masters of the plain and friends of the wolves who dwell there. I am Elatair, Wizard and head of the Elatanlor of the elves, and to you I extend a hand of friendship. Are your people willing to be hailed as friends of the elves?’”
He sent a similar message to the orcs, however, he sent a young elven runner to bear the message as he did not think the orcs would appreciate a direct magical message and he did not believe the orcs had a close affiliation with nature so he could not use an animal as a messenger.
Finally he sent a magical message to Arya the Terrible.
“Greetings oh dark kindred of mine. Are you a friend or a foe or neither? Also you may want to reduce your wards slightly. They burn like a beacon for anyone in the Nethersphere who has the eyes to see. You may attract undue attention to this world from entities who I, at least, would rather avoid.”
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