“They say Prince Eyrmin saw something in the grove,” Kilrinis whispered to Feilin while Cald chattered about the halflings.
A strong gust of wind blew through the trees, and Cald grabbed for the railing, glad to have a use for his shaking hands. He had never before told a lie, and he was afraid.
“Cald.” Feilin leaned close as if they were sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen the ghost elves in the grove?”
“Only a couple of times. I think they mostly hide,” he said. “Maybe they have homes that we can’t see up in the trees. I wish I knew if the halflings understood about the rain….”
“Why would you and the prince see them and no one else?” Kilrinis asked. His eyes were searching Cald’s face, and the boy was afraid to lie again.
“Because I’m human?” Cald asked. That suggestion often saved him trouble, since the elves thought humans incomprehensible at best, but he realized that in this instance, relying on his humanity would not help the prince.
“Mayhap Itrelian and Wilbien saw them.” That statement could have been the truth. A few days before, while at play, the two elf children had been frightened by something on the other side of the Star Mirror Stream where it bordered the Muirien Grove.
“They’re just little,” Cald went on. “Maybe they only saw a rabbit or a deer—that’s what the prince thought had frightened them. Still, they are old enough to know a deer when they see one. Do you think the halflings will be safe in the storm?”
Feilin and Kilrinis were trading long, thoughtful looks when the rain suddenly poured down through the trees. Cald insisted he had to get to the prince’s quarters. He told nothing but the truth when he said Eyrmin forbade him to run on the tree paths when they were wet. As a human, he would never be as surefooted as the elves. On his way home, he congratulated himself, not at all ashamed.
At the next limb-stair he paused and looked back. When he had met Feilin and Kilrinis, they had been descending, but they had turned back now and were climbing up to the bierieum. In fair weather, the elves preferred sitting under the stars to tell their tales, but on chilly or rainy nights, they gathered in the bierieum—the chamber of music—which was the largest and highest structure in the elven village.
Unlike humans, elves slept little, seldom more than an hour a night. They could go for days taking short trance-rests, with their eyes open and aware while their bodies gathered strength from their stillness.
For most of the village, this would not be a night to sleep. They would discuss the news Feilin and Kilrinis brought to the bierieum, and give the incident of the frightened elf children a new meaning.
Cald had lied when he said he had seen the elf spirits, but he told himself he was only helping the rest of the warriors of Reilmirid believe the truth. Prince Eyrmin was the bravest, truest warrior of them all, and if he said the elves were in the grove, then they were in the grove.
The two elf children would be closely questioned again. They had no idea what they had seen and would say so. Possibly they had been frightened by nothing more than the shadow from a tree limb moved by the wind. Maybe they really did see a spirit elf. By the time he reached the prince’s quarters and the small room where his bed waited, Cald had convinced himself the elf children had really been the first to see the mysterious people of the grove, and many elves would believe it, too.
During the night, the storm grew in force. The giant sielwodes swayed and trembled. The elves peered from their doors when they heard the scream of tearing wood and a tremendous crashing. In an instant, every elf in Reilmirid was outside, searching for the damage. Fortunately for two families, they had left their homes with the rest and were not inside when two giant limbs of the ancient Sielwode fell and crushed their dwellings.
At dawn the residents of the tree village picked their way over the debris-littered ground, inspecting the damage and shaking their heads. Most hardly noticed when a number of the halflings and the two goblins joined them.
The destruction was a sign, they decided.
“The elves of Tallamai are angry,” Relcan said, glaring at the goblins and the halflings.
The other elves were equally divided on whether the visitors were the cause, but they all agreed that the giant limbs had fallen by design.
Elder Oles Digdown and the halfling triplets—Bigtoe, Littletoe, and Fleetfoot—were among the most interested of the spectators, and the triplets suddenly announced their agreement.
“It is a sign,” Bigtoe spoke up, as if he had weighed the matter and come to the only logical conclusion.
“It surely is a sign,” Littletoe agreed, nodding his head in time with his brother.
“It’s a mess,” Fleetfoot said.
“Even you see it as a portent?” asked Glisinda, who had been standing nearby. Despite the destruction, she smiled at the antics of the three halflings.
“A portent.”
“Surely a portent.”
“A terrible mess.”
Elder Oles gave a deep sigh; his shoulders drooped. “I had hoped to reach the land you spoke of, the Burrows, where my people are gathering,” he said. “But the wise ones have given their decree, and they will be angry with us if we do not do our part in fulfilling their wishes.”
“And what is their decree?” Glisinda asked, no longer smiling. More than a score of elves had gathered to listen to the halfling.
“The building of the watchtower,” Oles Digdown replied. “If I understand rightly, it is the decree of your wise ones that you do not injure living trees, so they have provided the timber for the building, and if I do not mistake, they have also provided the location.”
Eyrmin had joined the gathering in time to hear the last statements.
“The two giant limbs are from high in the Grove Father,” he said. “And large as they may be, they would not suffice to build a tower—” He paused and looked up.
“But then they need not,” said the halfling elder, finishing the prince’s thought for him. “The tower exists; only the stair and the platforms for the watchers need be constructed.”
“And the trunk where they broke away will give the view,” Saelvam suggested, so caught up in the idea that he had spoken out, though Eyrmin had opened his mouth to answer the halfling himself.
The tall elf, always more humble than the rest, perhaps because of his height and awkwardness, stepped back. His face was red with embarrassment. He trod on Ursrien’s toes.
“From high in the Grove Father, we could watch the plain of Markazor for many miles around,” Glisinda said, pointing out the advantages while taking attention away from Saelvam. “It is a plan we have long cherished, to have such a lookout.” She gazed down at Oles Digdown again. “But why did you think the sign was for you?”
“In the ancient days, when our world was green and fair, our village was renowned for its woodworking skill,” he said. “We still retain that art. Why else would the limbs fall just now, while we are in this land, if we are not to do the work?”
“Why should you?” demanded Relcan. His darting gaze lit on several warriors, as if demanding they agree with him. Several, seeing no recourse but to support the royal kinsman, nodded sagely as if he had exhibited superior wisdom. Oles Digdown, however, was equal to the query.
“Because if we assist you, you would in honor be obligated to us. In payment we would have the right to ask you to aid those of our people who follow us.”
The listening elves who had supported Relcan’s apparent wisdom, nodded again, seeing the sense in the halfling leader’s answer.
Cald had joined Itrelian and Wilbien, the two elf children, on the lowest limb of a tree, where they had an unobstructed view of the wreckage and could hear the adults below. He had expected the elves to object to the suggestion that the halflings remain and build the tower, but to his surprise, most seemed to favor the idea.