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Date Posted: 16:22:03 03/30/03 Sun
Author: Leila & Gelan
Subject: Leila & Gelan pass through the Eternal Wood and head to Drearwood
In reply to: No post. 's message, "War of the Everdark" on 12:38:20 03/27/03 Thu

January 1-6

The next 'Darkday, Years Start Day, a snow began to fall and Gelan raged at the darkling sky, for the Ghulen track before them began to fade beneath the new fall. East they rode for many hours, and the snow swirled thickly. Now at last they could no longer see the Ghulen wake, yet Lord Gelan continued onward; but the track he followed or what sign he used to guide him east, was not known. Then before them, through the swirling snow, dark shapes loomed. Trees! Thickly Wooded! They had reached the Eternal Wood upon the border of Tel’Oira Eldamar....And a sadness was upon the forest, for snow fell within it, and it lay deeply enshrouded in Drego's Everdark.

Leila's heart broke as she saw the trees. "There are trees ahead, Lord Gelan...The Eternal Wood which borders Tel’Oira Eldamar."

Gelan nodded, for he too knew this place. As Igon had, he had gone every summer for six years to train and learn with the Elves. To see the snow upon the once sheltered enchanted land tore at his heart. "Slip behind me, Leila, for we know not what we may meet therein." It was sad, but the truth. Into the barren woods they rode, and still the snow eddied down. Now Jet was slowed to a walk, picking his way through the trees. They came among a stand of ancient oaks and rode through into a glade. Across the open space they went, but before they entered the oaks again: "Temp i' roch!" (Stop the horse!) Came the Elven command from somewhere about them.

In that complicated maneuver, Leila once again was behind Gelan. They rode for a while until she heard the foreign tongue. "Stop your horse..." she said quickly. "Do not move." She looked about her, holding her hands out to the side to show she was unarmed. "Aaye," (Hail) she said, "N'ndengina lye..." (Don't kill us) "Lye...mellon!" (We are friends). None of it was exact, but it was the best she could do on short notice and without the elven books to find their words.

Quickly the black steed was reined in to a halt, and Gelan had his head turning this way and that, trying to seek out the source of the voice. His hand lifted to cast back the hood of his cloak, it having been up due to the storm. "Mani naa essa en lle?" (What is your name?) The voice called to them, more commanding them to state their names then a question. Still it was hard to pinpoint where it was that the voice came from.

"Leila en Aragon," she called. "Elendil so named by Talarin en Taure. I travel with Prince Gelan of the fallen Challerain Keep." Her voice was not raised, as she knew it did not have to be in order for the elf to hear her. Green-gold eyes scanned the forest about them, searching out the one who owned the voice.

There came the sound of laughter, a light, clear, ringing sound and out of the trees about them stepped five Elves, all lowering drawn bows. Arrows were removed and slipped back into quivers upon their backs. The one that stood before them, was the one laughing lightly. "Well, Leila of Aragon, why did you not say so in the beginning." It was Inarion, though perhaps she had not known him well, he remembered her from few conversations held before she left for Challerain Keep. Yet the smile slid from his lips as he gazed to the Prince of the Realm. "I am sorry, Lord Gelan, to hear of the fall of Challerain, but we had guessed at much." The Elf touched the right side of his chest gently in greeting, dipping into a bow as well. "I am called Inarion."

A breath rushed out of her lungs and she dismounted from the horse, mimicking Inarions gesture, her hand sweeping out after she bowed her head. "I see that even my beloved home is not safe from the reaches of Drego," her head hung again for a moment and then shook, her hands resting upon her hips. "Lady Astariel and Prince Elomir may have been taken captive. We have been tracking the Ghola for days, but the newly fallen snow has hidden their tracks from us." A moment of pause. "Inarion, have you heard aught from any others who may have escaped Challerain?" It was a long shot, but still, she had to ask.

Inarion's eyes shot wide. "Lady Astariel?! None have entered our wood, Leila. Yet others have come to aid us, for we have been pressed by Spaunen as in centuries past."

It was Gelan who spoke now, still astride the ebon horse. "Lord Inarion, as Lady Leila has said, we are on the track of a large force of Ghola. East they fled from a slaughter of innocents, perhaps with a hostage or two or three even." Still, they were not sure if they had been taken hostage. "They would have passed through here perhaps five 'Darkdays agone. Have you seen aught?"

The Elf's attention turned to Lord Gelan. "No, Lord Gelan. But five 'Darkdays past we were locked in a great struggle with Drego's Spawn. Though now those Spawn march east, caring for their wounds, passing us by. As to the ones you are chasing, they could have passed us by as well, unseen during that battle." Inarion paused in thought. "If perchance someone spied them then they would have sent word to the others allied here. I will take you to them."

She was disappointed to hear nothing of the others that had fled from Challerain or if any still remained alive. Leila listened to the exchange between the two and then when Inarion finished speaking. "What of Lord Mallorn, Inarion? On the first day of arriving at Challerain Adaron mentioned that he was gathering his host to him. What has come of that?" she asked as they began then to follow Inarion through the snow-thick wood.

Grim were Inarion's features. "Lord Mallorn's host has been split many times over. Some were sent to aid the Drimma in their struggle against the Spaunen. Others yet have traveled to Arden Vale. Lord Mallorn, himself, is at the Northern Boarder of Elvenhome. We cannot leave Eldamar undefended."

Gelan nodded. "I agree, Lord Inarion." For Elvenhome was special, there was something enchanting about this Land that the Elves occupied "Also, Lord Mallorns host alone would not be able to stand against the Yrm. For now they are occupied at Challerain Keep, I pray that they do not turn this way and find out of Elvenhome. Yet now, take us to the others."

Leila waited then for Inarion to lead them elsewhere, standing nearly knee-deep in snow which of course would not be so high on any of the others present. Ruck-sized...that was not funny. An exhale of breath upon the cold air as her strange eyes narrowed, scanning through the woods to pick out the other elves that still remained warding.

~*~


Sometime during the hours they had slept that night, the snow stopped. Yet the track of the Ghuls had long been hopelessly lost. After breakfast, Elf Inarion led them away through the winter forest, following unmarked Eternalwood trails. Leila was mounted behind Gelan on Jet, for the Elves had no spare horses for them to use. As they went they varied the pace of the steeds, at times dismounting and walking, for the trek to the main camp was a long one. They covered nearly thirty miles, still heading east along their track, before making camp. And all the time they rode they saw neither Man nor Elf nor any other race, though all felt that they were safe, as if well watched by the Eternalwood itself.

~*~


Early after breaking camp, they rode into the site of the Eternalwood Alliance. Men and Elves and even some that appeared to be Elf children, known as Warrows, were there and all looked curiously at the Man and Woman upon Jet as the black horse followed Inarion’s light grey to the camp center. Inarion dismounted and motioned for them to do the same. Arbagon Fenner, a Warrow, towering a mighty three feet and six inches, sapphire-eyed, brown haired, was at the main fire. When he learned of Lord Gelan's identity, a herald was dispatched, and soon a rotund Man, Bockleman Brewster of Stonehill, arrived and knelt unto the Prince. Thee three--Arbagon, Bockleman, and Inarion--captained the Eternal Wood Alliance.

Seeing the Warrows once more brought back fond memories, back before such pain came to haunt the lands and she even laughed softly. Once they had reached the stead of the Alliance she remained close to Prince Gelan's side, though she felt more comfortable around elves for all the time she'd spent around them. However the warmth of the fire was a bit too inviting and she left Gelan to go and stand near to it to relieve herself from the bone-deep chill she'd grown nearly accustomed to.

The four sat when Leila had gone off to warm herself, she could return anytime she wished. Arbagon, Bocklemen, and Inarion all listened to Gelans tale and of the fall of Challerain Keep. "Well now, that's a bad piece of new that I never thought to hear...though we thought as much." said Bockleman Brewster, wringing his hands in front of him as if wiping them upon the apron he customarily had worn as proprietor of the White Unicorn, the inn in Stonehill. "The Keep burnt and abandoned. What will Drego do next I wonder?"

"Whatever it is, I'm thinkin' he'll steer clear of the Eternal Wood, after the drubbin' we've dealt him." Arbagon stood up to his full three feet six inch height and fetched a cup of tea for the Prince.

"Be not certain of that, Small One, " said Inarion, softly. "for we are a thorn in Drego's side that he will want to pluck forth once he can bring his full weight to bear upon us. We met but a tithe of his strength, and then it was all we could do to fend them aside." The Elf turned to Gelan. "Those we met in battle must have been but a splinter of the Horde that brought down the Keep."

"Well, splinter or Horde, they'll not root us out of these deep woods," responded Arbagon, "no matter how many they send against us."

"But Lord Inarion is right as rain about one thing: none of us knows the mind of Drego." Then quickly he came to the subject at hand. "We hear that you and Lady Leila ride on a quest, m'lord."

"Yes, Squire Brewster, "answered Gelan. "We follow a force of Ghola, perhaps one hundred strong. They butchered the folk of a wagon train upon the Post Road, on the north margins of the Battle Downs. The Ghola left the slaughter behind, their track beating east. This path is the snow we followed, but the storm of two 'Darkdays past has covered their wake, and we know not their destination. The Lady Astariel of Elvehome and Prince Elomir of Silverbird Forest, as well as my brother, may be hostage of these ravers."

"Hostage?" Bockleman and Arbagon burst out together. Inarion shook his head in regret.

Leila finally joined them, the cloak dropped away from her head. Her hands rested upon her hips. At least she was taller than the Warrows, thought that wasn't much to be proud of as she wasn't even a full two feet taller. She really did not want to discuss the horde or anything that had happened, so she remained silent. The images in her mind were still too vivid to center her thoughts upon.

"Such a force did pass this way." Started Arbagon. "From the west came the band of Ghuls you name, to the east they went. Ah, but we did not think they had any hostages with them, so we did nothing to stop them. Warrow sentries elsewhere saw them, too. Our eyes followed them as they skirted east. When last we sighted them, five 'Darkdays past, they had swung a bit south as east they bore. As to where they are headed, we do not know. Many things lay east and south: the Wilderness Hills, Drear Ford, Drearwood, Arden, all of Rhone, the Grimwall. Pah! I name but a small part of where they could be bound. Who knows their goal?"

Inarion pondered. "Drear Ford or Drearwood beyond, I would say. It was a fell place before the Purging. Perhaps they seek to make it a dead region as of old.

"We should ride next to Drearwood then, Lord Gelan," she said softly, adjusting the Atala blade upon her hip once more which he had returned once they armored up from the dead bodies at the slewn wagon train. "If I remember what I saw of the maps then we should find friendly forces in Arden Vale to rest." Her hand brushed back through the top of her hair which needed to be re-braided.

Arbagon pointed to a trail between two great pines. "Then that's the way to follow, for it runs through these woods to the Signal Mountains, and beyond them lies the open plain to Drear Ford on the River Caire that runs through Elvenhome."

"Hoy!" Bockleman interrupted, "didn't the north lookouts also tell of a lone rider on the same course, a 'Darkday or so behind?"

"Man or Ghol?" Gelans voice was tense. "That I cannot say, " answered Arbagon, "Ghul we thought, but Man it might have been."

Lord Gelan turned to Leila. "Lady Leila, I must ride on, and soon. It would be better for you to stay with your friends in the Eternal Wood. Here you have food and shelter and companions to aid you, a save haven. Where as I ride after one hundred enemies and..." Gelan gained his feet.

She looked up at him then and tipped her chin defiantly. "You shall not leave me behind, Prince Gelan," she glowered. "I have proven myself a warrior worthy. If I wanted to remain somewhere safe and comfortable then I would have never left Tel'Oira Eldamar in the first place, as Talarin requested. Or I would have set out with the wagon train when it first left. I do not desire safety, nor comfort. I desire to rid this land of the evil which plagues it so you have a choice. You either take me with you, or I shall follow on foot, and while I will not be as swift, I shall come all the same."

Gelan sighed softly with a shaking of his head. "Lady Leila, I follow a hundred Ghola, to who knows what end? It will be dangerous beyond compare, and I would not have thee fare 'gainst such ill odds." His speech courtly. "Thou couldst stay and defend they home, the Eternal Wood, with thy other companions and by doing so could help rid the land of the Evil."

She growled then. "Tell me not of the danger, Prince Gelan, for I fought beside your father against the siege of the castle where countless thousands of the horde swarmed at us. Of all the men present to his disposal I was the one King Aurion chose to bear his colors and because of this his life was spared for I killed the Ghul that raged against him. I was considered a hero among those men and now you want me to just accept my fate and remain here. I am a warrior, and I am a woman, and that is a deadly combination, Prince Gelan. I will not be stayed." The prince now witnessed the fire of the gypsy which had kept her alive, kept her fighting, and let him know quickly that he would not be the one to quelch it.

She would be stayed if he so commanded it, but that was not his nature.

It was Inarion who turned to the Prince and spoke softly. "Lord Gelan, you forget one thing: you must take Lady Leila, for you will need her sharp eyes as we have been told about for vantage o'er the foe." Before Inarion could say on, there was a great hubbub from the south, and into the came an Elf on horseback thundered, hauling the steed short. "Heru Inarion!" cried the rider from the back of the rearing horse. "The Spaunen turn! South of here they attack the Eternal Wood along the east flank, from the Signal Mountains!" Horns sounded, and Man, Warrow, and Elf alike sprang to their feet. Pikes were hefted, and bows and swords sprang to hand. Ponies, for that is what the Wee Folk rode, and horses were mounted, and quickly the force gathered to sprint southward to meet the enemy's thrust. Inarion returned to them leading a his light grey steed. "Prince Gelan, come with us to fight the foe or stay will we return. Then I and others will join you on your quest."

"Nay, Lord Inarion, " answered Gelan, " we cannot spare the time to stay, nor can you spend the warriors upon a quest to follow Ghola who may hold no hostages. You will need all the strength at your command to repulse this foe that besets you now. And even more are at Challerain Keep, and they will march south to join their foul brethren, perhaps to fall upon this stronghold. Nay, I'll not wait, nor should you send warriors to aid. There shall come a time when we will stand shoulder to shoulder 'gainst Drego, but this is not the day." Galen drew his sword, once Jarriels sword from scabbard and raised it on high. "Poeir be in thyne earms!" (power be in thine arms)

Inarion briefly clasped Gelan's forearm and then lept into the grey's saddle, and the horse reared, pawing at the air. "Should you need help, strike for Arden, " called the Elf and he wheeled the horse to join a mounted troop of Elvenkind. Arbagon Fenner came near upon a pony.

"Good fortune!" cried the Warrow Captain, and Bockleman Brewster upon a horse hefted a pike in salute.

Lord Inarion turned one last tiem to Gelan and Leila and the Elf scribed a rune in the air and called out, "Aa' menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale'quenle!" (May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back!)

And then there was another call of horns, and the frozen earth shuddered as hooves thundered forth. In moments the camp stood empty of all but Gelan and Leila and Jet, the black horse tossing his head ni his desire to ride with the others to combat, as receding horn calls echoed among the ancient trees. Soon even these distant sounds faded into silence. At last Gelan turned to Leila. "Come, my Lady, east south we go, with naught but slim hope that we will find the Gholen tracks again."

Leila nodded to Gelan then before mounting up upon Jet and waiting for him to do the same and then they set off from the now deserted camp to track the Ghola and rescue their kith should they have truly been taken. After they had ridden for a few hours she sighed softly, her voice breaking the silence. "I apologize for being so difficult, Prince Gelan. You do not need to strike out on your own however. You will not regret that I have come along." And then she fell silent once more, her hands resting within the folds of her cloak which she'd bundled around her.

~*~


Hours they rode, passing among the trees of eld Eternal Wood, following the trail pointed out by Arbagon. At last the forest came to an end, and they rode into the chain of the Signal Mountains, running south of Rian to Harth below, a range so timeworn by wind and water that is was but a set of lofty craggy hills, atop the tallest of these tors were laid the beacon towers of old, now but tumbled ruins of stonework, remnants of a bygone era. From the towers had flared the balefires, signaling the march of War, back when Gyphon strove with Adon, four thousand years ago. Now, again, Midland was beset by an evil foe; indeed, Drego, the servant of Gyphon, once more harried a beleaguered world. But the beacon fires of old burned not: they did not signal the calamity now upon the Land. And even were the ancient fires kindled once again, the Everdark would muffle the call to muster, the black Shadowlight snuffing the warning cry before it could be relayed on.

~*~


The next day they rode east, veering south, coming through the Signal Mountains and out upon the snow plains for anorth of the Wilderness Hills. All around them Shadowlight fell, and Leila saw nothing but bleak Winternight to the limits of her vision. Camp was set and dinner consisted of bland crue and water. Perhaps Leila knew now what the Prince had meant when he had said that they would soon grow weary of the taste of the waybread. Jet, too, seemed tired of the unchanging grain of his diet.

She picked at the bread with a soft sigh upon her lips. "Sometimes I think to myself: Self, if you grind that bread into the dirt it will be a little muddy, but it will at least have taste." A grin was offered to the Prince, knowing that they both needed the chance to laugh. Truly Leila was a light in these dark times, and no matter how thing struck her, her spirit always seemed to recover more quickly than any other.

Gelan glanced from Leila to Jet and then back to Leila and he smiled at both of them. "I know not which of you finds the taste of your food more wearisome. Yet it is all we'll see for many a day, and neither of you will have aught else to sustain you but this food and memories of sumptuous meals apast. So bite into your tasteless biscuit, Leila, chew upon your constant grain, Jet, and dream of savory roasts and sweet clover."

"I would settle for the clover!" wearily. She leaned back against a fallen log at their camp. "How far are we from...anywhere?" she asked, a hand coming up to scratch at her neck where the wound was now healing and getting that annoying itch.

Gelan could not answer her question, for his head had tipped back and Prince of the Realm burst into broad laughter. One arm came across his stomach as his other hand went to the ground behind him to steady him as he fought to sober and gain his breath, but every time that he looked at the crue before them, and the black steed that munched upon his grain, he was sent into more ruckus fits of laughter.

One black brow rose, but eventually she too was overcome with surprisingly girlish giggles. If any had happened upon them they would have thought them delirious! Poor Jet was probably concerned that both had lost their mind. Leila finally reigned in her laughter, feeling better now, for it lightened her mood to laugh so.

So it was, in a merry mood, that Gelan took to bed, leaving Leila with the first watch once more, as was now their custom.

~*~


Once more they continued eastward, the land falling gently toward the valley of the River Caire. Long they rode, down the sloping land, and when at last they made camp, they had not reached the river banks, stopping some fifteen smiles shy. They could have pushed to the river but they knew they had to save Jet's strength, for though a massive and strong steed he was, they did not know how long the chase would last. As yet they had no sign of the Ghulen track. That night as they ate, Gelan spoke. "If they are bound for Drear Ford, then that is where we'll find their wake, for I deem the snowfall covered their tracks to the river, and perhaps some beyond. In any case, even had they passed nearby, leaving tracks for all to see, still we would not know which way to turn to find them, north or south. And so, it is at the ford where lies our best hope to find their spoor and take up the pursuit once more."

All the riding was beginning to show on the gypsy girl. She was so sore from bouncing upon the horse all day. Leila yawned softly, her chin resting upon her knees which had been pulled to her chest. "Aye," she said simply. "So is that where we set of for on the morrow?" She rubbed her eyes and then scooted a little closer to the fire. Shivering. She glanced over her shoulder to him then, awaiting his response.

Gelan stepped away from the tethered black equine. "Mmhmm." was his only reply as he lowered himself down onto his bed roll. He took to laying on his side, eyes watching the small flames dance. They did little to warm the body. He had noted her yawn. "Be you still awake enough for the first watch? "

She took in a deep breath and then sighed, turning to look at Gelan. "I am fine, Prince Gelan. You rest." Her eyes turning back to stare at the fire and her mind appeared adrift. He knew not where it was, but he could imagine that it was to the battle until a coy smile appeared on her lips, telling of memories more fond than those of fighting.

A dark brow lifted a the smile that was upon her lips yet he would not ask her of it. She would tell him if she wished. So with his head resting on his arm, his eyes slipped shut and soon he was deep in sleep.

~*~


They had broken camp but three hours ago before she spoke. "I see a line of trees ahead," followed by a soft yawn. Her sleep had not come so easily that night and she'd rarely slept at all. She stretched her arms out to the side and then let them flop down in her lap limply.

"Look for a break in the tree line, for there will lie Drear Ford." And Jet was urged into a canter, his gait smooth as they passed over the snow beneath them. Gelan could not yet see the line of trees.

"There!" she said, motioning for him to navigate to the right. "I see the break. We should approach with caution..." she had a dreadful feeling, but it was probably in her mind, but still, the prospect of finding the Ghola tracks made her heart sink at the thought of another confrontation that was still in the coming. She wanted Adaron. It had been almost two weeks since she had seen him, and she was not even sure he was living. Each day that had passed it seemed to wear upon her heart. But those thoughts were pushed out of her head once more to force herself to concentrate upon the break in the line of trees which surely Gelan would now see.

Down the fall of the land they rode, and yes, Gelan's eyes could see the woodland as they bore north. Nothing moved upon the land but the black horse and his riders. Suddenly, Gelan reined Jet to a halt and sprang to the ground and knelt upon one knee. There, in the snow was the track of a lone steed, running in a line to the west and east. "Pah! It is a track 'Darkdays old, so windworn I cannot say whether it was made by horse or Helsteed, nor even whether it was ridden to the east or to the west, or if it was ridden at all. Were I to guess, I would deem it ran east, down toward the ford." To the untrained eye it would be impossible to see how Gelan chose east for the steed to be running.

She wrinkled her fairy-nose as she looked down at the tracks on the snow. "So then toward the east we go?" she asked. Cold upon the horse she rubbed her arms quickly to warm them. "We still have quite some time to go before we make camp," her voice sounded cheerful as she hummed to herself, her nose red from the wind. Before Gelan could respond though both she and the horse sneezed at the same time. It was probably one of the most hilarious things that had happened the entire trip next to the crue and grain incident.

Gelan turned abruptly, peering over his shoulder in wide eyed startlement at the Woman and steed. For the second time that trip he burst out in laughter but his hand quickly lifted to slap over his mouth, eyes wide as he continued to laugh silently, for they were near an dread place of old. Though, not so dreadful now that the Purging had happened. Once Gelan was back upon Jet, they followed the track through the snow, coming at last to the ford. Here the approach to the river was low and gentle, but both upstream and down the banks fell steeply to the frozen river. Across the hard windswept surface went the black horse, hooves knelling upon the river ice.

Leila just laughed as well, though did so quietly. As he crossed the river ice Leila leaned back a little against Gelan to speak. "There is nothing moving here in the dark, do you spy any tracks that we might follow so we are not traveling blindly?" she asked, a hand coming up to move aside her hood so she could hear him more easily.

Gelan only answered when they had reached the far show. Again he dismounted, gazing intently at the snow. The lone steed's track drifted leftward, east swinging slightly north. Long Gelan looked, then grunted. "Here, Leila, see the faint dimples in the snow? Widespread they are, and swing north, too. I think we see the track of the Ghola, and it was still snowing when they passed this way."

"So then now we head toward the north. Perhaps we are catching up to them?" she asked. "We have made such good time. Surely we are gaining on them?" she asked as she studied the tracks and the way they dimpled in the snow. Suddenly she giggled softly...the thought of snow having dimples. Someone was a little exhausted!

Again Jet paced forward, and every mile east the wake grew more pronounced. Now they lone steed's track they had followed could be pointed out no longer, for it was lost among the spoor of the others. Yet even though that trace was lost, Gelan’s heart soared, for again they were on the track of the Ghuls. The forest of Drearwood loomed up before them, foreboding. "That is Drearwood, Leila. We'll will camp there when we come to it." Surely even in distant Aragon they had heard of Drearwood. In days of old this dark-forested hill country was a region more dire. Hearthtales abounded of lone travelers or small bands who had passed into the dark woods never to be seen again. And stories came of large caravans and groups of armed warriors who had beaten off grim monsters half seen in the night, and many had lost their lives to the grisly creatures. This Land had been shunned by all except those who had no choice but to cross it, or by those adventurers who sought fame, most of whom did not live to grasp their glory. Yet seventy years past there had been the Great Purgin of the 'Wood by the Elves, and no fell creatures had been seen in the area since. But now that Shadowlight pressed darkly upon the Land, one could not help but wonder if Drego had caused the dire monsters to return. Now they came among the trees, and Gelan stopped to camp.

Leila seemed jumpy, for indeed she had heard stories, and worse, gypsy lore, which could be more frightening than any other story told. She remained highly alert, almost too alert as she watched the woods around them. "I can not feel my feet," she informed him. "And the Winternight seems to be deeper within this forest than without. It grates upon my nerves until they are shredded like a frayed rope."

"At least you shall be awake for your watch." He offered light heartedly, grinning up to her from over the small blaze of the fire.

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  • The Elven nobles are carried to Drear Ford -- Astariel & Elomir, 16:32:11 03/30/03 Sun
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