Part I

The Great Immram

In the years after the fall of Mikilhuld and the ruin of that great city by fire and thunder, a vast fleet of ships first came from the western sea which forms the girdle of the world. Born upon birch-white hulls of timber and linen sails the color of drifting cloud, they glided atop the waves. And the stars shone out bright at their coming, for it seemed all the world looked on in wonder at this, a great white fleet of scattered souls, yet masters of their own doom and not that of the Aleuai. Far to the west, far beyond any place known to those who dwelled amidst the circles of the world, this great host passed through the edge of night and came. For in a time before, they dwelled in a land all their own, a world much darker than that which they had come to, with a pale and sickly sun and a bright and beautiful moon in the lonely sky. In their tongue, they called this land Illan, and they deemed themselves the Illani. 

The greater part of their host was formed around the ship of their king, or he who would one day be their king. In their coming to the world, they had not yet crowned this one who would lead them upon the shore of the world. For the lordship of the Illani was unknown before their arrival, and in truth, much of their lore before their coming has become hidden by time. Those who had set sail, wherever they were, spoke little of the plagues that ailed them in elder days. Much of the histories of Illan have been lost, and none now live who can recall the ages of that land. For whatever caused the doom of their land, those who dwelled there spoke naught of it, and a great terror came over the mouths and the minds of those who had the thought of it. So many passed the thought of their homeland from their minds and came to regard it as a ruin, and they as a doomed people in a foreign world.

The ship of Sylren, who was not yet called An Lonrach, made its heading at the front of their number. And Ingleth, as she was called in the tongue of Illan, bore down upon the waves and parted them as a fine blade through cloth. Among the number of the Illani, Sylren was deemed the eldest by the memory of those who could remember through the darkness of Illan's fall. Sylren was deemed in the years of the world to have been nigh a thousand years old by the time of the Immram. A sight fit to that of the Aleuai seemed the column of ships that followed Ingleth. Like the new day arriving, they came, yet those aboard knew sorrow in their hearts and great fear at the strange feeling of the world they now knew. Many met doom in Illan's fall, and many more did not survive the sea road as it came from the vast western gate. It seemed that those with fine fates were met with further ill when the newly rising sun greeted them upon a still and quiet day. The warmth of sunlight was not of their nature, and some fled and hid from the flame as they were more accustomed to the coolness of evening. Some ran and hid beneath cloaks, hoods, blankets, and all manner of refuge. For the heat of the sun was hot and terrible to them at first. Yet Sylren, their lord, did not flee but basked in the warmth of the light and bid others to escape the shade and come out from their places of hiding to join him. 

In their new ignorance, they knew not by whose sacrifice heat came, nor from whose pierced flesh the spheres of the heavens were shaped. Of a great many things were the Illani ignorant in those days, before their meeting of Men upon the soil of the world. Yet the hour came when the voyagers from Illan came into view of the land, and upon the prow of Ingleth, the Illani spied afar a sliver of white cliffs above the horizon. Silence held sway over them, and the memory of the home they had now fled came and welled up within them, and they cried aloud. Sylren called these cliffs Halitine when he first spied them, for their white sheen reflected the sunlight in such a way that they appeared afire and beckoning the Illani near.

And so they rode upon the waves, to the sight they had seen of land. Yet before them, appeared one resting in peace upon the surface of the sea before the coming land. They appeared as one of their own stock, as if awaiting their arrival from beyond the edge of the world. Fear took hold among them, and some called for Sylren to steer them away from this visage and to allow this stranger to keep their vigil alone. But Sylren was not so quick to fear and said aloud to those around him.

"Calm yourselves, kin, what has this one done to raise such fear? If it placates thee, I will go and I will see the manner of this one, to either soothe thy fear or give it reason."

And so he commanded the helmsman of Ingleth onward, and to the rest he commanded to hold there and await his word. There, Sylren came aside the stranger who glanced upon his face, and a spell of ease came over him. Then the stranger spoke, and to the shock of those aboard the ship, he spoke in their own tongue.

"Hail, An Lonrach, from beyond the sea! Hail, King yet crowned, stretch forth thy hand, I wish to have words with thee."

And in bewilderment at what he had seen and heard, Sylren did as the stranger bade him. And as those aboard Ingleth saw, their lord took the hand of the stranger and stood atop the very waves before them. By Sylren's eyes, the figure before him became clearer. Of their fair form he was, his eyes glinted and sparkled in the sunlight, and his face was alike that of the kin of Sylren and the Illani. Yet his face seemed more ruddy, simpler, and rustic. He wore no fine woven silks or the garb of the sailors and wayweavers of the Illani. His garb was of shoddy making, patched over with other fabrics. A beaten, brown cloak was draped over his shoulders, hiding a brown tunic beneath, and he carried a small sack at his side, the contents of which seemed to be only a long, clay smoking pipe which stuck out from its opening. Atop his head was a chapron the color of his tunic, which slouched hard to one side, obscuring his right eye. 

"Ah, come at last here, have we, An Lonrach? I spied thee afar and knew naught what to do with thee, but now you have come and my heart leaps with joy."

Sylren spoke, "By what means have thee come to know our tongue? For we are strangers to this place and have yet set foot upon the land. By what power have you done this? For this land is as foreign to us as we are to it."

And Sylren perceived as the figure's face first twisted to a look of feigned aloofness, but softened to a warm and jovial one, "My ways are a mystery, and all besides when I spied you, I came to welcome your tongue amid this place. But the means by which I have done this is not of interest to thee or thy people."

In a tone of questioning, but not overly harshly, Sylren replied, "What then is thy interest in my people? For a stranger thee are to us, and us to thee, I shall not here make threat of any kind to one I perceive holds great wisdom and power within. But if no revelation of thy intent is given, then perhaps I shall."

And at his word, the stranger's face came to smile with a gleeful look. "You perceive well, An Lonrach, but my interests are saved for me. In truth I do not reckon they will be of much use upon thy mind. Let it be known, though, that I wish for thy people's wealth here in this place. I wish for happiness and peace for all, if you will but remember well to extend such things to those who thee find here. Dire need of it have they, and I ponder if they will offer that which they know of the world to thee in fair exchange and friendship."

The stranger's gaze fluttered away from him, and a heavy sigh and some strange knowing look fixed firmly to the East came upon his face. Sylren was left confused by these words, and by many thoughts in his mind now made foggier and less clear. As if he had read his mind, the stranger spoke once again,

"Rest thy mind, king, for your mind should be to your people and not to the prattle of an old fool.  I will depart, and well tidings I wish for you. Now farewell, oh An Lonrach, farewell and let thy journey come to its end here."

And at these words, the mind of Sylren indeed became eased, and as he had said, Sylren's mind turned now to his people. He bid the stranger farewell and took the hands of those aboard Ingleth and left the grasp of the sea. There he returned to the still ships of his people, and decreed that this place they would make their landing. And as they came upon the shore, Sylren's mind came to those who had not lived to see this fair place. And at this, the wind came to die down, and when the prow of Ingleth reached the beach, Sylren stepped off and felt land once more beneath his feet.

And thereupon, the shore of this new world, out stepped one of authority, one who, like Sylren was of the Prydain, the anointed lords who had ruled in Illan. His name was Bellinor, and to his people he was named "Belisar." Bellinor was a warrior renowned before the coming of the Illani to the world, and in future, he would win new renown during battle. There he came upon Sylren, who had lain kneeling before the shore and placed upon his head a simple iron band forged long before in the lands of Illan. There, Bellinor decreed Sylren was to be their king, lord of the Illani for all time, and many there came to acclaim him and to shout praises for the virtues of Sylren, their lord and their Elder King. 

Many behind him also landed, but some stayed off the shore and awaited the word of their wise King, who beckoned them to land ashore. As they climbed the white cliffs of Halitine, they came to spy far beyond the shore into the depths of the land and saw the winding rivers and running fields. There it seemed, the land stretched on forever, and all around was a land greener and fresher than any they had ever seen. It seemed life in abundance flowed in this place, and many atop the cliff cried upon its sight, and a cry rang out in that hour —Talamn, was shouted out in the old tongue of the Illani. Though it would be known by many names in the times coming, the eldest name for the land of their adoption in the Illani tongue would be Euhtalamn, that which means "The Green Land".

Part II

The Sundering of the Illani

Yet as many of the Illani departed from their ships, a portion stayed aboard unmoving, and they did not disembark and follow their kin. As they remained where they were, Sylren came once more to the shore and called out to them from atop the cliffs.

"Why now do you not come ashore and join thy kin? What is the manner by which ye have made this decision?"

And there stepped forth one whose figure Sylren had not thought to behold, for his own brother was among those who refused to come and disembark. Thallan was his name, and his likeness was not like that of his elder brother. Whereas Sylren, the king, was tall, strong, and of a fair visage, with golden hair that appeared the color of new-fallen snow, Thallan was of a darker complexion, and though tall, he was of a slimmer build than his brother and his limbs were long and his reach longer. His raven hair was fine as fresh-strung silk and draped upon his shoulders and framed amid his face, where his eyes hid more than they revealed.

Far quicker to action was Thallan, especially so in those days, and his rashness came forth into a rebuke of his own brother's word, and the word of his king was laid aside there. A great many joined with Thallan, and in his refusal before their king, their minds had come upon a great lust for lands of their own, and they did not wish to be made vassals of Sylren and those who had journeyed atop the clifftop. 

Sylren did not take especially seriously the words of those aboard the ships, and still he thought he and his brother were of one mind. "Come now, brother, this folly is beneath thee. Thy head shall bear a crown in thine own time. Come now down here to the shore and be welcomed among thy kin again." But once more, Thallan rebuked the word of his king and brother. "No folly is this, the cause of mine own heart, and the heart of these here with me. Rest here, oh brother, rest here among these thy people and leave the doings of those before you alone. For you do not know the measure of their hearts, nor mine, which so aligns with them." 

At the word of his brother, Sylren became angry, though he wished to restrain himself, and so when his words spilled out from him, they were bound in the tension of his mind. "I shall not rest here whilst thee remain apart, nor can I dwell in peace upon this new land without thee beside me. Please, fair brother, come now and forsake this foolishness."

And in hearing the words of his brother, Thallan too came to withhold a growing anger in him, and he called out again to the cliffside. "Foolishness? Is that what thy eyes see and thy ears hear? A council of fools who clamor on for you to lead them? Rest you shall, for you shall have the dominion in this place. What then awaits mine own possession here? Naught but the second scrapings of thy plate. I shall not throw to the wayside the passions of mine own heart, nor the passions of these my companions whose hearts so align with mine."

Now the anger which had been hidden by the calm voice of King Sylren began to bubble to the surface, and he spied on a treason in the making thereupon the ships yet to come ashore. "You shall have the command of the land at my right hand, a fine feast for thee is prepared if thou will but come and claim it. But thy mind seems afixed to this folly, to roam about in search of that which thou can find nearest to thy heart. I demand here, before thee as anointed king, come ashore now at the word of Sylren, who is thy king and lord. 

And in anger, Thallan rose, and his voice echoed out as his wroth was plainly revealed. "Why then is thy king, if by this newly born crown thy mind comes so naturally to command the free thought of thy brother and kin? Lands here have thee come upon, and thy people here will be thine own. These here have named me thy equal, and I shall not bow to thee, though thine merits are known. Further south will we go, and there we shall make a fine fashioning of the land in our own way, free from the reach of one who is crowned and begins grasping at all that cometh near."

And a rising anger welled within Sylren, and there he barked aloud a rebuke of his own. "Get thee gone then, brother in blood and traitor in deed, rebel and fool I name thee. If thou wilt not heed the word of thy king, then I shall have no use of thee. If thee come across some peril in lands still unknown to thee, expect not any finger to be lifted by those here who thee have abandoned now."

And there began a splitting of the Illani, whereas the folk of Sylren made landing there at the cliffs of Halithine, Thallan and his followers came to venture further south, to a place where the cliffside of the shore ebbed down and came to smooth out into an inlet of the small river Raelunach, which they had named.

There they made landfall, and the folk of Thallan ventured far into the vast land which they knew little of. There among his party were a great many who were bolder in deed than those who had stayed behind in the north. Inland they journeyed, and they crossed misty valleys and the high hills amid the glade of the trees. With eager steps, they went on and followed the fine sound of the rushing river as it wound along towards that which would be their abode. After many leagues of wandering, they came upon an overlook which surveyed a great valley at its foot. At this place, they made their encampment and halted their march. With the very wood of Thallan's ship Leothec, they made their first hall there. There atop the overlook, they found a deep garden which entangled them, and for a time, they wandered amid it, dull and thoughtless. Some spell came over them, and they stumbled into a fine green clearing where, at its center, was a still pool of water. There, they heard a booming voice that seemed to enrapture them.

"Far traveled are thee, sparks amid damp things, I have seen thy coming in dream, and I have seen the desires of thy heart, though thou hidest them from one another."

And out stepped a stranger from the pool amid the center of the grove, and it appeared as if it were a wildman of the wood, dressed in cloven moss and leaves, adorned in a reed crown and bearing a carven bow of strong yew upon its back. And where some others besides were still enchanted by the words of the stranger, out stepped Thallan of a clear mind.

"What is the meaning of this appearance, then? Hast thou come to beleaguer us? Hast thou come to claim that this fine land is thine own?"

And the sprite before them chuckled softly to himself and spoke aloud as the party of Thallan came upon him, of a clear mind also.

"Oh, I know thy face, for I have seen thine actions beyond to the shores of the north. I walk with a faint step, but I did not wish myself seen before the hour in which thou hast arrived here amid my fair grove."

And Thallan and his companions perceived a threat where in truth none lay and answered quickly. "Ah! As a conjurer of tricks, the owner of this place comes before us and wishes to entangle us in some bonds of magic. Is it thy will that thou would make slaves of us? If this be true, we shall have need of this place thee deem thine own, and if not given willingly, will be taken without care."

At the end of his words, Thallan unsheathed a dagger tucked beneath his belt, and at its ringing, his companions did likewise and prepared there to use them. But the sprite did nothing but laugh a most bold laugh aloud before them. His green raiment seemed to grow upon his body, and he spoke aloud in a cold voice.

"Ah, much quicker to blades are thee than thy kin. Sheath thy blades, for no quarrel need take place in this place, so peaceful as it is. But for blades drawn, I think I shall have something to say, oh Thallan Raven-tongue."

And at his final words, he approached Thallan and his companions. Though their will was to flee before him, some spell indeed came over them, and they stood before the sprite unmoving but trembling in terror. And the sprite placed a soft hand upon the blade of Thallan, and it shattered with but a touch. And flinching as if from a blow, Thallan and his companions recoiled as one, and their fear was plain to see upon their faces. The sprite's laughter released them from their stillness, but by force, for the laugh was a boom and hoarse to hear. "Impudence of this sort endears thee to me, oh Thallan free-heart. I bid thee welcome here, and bid thee have my grove, have my forest and all it will provide thee." 

And the sprite there stepped back from them, and a rush of ease came over the party as the visage of the sprite seemed changed before them. There, he raised his hands above his head, and before them, the pool seemed to ignite with a rabid fire. The flames of the waters danced and touched high upon the treetops, but did not burn them. The fire was of many colors, and its form twisted and writhed in a dance. And once more, the companions became very fearful, and quickly, the sprite's form morphed into one of doom as he began to speak. "If by thy actions this place is to become thy home, I command thee to lend thy ears here to my word or be accursed. Guard this place, guard it well, for some who arrive may feign friend, but feel as foe. For this place may be the envy of those with much but nothing. This place shall thee abide in, come thine own doom, and the doom of thy kin."

And at this, the sprite fell backward into the pool with a swift drop. The companions rushed forward to look upon the pool, but he was gone, and all the companions of Thallan came together in amazement at what they had seen and heard in that hour, though the words left them in puzzlement, for their meaning was lost at that hour. 

Part III

Of the Illani

Here is written what is known of the Illani before their coming to the world. From word and song, their land of Illan was a land close in form to that of the world of the Aleuai, the Eutunaz, and the Artzaina. Animals of a similar form roamed far and wide in the gentle breezes and cool light of Illan. Oceans and rivers abounded there, and the Illani came to know intimately shipcraft and sailing. They keep no Gods like the Artzaina hold the Aleuai, for they keep the memory of their ancestors in reverence. In spirit, it is said, that the souls of the slain reside in a place they call Síorocinda. There abides Síoran, whom the Illani say is the doorsman of that fine hall and who is pulled overhead by his two steeds, Ánamat and Todhcai, whose hooves beat on and keep the past and the future. Highest in reverence do the Illani place Síoran, who is said to have fashioned his long hall from the light of Cuinhen, the burning light which lay at the heart of all the Illani. By this light, the Illani are given purpose and connection to such an extent to hear the thoughts and intentions of those who do no guard them whether thy be animal, plant, or the very soil. 

The first of their race is believed to be Ciaran, the long wanderer, who in two stages was given the dream-like visage of the lands of Illan by one whom the Illani call Nahar. Though the Illani do not claim Nahar as a God, their nature was of one, and of the names the Illani call themselves, one such often given is that of the Naharil, Nahar's Kin. For Ciaran and Nahar conversed long in seven dreams, and by the word of Nahar, the land of Illan was revealed. At the end of the seventh dream, Ciaran descended into Illan, and he is thereafter counted as the first father of the Illani and the Naharbeired, The Nahar-guided. The word of Nahar sprang out like fire, and the mind of Ciaran was said to be enlightened, and the word of Ciaran upon his passage to that fine land was this.

"Glory be, to this fair land to my fair people, and what is made shall be brought and all brought shall be made again."

At the command of Nahar, Ciaran is said to have built a great chest to store the written wisdom of Nahar. Ciaran named this chest the Brellakirathehn, the Chest of the Word and Law, the Kirath, and this was among the highest of the relics of the Illani. The Kirath also contained the Iarsma, the rock, wood, and water of Illan, which, upon the exodus of the Illani, became the last remnant of their homeland.

Other Illani who dwelled in that land before its fall are known, and though their deeds are short, their names remain known. They are Prímh, princess of poetry, who made for the Illani their written word. Her son was Rígel, the great warrior and the son of moonlight. There too was Mirin, the sorceress and witch, Luhn the three-faced, Bel the great hunter in the sky, and Dornan the Dauntless who slew the demon Ganalach. Little else is remembered of them, aside from these their names and their names being among those born in the world of Aelutea after the Immram. 

Of their number, there can generally be assorted two main groups, assigned by the word of Ciaran in the first days of their dwelling in Illan. These are the Prydain, the princes, and the Duinne, who had no such lineage and came to be seen as the lesser lineage of the Illani. The Prydain dwelt among their own and came to be tall, fair, and the most elegant of the Illani. Yet the Duinne made themselves no less virtuous, and they became known for the adeptness of their physical labors. They were strong and stout in deeds of ship-making, smithing, and war-making. These were their trades, and they fared far better in these things than the Prydain who led them. The Prydain paid keener attention to arts, such as poetry, song, and dance, with which they became renowned. 

The dance of the Illani is remarkable, in flowing robes and fine linen and silks do they decorate their costumes, twirling in a wide space softly and elegantly. Their motions echo that of the wind, and the most revered of their dance is the Farathenmí, the Dance of the Wind, and only those under a lord of the Illani are given leave to perform it. So too are the Illani renowned in song; their voices are the fairest of any in the world, and they make one fall under a tranquil spell if they so wish it. 

In the ages since their sundering, the Mainar came to be the most renowned for their voices were of unrivaled majesty and beauty. Thallan, who was their first king, was held foremost among them, and his laments were of the passing glory of Illan and the woes of the Illani in troubled times. His son, Naevylan, too, was acclaimed, and he sang a great song at the reunion of the kindred at the field of Búven. Highest of renown in song among the Huldra was Cerelian, who was so named Caracira, the Song-Shouter, for the power of his voice in ballad was inspiring to all who beheld it. His tale is among the highest in honor, for his deeds in life were great, but that tale is not yet told and will remain hidden. 

Of the friendship in elder days between the Illani and Men, much is known and much is told. It was by the wisdom of Men the Illani came to understand much of the world, of the plights of Men in those days when the lay of the land belonged to the Eutun kings. For the Huldra first came to befriend Men, and they pitied them, and their races were quickest to friendship in the days of the Age of War. Many friendships among the two peoples are known, and many great songs and tales are told of the friendships of Ceior the Wise and Sylren King, of Eregrin and Meginil, and Foriael and Ceradairn. So too was love found between these two peoples, and by their union, the essences of both came to enter into each's lines. Echaniel, son of Ceior, wed Athaneiora, the daughter of Mirinal Menmor, who was a great lord of the lands of King Sylren. Their children were the brothers Ardenwulf and Gamelin, those lords of Men from whom the vast nation of the Géadine descends. Ancaron, who was lord of the Ulweri, wed the maiden Meraion, the daughter of Eiphrah, who was the sister of Bellinor Belisar, the captain of the guard of Sylren, the First King of the Huldra. Ceradairn, who was High King of the Géadine in his day, wed Beirlea, daughter of the last Huldra kingdom of Eandris, who was the son of Galerain the smith-lord. She was so named the Flower of the Fae, for her beauty was said to have been the highest of all the Huldra. 

Yet slow to befriend Men were the Mainar, as they were a distrustful people and who often clashed with Men. Especially strong was their hatred of the Eratesh, the southern people with whom they often fought. The unions between Men and Mainar were few, but from the Mainar came one who came to love Men and who, together with the Géadine princeling Elmdùin, came to discover Siossein, the blessed isle. There dwelt the Dhateah, the union between these two lines, and the houses there lived in great splendor and power until their pride and sins brought about their doom. 

In ages since Dawn, Men came into the friendship of the Huldra and came to learn from them the manner of song-making. Few of the Artzaina could begin to compare to the Illani in elegance of voice, but in the days of wandering, after the Age of War, when the world closed itself to the power of the Illani, men forgot the manner of their friendship with the seafarers from the west. They told tales among their own of fairy men who dwelt in groves and enchanted forests and who mesmerized those who wandered too close to their fine voices. Those who ventured alone, it is said, would never be seen again and died in malevolent bliss amid the wooden courts of fairy madness. 

Part IV

Of the Huldra and the Mainar

Quickly upon their coming to the shores of the world, the Illani became separate at the diverging of those who followed Thallan Pathfinder into the wild and named him king. Those who followed him were called Mainar, that which means Rebel or Rebeller in their old tongue. For they had rejected the authority of Sylren and named Thallan their lord. Grim and reclusive were often the Mainar, and among Men, they were often deemed the lesser of the two peoples. For they preferred the keeping of their own commands, and fought fiercely against those whom they deemed wished to control their will. 

The Huldra were those who remained in faith with Sylren, who was king of Tirmagall in his day. Tirmagall was a place of wonder in its age, and it was named such for its bounty and fertility. The Huldra came to love the open plains, and they spread out far by the command of their king. Many lords established themselves amid the plains east of Tirmagall and were powerful vassals of Sylren, their king. So as the walls of Tirmagall were raised, scouts ventured east. There, they found a vast plain where to make abodes and domains for themselves. Many of the small houses of the Fae made their lordships here, the place called the Mànallaig, and it was well deemed as a place for cattle herding and grazing. Lord of this place was Oenen Rugenech, Oenen Red-Face, for he had a quick temper about him, and the wild winds of the Mànallaig brought his face further red. Though Rugenech served many years as warden of these domains, his son proved even greater, Naharain he was, and in his youth, he gained renown on the plain for his deception. Many a time, some foe would come upon a tree where, among the branches, a Fae body lay undisturbed. And as their guards were down, Naharain revealed himself alive, springing from the branches, he slew many foes. Such was he called Fenarbrán, the Alder Corpse. 

After the discovery of Men, the Huldra learned to farm and till the land in the nature of the world they now dwelt in. Men called them Langyar Fae, the Long-eared Folk, or simply the Fae, which they have been called by Men thereafter. Men became kindest in attitude towards the Huldra and the Huldra to them. For as the Mainar often kept to their own, Men rarely viewed them from within and came to view them as indifferent and aloof to the world. Especially known was the hatred between the Mainar and the Eratesh, whom the Géadine called Sureno, or Southmen. The Eratesh were a proud and rowdy people, who, like the Mainar, would not suffer lordship if it were not one of their own. 

Most striking between the Huldra and Mainar was their appearances. Though some would come to appear different, each of the kindreds took after the likeness of their first kings. Snow-haired Sylren and raven-haired Thallan. The Huldra were of a fairer form; their eyes were often a pale blue or a soft brown. Among them, fiery hair was sometimes found, none so famous as Eaforn son of Galerain, who in his day was said to be fire-born. In dress, the Huldra preferred lighter clothing, grand and decadent, and this and their verbose speech could often make them appear ponderous and decadent at times. Yet the Mainar were strikingly dark, in thought and in appearance. They were quick to silence, brooding and wroth, and they held tight to secrets. Among their own, they did not wish to share widely that which they held for themselves. Chief among their garb was fine, woven black, with violet and crimson ornaments. Whereas the Huldra often braided and decorated their hair, the Mainar held no reverence for these things and preferred to leave their hair finely brushed and smooth like silk.   

Of the records of their kings, each of the lines descends from Sylren and Thallan, and with Sylren begins the line of the Elder Kings, who were alleged to have held the highest authority and reverence among the Illani. Many Elder Kings were there, and the title did not solely belong to the Huldra. However, as time dragged forth and the divisions of the two kindreds only deepened, less heed was given to the Elder King as the two peoples were less prone to cooperation. After the sundering of the Huldra of Eregrinel, no longer was the title borne by any of the Illani, and none wished it. 

In speech, the Huldra often took more liking to the tongues of those with whom they dwelt in fellowship. In the time of Sylren and his son Galerain, the Huldra often came to use the speech of the Géadine, and the Géadine sometimes came to learn the language of the Huldra. As time wore on, the Huldra speech came to be less often used and was disregarded after the ruin of Eregrinel. The Mainar clung to their language and seldom did they share their manner with others not of their own race. Among their own, they spoke in their tongue, and their secrets were kept away from outsiders. Few among the nations of Men have ever spoken the words of the Mainar, and fewer still know of the deep mysteries of that people who so often rebuked friendship with Men. Even among the Huldra of a latter age, few could come to understand the language of the Mainar as the tongues of the two kindreds departed from one another. 

Part V

The Brother Kingdoms

And of the places the brothers found upon the wayward road, much is said. For the splendor and awe of Tirmagall, and the dark wonder of Ydalvi by the wood, were truly great in their day. Yet some among both the two peoples strode out beyond these places and made abodes of their own, each in the name of the kings of the Illani. 

Under the law of Thallan Pathfinder, one would travel furthest east of the whole of the Faen race in that age. This was Oeron, of the Duinne he was, and it was by his pointed words that the wanderlust of the Mainar of the ships had come about. For Oeron was of no great lordship in the world of Illan, but he had come to be a mighty friend indeed to those of the Prydain who withstood his forked tongue. After the Mainar had come to their place of settlement, at Ydalvi, Oeron was bidden by his lord to go out and to journey the lands beyond theirs, to make known what threats lay at the door of their new abode. Oeron and his party traveled on by their king's word. The speed and sturdiness of their step at that time was renowned, and they soon came upon the place of their desire, a high mound atop a small cliff overlooking the wandering river. There they settled and sent word back to their king of their new possession. And Thallan bid them rule that place in his name and under the protection of the southern King. So then Oeron Slaidan became lord of that place, which he named Ahcraeindil, the keep of Aeindil, his wife, and the lost love he bore. For Aeindil of the Prydain was of the number of those who perished on the long voyage beyond all seas, and ever since that time, Oeron's heart thought little of others save her. 

Others of the Huldra too came to be of great renown in those, the earliest days. Of those seen before the presence of the king was Bellinor, who was in his time called Belisar. Of the Prydain was he, and by his deed had Sylren been raised to the kingship of the Huldra. For in the vision of the Huldra in that land, he and his king were of a like temperament, and Bellinor came to be fiercely loyal to his king. Named captain of the guard, Belisar. 

And on to the East, where the rolling plains quickly descend into bogs, marshes, and small caves. This place, Fae met Man for the first time, scattered and in the dark, clinging to darkness for they still feared the fiery wrath of the Kunkal. Neither group understood the other, yet they found understanding in a shared solemness, a shared longing for better things, and a shared sadness. When the Illani returned home to the West, some men followed them back and came to dwell in the area around Tirmagall. A bond began between the two races as Man taught the Illani the nature of the world, the changing of the seasons, the movement of the stars and the moons, and the sustaining earth they dwelled on. Men helped the Illani plant their first crops, and the first farms and gardens there began. The Illani introduced men to metalworking, construction, and crafting. Man boarded boats and ships for the first time and came to be navigators, fishermen, and sailors.

Part VI

Ceior the Wise

In those early times, the Illani and the Artzaina slowly came together. And the eyes of Men were daunted upon their first meeting, as many felt it amid a dream. Well built and fair were the Fae, like in the guise of Men, but more pleasing to look upon. Taller than Men but not often stouter, with a swift grace, did they glide through life, and though they felt it in their hearts, the weariness of years did not seem to burden them. It is said it took many years before Fae and Men could converse in the same speech, but when this came to be, both Man and Fae composed that which they called the Anvaronlir, the coming song, which was used on the occasion of the meeting of the kings of a later age.  

So come, approach, now, friend.

For coming death has hold of thee,

For coming life has ear to lend.

How will thee answer

How will thee contend?

To begin life anew,

or to see life end?

In an age assigned, came a man from the Old North, from Orh Olehen, who was well versed in the lore and wisdom of Men. His name was Ceior, and of the people of Benrir was he, come from the eastern giant-lands to new freedom west of the river named Adwine. Ceior knew well the bog-magic of the Old North; he listened with more than ear to the plight of the world's animals, and he came to listen to their songs. Their wounds he bound, and set them free upon the wilderness as was their right. He did this too to his fellow Men, whose ails he lifted and whose disease he cured. Often summoned was he to keep away the rains that so often plagued the wandering Men. So too was he a storyteller, for in his understanding of the histories of Men, often forgotten in those early times, he told great tales to his people of themselves. Amid the marshlands, he told tales of the old road east, and Man's march from that dreadland to their homes. Tales of bravery he told there, of the men and women from whom they descended. The warmth of kin and kindness then was upon the people of Ceior, and he came to be made their leader and whom they followed. He sang all manner of prose

His manner was thus that he came to be regarded as the leader of men in the North, as such things were decided by merit then, and Ceior had many. For among the men of those days, he was simplest, yes, but in his simplicity, he proved the best of their number. He sang all manner of prose to them, under the twinkling of starlight, around a lit fire in the night; his voice was heard, soft and powerful as it was. Weary then were the folk of Men, but by Ceior’s words their woes were eased, their suffering lessened. His speech was thus that word was made to the great Elder King Sylren An Lonrach, first King of the Huldra. And so, with a band of friends and followers, Ceior ventured southwest at the summons of the shining Huldra king, and the woes of Men returned as he departed.

Upon entering the splendid pearl gate of Tirmagall, great silver trumpets burst as the meager procession of men arrived inside her walls. Though they were a company of only a few, they were met by the great guardsmen of the king’s hall and escorted to the throne of Einhiel to see the king. And there, though he had no crown nor scepter of rule, Ceior was to speak to the king and speak alone with him of the goings on and lives of Men in the northeastern lands. And as he saw him, Ceior saw no distant nor foreboding ruler of the Fae folk, for he had accepted this. For King Sylren was a lover of song, of stories, and all the things Ceior did so love. Their burden was leadership, and they knew it well, for their bond was forged in this first meeting. It was in the love of the world around them, the love of family and their people, that their first tender words were shared. Soon they did not meet in the long dark hall of the king, but out in the meadows beyond Tirmagall’s splendor, there they went to the great groves and picked groups of berries and fruit for the night and the next day. Some days were spent atop an unstable boat, with naught but a ring and lure as bounties of fish rose to grasp at their dangling lures. Some days nothing was caught, and yet those days were not a waste, for each was in the other’s company. At night, as the Fae and Men gathered in the king’s long hall, the Elder King’s voice was ever complemented by the strung fingers of Ceior. Their love was a tender one, and among the passing time of the world, the first friendship between Man and Fae.

And they spoke of many things, some simple, but also some grand things and things unknown to one another. Each taught the other many things, but in the company of Ceior the Man, Sylren the king did learn many new things about the long history of Men. One night beneath the blanket of stars, Ceior told the king that which he knew of the true lore of Men. For Sylren had asked of him, to divulge what he had known of his people's history, and Ceior began with the piece of knowledge he claimed he most knew of, the Falarein, and he told him of the tale of Benrir, his ancestor, and Falahir the giant.

"How then did you come to such servitude? For are you not the chosen people of this land, do your great kings not weep at the sight of you shackled?"

And Ceior did not understand, and he asked, "What idea have you that we are ruled by kings? I ask of you, what do you mean?" And Sylren said, "Of your gods, I have been told, for we are a people apart from this, and I do not understand their love of you, nor you of them, for it seems they cast you into a world you were not yet ready to live in." 

And Ceior silently stood aloft, his face was solemn, "We have many Gods, my lord, many and their blessings we feel to the hour we speak." And it sounded as if the voice of Burrun came from him in that time, for he stood firm, strong, and he seemed powerful. "Low have the children of Athair come, but all that was dark is passing, for we were born amid the sunlight of the first day, but I am told we have only ever felt nigh the moonlight upon our cold faces. Suffering have we lived, but I tell you again, the dark is passing, and the Folk may yet feel this warmth beside us."

Sylren answered this, "So if by this warmth we come to the grace of your masters, what then are they named so that I may come to know them in some way as you do?" And with good authority, Ceior spoke to Sylren of the lore of the gods, as known by the meager minds of Men. "Our wise men know the name of the lord, and lo it is not wise to speak of him in any tongue but reverence, for we Men call him many names, and his names are as numerous as the stars above. Lord and Father, we often deem him, Aeuarna and Athair. 

Often did the pair of friends speak of earthly things, of the matters of the world and the passing of time. Yet their voices often rang with laughter, with the joy of life, and the love between them grew ever stronger. Yet while Sylren remained ever youthful, Ceior did not, as mortal men did not yet have any manner of long life granted to them. It would be in the night that the two old friends would confide in one another, and where Ceior confessed to his friend his fears of approaching death. As the first snowfall of the year was made, Ceior’s breath became weary, he ached and groaned often, as age made its power known to him. In the night, Ceior’s kin bid the Elder King to come to their abode, for they feared their patriarch had little time left. The king did not exit his shining city with a grand escort; only a chosen few departed with him, to the northern lands of Men, to see the king’s dying friend. Sylren came upon Ceior bedridden, but upon seeing his friend’s shining face, Ceior rose like a young man, and he hugged him. That night, in Ceior’s home, the two of them conversed under the moonlight. Ceior wished him prosperity, a long life, and a good death; he wished most of all for his happiness and for the woes of life to evade him. He wished for Sylren’s joy and the memory of Ceior to comfort him in times of peril and trouble. Death had not yet graced the number of the Fae, and Sylren was troubled by the nature of what his friend was speaking. He inquired, 

“Shall I see you again, friend, beloved friend, have our days of joy passed now?” At once, a somber silence fell upon them. Ceior’s heart ached as he spoke, “Those days are not yet gone as long as by them you are untroubled; I wish well for us to laugh and go about as we did then, but I am old, my body is worn and tired. My wish now is for you to keep to the memory of those days, for goodness is how I wish to be remembered by my dear friends.”

And as Ceior’s head rested, the Elder King held his hand, and his troubles seemed eased, as Ceior was most skilled in easing the burden of others. When the night seemed as old as Ceior, Sylren rose to retire, and Ceior and he shared a last conversation. But it did not end in sadness; the two shared a laugh, and they each toasted to each other for those days of shining sun and glittering waves. Sylren helped his dear friend to rise from bed, and the two once more hugged tightly, atop two feet.

The king retired, and they each bid each other farewell, and as the world rested, Ceior went away in the night. Breath left old Ceior as sunlight rose above the dew-laden green hills of Grudem. When the king awoke, the first thought upon his mind was Ceior, of his brother and his well-being. Yet as the king strode to the house of Ceior, he found his brother’s kin all around, and he knew, though he did not yet find the word for it, that his friend was gone. And so then, the proud Elder King of all the Fae learned of death’s grasp on the very nature of Men, and he cried out as grief overtook him. For in all his days, despite all the triumphs and joys and achievements of his life, the soul of An Lonrach remembered that sting of loss, the biting and knowing grief of his dearest friend lost. The king himself tended to the rites of Men; he aided the kin of Ceior as they dug a pit that swallowed the patriarch's body, beside a small, fruit tree facing the sea, with fruit not yet blossomed. A quiet place overlooking the crashing waves atop a white cliffside. Sylren sent his beloved friend into his eternal residence, beside his gods.

On the day Ceior went away, each year, though the years seemed faster to the long-lived Fae, Sylren would go to this very fruit tree and sit beside the stone marker where Ceior lay. He played songs, told stories of the times, and he sat still and drank a fine toast to his old friend, wherever he now roamed. With the generosity of the Fae, the family of Ceior the Wise would be the very House by which the grand house of Men would find strength. Ceior’s son Echaniel had two children by Athaneiora, daughter of Mirinal Menmor, who in those days was a prized champion of Einhiel’s guard. For by the first love between Man and Fae, the brothers Adrenwulf and Gamelin would be born, and from them, the great tribes of the Géadine would spring. The world of Men would come to be much bigger and grander than an old man fishing with his friend.

The House of Ceior would become the House of Men, where glories, triumph, and tragedy would spring. Yet never did the spirit of Ceior the Wise die; from his example, the gentleness and love of Men grew to bring light to the world. The House of Men began there, in the simplicity of love and duty, in dull days and in fulfillment. In all the days and the destruction wrought during the hard times, the small tree where Ceior lay remained untouched. As the waves crashed and overtook many other places and lands, an isle was formed as the sea overcame that coast and rendered it beneath the waves. The glimpse of the sea Ceior’s tree was given remained unchanged, as it seemed all of creation agreed in a soft remembrance, a good man lay here.

Part VII

The Moon Maiden of King Sylren

Of King Sylren, many were first said of the days when he spent his days alone atop Einhiel, and in those days, since the passing of Ceior, a spell of loneliness came over him, and none could break its form. As the day died, and night rose, the Elder King gazed high into the night sky and his mind wandered afar. For in Illan, such great lights in the night soothed Faen souls to rest beneath moonlight, was but one of the treasures the Illani found in this, their new home. But Sylren did not spy one so far, who looked down and saw him and was entranced with him. Far away, to that place where the wolves do howl, the abode of great Erailna hosted one of her kin who envied this stranger from unknown lands. Her hair billowed bright and cool, with straight locks as fine as silk threads and as luminous as the stars during a still evening, and her touch was as soft as a summer breeze. Riding down atop a bright steed of light, the whole world seemed to burst into day as she descended into Aelutea before King Sylren. And her arrival came with a great fanfare, bursting horns and rising music, all the world seemed to come alive then in the night. And Sylren came to be overwhelmed by this; her grace overpowered him, and he fell before her very feet. But the moon maiden took this as an ill thing, and as gracefully as she descended, she ascended back into the sky as swiftly. 

When Sylren awoke, she was gone, and he thought himself deprived of sleep, but he found no rest coming to him. To the stars, she went, but still, the thought of her weighed upon his mind, and he became more eager once more to see her before him again. And so on every still night, the king would stave off sleep, and he rested his mind upon sight of the great moons above, dreaming of her, her grace, and her fair face. And high above where the empyrean and the wide earth do meet, there sat Kavrala, the lady of Sylren's dreams. And she saw him, and her thought was occupied solely by him, and she gazed down and looked upon him, and her heart came to love him. Yet the thought of his face falling before her, and the shock of it was too much, and she was afraid of what her love would make her do, and her longing and her loneliness bubbled forth higher and higher until at once it came to be too much. No great fanfare accompanied her as she once more descended past the firmament and came to the world where Sylren lay staring high into the sky. And a great pillar of light came down around him; it gave no heat but shone like sunlight. Above, Sylren spied a familiar figure within, descending toward him, and Kavrala came before him with no great fanfare, and the world stayed still and quiet as one of those dwelling high came to the world of mortals and made their way known. Sylren, the Elder King, lay dumbstruck, and as the wonder of the moment seemed to never end, the fair lady spoke with a gentleness Sylren had never heard.

"Long has my gaze been upon you, stranger king, at night I gaze down upon you, and yet never did you call my name, no matter how I longed for it, will you call my name now?" 

Sylren remained struck by the moon maiden's beauty. He remained quiet for a moment before asking the woman her name, and she said her name was Kavrala, daughter of Erailna and caretaker of her mother's domain.

It is according to Faen lore that the two are alleged to have spent the entire night with one another, and Kavrala in the day returned high, only to once more return in the night to be with him. For Sylren, their king knew love's pull in his heart, and his heart yearned for her greater and greater when they parted. Without her, his feelings of sorrow and despair returned firmer and harder than they had before. When once more they met, Sylren asked her if she might stay with him, beside him there atop Einhiel and in Tirmagall his home, on the hard earth where he tread. Kavrala's face came to be solemn, and she spoke to him,

"Oh king, oh lovely king of unknown tides and unknown places, below here I am radiant, but my light is high above, where rests the glory of my people and my home. If I stay with my love here, my light will fade, the grace that you see before you shall cease."

And Sylren sighed, for he thought she meant to abandon him. Yet as this thought passed in his mind, a shine came from her, a great light danced all around, and it encased the open air of the balcony where they were. Beautiful shining light was all around now, and it twirled and dance,d and Sylren was captured in amazement at the glory of the gods. Now shining burst forth, this light encased them and grew out further until all could now see it and be amazed. Such was the beauty he saw, Sylren the king began to weep, and his knees became weak. As he was to fall, she caught him and embraced him, and the love she bore for him was unlike anything he had ever known. And as they embraced, the light no longer danced, but hovered for a moment before it began to rise into the clear sky as a cloud lifting. High above it returned beyond sight, returned to the night sky where it remained. Thus did Sylren the Elder King of the Fae become Sylren An Lonrach, the shining son and husband of Kavrala, goddess of moonlight, and of the sphere of night. 

Part VIII

Thallan and Riamh Darach

And while the Huldra king came to one encased in light, the Mainar king embraced one who came encased in darkness. Eluoin she was, and of her, many things are said. Some name her a forest sprite, born in Aelutea, the Mainar claim her as one of their own, for she was aboard the ships, surely they say. Some claim her as one of the high ones, an equal and opposite of Kavrala, a lady of light, and she, a lady of the night. Whispers abound of how she arrived one day beneath the swirling pool, cloaked in moss and leaves, or of how she fell in a burning heap beneath the pale stars, or yet more that she sprouted from the ground like a sunflower. Many tales of the coming of Eluoin are said, but few are believed, and fewer seem likely, for to the Fae she seemed as one of them, but greater, and by some many of trickery, it seemed none yet knew precisely how she came to them.

For among the Mainar, she is called Riamh Darach, which means Everdark. She was powerful indeed; her craft of magic, even among the Mainar, was renowned, and by her word, a great circle of power was drawn around the borders of the land claimed by the Mainar of Ydalvi. Such was its power that all who broke it were entangled in thralldom by the Queen, and she could do with them as she wished. So too did she ensnare those enemies of the Mainar with her voice. For enchanting she was, and her voice was sublime and powerful, and she sang out in the meadows as well in the dark forest song of dark tidings for the Mainar and the world they knew, of times ahead and times long past, times she could not have known if she were but one of the Mainar. She cursed the perils not yet seen, the strife to come, the hard future, and the soft past, and she made those whom she saw tremble with her grim prophecies. 

Yet Thallan she loved, and she protected him and gave him counsel in all things, behind a veil of mist in the garden throne of Ydalvi. For amid the long days of summer, a vast train had come of the Eratesh, the southern men who had come to the lands of Doremas, northeast of Ydalvi, where they would long abide. This king, they called Rixhuin, and his boasting was made known before the king and queen of Ydalvi, before he arrived amid the garden throne. Before the Fae king, he threw down his mighty shield, and loud boasts he made of the long journeys of his people from fog and mist far to the north. His insolent tongue was marked with a pride and a vanity unfitting of him; he had come before the throne of the garden meadows of Ydalvi with naught but boasts and heckles. By the word of Riamh Darach, he became ensnared, and she whispered an enchanting song into his mind. Her words spilled out amid his mind, whispers of an unknown time to him, of escape and exodus from a land beyond, far outpacing the meager leagues traveled by his people. Riamh Darach poisoned his mind, and he became a howling dog and fled the darkness of Ydalvi, foaming and barking mad. By command of Thallan, her king and husband, she relented, and his mind again became his own. Still, the power of the Faen court had so troubled Rixhuin that he returned to his people a shadow of who he had been, and his leadership was stripped from him, and he became a beggar to his people. A new line of kings now concluded that the Faen court of Ydalvi was a place of burden and sorcery, with a dark king and his maddening queen at its center. Forevermore, the Mainar and the Eratesh despised and distrusted one another.

Part IX

Aeg Insteach

For in the time since the ascension of Nidgram, a new foe of the giants had come along the very-most west. Gliding across unseen and unknown waves from a world beyond this, the western Fae came atop their white ships and made their abodes there in the west. To the giants, they were Innrá, invaders from the west who had come to steal the lands of the giants and swindle the labor and servitude of Men from the Eutunaz. And as time passed, and the transgressions of the new Faen kingly brothers became unbearable to proud Nidgram, he made passage into their lands under a shroud of shadow and came upon word of a gathering of the invaders along a field, and Nidgram plotted to make his appearance there.

Two large hosts of the traveling Fae each came upon a field in the west, to a place called Búven, where they quickly built a feasting hall and began their feasting. As night came, their piercing music further grew Nidgram’s rage, and he came before them in a visage like theirs. And lo, the Fae in that time were tall; they stood high and nigh seven feet, and he stood high above them. His visage was dark, and his face gave very little light, but all spied his eyes as they pierced with a solemn rage; his grey hair was tucked away beneath a cloak, and he wore a dozen or so glittering rings, and each shone like fire. None there knew him, and they called him Anlamh, which in their tongue means Stranger.

As each of the Fae kings sang a slow song over the crossing of them into this world, Nidgram looked on in disgust, a triumph of theirs and a lament in his heart, for deep grief came over him and he felt in his heart responsible for the allowance of their coming to the land of his forefathers. And yet as the second, lesser of the two kings came and sang a song, for but a moment it moved him, melodies plucked from the fingers of this darker Fae king were like those of his own and his voice was pleasing to the ears of the giant king who did for but a moment come to reconsider the nature of these people. Perhaps a conciliation could exist between them, a small peace, one where each was permitted to do as they were, to not infringe upon one another.

And yet at this very thought, Nidgram became enraged, a fury unlike any he had ever seen; the invader's very voices were penetrating his mind, causing him confusion and malaise. At this provocation, when the two kings had finished their pretensions, they each lifted and rose a great pillar to their kinship and love there in the field outside the long hall they had built. When all had long gazed upon it and ventured back inside, Nidgram alone stood outside and gazed at this monument. There an even greater rage had come over him. 

“These pretentious sows,” his thought spilled out before his word, “These unworthy parasites, have come to the very world and desecrate it with their word, their very being is an insult to those whose homeland they steal and burn and destroy. They deserve nothing greater than slavery; nothing less than their total subjugation would make this rage burn any less. I would see the world bathed in blood if by its ending they were expelled, expunged and removed, burned away and thrown away from this great place they insult with their very being.”

And at these final thoughts, he arose finally and firmly, he shed his form, and he rose to his towering height and toppled their pillar, destroying it in a rage. His form now was most terrible, his grey hair sprang out and appeared as a foggy halo around him, and his fingers became long black spears, to behold him was to know fear as it seemed the horns of Balengar far away arose to acclaim him. When those inside rushed to see what was happening, they came upon him fully adorned in a splendorous terror. A black tower he stood, the iron crown glowed with a faint hue, and though it be night, the night felt darker, and more terrible now than ever it had been in that land before. Before them, he seemed his most dreadful, and he wished it so, for his rage had not left him. And before he spoke to them in a tongue they could discern, he bellowed and boomed in the tongue of his people, curses and profanities known then only to him. 

“Long have you dwelled here, long have you heard my name and seen me naught. I am Nidgram, king of the Eutuns, and I bring a message. Remember well this place, oh west-sailors, remember well upon whose unkempt generosity thy people are allowed to live in lands stolen unmolested. Thee are but strangers in a land thee are unwanted, in a land ripe and beautiful, thee have come to siphon some greatness off for thyselves. Woe be you I say, uncrowned kings of invasion, treat with the king of the east, treat there and throw down your crowns to the altar of my worldly glory, or let violence, war, and death plague forever as you dwell here. Ask well those Men dwelling among thee in the north what the wrath of the Eutunaz appears as. Let the fate of this pillar be a fair warning to heed me.”

And at those words, Nidgram departed from them quickly, and the Fae were left with his chilling message.

Part X

Elensrac and Belisar

And so by the cursing of Nidgram, king of the giants, the first gathering was sullied. But by this time, another tale was beginning there at the field of Búven. For it began when the sun's light dipped below the horizon, and in those early hours, a warm glow came and drenched the first moments of reunion between the two peoples. Elders, their eyes glistening with tears, embraced long-lost children, grandchildren met grandparents, those split apart by circumstance and time saw once more kinsmen, and were glad. There began revelries, sharing stories of the long road life bore them. 

Torches flickered and lit the great hall being built, as hammers fell, laughter grew, joy spread, and blanketed the land. The sweet melodies of Mainar harpers, draped in cloaks and robes of dark indigo, summoned such great melodies that from across the room, Huldra trumpeters and flute players gathered their instruments and played a song of their own. Old tales were told, old songs of old days, yet as music filled the air, the Mainar and Huldra minstrels eyed only each other, their gazes fixed, and each vied to usurp the other in acclaim. Thirteen long ballads did the minstrels each play, each more grandiose and elegant than the last. Trumpets blared, fingers plucked harps, and on and on the two groups played and their singers sang with an elegance ringing with envy and honor. And when at last, the last hammers had rested, and the first dishes had been laid forth, the Huldra players ceded their honor and declared their Mainar kinsmen the victors. 

Beneath the now-darkened sky, tables were set about and laden with fruits, fine roasted meats, and strong Illani spirits aged and bitter. As a brief silence hung in the air, it was carried off, and the feasting began. The air filled with the smell of fine dishes, and the sweet scents of fresh flowers hung just above silk canopies. Tapestries were unfurled, rich and ornate, trimmed in woven gold as they fluttered in the weak breeze. 

In honor was Oeron Slaidan, whom it is told in tales of those early days was named by Men, Cerewulf Elensrac, which means "Warwolf Strongtongue." Elensrac was jesting, and wandering amid the crowd with mischief glimmering in his eyes, he spied afar one whom he had not yet acquainted himself with. This was Bellinor, captain of the guard of Einhiel and who was called Belisar, the "Arrow of Bel."A warrior and prince of a proud house rich in splendor, Belisar's grey eyes met the lazing gaze of Lord Oeron. While Elensrac wore a fine black robe decorated in ruby and garnet, his fingers adorned in silver and opal rings, Belisar looked every bit the warrior that his eyes portrayed. Wearing a gleaming silver doublet inlaid with bright and shining ringed mail, one could assume that Belisar assumed battle would come amid the reveling scene. His visage was grim, where once he scanned the vast hall, his eyes now fixed on Elensrac, who approached, goblet in hand. Ever the provocateur, the Mainar lord greeted Belisar with a sly remark. 

"Hail, oh Captain, could we be mistaken that a battle is to come? Have you seen something that is cause to be concern? Set down your arms and toast with me."

With a swift move, Elensrac threw his long arm around the captain, who at once, threw it from himself and stood before all, unamused and not taken by the charm of the Mainar lordling.

"A captain does not toast with pitiful accosters like yourself. Go be among your own!" At these sharp words, the captain of Ydalvi and lord of Achre-Fionnsúil spoke with defiance, "Come now, Belisar, are we not gathered here for reunions and rejoicing? Does your precious heritage not allow a smile to come across your sour face?" 

Once more at the insolent words of Elensrac, a wave of quiet anger washed over Bellinor, "My duty is to watch and defend, duty is mine, some mud-ear like yourself would be wise to know this, go be among your own Cú!" 

"Mud-ear? Cú, you say?" Elensrac's voice became firm. "Perhaps you need a companion who truly understands the essence of what you mean."

Before the captain of Einhiel could respond, Elensrac cried aloud with a booming voice, "Cura!" and after a bench was overturned, a large brown dog emerged and approached the Huldra captain with a playful grin. "Consider this my gift to you, Belisar," Elensrac declared, presenting Cura with a bow. "A gift, from lesser to greater, from a mud-ear to a princeling." The captain of Einhiel was taken aback and looked at the oblivious canine wagging its tail before him.

During the march to battle after the insult of Búven, Cerewulf again met Bellinor Belisar, and as Cerewulf delighted in jests with the captain, he began openly provoking him. Before the two companies of Huldra and Mainar Fae, Cerewulf challenged Bellinor, saying that if Bellinor slayed more foes than him in battle, he would gift him his prized golden swords and publicly acknowledge him and the Huldra as the superior warriors. Before Bellinor could blink, however, Cerewulf said that should he win, he would be delighted to be given Bellinor's daughter's hand in marriage. Many among the Mainar contingent wished to pull Cerewulf back, or that he revoke his challenge. This was because, as was well known, Bellinor was of the Prydain, and Cerewulf was not. Yet Cerewulf did not revoke his challenge, and with a wide smile, he reached his arm out, to which Bellinor shook and promptly struck him.

Reaching for one of his swords, Cerewulf and Bellinor nearly drew weapons but were each separated by their own, and their evening came to an end. When the armies of the Fae and Men came upon the giants for the first time, while Bellinor donned his splendid silver armor and great plummed helm, Cerewulf led a contingent of men and Mainar deep into the ranks of the giants. There, Cerewulf fought like mad, first fighting with his black spear, which, after becoming lodged in an enemy, snapped and broke. There, Cerewulf unsheathed his great twin swords Agamair and Sílfuair. He flew with a fury at the enemy once more, and his swords came to flash with light, bouncing off them as they cut through every enemy before him. In the fray, blood leaped like a pillar into the air, carnage and gore spread all around as a mountain's weight of the enemy was slain, and Cerewulf came to be like a statue doused in crimson blood. All saw the slaughter Cerewulf inflicted upon the enemy, and with envious rage, Belisar lept from his retinue and joined the upstart Duinne in the slaying of the foe.

Like twin pillars of wrath, they cut down all before them, every enemy that came to face them met their end by spearpoint or blade tip. The battle-fire of the army was renewed, and many leaped to join their captains in the fighting. By the example of these two, the army was victorious, and the giants retreated far to the east, to rejoin their kinsmen mustering there. By the end of the battle, the bloodshed came to be apparent, and while Bellinor bowed his head in reverence of the fallen, Cerewulf laughed. Many came to view him with respect but disdain, for he seemed to relish war and death, to enjoy reaping carnage on the field, and with very little care for those at his side. At the prompting of their subordinates, some wishing to be granted a portion of the battle's glories, a count was raised for the number of foes slain by both of the captains, each ending at nigh thirty-seven verified. Each grew in disbelief, believing themselves to be the victor, or the other a deceiver and liar. Once more, the two captains turned their blades to each other, and as their steel rang, those in their company withdrew themselves, for it seemed they would never breathe joyfully if the other was allowed to live. Yet as each was locked in combat, each king came before them, and a hush came over those who were standing nearby. 

"What is the meaning of this feud?" An Lonrach's voice thundered as he bellowed out his riddle before his captain. The brow of the king was firmly low, and his step was quick and light as his displeasure was made known to all around. What quarrel do each of you have that cannot be sated by quarrel with the enemy?"

After the Huldra king had finished, King Thallan arose tall, and in a piercing voice, he rebuked his captain, "What now have you done that you would cross blades with this one, my brother's finest? Where is your sense? Where is any semblance of duty for you? You will make amends with this one, whom I now deem as your brother, or I will find a new captain!"

Each captain now lay prostrated before their lords, and they heeded their words and came to embrace the other in a warrior's touch, and each went and retreated for the day. And as the march again began, this time further east, a new battle was started against the full might of the giants, and their terrible wrath made blood spill all along the host of Fae and Men. Once more, the retinue of the captains was engaged with the enemy. Their valor was great, but they did not rush any longer into the thick of fighting and stayed with their warriors to a man. Yet a shout was made behind the lines, the soldiers of Tirmagall and Ydalvi so vied for the sight of their splendorous captains to fight in the fray and the fury of their arms, secure victory. Each was in the sight of the other, and it is unknown how, but in tandem, they charged out in their gleaming suits of armor, into the lines of the enemy, and made quick work of them.

Glorious was this their charge, and the bravery of the captains was unquestioned before all they charged, and the cry of victory was made. For their charge was savage, and many of the enemy were felled beneath their steel. They, there at this great battle, were amazed that even in victory, the great captains of the Fae had so charged the enemy and laid themselves open to death. And as the day was first won, they each led their own retinues back to the lines whence they came, succumbing not to the lust for blood that had aroused such passion previously. 

And this, the first battle was won among the two kindred races, brought together by happenstance, now bound by shed blood and brotherhood. The enemy was thrown back beyond the frontier of the great river Adwine, beyond all reach of the Fae and Men, and there the enemy brooded in defeat. Stormclouds arose in the east, machinations were upon the mind of Nidgram King, new thoughts of how best to defeat his new foe, a foe he now deemed could not be defeated as easily as he had wished.