I believe we have found our inroad. It will make a plighty game, but if we are lucky, it will bear fruit. Also, our mark is too dear to yield.
For the last three days we have made the Aslanta much seen among the Elves - great Vurn limping ruthfully on his crutch, the ideal aflesh of a proud warrior sorrowfully befallen, and Brand who, even against his brashness and awful Elvish Tongue, holds wit and endearing childlikeness. They make a lonesome and outlandish sight within this city that endears all newness, while we have heartened them to play as wanderers and meet Elves however they can. All the while, my hunters have hovered aring them like a net afloat in water. Remaue I set as our lead, for she has a knack for reading folk’s selfness. She voicelessly outcalls marks as they happen through our line. At the same time, I name any Elves and their rank whom I know from my last tide here, and add new names as we can, including household and kinship. Luckily I already know enough of the Noble Houses that I can order news with my fellows’ help.
Here I must shrive a shame. On my last tide in El, I had sillily dreamt of taking an Elven maidenlove. In my trial I had let myself be hurt. Today so happened that my shame’s maker came athwart our path, so that I cannot but wonder whether some godly, doomful fairness might stir awork.
Her name is Aleriel Berendilarion, a lady of high house, though in that unreadable wise Elves follow, she holds no stead, rank, or office at the Everward Hall or her kindred’s business that makes livelihood, else than her house’s name and elder noble rights let her follow idleness and art as she will. This is one of Elfdom’s queernesses I understand not, though now is not the time to unravel. Enough I tell that I was shaken when she walked within our net, though I could not forgo the hap.
We were waiting at the wateryard lying right where the First Canal splits from the stream, not a hundred strides from where the Roarfall pounds its pool at the cliff's foot, and which has ever been one of my dearest spots. The wateryard lies at the canal’s head, where it is shaped upon a shallow ford and a rush of stepstones whereby one may cross. Silvertrout dance amid the stony rush, and all kinds of blossomtrees frame both sides. Semuane and I sat on a bench while Brand and Vern played and hunted the fish. Then came Aleriel right as I reminded: light rose hair, sapphire eyes, and skin so creamy as only Elves have, showing clear to her blue blood underneath.
Startlingly, her sight still hurt. Soon as Remaue witted, she mind-called and beread her as the fulsome mark for our gamble. I agreed so wrathfully that the others were shaken.
Aleriel glided into the yard. She beheld the two Aslanta playing, and then swerved to me. I was sitting next to Semuane, whose hand I held, and paid Aleriel no heed. We let her hover while Semuane and I tickled - letting Remaue call the Elflady’s drift.
At last Aleriel hailed me. I rose smilingly, bowed, and hugged her, and then drew her to Semuane’s bench. My friendliness took her aback while she tried to reckon the steadship. I took behoof and set her between us two Lashunta.
Aleriel bywardly asked after the Aslanta. I told her our hitherfare. She asked of my news since homecome to Son yesteryear. I yielded whits of my outiderhood and of this fetch (making show of my happiness), but aimed on our wonderful find of the Aslanta and how Semuane and I had met, our weapon-trial, and whooship, as nearly so lovely a tale as I could. At my lead, Semuane kept her off kilter, otherwise welcoming but also at length.
Our gamble had the forewished outcome: Aleriel beseeched us to a mirthtide tomorrow at her hall. We shall make a plan and tell the Aslanta their share. Then we will see what we can behoove.
In the beginning of _A Castrovel Adventure: Part 1_, Vaeol explains her ruse to convince the Elves to let the Humans use the Kyonin Gate, and her target...
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