"What is the language that you and the elves speak, Hal?"

"It is the Old Language, the language of the Begin- nings. It is the language of power, which the One used to sing the creation, when the mountains rose out of the deeps. Those who use it know all creatures and are like- wise known; it is the language of the inner self. But pride fears it, for it hides nothing. So mortal men have long since fallen away from it, to quarrel across the bar- riers of their many tongues. Only the Gypsies, who know no boundaries, no nations and no wars, use it still."

"How did you come to know it? Did you learn it from the Gypsies?"

Hal looked hesitant, almost fearful. "Nay," he an- swered, "it cannot be learned or taught; only those who conquer pride and fear can speak it. The Gypsies raise their children to be selfless and brave, but many fall away, and some of the Mysteries are lost. As for me, I suppose it was somehow born in me. I do not remember a time when I did not know the Old Language, though it was known to no one around me."

Alan studied his brother. The mystery in Hal's gray eyes, he sensed, might find its answer in this mountaintop valley. "Hal," he questioned abruptly, "are you one of the People of Peace?"

"Do you think so?" asked Hal slowly, and Alaa real- ized that he was frightened, with no answer to offer. He seemed to shrink into himself for a moment, bent with thought. Then, with an effort of will, he squared his shoulders and faced Alan, speaking the Ancient Tongue.

'Today you know me, I believe, as well as I know my- self," he said. "Help me find myself, Ehvyndas. You who love me, discover my soul."

Alan felt the same peculiar abeyance of fear as he had with Lysse. Knowing that he should be terrified, he looked deeply into Hal's eyes; clouds of misty gray melted from before him. For a moment he was surrounded by

The West Land 143

profound darkness, deep and warm as a womb. Then a speck of light formed, growing larger and more brilliant, so that Alan's vision was filled with wheeling circles of shining light, warm and marvelous. He stared without blinking, until he realized that in the center of the swirl- ing light was a crowned figure in mail of burnished silver.

He thought be had never seen a more noble form, though the head was bowed and the face turned away. Then the figure looked up and strode toward him, till the face filled his sight, and Alan felt fearless and consummate Joy such as he had never known. He went down on his knees and reached out, still gazing into those marvelous gray eyes.

"Mireldeyn!" Alan whispered, as the meaning of the name was manifest to him.

The vision disappeared suddenly; Alan was engulfed in a darkness of panicky pain. A voice cried to him from a great distance, "Alan! Don'tl I beg you-" Then he found himself once again in the light of day, on his knees before Hal, who tugged at him with both hands while tears streamed down his white face. Alan rose quickly and put his arm around him.

"Hush," Aian said gently in the Old Language. "Do you not know that I love you? In Lysse's eyes I saw the past of the Blessed People, but in your eyes I see the future. Some day I shall kneel to you and you will under- stand. You are Mireldeyn. There has been no one like you, nor ever is likely to be again."

"I don't want to be different!" choked Hal, weeping like a child. "I don't want people kneeling to me! All I have ever wanted is peace and friendship and a little love!"

"Don't you see," Alan explained softly, "how special that makes you? All men, to some degree, lust for power and fame-except one- All men are greedy for wealth and comfort-except one. Only you, of all men, can heal this land which is scarred even as you are, for only you cannot be corrupted by these things you do not desire."

"What of you? cried Hal desperately. "I saw no such lust in your soul!" ,

"It is there, nevertheless," Alan replied wistfully.

"Even now I feel the stirrings of envy over that marvelous crown I saw you wear. I am not Mireldeyn. The blood of the elves does not run in my veins, except that bit I re- ceived from you."

144 THE SttVER SUN

"Your brother speaks words of great wisdom," said a quiet voice. Adaoun stood before them; Adaoun, the elf- father, the patriarch- Alan stood fixed in wonder at the age in his youthful eyes, but Hal stumbled toward him with outstretched hands.

"Adaoun," he appealed, 'Svhat is this Alan tells me?

Am I not a man, like other men?"

"You know you are not, Mireldeyn," Adaoun replied, placing a hand on Hal's head in calming benediction. "You have felt it from your earliest days. Now that the truth is finally within your grasp, do not seek to flee from iti"

Hal hurled himself onto his bed. He pummeled his pillow in anguished fury, then sank back, clenching his shaking hands. Finally he took a deep breath, set his jaw and sat up.

"Very well," he stated, "I am not just a man; I am something different, something called-Mireldeyn. What does it mean?"

"We must eat before we talk," Adaoun told him.

"Elwyndas has bad little -for days, now, and is weak from fever. Put on your shirts, and we shall eat outside."

Alan was indeed white and trembling from just the slight exertion of standing. "I'm sorry," Hal murmured to him. "I have been thinking only of myself."

"Never mind that," Alan grumbled. "Just help me with this sling."

They put on the garments that were laid out for them.

Alan was surprised to find that they were of a very soft, fine, lightweight wool, not at all like the coarse woolen garb he had known, brilliantly dyed in shades of sun- shine, leaves, sky and water. Though innocent of any ornament, the clothing was so delicately stitched and brightly colored that they felt they were arrayed like kings; and indeed Adaoun himself wore no better. They pulled on their boots, but left their swords behind, wear- ing only their chain-link belts for girding.

They found Adaoun on a grassy hill which sloped down to a lake set like a jewel in the center of the valley.

Lysse was there with one of her brothers, a golden-haired elf who seemed like a young man in his twenties except for the centuries of wisdom in his eyes. His name was Anwyl-"beloved one." They sat on the ground to eat On wooden plates were eggs and cheeses, honey, fine

The West Land 145

breads and a variety of fruits, some of them unknown to Hal in spite of all his lore. They drank milk from wooden noggins. It took Alaa a while to realize that there was no meat. Remembering that Lysse would taste none of his, he suddenly understood why the elves' feet were bare.

and why their belts were of cord, not leather. "Of course," he thought. 'They do not kill animals, creatures who speak to them heart to heart."

From the talk, Alan gathered that Hal had arrived at this place not long before himself. "I scarcely know how I found the spiral path," Hal explained. "I was drawn to it somehow, and though 1 could hardly hope to find you on it, Alan, yet I knew I must ascend. As I neared the top, I felt the presence of Anwyl, and I spoke to him, though I could not see him: 'lr holme. wilndas elwedeyn, ir selte, to nessa ilder daelen frith.' ['Come to me, friend of the old blood, talk to me, for the sake of the former days of peace.'] He leaped down from above. I was ter- rified that he would fall, but he landed squarely on the path. He seemed much moved."

"Indeed, I was as much disturbed in my mind as an elf is ever likely to be," remarked Anwyl, "I asked him who he was, that spoke to me in the Old Language, and he answered me: 'Hal, son of Gwynllian, heir of Torre, Taran, and the line of the Blessed Kings of Welas.' Then I longed to kneel and swear fealty to him, for I knew he was Mireldeyn. But great weariness and distress weighted him, so I refrained, and led him hither."

"Greatly was my heart torn, Alan," Hal said quietly, "between my joy and wonder at this place and my fear for you. I poured out my anguish to Adaoun, but scarcely had I finished when you arrived."

"I believe I was sent to bring him," said Lysee. "There was no reason for me to go to the lower slopes, where those cowardly men fell upon me, except that I felt I must."

"What does it mean, Adaoun?" asked Hal. "I feel the threads of destiny all around me."

"Before I can tell you," Adaoun replied. "I must know how much you understand."

"Where must I start?"

"At the Beginning."

They cleared away the breakfast and settled back against trees. Lysse brought pillows for Alan, and he lay

146 THE SILVER SUN.

at her side. The air was not hot, though it was almost midsummer, but mild as springtime.

"Before there was time," Hal began, "there was the One."

"And what is the One?" Adaoun asked.

Alan understood, as he seemed to understand every- thing now, that the One was an essence and emanation neither good nor evil, neither female nor male nor yet a sexless spirit, but all of each of these. There was a word for such essence in the Old "Language; it was called Aene.

But he could not have explained it in the language of Isle.

"The One is sun and moon, dawn and dusk, hawk and hunted," Hal averred.

"Ay," Adaoun agreed softly, "Star Son and Moon Mother, Fatherking and Sacred Son, Black Virgin and snowy Babe and russet rowan Lady of All Trees; they are all in Aene. Even the crescent-homed god is m Aene.

But man has made his worship a divided thing, to his sorrow."