Chapter Three.

Ay, it was a hard knowledge to accept, thought Hal. And yet, I am amply blessed.

He lay at ease on a comfortable rock, the late summer sun pleasantly warm on his bare shoulders. Near him sat Alan and Lysse. She was trimming Alan's hair and smil- ing, almost giggling, at the woebegone faces he made as his long, sun-streaked locks fell to the ground.

It was nearly a month since the two had first entered the mountaintop valley of the elves. Alan's wound had fully healed and his health was restored. Yet neither he nor Hal thought of leaving. They were hardly aware of the passing of time, for eternity hung like a fragrance in the air, as it had in that hidden valley they had chanced upon nearly a year before. The elves also lived in a place untouched by the blight of the invaders. Adaoun had dis- covered it while riding Wynnda, the great gold-winged horse for whom he had begged immortality from the One.

With great labor the elves had cut the spiral path to the top of Veran's Mountain, but the years passed like mo- ments in their immortal lives. When at last they reached the valley, they had found a paradise like the one they remembered from seven ages past. Here the elves had released their special joy, the horses of Wynnda's blood,

152.

The West Land 153

and these flourished in the mountain air. Indeed, this was a place that worked its weal on all creatures. Alfie ran with the elwedeyn horses now, and his eyes sparkled with the wonder of it. But Alan's eyes glowed as warm, and, looking at him, Hal knew that it was not only the valley that filled him with love.

Dear Alan, Hal thought. The One grant him his heart's desire. I owe him so much, but I cannot help him in this.

Since their first full day in the Eagle Valley, Hal had known that Alan was in love with Lysse. And he could see that Lysse knew herself to be Alan's mendor. Yet Alan labored to conceal his love, though it crept into his every word and glance when Lysse was nearby. He held back from openly wooing her, for to win her would be to bereave her of her immortality. Hal knew she would sacri- fice it willingly, in her wisdom as a woman and as an elf.

But even with this knowledge, he was not sure he could act differently in Alan's place. For Alan, his dilemma was a honeyed torment. Every time he saw Lysse, his heart bounded with the sweetest of pain. They were to- gether nearly all their waking hours, riding through the meadows, singing in the moonlight, working together and exploring the peaceful valley. Already she had given Alan more of her immortal wisdom than he realized, and his head rose high with the strength that welled in him.

But whether he would find strength to accept her as his destiny, Hal did not know.

Only in one way can I help them, he mused, and that is to give them time together.

He left them where they laughed in the sunshine, and wandered away up the mountainside.

Adaoun had been greatly relieved when Hal had given over brooding about the burden Aene had placed on him.

The destiny of the elves was not secure, Adaoun knew, but a fate which trembled on the Wheel. Mireldeyn's choice must be made firm; indecision at the wrong time could cause eternal disaster. So when the Elf-father found Hal sitting alone and troubled, he moved quickly to his side.

"What ails you, son of the mortals?" he asked lightly.

"You look as if the sky has fallen on your head."

Hal's solemn face broke into a smile at the elf's cheer- fulness, but he was not fooled. "Never fear, Adaoun," he

154 THE SILVER SUN.

answered dryly. "I am not thinking of myself. We have never spoken of Elwyndas and Lysse. Are you pleased with their love, Adaoun?"

The elf sat beside him to answer. "Neither happy nor saddened, Mireldeyn; not yet Elves seldom feel such things. Indeed, what is there to say? They are coupled in Dol Solden, like you and the Lady of Celydon."

Hal looked at him in surprise; he had never mentioned Rosemary to Adaoun. 'Then do all things written in Dot Solden come to pass?"

"Nay, indeed," Adaoun replied slowly. ''Written there- in are things that should be; but Aene cannot, or will not, make them come to pass. Elves and men must carry on the affairs of the world to the End, whatever that may be. Each of us has a destiny to help direct the force and flow of life. If we heed it, then all is well. If we choose to ignore it, then our lives run counter to the current of the world's weal-"

Adaoun's voice faded away as Hal envisioned thou- sands upon thousands of slowly spinning years, cycle upon cycle, millions upon millions of lives like shimmering droplets converging into a circling stream of gold. The years resolved themselves into ages, and the ages into the Whole, the golden flood of countless lives swirling slowly but remorselessly toward the vortex of some unseen End. Time spun before him like a great golden wheel, hum- ming in a minor key.

The vision faded, and Hal became aware once more of Adaoun sitting beside him.

"Do they know?" he murmured.

"Lysse knows," Adaoun answered at once. *'Now tell me, Mireldeyn, for the mind of your brother is hidden from me: Does he love her, and will he fulfill her in the course her heart has chosen?"

"He loves her well," Hal declared. "But his course is not yet clear to him, and he is troubled. It is hard to con- ceive of a better man, Adaoun, but his pride and reason battle against the direction his heart would take." Hal's lips tightened in frustration. "My heart aches to help him, but I dare not speak to him, lest the choice be mine and not his."

"What strange creatures you mortals are," Adaoun sighed. "Well, I see that I can only hope and wait."

The West Land 155 "So must we both," Hal replied.

Three days later Hal and Anwyl, his first friend among the elves, were climbing among the rocks of the outer ramparts, searching out deadwood for the cooking fires.

They moved silently, for the elves never disturbed the for- est creatures without cause. Many marvelous things bad they seen, but they scarcely expected to see what next met their eyes. As they rounded a corner of rock, in a wooded hollow below them stood Alan and Lysse. He was giving her a little bunch of violets; purple, blue, gold, lavender and white. He looked not at her, but at the flowers, as he spoke.

"Each is different from the others, Lysse," he said. "Yet all are lovely. None is more perfect than another."

"Ay," Lysse answered softly, puzzled.

"So also with the bright elf maidens of this valley. All are different, yet all are perfect in loveliness. No sane man could choose one over another."

With an effort he faced her, meeting her eyes. "Yet I have made that choice, Lysse!" he told her earnestly. "To me no maiden, mortal or immortal, can begin to match you in loveliness. Your eyes and your hair outshine those of your sisters as the sun outshines the stars. I desire no woman in my life except you, and without you I will have none." He took her by the shoulders, for her face revealed her consternation. "Do you understand me, Lysse? I love you, so help me, with the love of a mortal for a mortal. I must make you understand or I shall go mad!" He kissed her, tenderly but strongly, full on the lips. Her eyes closed and her face went deathly white. Then with what seemed to be the last of her strength she wrenched herself away from him and wordlessly fled down the mountainside.

"Lyssel" Alan called once after her, but the mountain returned only the echo of his cry. He struck a young ash tree furiously with his fist. As he stared down the way she had disappeared, his face grew hard as rock, and the blood dripped unnoticed from his bruised hand.

Anwyl and Hal looked at each other with pain in their eyes. To move away would have been to risk interrupting Alan's wooing. So they had remained, involuntary wit- nesses of his anguish. Hal clenched his fists, his face white and taut with misery. But when Anwyl signaled, "Go to him," Hal's eyes flashed hqck, "Nnv'" Alan must never know that his courtship had been observed.

156 THE SILVER SUN.

Alan stood lifce a statue until shadows began to deepen in the hollow and darkness gathered in the dome of the sky. Then. with a gesture of decision, he set off rapidly toward the pavilions in the valley. The instant he disap- peared, Hal and Anwyl ran in another direction. They must arrive at the camp before he did.

"Why?" Hal panted. "Why did she flee from him?"

"I believe I would have done the same," gasped Anwyl haltingly. "Mireldeyn, try to understand. She is standing on the brink of the unknown- What is to you mortals the very stuff of life is to us elves the greatest of mysteries."

They paused to catch their breath outside of camp.

Then, pledging each other to secrecy, they parted. The cooking fires gave off delicious aromas, and all around rose the hum of contented talk. Hal walked through it like a stranger and went to the tent to wait. Alan was not long in coming. Hal looked up in carefully arranged surprise as he entered.

"Alan! Your hand! It's all blood!"

Alan did not even glance at the hand. "Hal," he said hoarsely, "we must leave this place at once."

Hal was too busy fetching water and bandaging to re- ply. Anxiously he tended the injured hand. When he was done, Alan spoke again, calmly but with a dogged persist- ence that Hal knew from long experience would take no denial. "Hal, we must go. I am well now, and strong, and our business is finished here. There is much yet to do, and time outside this valley does not stand still. We should have left before now."

"Very well," Hal said quietly. "I shall speak to Adaoun tonight, and we shall leave tomorrow morning. Come to supper."

"I am not hungry," replied Alan, throwing himself down on his bed. Hal knew better than to argue, and went with- out him.

Neither of them slept much that night, though Alan might have thought Hal did. Toward morning Alan fell into a doze and Hal slipped out in search of Anwyl. When he found him, the news was brief. "Not a sign of her,"

Anwyl said. "She has not been back to camp at all."

Morning dawned bright and sunny, but the elves seemed oddly quiet. Farewells were brief, for in spite of Alan's courtesy his restlessness was apparent. For the first time in a month, he and Hal wore swords. Their saddle-

The West Land 1ST

bags were packed tightly with provisions and new clothing of soft wool.

"I have no gift for you," Adaoun said, "except memo- ries and hope. Cherish them well, for my sake."