"They're with us," Tungdil said quickly. "They may be descended from Tion and Samusin, but we can't defeat Nфd'onn without them." He pointed to the half дlf. "Narmora must wield Keenfire, and Djerun is almost as accomplished a warrior as Boпndil here." He hoped the dwarf would appreciate the flattery. "Orcs and bцgnilim flee at the sight of him."

Liъtasil pondered the matter while one of the elves advised him in an urgent whisper.

"An unusual company indeed," the elven lord began. Tungdil could tell from his tone that he had conquered his doubts and decided in their favor. "Too unusual to be anything but genuine. You may enter Вlandur and proceed through your tunnel." He turned to leave.

Tungdil felt sufficiently encouraged to make his next request. "I beg your pardon, Lord Liъtasil, but there is something else we should like to ask. We know the дlfar are laying siege to Вlandur and that your kingdom is under threat. You won't be able to defend your lands alone. Join us in our fight against Nфd'onn and we will destroy the Perished Land. Afterward you can reclaim your kingdom with our assistance."

The elf gazed at him earnestly. "Your generosity does you credit, but it will take more than a few axes to reclaim our lands."

"He speaks on behalf of the dwarven assembly," explained Gandogar. "The assistance he promises would come from my folk, the dwarves of the fourthling kingdom, of which I am king. And I know the secondlings would gladly rid your forests of the дlfar."

"We've done it before, you know," Boпndil hastened to assure him. "We kicked them out of Greenglade."

Liъtasil could no longer disguise his astonishment. "A dwarven king? It gets more and more intriguing." He beckoned for them to approach. "Come, you shall explain to me why the dwarves are willing to help their oldest enemies and save Вlandur from destruction."

He led the way, and the company followed, escorted on all sides by elven archers.

"Well spoken," Tungdil said to Gandogar.

The fourthling king smiled. "It was our only hope. Personally, I set no store by my status, but perhaps it will convince the pointy-ears to give us the loan of their army."

They walked on, squeezing their way through the palisade of trees. Djerun struggled at first, encumbered by his armor, but Liъtasil gave an order and the boughs swung back, allowing him to pass.

Once they had crossed the buffer of pine trees, they entered the forest proper. Even in winter, the oaks, beeches, and maples kept their foliage, and the branches showed no signs of bowing or snapping beneath the heavy snow. The towering trees reminded Tungdil and Boпndil of the splendor of Greenglade before it had succumbed to the northern pestilence and vented its hatred on every living thing.

The sheer size of the trunks took the travelers by surprise; even ten grown men with outstretched arms could not have spanned their girth.

Such was the peacefulness and serenity of the forest that the pain of what they had seen on their journey melted away from them, and they found an inner calm that deepened with every step.

Dusk was falling by the time they reached a building that was roughly equivalent to a dwarven hall. There were no stone columns, of course, only trees whose crowns formed a canopy two hundred paces above the forest floor, keeping out the rain and snow. A profusion of glowworms bathed the interior in welcoming light.

The elves' elegant architecture was the perfect complement to the beauty of the woods. Tungdil had experienced the same feeling in Greenglade, where the carved arches, elven inscriptions, and smooth wooden beams had seemed so at one with the trees.

This corner of Вlandur, as yet unconquered by the Perished Land, was the very essence of harmony. Tiny squares of gold and palandium, each no thicker than gossamer, dangled from the boughs, forming shimmering mosaics that sparkled in the starlight. As the company progressed through the living hall of trees, they passed a hanging mosaic of elven runes so dazzlingly beautiful that they gasped in admiration.

"I'm not saying that I like the pointy-ears," whispered Balyndis, sneaking a sideways glance at the tiles, "but their artwork's pretty good."

"Houses made of trees." Boпndil shook his head doubtfully. "I wouldn't feel comfortable. I'd rather have good solid rock above me. It protects you from the elements and it doesn't burn."

"What about volcanoes?" Rodario asked

"Volcanoes don't burn; lava does," Tungdil corrected him.

"What do you think lava is…" The impresario dried up under Narmora's fierce glare. "There's no point arguing with a dwarf," he finished.

The appearance of the company drew stares from the elves in the hall. It was the first time that a child of the Smith had visited their kingdom, and most of them had never seen a dwarf before.

"They all look the same to me," said Boпndil, voicing his thoughts as freely as ever. Luckily he chose to speak in dwarfish. "Long faces, cheeks as smooth as babies', and so conceited you wouldn't believe. I bet they think Girdlegard should be thankful that they live here at all." He gave his head a little shake and his black plait bounced on his shoulders. "I know it's not their fault that the fifthlings were conquered, but I'm not ready to trust them yet." The smith nodded in agreement.

Tungdil sighed and stuck his thumbs in Giselbert's belt. He was glad that Lot-Ionan had raised him: Unlike his companions, he was able to surmount his antipathy to the elves.

Liъtasil sat down on a wooden throne, the back and arms of which were decorated with rich intarsia of palandium and gold. Amber and semiprecious gems added to the opulence. Stools were brought for the guests, but Djerun had to stand.

Rodario's quill moved tirelessly across the page as he took notes, made sketches, and complimented the elves effusively. Furgas stared reverently at his surroundings, while Narmora's дlf ancestry made it hard for her to relax. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line and she clung to her stool, appearing agitated and unwell.

Liъtasil gave an order, and his attendants brought out bread, water, and other offerings, which they served with visible reluctance to Tungdil and friends. The dwarves, whose presence in Вlandur had obviously caused an upset, weren't familiar with most of the victuals, but felt obliged to eat. Boпndil was the first to take a wary bite.

"I don't care what it tastes like; you'd better not complain or spit it out," Tungdil warned him sharply.

The look of disgust that was beginning to take shape on the warrior's face mutated into a wonky smile. Boпndil forced down his mouthful, swallowed noisily, and reached for some water to wash away the taste. "Don't touch the yellow stuff," was his whispered advice to Balyndis, after which he restricted himself to bread.

More elves arrived in the course of the meal and took their places on carved chairs to either side of their monarch. They eyed the dwarves with interest.

Rodario added a little water to his last remaining drops of ink. "That should do the trick," he said, smiling.

"Perhaps we could speak of the purpose of your visit," began the elven lord. "I shan't be able to reach a decision until you've told me all that has gone before. Speak only the truth; we will know if you try to deceive us."

It's my job to convince them. Tungdil glanced at the others and rose to his feet. He looked into the waiting faces of the elves. Until recently, Liъtasil and his kind had been under suspicion of the most heinous betrayal, but the fifthlings' story had cleared the way for a new beginning. It was up to Tungdil to forge the alliance that the high king had dreamed of. Speak with a scholar's wisdom and authority, he told himself. More nervous than ever, he took a sip of water, stuck his hands in Giselbert's belt, and commenced his account of their journey.