_The Magical Sword Meets Some of the Swords of Elfland_
When Alveric came to the enchanted wood the light in which Elfland
glowed had neither grown nor dwindled, and he saw that it came from no
radiance that shines on the fields we know, unless the wandering lights
of wonderful moments that sometimes astonish our fields, and are gone
the instant they come, are strayed over the border of Elfland by some
momentary disorder of magic. Neither sun nor moon made the light of that
enchanted day.
A line of pine trees up which ivy climbed, as high as their lowering
black foliage, stood like sentinels at the edge of the wood. The silver
spires were shining as though it were they that made all this azure glow
in which Elfland swam. And Alveric having by now come far into Elfland,
and being now before its capital palace, and knowing that Elfland
guarded its mysteries well, drew his father's sword before he entered
the wood. The other still hung on his back, slung in its new scabbard
over his left shoulder.
And the moment he passed by one of those guardian pine trees, the ivy
that lived on it unfastened its tendrils and, rapidly letting itself
down, came straight for Alveric and clutched at his throat.
The long thin sword of his father was just in time; had it not been
drawn he would have scarcely got it out, so swift was the rush of the
ivy. He cut tendril after tendril that grasped his limbs as ivy grasps
old towers, and still more tendrils came for him, until he severed its
main stem between him and the tree. And as he was doing this he heard a
hissing rush behind him, and another had come down from another tree and
was rushing at him with all its leaves spread out. The green thing
looked wild and angry as it gripped his left shoulder as though it would
hold it forever. But Alveric severed those tendrils with a blow of his
sword and then fought with the rest, while the first one was still alive
but now too short to reach him, and was lashing its branches angrily on
the ground. And soon, as the surprise of the attack was over and he had
freed himself of the tendrils that had gripped him, Alveric stepped back
till the ivy could not reach him and he could still fight it with his
long sword. The ivy crawled back then to lure Alveric on, and sprang at
him when he followed it. But, terrible though the grip of ivy is, that
was a good sharp sword; and very soon Alveric, all bruised though he
was, had so lopped his assailant that it fled back up its tree. Then he
stepped back and looked at the wood in the light of his new experience,
choosing a way through. He saw at once that in the barrier of pine trees
the two in front of him had had their ivy so shortened in the fight that
if he went mid-way between the two the ivy of neither would be able to
reach him. He then stepped forward, but the moment he did so he noticed
one of the pine trees move closer to the other. He knew then that the
time was come to draw his magical sword.
So he returned his father's sword to the scabbard by his side and drew
out the other over his shoulder and, going straight up to the tree that
had moved, swept at the ivy as it sprang at him: and the ivy fell all at
once to the ground, not lifeless but a heap of common ivy. And then he
gave one blow to the trunk of the tree, and a chip flew out not larger
than a common sword would have made, but the whole tree shuddered; and
with that shudder disappeared at once a certain ominous look that the
pine had had, and it stood there an ordinary unenchanted tree. Then he
stepped on through the wood with his sword drawn.
He had not gone many paces when he heard behind him a sound like a faint
breeze in the tree-tops, yet no wind was blowing in that wood at all. He
looked round therefore, and saw that the pine trees were following him.
They were coming slowly after him, keeping well out of the way of his
sword, but to left and right they were gaining on him, so that he saw he
was being gradually shut in by a crescent that grew thicker and thicker
as it crowded amongst the trees that it met on the way, and would soon
crush him to death. Alveric saw at once that to turn back would be
fatal, and decided to push right on, relying chiefly on speed; for his
quick perception had already noticed something slow about the magic that
swayed the wood; as though whoever controlled it were old or weary of
magic, or interrupted by other things. So he went straight ahead,
hitting every tree in his way, whether enchanted or not, a blow with his
magical sword; and the runes that ran in that metal from the other side
of the sun were stronger than any spells that there were in the wood.
Great oak trees with sinister boles drooped and lost all their
enchantment as Alveric flashed past them with a flick of that magical
sword. He was marching faster than the clumsy pines. And soon he left in
that weird and eerie wood a wake of trees that were wholly unenchanted,
that stood there now without hint of romance or mystery even.
And all of a sudden he came from the gloom of the wood to the emerald
glory of the Elf King's lawns. Again, we have hints of such things here.
Imagine lawns of ours just emerging from night, flashing early lights
from their dewdrops when all the stars have gone; bordered with flowers
that just begin to appear, their gentle colours all coming back after
night; untrodden by any feet except the tiniest and wildest; shut off
from the wind and the world by trees in whose fronds is still darkness:
picture these waiting for the birds to sing; there is almost a hint
there sometimes of the glow of the lawns of Elfland; but then it passes
so quickly that we can never be sure. More beautiful than aught our
wonder guesses, more than our hearts have hoped, were the dewdrop lights
and twilights in which these lawns glowed and shone. And we have another
thing by which to hint of them, those seaweeds or sea-mosses that drape
Mediterranean rocks and shine out of blue-green water for gazers from
dizzy cliffs: more like sea-floors were these lawns than like any land
of ours, for the air of Elfland is thus deep and blue.
At the beauty of these lawns Alveric stood gazing as they shone through
twilight and dew, surrounded by the mauve and ruddy glory of the massed
flowers of Elfland, beside which our sunsets pale and our orchids droop;
and beyond them lay like night the magical wood. And jutting from that
wood, with glittering portals all open wide to the lawns, with windows
more blue than our sky on Summer's nights; as though built of starlight;
shone that palace that may be only told of in song.
As Alveric stood there with his sword in his hand, at the wood's edge,
scarcely breathing, with his eyes looking over the lawns at the chiefest
glory of Elfland; through one of the portals alone came the King of
Elfland's daughter. She walked dazzling to the lawns without seeing
Alveric. Her feet brushed through the dew and the heavy air and gently
pressed for an instant the emerald grass, which bent and rose, as our
harebells when blue butterflies light and leave them, roaming care-free
along the hills of chalk.
And as she passed he neither breathed nor moved, nor could have moved if
those pines had still pursued him, but they stayed in the forest not
daring to touch those lawns.
She wore a crown that seemed to be carved of great pale sapphires; she
shone on those lawns and gardens like a dawn coming unaware, out of long
night, on some planet nearer than us to the sun. And as she passed near
Alveric she suddenly turned her head; and her eyes opened in a little
wonder. She had never before seen a man from the fields we know.
And Alveric gazed in her eyes all speechless and powerless still: it was
indeed the Princess Lirazel in her beauty. And then he saw that her
crown was not of sapphires but ice.
"Who are you?" she said. And her voice had the music that, of earthly
things, was most like ice in thousands of broken pieces rocked by a wind
of Spring upon lakes in some northern country.
And he said: "I come from the fields that are mapped and known."
And then she sighed for a moment for those fields, for she had heard how
life beautifully passes there, and how there are always in those fields
young generations, and she thought of the changing seasons and children
and age, of which elfin minstrels had sung when they told of Earth.
And when he saw her sigh for the fields we know he told her somewhat of
that land whence he had come. And she questioned him further, and soon
he was telling her tales of his home and the Vale of Erl. And she
wondered to hear of it and asked him many questions more; and then he
told her all that he knew of Earth, not presuming to tell Earth's story
from what his own eyes had seen in his bare score of years, but telling
those tales and fables of the ways of beasts and men, that the folk of
Erl had drawn out of the ages, and which their elders told by the fire
at evening when children asked of what happened long ago. Thus on the
edge of those lawns whose miraculous glory was framed by flowers we have
never known, with the magical wood behind them, and that palace shining
near which may only be told of in song, they spoke of the simple wisdom
of old men and old women, telling of harvests and the blossoming of
roses and may, of when to plant in gardens, of what wild animals knew;
how to heal, how to sow, how to thatch, and of which of the winds in
what seasons blow over the fields we know.
And then there appeared those knights who guard that palace lest any
should come through the enchanted wood. Four of them they came shining
over the lawns in armour, their faces not to be seen. In all the
enchanted centuries of their lives they had not dared to dream of the
princess: they had never bared their faces when they knelt armed before
her. Yet they had sworn an oath of dreadful words that no man else
should ever speak with her, if one should come through the enchanted
wood. With this oath now on their lips they marched towards Alveric.
Lirazel looked at them sorrowfully yet could not halt them, for they
came by command of her father which she could not avert; and well she
knew that her father might not recall his command, for he had uttered it
ages ago at the bidding of Fate. Alveric looked at their armour, which
seemed to be brighter than any metal of ours, as though it came from one
of those buttresses near, which are only told of in song; then he went
towards them drawing his father's sword, for he thought to drive its
slender point through some joint of the armour. The other he put into
his left hand.
As the first knight struck, Alveric parried, and stopped the blow, but
there came a shock like lightning into his arm and the sword flew from
his hand, and he knew that no earthly sword could meet the weapons of
Elfland, and took the magical sword in his right hand. With this he
parried the strokes of the Princess Lirazel's guard, for such these four
knights were, having waited for this occasion through all the ages of
Elfland. And no more shock came to him from any of those swords, but
only a vibration in his own sword's metal that passed through it like a
song, and a kind of a glow that arose in it, reaching to Alveric's heart
and cheering it.
But as Alveric continued to parry the swift blows of the guard, that
sword that was kin to the lightning grew weary of these defences, for it
had in its essence speed and desperate journeys; and, lifting Alveric's
hand along with it, it swept blows at the elvish knights, and the
armour of Elfland could not hold it out. Thick and curious blood began
to pour through rifts in the armour, and soon of that glittering company
two were fallen; and Alveric, encouraged by the zeal of his sword fought
cheerily and soon overthrew another, so that only he and one of the
guard remained, who seemed to have some stronger magic about him than
had been given to his fallen comrades. And so it was, for when the Elf
King had first enchanted the guard he had charmed this elvish soldier
first of all, while all the wonder of his runes were new; and the
soldier and his armour and his sword had something still of this early
magic about them, more potent than any inspirations of wizardry that had
come later from his master's mind. Yet this knight, as Alveric soon was
able to feel along his arm and his sword, had none of those three master
runes of which the old witch had spoken when she made the sword on her
hill; for these were preserved unuttered by the King of Elfland himself,
with which to hedge his own presence. To have known of their existence
she must have flown by broom to Elfland and spoken secretly alone with
the King.
And the sword that had visited Earth from so far away smote like the
falling of thunderbolts; and green sparks rose from the armour, and
crimson as sword met sword; and thick elvish blood moved slowly, from
wide slits, down the cuirass; and Lirazel gazed in awe and wonder and
love; and the combatants edged away fighting into the forest; and
branches fell on them hacked off by their fight; and the runes in
Alveric's far-travelled sword exulted, and roared at the elf-knight;
until in the dark of the wood, amongst branches severed from
disenchanted trees, with a blow like that of a thunderbolt riving an oak
tree, Alveric slew him.
At that crash, and at that silence, Lirazel ran to his side.
"Quick!" she said. "For my father has three runes ..." She durst not
speak of them.
"Whither?" said Alveric.
And she said: "To the fields you know."