_Lirazel Remembers the Fields We Know_
As the trolls scurried earthwards to laugh at the ways of man, Lirazel
stirred where she sat on her father's knee, who grave and calm on his
throne of mist and ice had hardly moved for twelve of our earthly years.
She sighed and the sigh rippled over the fells of dream and lightly
troubled Elfland. And the dawns and the sunsets and twilight and the
pale blue glow of stars, that are blended together forever to be the
light of Elfland, felt a faint touch of sorrow and all their radiance
shook. For the magic that caught these lights and the spells that bound
them together, to illumine forever the land that owes no allegiance to
Time, were not so strong as a sorrow rising dark from a royal mood of a
princess of the elvish line. She sighed, for through her long content
and across the calm of Elfland there had floated a thought of Earth; so
that in the midmost splendours of Elfland, of which song can barely
tell, she called to mind common cowslips, and many a trivial weed of the
fields we know. And walking in those fields she saw in fancy Orion, upon
the other side of the boundary of twilight, remote from her by she knew
not what waste of years. And the magical glories of Elfland and its
beauty beyond our dreaming, and the deep deep calm in which ages slept,
unhurt unhurried by time, and the art of her father that guarded the
least of the lilies from fading, and the spells by which he made
day-dreams and yearnings true, held her fancy no longer from roving nor
contented her any more. And so her sigh blew over the magical land and
slightly troubled the flowers.
And her father felt her sorrow and knew that it troubled the flowers and
knew that it shook the calm that lay upon Elfland, though no more than a
bird would shake a regal curtain, fluttering against its folds, when
wandering lost upon a Summer's night. And though he knew too it was but
for Earth that she sorrowed, preferring some mundane way to the midmost
glories of Elfland, as she sat with him on the throne that may only be
told of in song, yet even this moved nothing in his magical heart but
compassion; as we might pity a child who in fanes that to us seemed
sacred might be found to be sighing for some trivial thing. And the more
that Earth seemed to him unworthy of sorrow, being soon come soon gone,
the helpless prey of time, an evanescent appearance seen off the coasts
of Elfland, too brief for the graver care of a mind weighted with magic,
the more he pitied his child for her errant whim that had rashly
wandered here, and become entangled--alas--with the things that pass
away. Ah, well! she was not content. He felt no wrath against Earth that
had lured her fancies away: she was not content with the innermost
splendours of Elfland, but she sighed for something more: his tremendous
art should give it. So he raised his right arm up from the thing whereon
it rested, a part of his mystical throne that was made of music and
mirage; he raised his right arm up and a hush fell over Elfland.
The great leaves ceased from their murmur through the green deeps of the
forest; silent as carven marble were fabulous bird and monster; and the
brown trolls scampering earthwards all halted suddenly hushed. Then out
of the hush rose little murmurs of yearning, little sounds as of longing
for things that no songs can say, sounds like the voices of tears if
each little salt drop could live, and be given a voice to tell of the
ways of grief. Then all these little rumours danced gravely into a
melody that the master of Elfland called up with his magical hand. And
the melody told of dawn coming up over infinite marshes, far away upon
Earth or some planet that Elfland did not know; growing slowly out of
deep darkness and starlight and bitter cold; powerless, chilly and
cheerless, scarce overcoming the stars; obscured by shadows of thunder
and hated by all things dark; enduring, growing and glowing; until
through the gloom of the marshes and across the chill of the air came
all in a glorious moment the splendour of colour; and dawn went onward
with this triumphant thing, and the blackest clouds turned slowly rose
and rode in a sea of lilac, and the darkest rocks that had guarded night
shone now with a golden glow. And when his melody could say no more of
this wonder, that had forever been foreign to all the elvish dominions,
then the King moved his hand where he held it high, as one might beckon
to birds, and called up a dawn over Elfland, luring it from some planet
of those that are nearest the sun. And fresh and fair though it came
from beyond the bourn of geography, and out of an age long lost and
beyond history's ken, a dawn glowed upon Elfland that had known no dawn
before. And the dewdrops of Elfland slung from the bended tips of the
grasses gathered in that dawn to their tiny spheres and held there
shining and wonderful that glory of skies such as ours, the first they
had ever seen.
And the dawn grew strangely and slowly over those unwonted lands,
pouring upon them the colours that day after day our daffodils, and day
after day our wild roses, through all the weeks of their season, drink
deep with voluptuous assemblies in utterly silent riot. And a gleam that
was new to the forest appeared on the long strange leaves, and shadows
unknown to Elfland slipped out from the monstrous tree-boles, and stole
over grasses that had not dreamed of their advent; and the spires of
that palace perceiving a wonder, less lovely indeed than they, yet knew
that the stranger was magic, and uttered an answering gleam from their
sacred windows, that flashed over elvish fells like an inspiration and
mingled a flush of rose with the blue of the Elfin Mountains. And
watchers on wonderful peaks that gazed from their crags for ages, lest
from Earth or from any star should come a stranger to Elfland, saw the
first blush of the sky as it felt the coming of dawn, and raised their
horns and blew that call that warned Elfland against a stranger. And the
guardians of savage valleys lifted horns of fabulous bulls and blew the
call again in the dark of their awful precipices, and echo carried it on
from the monstrous marble faces of rocks that repeated the call to all
their barbarous company; so Elfland rang with the warning that a strange
thing troubled her coasts. And to the land thus expectant, thus
watchful, with magical sabres elate along lonely crags, summoned from
blackened scabbards by those horns to repel an enemy, dawn came now wide
now golden, the old old wonder we know. And the palace with every
marvel and with all its charms and enchantments flashed out of its
ice-blue radiance a glory of welcome or rivalry, adding to Elfland a
splendour of which only song may say.
It was then that the elfin King moved his hand again, where he held it
high by the crystal spires of his crown, and waved a way through the
walls of his magical palace, and showed to Lirazel the unmeasured
leagues of his kingdom. And she saw by magic, for so long as his fingers
made that spell; the dark green forests and all the fells of Elfland,
and the solemn pale-blue mountains and the valleys that weird folk
guarded, and all the creatures of fable that crept in the dark of huge
leaves, and the riotous trolls as they scampered away towards Earth: she
saw the watchers lift their horns to their lips, while there flashed a
light on the horns that was the proudest triumph of the hidden art of
her father, the light of a dawn lured over unthinkable spaces to appease
his daughter and comfort her whims and recall her fancies from Earth.
She saw the lawns whereon Time had idled for centuries, withering not
one bloom of all the boundary of flowers; and the new light coming upon
the lawns she loved, through the heavy colour of Elfland, gave them a
beauty that they had never known until dawn made this boundless journey
to meet the enchanted twilight; and all the while there glowed and
flashed and glittered those palace spires of which only song may tell.
From that bewildering beauty he turned his eyes away, and looked in his
daughter's face to see the wonder with which she would welcome her
glorious home as her fancies came back from the fields of age and death,
whither--alas--they had wandered. And though her eyes were turned to the
Elfin Mountains, whose mystery and whose blue they strangely matched,
yet as the Elf King looked in those eyes for which alone he had lured
the dawn so far from its natural courses, he saw in their magical deeps
a thought of Earth! A thought of Earth, though he had lifted his arm and
made a mystical sign with all his might to bring a wonder to Elfland
that should content her with home. And all his dominions had exulted in
this, and the watchers on awful crags had blown strange calls, and
monster and insect and bird and flower had rejoiced with a new joy, and
there in the centre of Elfland his daughter thought of Earth.
Had he shown her any wonder but dawn he might have lured home that
fancy, but in bringing this exotic beauty to Elfland to blend with its
ancient wonders, he awoke memories of morning coming over fields that he
knew not, and Lirazel played in fancy in fields once more with Orion,
where grew the unenchanted earthly flowers amongst the English grasses.
"Is it not enough?" he said in his strange rich magical voice, and
pointed across his wide lands with the fingers that summoned wonder.
She sighed: it was not enough.
And sorrow came upon that enchanted King: he had only his daughter, and
she sighed for Earth. There had been once a queen that had reigned with
him over Elfland; but she was mortal, and being mortal died. For she
would often stray to the hills of Earth to see the may again, or to see
the beechwoods in Autumn; and though she stayed but a day when she came
to the fields we know, and was back in the palace beyond the twilight
before our sun had set, yet Time found her whenever she came; and so she
wore away, and soon she died in Elfland; for she was only a mortal. And
wondering elves had buried her, as one buries the daughters of men. And
now the King was all alone with his daughter, and she had just sighed
for Earth. Sorrow was on him, but out of the dark of that sorrow arose,
as often with men, and went up singing out of his mourning mind, an
inspiration gleaming with laughter and joy. He stood up then and raised
up both his arms and his inspiration broke over Elfland in music. And
with the tide of that music there went like the strength of the sea an
impulse to rise and dance which none in Elfland resisted. Gravely he
waved his arms and the music floated from them; and all that stalked
through the forest and all that crept upon leaves, all that leaped among
craggy heights or browsed upon acres of lilies, all things in all manner
of places, yea the sentinel guarding his presence, the lonely
mountain-watchers and the trolls as they scampered towards Earth, all
danced to a tune that was made of the spirit of Spring, arrived on an
earthly morning amongst happy herds of goats.
And the trolls were very near to the frontier now, their faces already
puckered to laugh at the ways of men; they were hurrying with all the
eagerness of small vain things to be over the twilight that lies between
Elfland and Earth: now they went forward no longer, but only glided in
circles and intricate spirals, dancing some such dance as the gnats in
Summer evenings dance over the fields we know. And grave monsters of
fable in deeps of the ferny forest danced minuets that witches had made
of their whims and their laughter, long ago long ago in their youth
before cities had come to the world. And the trees of the forest heavily
lifted slow roots out of the ground and swayed upon them uncouthly and
then danced as on monstrous claws, and the insects danced on the huge
waving leaves. And in the dark of long caverns weird things in
enchanted seclusion rose out of their age-long sleep and danced in the
damp.
And beside the wizard King stood, swaying slightly to the rhythm that
had set dancing all magical things, the Princess Lirazel with that faint
gleam on her face that shone from a hidden smile; for she secretly
smiled forever at the power of her great beauty. And all in a sudden
moment the Elf King raised one hand higher and held it high and stilled
all that danced in Elfland, and gripped by a sudden awe all magical
things, and sent over Elfland a melody all made of notes he had caught
from wandering inspirations that sing and stray through limpid blue
beyond our earthly coasts: and all the land lay deep in the magic of
that strange music. And the wild things that Earth has guessed at and
the things hidden even from legend were moved to sing age-old songs that
their memories had forgotten. And fabulous things of the air were lured
downwards out of great heights. And emotions unknown and unthought of
troubled the calm of Elfland. The flood of music beat with wonderful
waves against the slopes of the grave blue Elfin Mountains, till their
precipices uttered strange bronze-like echoes. On Earth no noise was
heard of music or echo: not a note came through the narrow border of
twilight, not a sound, not a murmur. Elsewhere those notes ascended, and
passed like rare strange moths through all the fields of Heaven, and
hummed like untraceable memories about the souls of the blessed; and the
angels heard that music but were forbidden to envy it. And though it
came not to Earth, and though never our fields have heard the music of
Elfland, yet there were then as there have been in every age, lest
despair should overtake the peoples of Earth, those that make songs for
the need of our grief and our laughter: and even they heard never a note
from Elfland across the border of twilight that kills their sound, but
they felt in their minds the dance of those magical notes, and wrote
them down and earthly instruments played them; then and never till then
have we heard the music of Elfland.
For a while the Elf King held all things that owed him allegiance, and
all their desires and wonders and fears and dreams, floating drowsy on
tides of music that was made of no sounds of Earth, but rather of that
dim substance in which the planets swim, with many another marvel that
only magic knows. And then as all Elfland was drinking the music in, as
our Earth drinks in soft rain, he turned again to his daughter with that
in his eyes that said "What land is so fair as ours?" And she turned
towards him to say "Here is my home forever." Her lips were parted to
say it and love was shining in the blue of her elfin eyes; she was
stretching her fair hands out towards her father; when they heard the
sound of the horn of a tired hunter, wearily blowing by the border of
Earth.