"They have stood you in good stead, elf."
"That they have." A light was in her eye and dancing in the stone that hung upon her breast. "I shall bring you wild honey when next we come. The Gruagach likes his saucer and his cup of ale, but most of all he likes the fields, o Man. For that he labors. And still your fences stand; and shall. But there will be singing in your brook come moonrise. And that will take no saucers and respect no fences." She set the cup aside. "May your tame trees flourish, neighbor. And those who care for them. The luck is on this place and rests on all who find it."
"On our friends," said Liosliath, whose way was to say little. "When you go south, I shall go, and show you wonders."
"Might we?" asked Meadhbh at once.
"Not yet," said Arafel. "But someday soon—The gifts I gave you: how do they fare?"
Meadhbh looked distressed then, looked at Branwyn, and Ceallach did, in a way that boded something, that foretold secrets and Sidhe things long kept from her. Her heart ached without knowing why at the look in her daughter's eyes. I love you, she thought at her children: she was doomed to love the Sidhe, at last, the green magic, the things that would not be held. "I love you," she shaped with her lips, and thought: even if I lose you now.
They brought out the gifts, but no longer leaves—they were stones, filled with light. "They changed," said Ceallach to the Sidhe. "They changed that day."
"So did Miadhail," said Arafel. "He was the only tree born within Man's age. They were his life you bore; no one else could have borne it but Sidhe born within this age. Your burden was more precious than even your father knew. Now they hold your hearts; be careful of them, to keep them what they are."
She looked at Branwyn, a long, gray glance in which the wind forgot to breathe and nothing stirred. "This place will hold you while you will. Forever if you like. But take my counsel—go."
"Go where?" asked Branwyn. "Where should we go? Our enemies have Caer Wiell—do they not?"
"Do you not know by now," asked Beorc beside her, "that you are beyond the sea—that the land has left the world?"
"Then my father—" said Rhys. "My home—"
"Oh, your mountains are here," said Liosliath. "The forest, the plain—all, wherever Camhanach sounded in Men's hearts. The world goes on much as it was. It will not miss this little corner of it. Your mountains, Caer Wiell and Donn—Dun na h-Eoin of the Kings —Men might till the fields, heal old scars, live in peace with Eald— Have you not seen gulls fly here? They come from behind the wind."
"The realms are divided now," said Arafel. "The dark things and the brighter—we could not take the bright and leave the dark to Men. Caer Wiell might be; many things might be, Branwyn of Caer Wiell."
"Go there," said Liosliath.
Tears burned in Branwyn's eyes so that the Sidhe's brightness wavered. "If he were here, lord elf—"
"Do what pleases you. He would say that if he were here."
She thought on it, on fields golden in the sun, on steadings far and wide, and something widened in her heart, forever.
They rode out into the morning and Arafel looked back as the Gruagach capered along the fence rail a little distance, as earthborn horses paced them and whinnied salutation to their own.
"Care for them!" Liosliath called. "Take care for them all!"
"The Gruagach is with them," the Brown Man called. "Fair, o fair the morning, Daoine Sidhe, and the spring will be long, o long—fare well, fare back, light shine on you, Daoine Sidhe!"
The Steading fields lay brown beneath the plow; the hills were turning green and Men had their work before them. Liosliath loved these human folk; there was no helping that.
And if Arafel searched her heart she found a certain joy in seeing the works of Men, neat fields, well cared for, folk keeping their boundaries and observing such swift change within them. They were scattered far, from Dryw in the south to these folk of the Steading. At Dun Gol the drow slept fast. In Lioslinn, in those dark waters— no one knew what slept. But Men would wonder. They would be faring here and there through Eald, and dreaming dreams of things not yet done; but that was the way of Men.
They were chance, and risk and change.
And sometimes there was greatness about them. Liosliath could say so.
If one thing was certain, thought Arafel on this morning of the world, it was that change might happen; and the Daoine Sidhe rode through the land in hope of things unfound.
On Names
Ealdwood is a place in faery and has like all such places an indefi nite geography. The nomenclature is Celtic and Welsh, with a touch of the Old English, so this particular corner of faery in language and in spirit sits at some juncture of lands where there has been much coming and going of various peoples, likeliest some corner just above Wales, a lovely and ancient place. In this world the speakers of the English are farthest east; the Welsh to the south; and the speakers of the Celtic tongues have their homes farthest seaward: but they mix at Caer Wiell.
As for the elves, they have generally Celtic names, or the Celtic is very like elvish: or what it once was.
Certain of the names like Arafel and Evald which appear early and often, show a different orthography, being somewhat older in the story, and here retained in mercy to the reader, and in further sym pathy to the reader who may never have dealt with any of these tongues, the following table may provide some aid, and some delight as well, since the names of Eald are, if one knows how to look at them, our own.
There are many sounds to be passed over very lightly: the reader skilled in languages may come closest to the ancient way of saying them just by the hint of them passing over the tongue. But this was very long ago and accents change even over one hill and the other, let alone in and out of faery. For most readers who only wish to read without tripping on the words, this table will give little hint of these almost silent sounds, paring them away until only the simplest ver sion is left. C will denote the words that are Celtic; W the Welsh; OE the English.
In general, in the Celtic words, be it noted, mh and bh are the sound we call v; ch is breathed, if possible, as in the familiar loch, a word for lake (but k will do); -gach has often by our day gone to the sound of a hard -gy; and the profusion of vowels has generally a single simple sound at the heart.
In the Welsh most notably -dd- is -th-.
In the English, easiest to render ae- as simple e-, and to treat hr-as r-.
Where a name has a more familiar form, it will be given in capitals.
And if for any reader this small list provokes further curiosity, Celtic, Welsh, and Old English reference works are not that difficult to find. A good place to begin is, after all, with names, the -nesses and -hams and -denes and -eys that come off modern tongues as if they had no meaning in themselves. Names do have power, after all, that of conjuring images of places we have not seen.
aelf (elf) OE an elf
Aelfraeda (elf red a) OE from aelf [elf] and raeda [counsel]
aesc (esh) OE ash
Aescbourne (esh burn) OE ash brook: ASHBURN
Aescford (esh ford) OE ash ford: ASHFORD
Aesclinn (esh linn) OE ash pooclass="underline" ASHLIN
Airgiod (ar gi ud) C silver
Airgiodach (air gyud y) C silver leaves
Alhhard (al ard) OE sacred courage: ALLARD
An Beag (an beg) C small
Aodhan (a o dan) C rascaclass="underline" AIDAN