Eble and Fred walked back to the path. It wound and twisted away into the darkness of the wood. Eble was greatly relieved that his path led out of this forest rather than in- if it were the latter, he doubted he could find his way again.
The halfling turned back to the fields and plains that lay before him, coated and covered with beautiful flowers of every colour. A ledge dropped down over them, and Eble sat and dangled his legs over it. The plains stretched right and left until they reached cliffs overlooking the fields on either side. The plains continued around the far sides of the jagged overlooks, and the golden morning sun cast rays of light upon the rolling hills. The forest resumed many miles ahead, and beyond that lay a towering castle.
“I must reach that fortress!” Eble thought to himself. “Maybe there I might find answers.”
But something else caught Eble’s eye. Around the cliffs to the west Eble noticed with alarm a line of men marching into the fields. And then another. And another. This was an army. As he watched a loud horn sounded, echoing over the plains.
The soldiers wore armour and helms of green and gold, and held red shields reinforced with silver. At their sides hung swords in scabbards of shining steel. As more came Eble noticed that some of the men held banners adorned with the simple design of a silver eight pointed star. Eble could not see much more than this; the warriors were too far away.
Almost instantly another, deeper horn rang out over the fields. To the left over the easternmost hills another army marched, carrying banners of gray and violet and wearing armour of similar shades. Their shields were black as obsidian, and they carried banners that waved the design of the same eight pointed star, yet webs hung from its spires.
Eble did not know what to do! He had walked right in on a battle. He wanted to gallop Fred across the plain, but the forest seemed so far, and he didn’t know if he could outrun the armies!
Now, the truth is that Eble and Fred probably could have made it had Eble known more about how slowly heavily burdened armies of Elves marched, but he didn’t. And so he resolved to wait until the battle was done, and then rush across the field as quick as he could. Although our halfling knew much, he still had lots to learn before he could call himself a true Bard.
x
. . .
It was hours before the armies met. Eble sat and played a melody as the soldiers marched on wearily, drawing closer and closer. He talked to Fred and paced to and fro, reciting verses he had learned as a small halfling.
As more soldiers appeared over the horizon, Eble noticed that on the cliffs men began to appear. It seemed that they wore less armour than the rest, and these stood in a line near the edges of the overlooks, surveying the armies.
Finally the warriors stopped. They were maybe a hundred paces away from each other, standing patiently in neat rows. Eble ran to the edge of his ledge to watch.
Two soldiers (Eble supposed they must be generals) rode forth on horses and approached each other, their horses cantering nervously. They stopped about ten paces apart, and for the first time Eble could see their faces. Their ears were thin and pointed, and their hair was long and fair. They were elves! But the second general was different than the other elves that Eble had met. She was female, for one, and her skin was dark and ebony. She carried a black mace, and her armour was decorated with spider-like emblems. A dark elf! One of the exiles Eble had read of in the library. She must be a priestess… a priestess of Lolth!
Lolth was the evil, monstrous Goddess of spiders and the patron of the dark elves. She held the titles of both Goddess and Demon Lord, making her almost as powerful as the true gods. She ruled the evil drow in spite and cunning, never releasing her hold on their poor souls. They served her in evil, alone in the dark caverns beneath the world. Dark elves hate most of all the light elves of the surface world, and strive at all times for their destruction.
Eble faintly heard their voices although he could not make out their words. After a time the two generals parted, and they rode back to the fronts of their respective troops.
Both leaders began to rally their men. They cried words in a language unknown to Eble (He thought it must have been elvish), but their furious passion came through in their voices. The dark elves began to chant, raising their swords in the air. The light elf general spoke fair words to his people, words of courage and valour. He finished his speech with a shout, and his men echoed it passionately.
There was a moment of silence on both sides.
Both generals shouted cries of war, and the two armies rushed at each other, weapons drawn and shields raised. When one hit the other instant chaos ensued. Elves died on the edges of others’ swords, and the lucky among them bounced the first attacks off of their shields, before succumbing to the next few.
Eble looked up to the cliffs. The lines of elves standing near their edges were now holding aloft what looked like staves and wands and crystal balls, and orbs of blue and red and green light were shaping into balls of fire, and arcs of lightning, and globes of acid. These mages hurled their magic into the opposing forces, sending up great explosions and destroying many.
The battle raged for thirty minutes, and still swarms of soldiers appeared. The sorcerers continued their assault, and as their magic waned more stepped forth to take their place.
Eble propped himself up against a tree and habitually began halfheartedly strumming a tune on his lute, intently watching the battle. What a strange morning- waking up to find a calamitous war before you!
Hours and hours passed. Eble grew impatient- when would this battle end? He had a book to find, and questions that needed answering!
More hours passed, and Eble tried to nap. It was impossible, though, amid the sounds of war- metal clashing, elves screaming, and things blowing up. After twenty minutes of trying, Eble gave up and continued watching.
The light elves seemed to be winning, but not by much. They pushed their enemies back, but many of their own had fallen. At his height, Eble could see that the light elves were preparing a cavalry charge.
Their white horsemen sped up, coming to a sprint. They held curved spears ready, and when they hit the dark elves’ forces they cleaved into many. The drow fell back, scattering to either side of the stampeding line.
They cut a swath through the enemy army, creating a curved, bloody line through their troops. The drow mages sent down their hellish purple fire to smite the light elves, but the horsemen raised shields and deflected their assault.
This attack proved the dark elves’ undoing. In fear their forces began to retreat, as with renewed vigour the light elven infantry resumed its assault. They pushed back the dark elves, slaying many and sending the last of them scurrying. The drow sorcerers used their last spells to fly above the trees and away into the horizon. They were gone.
The forces of light cheered, shouted cries of victory That echoed off of the surrounding cliffs. They raised their weapons triumphantly, and for a solid ten or twenty minutes they did nothing but this, congratulating each other and celebrating their victory.
The elves assembled their forces and prepared to depart. On great carts they collected and wheeled away the dead, and as the troops departed they sang songs of mourning and sorrow for their fallen comrades.
Finally they were gone. At last Eble found himself free to cross the plains, and he sighed with relief. He packed up his instruments and untied Fred, cantering to the slope. It was far too steep, but to the left there seemed to be a safe path.
Eble and Fred descended slowly, and after a minute or two they reached the level ground of the plains. At a canter they set off, and Fred’s clopping hooves were the only sound to be heard.
Eble felt a chill run down his spine. Blood and ruin lay all about, amid colorful flowers and tall green grass. Arrows peppered the ground, and the bodies of dark elves lay all about. A landscape that should hold beauty had been sundered. Eble passed the banner of the drow, and shivering he urged Fred on.
Eble retched as he came upon the most gruesome scene yet. Here lay both elven generals, their bodies a heap of red mess. Their swords lay alone by their sides. The red grass swayed calmly in the breeze.
Eble started as the sound of earth moving broke the silence. Turning around, he watched as clods of grass and dirt pushed up into mounds. Large hands clawed their way through the bloody dirt, grasping and yearning for the surface. Fred cantered back, neighing nervously. Eble watched closely, tense with uncertainty.
Up popped three little men. And then two more! They wore large, wild beards, and their long floppy ears hung down under huge red hats. They slouched near to the ground, and there was a murderous fire in their eyes.
The five creatures gazed about wildly for a moment before their eyes locked onto Eble and Fred. The nearest screamed shrilly and the gang charged the pair.
Eble urged Fred forward with panic. The monsters were nearly upon them, and Eble did not want to help them redden their hats this day, no thank you! Fred seemed to be gaining distance on them, and Eble breathed a sigh of relief as the little men receded into the distance.
This was cut short when Eble noticed more little mounds raising in the earth ahead. He urged Fred on harder than ever, and it seemed that they might make it over the tiny, rising hills...!
With horror Eble saw hands thrusting out of the mounds before Fred. He tried to stop him, but it was too late- the pony went sailing right over the waiting arms, and Eble felt it as one of the creatures grabbed onto Fred’s leg. He looked down, and sure enough- one of the little goblins was thumping along with them.
“If only I had a sword!” Eble thought to himself angrily. “Then I might chop the little beasts’ hand off!” He spurred Fred on, hoping to lose the little man. To his dismay the creature had a grip of steel, and more monsters were popping up by the second.
Eble chanced a glance behind him. Hundreds of screaming, gnomish men now chased them, holding clubs and axes and swords. Fred was tiring, as well. “I never should have let him grow so fat!” Eble thought to himself.
The bloody spectacle thinned around him, but the army was keeping- no, increasing pace. They were closer than before, powered by an infernal hatred and bloodlust for the halfling and his pony.
But just as Eble thought they would catch him, the little men suddenly started to literally dissolve! The goblin that gripped Fred’s leg gushed away into red goo, making a bloody splatter on the ground. At a certain point, the creatures would just melt into blood and sink into the earth. With astonishment Eble realized what had saved him. As the distance between Fred and the bloody corpses increased, the power that drove these killers waned. Now that they were cleared of the gore, the creatures could no longer chase them!
Now that Eble knew he was safe from the red-capped things, he turned Fred around and watched his pursuers. They stood, stock still, watching the two with burning hatred. And then, as if on one discordant note, they all melted. Blood soaked into the earth, and all that remained were their small, red caps. Eble shivered. What kind of place was this?
. . .
Eble reached the woods beyond the field shortly after three o’clock. One of the few proper bardic skills he knew was telling sun-time. One could not be sure of the exact time, but a guess was easy enough.
Normally, Eble would have camped on the edge of this forest, but something told him to move on, to leave this dark battlefield behind. The beautiful forest ahead would be welcome after the gory ordeal of earlier.
Eble oiled and lit a torch before riding away into the ancient trees. “What have I gotten myself into?” He wondered as the forest swallowed him away into the night.
