began to glow. The elf turned just as it burst with light from the hundreds of facets of its crystalline shape. The elf held her hands up to shield her eyes from the glare. She slowly paced toward the Lhalíi, hoping to wrap it up, but then she turned.
“Derragen!” She cried. “Can you see this light!?” There was no answer.
“Nitr? (Sister?)” A familiar voice said in elvish.
Iounelle turned in horror to see her dead brother, much younger, standing before her, as though he had somehow stepped out of the light of the Lhalíi. He looked only as young as a ten year old boy. His frame was slight and thin. He had a mop of blonde hair, from which his slender pointed ears jutted. He was as frightened as Iounelle to find himself suddenly in some strange, unnamable place.
“Albehthaire?” Iounelle said with whispered shock and wonder.
“Nanrúlee veljathal omen hótamvee, (They are telling me to return)” Albehthaire said.
“Hvók lee’a? (Who is?)” Iounelle asked.
“Ornl nathei’au, (My teachers),” Albehthaire said. “Naslee thas gádmlreth. (You’re so much older)”
“Kol’a! (Wait!)” Iounelle screamed. “Hvid garondanau kali, anrlee roel! Savihínva vinti groth! (When the garonds come, it’s a trap! Don’t leave the city!)” But Albehthaire had already faded back into the light.
But, then two figures stumbled forward out of the light. They were both older elves, one male, one female, both with white hair. Iounelle recognized them immediately.
“Mádrbrodr Wylkeho Weylunne? Mádrnitr Wylkeho Silfiette? (Great Uncle Weylunne? Great Aunt Silfliette?)” Iounelle said in astonishment.
“Hvók leenas? (Who are you?)” Weylunne asked.
“Anrlee omen, narsknee nathr wylkeho, (It’s me, your great niece)” Iounelle said. “Oslee Iounelle. (I am Iounelle)”
“Sae nasleehrod lorgam, (But you are an adult now)” Silfliette said. “Orl frasnhrod narsknee laef! (We just saved your life!)”
“-rykk aesir! Ioll méla! Nasor sifnplot anrúkk Lhalíi’anon! (-from the aesir! I remember! You drove it away with the Lhalíi!)” Iounelle said. “Kal’a’adir! Leethan pael leen eyapon! (Come through! All the elves have been killed!)”
“Slanchel, (Little One)” Silfliette said with a wise, sad smile. “Ovith ghatr lee’a hvekk bena verelln, ghatr leedádr hvekk verellifastr. (If that is what has happened, then that is what must happen)” Then Silfliette and Weylunne turned back into the light, and disappeared.
“Hínn, hínn, (No, no)” Iounelle moaned, “savihínnva vinta omen ohth. (don’t leave me alone)”
Then, another elf stepped out of the light. He was regal and sure, but seemed as surprised as Iounelle by the potency of the Lhalíi. He was tall for an elf, and powerfully built. He was clad in armor, and moved with a sense of martial sureness.
“Hvók leenas? (Who are you?)” Iounelle said through her tears.
“Iolla plánrfeeth gnefi’el naskreim’eh, (I might as well ask you)” the magnificent elf said in an older dialect, “thal naskreima bawath ornlel krenndeth. (since you bear my sword)”
“Berand Torler?” Iounelle said with a frightened whisper, recognizing him from drawings depicting him in elvish books she had read as a child.
“Ghatra lee’el ornla reimeh, (That is my name)” he said. “Savahvusth- Savahvadlth naskreima benath ornlel krenndeth? (How- Why do you have my sword?)”
“Anrúkk lee rosum te’te’te’i’au’fa árna’au narsknee vintnohl Lanisrykk, (It is many thousands of years after your departure from Lanis)” she solemnly answered. “Oslee leethan goastr. (I am the last elf)”
“Toh, (Ah)” Berand Torler calmly said. “Anrúkkdádrth lee’el mánde’ena trédth. Oslee’el thoegrnth. (Then it is in the right hands. I am relieved).” Then the legendary elf turned and walked back into the light.
The light of the Lhalíi began to fade and Iounelle fell to her knees in exhaustion. “Derragen!” She cried in
“Derragen!” She cried. “Can you see this light!?” There was no answer.
“Nitr? (Sister?)” A familiar voice said in elvish.
Iounelle turned in horror to see her dead brother, much younger, standing before her, as though he had somehow stepped out of the light of the Lhalíi. He looked only as young as a ten year old boy. His frame was slight and thin. He had a mop of blonde hair, from which his slender pointed ears jutted. He was as frightened as Iounelle to find himself suddenly in some strange, unnamable place.
“Albehthaire?” Iounelle said with whispered shock and wonder.
“Nanrúlee veljathal omen hótamvee, (They are telling me to return)” Albehthaire said.
“Hvók lee’a? (Who is?)” Iounelle asked.
“Ornl nathei’au, (My teachers),” Albehthaire said. “Naslee thas gádmlreth. (You’re so much older)”
“Kol’a! (Wait!)” Iounelle screamed. “Hvid garondanau kali, anrlee roel! Savihínva vinti groth! (When the garonds come, it’s a trap! Don’t leave the city!)” But Albehthaire had already faded back into the light.
But, then two figures stumbled forward out of the light. They were both older elves, one male, one female, both with white hair. Iounelle recognized them immediately.
“Mádrbrodr Wylkeho Weylunne? Mádrnitr Wylkeho Silfiette? (Great Uncle Weylunne? Great Aunt Silfliette?)” Iounelle said in astonishment.
“Hvók leenas? (Who are you?)” Weylunne asked.
“Anrlee omen, narsknee nathr wylkeho, (It’s me, your great niece)” Iounelle said. “Oslee Iounelle. (I am Iounelle)”
“Sae nasleehrod lorgam, (But you are an adult now)” Silfliette said. “Orl frasnhrod narsknee laef! (We just saved your life!)”
“-rykk aesir! Ioll méla! Nasor sifnplot anrúkk Lhalíi’anon! (-from the aesir! I remember! You drove it away with the Lhalíi!)” Iounelle said. “Kal’a’adir! Leethan pael leen eyapon! (Come through! All the elves have been killed!)”
“Slanchel, (Little One)” Silfliette said with a wise, sad smile. “Ovith ghatr lee’a hvekk bena verelln, ghatr leedádr hvekk verellifastr. (If that is what has happened, then that is what must happen)” Then Silfliette and Weylunne turned back into the light, and disappeared.
“Hínn, hínn, (No, no)” Iounelle moaned, “savihínnva vinta omen ohth. (don’t leave me alone)”
Then, another elf stepped out of the light. He was regal and sure, but seemed as surprised as Iounelle by the potency of the Lhalíi. He was tall for an elf, and powerfully built. He was clad in armor, and moved with a sense of martial sureness.
“Hvók leenas? (Who are you?)” Iounelle said through her tears.
“Iolla plánrfeeth gnefi’el naskreim’eh, (I might as well ask you)” the magnificent elf said in an older dialect, “thal naskreima bawath ornlel krenndeth. (since you bear my sword)”
“Berand Torler?” Iounelle said with a frightened whisper, recognizing him from drawings depicting him in elvish books she had read as a child.
“Ghatra lee’el ornla reimeh, (That is my name)” he said. “Savahvusth- Savahvadlth naskreima benath ornlel krenndeth? (How- Why do you have my sword?)”
“Anrúkk lee rosum te’te’te’i’au’fa árna’au narsknee vintnohl Lanisrykk, (It is many thousands of years after your departure from Lanis)” she solemnly answered. “Oslee leethan goastr. (I am the last elf)”
“Toh, (Ah)” Berand Torler calmly said. “Anrúkkdádrth lee’el mánde’ena trédth. Oslee’el thoegrnth. (Then it is in the right hands. I am relieved).” Then the legendary elf turned and walked back into the light.
The light of the Lhalíi began to fade and Iounelle fell to her knees in exhaustion. “Derragen!” She cried in
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