The three potential allies that Seredaine had in mind lived about a day’s walk from the Grove of Blades, and once Seredaine had filled her pack with supplies, she and Stout set out at once. The two of them were both swift travelers, well accustomed to covering a lot of ground in a single day, without much need of rest or refreshment. They made their way directly north, towards a pine forest that lay at the very edge of the valley

The sun was still up when their destination came into view, though barely. Ahead there was a little cottage that had been built in a small clearing. Pine trees formed a thick barrier around on all sides of that clearing, but Seredaine was just able to make out the shape of the roof peeking between the outline of the trees. They were quite close. All at once Stout stopped short. He had smelled something. He narrowed his eyes and released a blast of hot breath from his nostrils. He had smelled humans.

“Could the king’s men have made this far into the valley so quickly?” Seredaine asked him.

Stout shook his head. He only knew that he smelled humans. He couldn't be sure what manner of humans they were. Seredaine took a steadying breath, and drew her sword.

“So be it.” She said.

She turned towards the cottage, and broke into a run. She was accustomed to battling the odds, and it had taught her one thing: conflicts are won more often by boldness than by numbers. Loyal Stout galloped along after her. Seredaine's pulse quickened, and her warrior's senses sharpened the world around her. The human king had gone too far. His warriors had to be stopped. She would fall upon them without mercy.

Then she reached the edge of the clearing, and stopped short somewhat awkwardly. There was indeed a group of humans gathered around the cottage, but they were certainly not warriors of the king. Judging from their sloppy appearance, they seemed to be no more than common knaves, or perhaps bandits. There were a dozen of them, dressed in stained tunics and shabby jerkins, and Seredaine quickly noted that each one of them was armed. Their weapons were rather pathetic looking, rusty daggers and bent billhooks and such like, though of course it is well know that even poorly kept weapons can kill. Seredaine blinked in surprise, unsure what to do. Her warrior’s blood was up, and she had stormed into the clearing fully prepared to fight and kill. Her opponents, if they really were opponents, were just staring at her, clearly suprised by her sudden intrusion onto the scene. She lowered her sword, but she did not put it away, and Stout stayed close by her side. They were not the humans she was expecting, but they still didn’t look friendly. One of them spoke.

“Who the hell are you?” The man wanted to know.

He was a tall man with a bald head, a sharp looking nose, and a pot belly that rested upon his large belt buckle. Seredaine guessed that he was the leader of the group, by the way he swaggered around, and by the way the rest of the group kept glancing at him, to see what he would do.

“I am Seredaine, of the Grove of Blades.” Seredaine replied.

“And I am Hallam, of Wolden Town.” Said the man, with mock politeness. “Now what do you want?”

“I might ask you the same thing.” Said Seredaine. “Why do you have this house surrounded?”

“That litte cheat Lowander and his friends owe me forty pieces of gold.” Said Hallam, pointing at the cottage. “Unless you’re here to pay their debt, then bugger off.”

“That is certainly not why I am here.” Seredaine replied. “I don’t carry money of any sort, and neither does my companion.”

Stout nodded.

“Piss off then, elf.” Said Hallam. “Scamper over the border like the rest of your kind."

His men chuckled loudly, as though Hallam had said something exceptionally clever. Seredaine took a deep breath, and resisted the urge to come to blows with the humans. She was certain to find her fair share of fights on the way to Alpendaur. No sense in looking for more trouble.

“What do you plan to do with Lowander and his friends, if they can’t pay?” She asked.

It was a struggle to keep her tone even, but she managed it. Hallam grinned and made a violent gesture with the long dagger in his hand.

“Cut out their guts and string them from the trees.” He said. “If I don’t, then folk will say I’ve gone soft. That I don’t collect my debts.”

Seredaine swore under her breath. So much for avoiding trouble.

“I have need of Lowander.” She said. "So I offer you this: I will see to it that he repays you fairly once my mission has been accomplished. But I cannot let you harm him.”

“You’re not in much of a deal making position.” Said Hallam.

“That may be.” Said Seredaine. “But my deal is the only one that lets you walk away from here alive. Do not force my hand.”

Hallam made a show of counting his group, which obviously outnumbered Seredaine and Stout.

“Poor odds elf.” He said with a sneer.

“For you.” Seredaine agreed.

Sensing a fight, one of Hallam’s lackeys shoved forward to the front of the group. He was a filthy looking man, with greasy hair, a pockmarked face, and fully half of his teeth were made of wood.

“Seems we’ll be dining on boar today, me lads!” He jeered.

The next instant he was grasping his neck with both hands, for there was a dagger sticking out of it. He reeled around two or three times, as though he were drunk, then fell face down on the yard in front of the house, and lay still. He was quite dead. Seredaine had thrown the dagger of course, though she had done it so quickly that the humans had hardly seen it happen. She might have forgiven the man if he had only threatened her. Threatening Stout was another matter entirely. As for the bandits, they readied their weapons immediately, but they looked to their leader, Hallam, to see if they should attack or not. Hallam hesitated. He was furious, and wanted to kill Seredaine badly, but the last person that had opened their mouth had been slain instantly.

“I am a child of Greenhallow.” Declared Seredaine. “I have watched the centuries turn, while your kind bred and perished like rats. Begone from here, or I will kill every last one of you.”

The bandits really ought to have taken her warning, but alas, they chose to put Seredaine to the test. Two of Hallam’s bolder men rushed at Seredaine first. Her blade flashed through the air twice in rapid succession. The next moment, both of Hallam’s men were sprawled out upon the ground, dead.

“Fools!” Said Hallam. “Take her together!”

Obediently, his men rushed at her as a group. Seredaine braced for the charge, but it never reached her. Stout sprang forward and charged through the center of the bandits, scattering them to either side like ninepins. With a flourish of her blade, Seredaine strode forward. It was time to show the humans their place. If blood was the only way to make them understand that place, then so be it. She would give them fountains of it. The first bandit she reached was struggling to regain his feet, having been knocked to the ground by Stout's charge. Seredaine simply flicked her blade towards his throat with a slight motion of her wrist, and he was slain. Another bandit charged Seredaine, screaming incoherently, holding out his billhook in front of him. Seredaine sidestepped the sloppy attack, then split the man from his shoulder to his lower back as he ran by. By this time Stout had taken care of the two of the knaves himself. One had been trampled when Stout rushed into the group, and another had met his end upon the boar's sharp tusks. Hallam was running out of minions. He allowed Seredaine to cut down another of his men, and then, when her back was turned to him, he rushed her, with a dagger in each hand. Despite his attempt at surprise, to the ears of an elf, the footfalls of a human can be heard as clearly as peals of thunder. Seredaine wheeled around in time to parry Hallam’s first two dagger strikes. He swung at her with both weapons like a madman, hoping to find an opening in her guard by the sheer ferocity of his assault. Serediane backed off, knocking aside each blow, leading the fight in the direction she wanted. When she felt her heel brush against one of the fallen bandits, she deftly stepped backwards over the corpse, but Hallam lunged after her, and tripped over it. That was all the opening Seredaine needed. She cut off his head with one sure stroke. A few yards away, Stout was stomping another of the bandits into the ground with his heavy trotters. As for Hallam’s men that still lived, they seemed to have lost their taste for battle. Seredaine stooped down and wiped the blood from her blade, using the edge of Hallam’s tunic. Then she spoke.

“There was a time when your kind quaked before mine, and knew your place.” She said. “If that were still true, your friends would still be alive. Now go, and never let my eyes fall upon you again.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The knaves did as they were told, and went running into the woods as quickly as they could. They would speak of the bloody handed she-elf in whispered tones to the end of their days, be sure of that.

When the fight was done, all was still and quiet for a few moments. Then three worried looking little faces thrust forth from within the cottage, for the front door had been unlocked and opened, though just a little. The faces belonged to Lowander, who was the owner of the cottage, and his two mischevious companions, Peter and Sprindella. Once the three of them had taken a good look around, and were satisfied that the danger was over, they came outside.

Lowander was an eldish beast, which is a somewhat rare creature that is part animal and part human. The exact origin of eldish beasts is a matter of fierce debate in magical institutions throughout the Greater Realm, but one point is agreed upon. Any animal which comes in sufficient contact with wild magic during its infancy, or the pregnancy of its mother, may become an eldish beast. In Lowander's case, he was part newt and part human, so he would be properly referred to as an eld-newt, or eldish newt. Picture an oversized blue newt in a shirt and trousers, about the height of a human child, walking on its hind legs, and you will more or less undertstand how Lowander appeared. As for his character, Lowander was known as a charlatan, a rogue, a swindler, a thief, and a bald faced liar throughout Wolden Valley, and indeed, all of Candoryn. Still and all, he was useful, in his way, and Seredaine was counting on him to help her locate Alpendaur.

Peter, or Peter Patter as he was known in the thieving community, was an eld-vole, and like Lowan he was more or less an oversized member of his species who could walk on two legs, and had the clever hands of a human, and was able to talk. He had light brown fur, dark eyes, and thick whiskers that had the appearance of a mustache. Like many thieves, he dressed in simple, dark colored clothes. He was Lowander's right hand beast for two main reasons. First, he was very quick and quiet, and he knew as much or more about the business of thievery than anyone in Candoryn. The second reason, which was even more important, was that Peter had an astonishing lack of ambition compared to other members of his profession. Peter liked to be told what to do, and it never crossed his mind to stab his fellows in the back, or to try to connive for more than his fair share of any given caper. He simply had a dull, practical way about him, and he went about the business of thievery with the same sort of dull determination as a farmer rising before the sun to tend to his land. Peter never even expressed much interest in becoming wealthy due to his ventures. He stole things because that was what he was good at. That’s just the way it was.

As for Sprindella, or Sprin, as she was called by her friends, she was a pixie, which is a race that was even rarer in those parts than eldish beasts. She was smaller than a goblin or a gnome, standing about a foot and a half tall. It is widely believed by humans that all pixies have wings, but that is not the case. The mountain pixies that make their settlements upon the slopes and high peaks have wings, that is true, but Sprindella was a forest pixie, and therefore had no wings at all. Her folk had fled Candoryn some years ago, long before the elves and the dwarves were banished, and during that chaotic time, she had been separated from her family. A hard life on her own had turned her into a somewhat bitter little creature, which is quite out of character for forest pixies, as they are typically known as generous and charming folk. Not Sprindella. She had stumbled across Lowander while he was in the midst of one of his daring schemes, and she found that his life of swindling and thievery appealed to her. She had pale green skin, a tangle of brown hair, a mischievous little face, and bright, clever eyes. She wore a very small tunic and cloak, and she carried a bow which could not have been longer than half a foot.

As a team, Lowander, Peter, and Sprindella had done rather well for themselves in the interior of Candoryn, before they got a bit too bold, and were chased clear across the six counties. When they came to Wolden Valley to lie low, they had gotten themselves in bad trouble with a pack of orcs, and Seredaine had saved the three of them from being cooked alive in an iron pot. Lowander had offered to cut Seredaine in on the profits of his latest venture, but Seredaine had refused. After all, she didn’t care at all for money or jewels and such. Still, Lowander did not want her to go away empty handed. He was a rogue, but even rogues have their professional standards. One good turn, and all that. In the end he told Seredaine that if she ever needed his help, then he would drop everything at once to assist her. Neither Seredaine nor Lowander really thought that such a day would come. That had been more than two years ago.

Now Lowan was looking around his little yard, taking in the scene of carnage that Seredaine had created.

“Brilliant, Seredaine!” He said, rubbing his hands together. “Simply marvelous. I don’t like to think what would have happened if you and Stout hadn’t happened along.”

“Nothing good, I’d say.” Said Seredaine. "These men were quite serious about doing you harm. Funny how you seem to have that effect on so many people, and creatures as well."

Lowander shrugged.

"Who's to say?" He said. "Jealousy, most likely. Anyways, once more I thank you for dropping by. You must do it more often. Wish I could stay and chat, but the three of us were just about to leave."

“Not so fast.” Said Seredaine. “You owed those bandits a debt, one which it seems I have cleared you of."

“And I do appreciate that, of course.” Said Lowander.

“So you owe me a debt, yet again, which is rather convenient, as far as I’m concerned." Said Seredaine. “I have a hard task ahead of me, and I admit Stout and I will likely need your help before all is said and done. All three of you.”

Lowan’s eyes darted around and he grinned sheepishly. He rubbed his handfs together and glanced at his companions. Peter shrugged his shoulders.

“Are you trying to think of a way out of this, Lowander?” Asked Seredaine in a sharp tone.

“No, no, certainly not.” Lowan replied. Don’t suppose you would accept forty gold pieces instead of my help though?”

Stout grunted irritably and stamped his foot.

“You had the money all along?” Said Seredaine angrily. "And you let this bloodshed take place?"

“Oh come now, they were only humans, Seredaine.” Said Sprindella. “You might as well have stepped on a pack of cockroaches on our doorstep."

“Well now you really have no choice but to help me, all three of you.” Said Seredaine. “Now that I know you got me into a fight for no reason at all, other than your own greed.”

"Sounds fair and square to me." Said Peter, in a dull tone. "This is the second time she's saved us, after all."

"Fine, fine, you’ve got our help!” Said Lowander. “Come inside, you mad elf. Peter will put the kettle on, and you can tell me all about this quest of yours.”

A few minutes later, Seredaine, Lowan, Peter and Sprindella were seated elbow to elbow around the modest little table that was in the center of Lowan’s kitchen. Due to his size, Stout was obliged to wait outside the cottage, but in truth that was fine with him. He misliked crowded places. Seredaine thought it was a bit strange to have a cup of tea with almost a dozen corpses lying about right outside the door, but she had done stranger things in her day. In any case, she was thirsty, and the tea that Peter had brewed smelled delicious. With a warm cup in hand, Seredaine filled the three scoundrels in on what he had happened so far. She had no reason to keep anything from them. She told them everything she knew, which was precious little, unfortunately. The elves were fleeing, three children were taken, and their only lead was that they the elves had spotted an old man dressed in blue, and that he was believed to be none other than Alpendaur himself. Lowan and Sprindella listened carefully to the whole story, while Peter Patter pushed around tea leaves with his spoon, more or less oblivious to the conversation, or at least that was how it seemed. When Seredaine finished her story, Sprindella frowned, and said:

“Why? That's what I'd like to know. Why?"

“Why what?” Asked Seredaine.

“Why did this sorcerer take the children in the first place?” Said Sprindella. “Did you bother to ask the messenger that, or did you just take up your sword and go rushing off for revenge?”

“Well no, I didn’t ask.” Seredaine admitted. “Though I’m fairly certain that the messenger didn't know. Does it matter?”

Sprindella sighed.

“Goodness, you may be an elf, but sometimes I swear you've the mind of a dwarf." She said. “Of course it matters. Think. What would a sorcerer want with elf children?”

“I can’t say for certain.” Said Seredaine. “The elves have had good relations with the Grand Colleges for centuries. Of course, there are renegade cabals of magic practitioners at large. Wretchlocks, hedge wizards, necromancers, and such like. Perhaps he belongs to one of them?

“Could be, could be.” Said Lowander. “Though I haven’t heard news of those cabals in some time. At any rate, I think I know of a place to start, at least."

“Go on.” Said Seredaine.

“We get our supplies from a man that frequents the trading post that lies across the valley from here, at the base of Wolden Peak.” Lowander explained. “He’s mentioned an old loon, clothed in blue, who’s been poking around the foothills of the mountain for some time. Folk there give him a wide berth, and rumors abound that he is some sort of magic practitioner. Sounds like your Alpendaur, doesn’t it?”

“That’s as good a place to start as I can think of.” Said Seredaine. “You’re already proving useful, you scoundrels.”

“Well don’t get too excited, elf.” Said Lowander. “It’s going to be a long journey, going round the edge of the whole valley.”

“Why go around?” Seredaine wanted to know.

Lowander and Sprindella looked at her as though she had completely lost her mind.

“Because of the hordes of humans that will be swarming the valley any day now?" Said Sprindella. "There's an open bounty on any elf found in Candoryn, in case you forgot.”

“I am a daughter of Greenhallow.” Replied Seredaine. “My folk have walked the paths of Wolden Valley long before humans ever opened their eyes to this world. I will go where I want, and I will give the road to no one.”

“Well I am only the son of a newt.” Said Lowander. “But personally, I give the road to anyone, especially if they might do me harm. Around the valley is the safest course.”

“We have no time for that.” Said Seredaine. “The children are waiting for us, and we’ve no idea what Alpendaur means to do with them, or when he means to do it. So I say that we will go through.”

Lowan sighed heavily and shook his head. Sprindella began to say something, then thought better of it. There was not much use in arguing with Seredaine. Besides, they did owe her their very lives, and if she wanted to go through the valley, then through they would go. Peter took a sip of his tea, then set the cup down with a gentle clink upon the wooden table. His expressionless face showed absolutely no hint that he was either excited or afraid of the imminent quest, and what it might bring.

“I’ll pack our bags then, shall I?” He said.