Thalanar stood by the arch root windows at the end of the throne hall, gazing out at the snowy night. He was surrounded by tribal elders, who sat in council, their voices a steady swell of gentle discussion.
Kirellion stood quietly, waiting near the throne, and listened as the council boiled into two opposite tides.
"They are humans," hissed one elder. "Always trouble. It was their kind who forced us into the very depths of this forest. It was their wars and conflicts that turned our outer villages to ash."
Another elder turned his head, older than all their years, and shook his head defiantly in quiet wonder, "You heard the girl. They have the blood of Sieha Qamarcus, the Legend of the Qamarcus Accord, the one who stood with our grandfathers and grandmothers, respected across Gran Turin by every tribe as well as here."
"She is long dead," spat another elder. "And the blood of a peacekeeper surely cannot wash away the terrible crimes of their kind."
They all turned to Thalanar and waited to see if he had been listening.
Moving closer to the throne, Kirellion spoke.
"You remember, don't you, Thalanar?" Kirellion's voice dropped, almost gentle. "You remember the humans who slaughtered her. Your wife. You still carry that wound."
The air in the hall turned colder. The roots themselves seemed to tense.
Thalanar's jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening on the armrest of his living throne.
"Enough," he said quietly, though the edge in his voice cut through the tension like a blade. "We owe them no loyalty… and yet, I see no gain in making new enemies by spilling innocent blood."
Kirellion's expression softened, though his eyes held caution. "Then you agree. Let them rest tonight. Then let them leave—no more, no less."
Thalanar nodded after a long pause. "Let them go at dawn. Keep our dealings brief. And may the forest swallow them before their enemies find them."
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In a quiet hut beneath the roots, Hera finally succumbed to exhaustion. After being given fresh clothes and a basin of warm water, she curled into the small woven bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, her breathing steady for the first time in days.
Luenor stood quietly, watching her from the door, feeling a heavy cloak of relief that did not lift, but rather protected him with its weight.
Arwin laid a hand on his shoulder, "Come," he said softly. "Let us give her peace, if only for a moment more."
The two slipped from the hut, leaving Hera in rest, and began to amble, aimlessly, amongst the softly glowing village.
The elves moved through the walkways like shadows; some looked curiously at the two boys, some actively avoided. Luenor was trying to take in the strangeness that was Valen'Dar - the looks of the houses springing from the roots of the fortress; the crystalline shapes floating through the air from nothing; every movement felt part of something ancient and alive.
As they passed on of the larger platforms, he caught sight of a young girl elf standing alone and unattended below the arch of the crystalline lights. She appeared just a year above Hera; about twelve or thirteen. Her hair was pale silver and tied back, with decorative beads and multiple feathers. She wore robes of deep green and gold and far more elaborate than the other villagers.
She blinked at them, her eyes wide and inquisitive.
Before either Luenor or Arwin could say anything, she stepped nearer, her eyes shining as if stars were within her iris.
"You're humans!" she nearly shouted, astonished but excited. "Actual humans!"
Luenor blinked at her. Part of him was flattered, and another part was suspicious.
"Uh… yes?" he said awkwardly.
Before he could say any more, she circled around them, examining their clothing, their hair, and even pulling Luenor's sleeve slightly. "I've never seen one that close before! Are you all this short? Do you really have no mana senses like we do? Do you—"
"Lyssari!"
The commanding voice sliced through the air like a whip and two armed elven guards rushed toward them and quickly placed themselves between the girl and the two humans. One of the guards clearly her guardian was angry beyond imaginary.
"You were specifically told by your father that you are not allowed over here," the guard snapped.
The girl, Lyssari apparently, crossed her arms defiantly. "I walked, I didn't approach. Look, they aren't dangerous."
The guards faced unmoving. One guard advanced on Luenor and Arwin, though remained a still step away, returning the grim faces Luenor could only assume were similar to what he and Arwin wore.
"Remain where you are. You are not allowed to speak with the Chief's daughter."
Luenor's eyes widened slightly.
Lyssari gave them one last mischievous smile before being herded away by the guards.