Mud and Ancient Elves

Blaedy asked how broad Westfall really is, which is the sort of question asked by a person who has not lately tried to cross it in rain. I gave her a sensible answer: enough land for wheat, hunger, and a full day’s ride between one disappointment and the next.

Arrowyy then set out to arrange ten thousand years of elf history into a straight line, with the stubborn confidence of a man trying to spear a fish in a barrel from the wrong bank. He began with the Sundering, pursued refugees in the wrong direction, and finally arrived at Eldre’Thalas after calling for me as though I had fallen down a well.

I do admire the persistence. Most people lose interest in ancient disasters once they learn there are several kinds of elf involved. Arrowyy merely located another kind and asked for its family history. Summoneyy and Blaedy had the good sense to say good morning before the century-counting began.