James Ward - Pool of Twilight

"Listle, just who is this Primul?"

"You'll see."

Suddenly, two sparks of light fluttered into the room. The sparks were almost identical in color, a shimmering aquamarine. Except that one was just a little more green than blue, while the other was just a tad more blue than green. The brilliant sparks whirled about, almost as if excited. Abruptly the two points of light flared brightly and vanished. In their stead stood two of the kindest-looking elderly men Kern had ever seen.

Both of them were small and frail, their parchment-thin skin drawn over fine bones. Each had long hair and a flowing beard of snowy white, and each clung tightly to a staff with bony hands. By their pointed ears, Kern knew they must be elves, but he had never heard of any elves as wizened as these two. They were clad in robes as white as their hair, and their eyes were the exact same aquamarine hue as the sparks of light had been, one pair blue-green and the other green-blue.

Listle laughed for joy at the sight of the two ancient elves. "Brookwine! Winebrook!" she cried, embracing them jubilantly. They returned the embrace warmly, smiling two perfect, sweet smiles.

"It is wonderful-" Brookwine said in a warbling voice.

"— to see you-" Winebrook went on in a similar tone.

"— again, friend Listle." Brookwine finished.

Kern gawked at the two elves. They had spoken so rapidly in turn that it sounded almost as if only one person had been speaking.

"It has been quite-"

"— some time since we left-"

"— Sifahir's tower behind. Will you-"

"— stay with us for a-"

"— time, fair Listle?"

Listle sighed. "Much as I would love to, I'm afraid I can't. I've come on some dire business, Brookwine and Winebrook. It involves my friend here, Kern."

"Ah, yes!" Brookwine said, raising his snowy eyebrows. "It is the Hammer-"

"— seeker," Winebrook continued. "We are honored-"

"— to meet you, young human."

Unsure how to behave, Kern attempted a stiff bow with at least partial success. "Er, pleased to meet you," he managed to say. He wasn't sure which elf was which.

"We shall go-"

"— tell Primul of-"

"— your coming," the two wizened elves finished together. As quickly as they had materialized, they vanished. The two brilliant specks fluttered out of the chamber.

"How in the world can you tell them apart, Listle?" Kern asked when they had left.

"Isn't it easy?" the elf said in a miffed tone. "Brookwine's eyes are blue-green and Winebrook's eyes are green-blue."

"Oh, of course," Kern mumbled abashedly.

Suddenly the air of the chamber was shattered by a thunderous voice.

"Listle Onopordum! Is it truly you?"

Kern spun around to see what had to be the hugest elf in all the northlands stride into the room. He towered head and shoulders over Kern, his massive shoulders and chest knotted thickly with muscle beneath his forest green tunic. His broad face was open and strikingly handsome. Long golden hair was tied behind his neck with a silver wire. Around his waist was an intricate belt of fine golden links. Rumbling with laughter that shook the tree-hall like an earthquake, the gigantic elf crushed Listle in an embrace.

After a minute or so, she good-naturedly reminded Primul that she needed to breathe, and he set her down. Kern could only shake his head. So much for the general impression that all elves were delicate and wispy.

"Now, who is this specimen you've brought to my tree, Listle?" the big elf boomed. He turned his blazing, leaf-green eyes on Kern. "A human whelp?" Kern did his best not to shrink down into the floor.

"He's a friend, Primul," Listle soothed. "A good friend. I'd like to keep him in one piece."

Primul snorted. "Suit yourself. Although I'll have you know humans make terribly amusing noises when you pop their limbs off."

Kern blanched.

"Primul…" Listle warned.

"Sorry. Just having a little fun." He grinned broadly at Kern and winked. "No hard feelings, eh?"

"Of c-c-course not," Kern stammered.

Primul led the way to an expansive table where he firmly set his guests down and poured them each a cup of pale, sweet mead. The cup handed to Kern was beautifully crafted of silver, inlaid with lapis lazuli. Kern knew it was a vessel fit for a king's hall, but Primul seemed to treat the chalices as if they were made of ordinary clay.

"Did you see Brookwine and Winebrook?" Primul asked Listle as he quaffed his third cup of mead in as many minutes.

Listle nodded. "They look wonderful."

Primul rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, they're better than when Sifahir had them in magical chains, that's for sure. But something tells me they'll never really be their old selves." For a moment a look of sorrow crossed his broad face. Then his expression cheered. "Say, Kern, has Listle ever told you how she helped us escape from the tower of the evil wizard Sifahir?"

Kern shot a puzzled glance at Listle. What was Primul talking about? The young elf looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"That's how we met," Primul went on in his rumbling voice. "It was about ten years ago. You see, there was an elven wizard who lived on a small rocky island north of Evermeet, the homeland of the gray elves. His name was Sifahir, and you've never met a wizard with a darker heart. He brought all sorts of people under his enchantment, using them for his wicked purposes until the very life was squeezed out of them. Then he would throw their dried husks away without a second thought"

The big elf shook his head sadly. "I won't trouble you with all the dark deeds Sifahir performed to become one of the most powerful wizards in Faerun. It would give you a hard time sleeping at night just to think of it. Anyway, I had the misfortune of attracting Sifahir's notice. Folks said I was the best blacksmith in a hundred kingdoms-they were right, of course-and Sifahir heard about me and decided he wanted me to be his own private smith. He sent an army of magical warriors to capture me, and they proved too much even for my axe."

His leaf green eyes grew distant as he continued. "For two centuries I was imprisoned in Sifahir's tower, forced to forge weapons for him and his minions if I cared to stay alive. After the first fifty years of trying to escape, I gave up all hope. Sifahir's magic was just too strong."

A realization struck Kern. "Brookwine and Winebrook-they were imprisoned by Sifahir, too?"

Primul nodded solemnly. "They had already been there for several centuries before I was captured. Both of them were mages of great skill, and Sifahir had chained them above the gates of his tower, harnessing and draining their magical power to fuel the vile defenses that surrounded his abode."

Listle spoke up, her voice heavy with sorrow and her demeanor uncharacteristically subdued. "Sifahir twisted their magic to his own evil purposes, century after century. I don't think we can ever understand what torture that must have been for them. That they survived at all is a wonder. I think it helped that they relied on each other so much, drawing closer and closer until the distinction between their personalities blurred, and they melded almost like one being. Together, they found the strength to survive."

"But not without consequences," Primul added sadly, pouring another cup of mead. "Once they were strong, handsome elves. Now their bodies are so fragile a good wind might blow them away. And the scars on their spirits are deep.

The green elf waved a big hand, dispelling the somber atmosphere. "But that is all ancient history. Sifahir had not counted on one of his prisoners being able to walk through walls of stone. Listle was the first person ever to escape from Sifahir's tower. And her ability was such that she took the rest of us with her. For which we shall always be in her debt."