Not Magic Enough and Setting Boundaries - By Valerie Douglas Page 0,59

wearily in the saddle.

It was as well that Arlis was already dead, once the farmers found out who’d set the blaze.

Chapter Five

It was a pleasure and a joy for Elon to draw close to Aerilann again, to ride through the high, thick green and gold grasses that would soon be the buffer zone between Aerilann and those who would take from her, who would violate her.

This though was only the buffer zone, ahead were the towering boles of the trees of the wood. Sunlight speared down through the thick green canopy, the outer edge of the great forest that was Aerilann and her environs.

Even now, Elon could lift his head and inhale the scent of home, the thick powdery duff that lay beneath the trees, the sharp tang of the pines, and a whisper of flowers. Here beneath the great outer trees the air was slightly cooler. In the depths of the forest, though, it was always comfortable with soft breezes to refresh body and spirit.

Jareth kept waiting for them to stop, to set camp.

There was a haze, almost a fog, which seemed to rise up out of the ground around the base of the trees, not surprising given how cool it must be in there.

But they didn’t stop, not even at the edge of the fog. A light tingle of magic brushed over his skin as they moved through it. A Veil of some kind, then. A magical protection.

Fear touched him. Not of where he was going, but of the responsibility, of the undeserved honor they did him.

“Elon,” Jareth protested.

They were entering Aerilann, truly Aerilann. An Elven Enclave, where men didn’t go. Men, much less wizards…

What would the Elves within think of Elon, of he and Colath, for bringing him among them?

“It will be well, Jareth,” Elon said quietly. “It’s time for this, and if any, I would it was a friend first.”

That pierced and silenced him.

He looked up, around, and then there wasn’t room for anything but wonder.

His breath left him in a sigh of sheer awe. His heart ached.

In all his life, Jareth had never even imagined much less seen anything as lovely as Aerilann. He’d didn’t have anything to compare it to, although the wizard’s Collegium came close. All his life he’d yearned for something like this; a place where he’d belong, where he’d be welcome. He understood what it was to have such a place and then to have to leave it.

The Elven Enclave went beyond magic - beyond imagined - for it was real and it was all around him. He was surrounded by the cool green of the deep forest and yet the air was warm and filled with the sweet scent of flowers, soft against the skin. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair. It was refreshingly cool. To his astonishment he could see people move above him in the trees. Elves walked along flowered pathways between the trees, thick vines stretching from one tree to another to form a bridge that these folk nimbly traversed.

In the clearings carefully cultivated bushes and small trees grew in the light that streamed down between larger trees.

Much larger trees.

At the base of some of the trees were verandas, for want of a better word. Stone or wood floors were encircled by a railing and roofed by wood shingles or thatch thickly entwined with flowering vines. The vines twined around the railings and cutwork braces that supported the roofs. The air was filled with the light or spicy scent of their flowers.

Jareth bent his head back and back to look up into the branches.

A stairway twined around the bole each tree, circled around it, rising up into the lower branches where floors had been created. Nearly concealed by the thickly leaved branches, these living spaces were set among them; bright walls of Elven-silk fluttered in a myriad of colors and glowed like flowers among the limbs and leaves.

Somewhere someone played a flute or a pipe lightly, a few voices trilled wordlessly to the tune as soft laughter echoed among the branches. It was a lilting song - light yet complicated.

Here in the understory were copses of smaller trees or groupings of flowering bushes. Pathways and trails ran between them through which Elves walked, some in conversation, others to more purpose.

Folk, Elves, rode to intercept them but Jareth was too enraptured with Aerilann to notice. He’d have been happy with just this glimpse. Only dimly did he register the discussion, however mild, that raged around him.

Looking at him,