Ten year-old Roland is riding on the horse with his mother, Helge. They had left their guards behind, a little less than a quarter mile back, having safely made it through the mountains. They are about to ride into the woods and his father, George, is intensely looking around—watchful for the band of mountain trolls that have boldly been attacking travelers along this route.

George sighs and says, “It looks like we are lucky. Once we make it to the woods, we will be protected. Just another two-hundred yards.”

Roland, too young to really realize the dangers about, is curious about the forest and asks his mother, “Do you think we will see any Silvan Elves in the forest, mother?” Helge is about to answer when George shouts, “Ride! As fast as you can!”

Roland looks around and sees a hideous monster, the first mountain troll he has ever seen, strike his father from his horse with the single blow of a huge club. He sobs as Helge kisses his head and says, “I love you, son. Get to the forest and search out the Elves—they will keep you safe!” With that, she jumps off of the horse, already drawing her bow with the first arrow nocked.

She slaps the horse’s rear hard and sends it, with Roland hanging on for dear life, dashing towards the nearby woods. The last Roland sees of his parents is his father fighting the troll; his sword drawn and bloodied. His mother is drawing her bow and letting loose a flurry of arrows at the other trolls approaching…

The horse runs wild—deep into the forest. After several long minutes of barely hanging on, Roland smacks his head on a low-hanging branch, knocking himself unconscious and falls off the horse. He rolls down a deep ravine and comes to a stop just before he falls into a clear, cold brook. He lay there, unconscious—a deep cut on his forehead.

I come to with a splitting headache. At first, I don’t remember what happened…then there is a flash of memory… A horse running through the woods…and then…nothing… Where am I? Who am I? What has happened to me? I look around, scared and shivering. I am in a deep ravine of some sort—it is dark; although it is obviously still daylight as is evidenced by a few stray beams of sunlight that filter down through the trees. A small waterfall coming from somewhere close to the top of the ravine leads to a bubbling brook that is running along beside me.

I reach up and feel the sticky blood on my pounding head and move closer to the stream. I reach out with cupped hands to get some water for my head when I hear a distinct, ”STOP!”. I look around and, at first, don’t see anything—or anyone. Then I notice a shimmering mist over the water that takes the shape of silvery, translucent woman—like she is made of water vapor. She is beautiful.

I hear the voice again, but it is only in my head, ”If you touch the water, the witch will know you are here. I have no idea what she would do with one of your kind.” I shake my head to clear it. The vision does not go away, so I ask, “Who are you? Where am I? What witch?” The voice in my head continues, ”You are in the Black Witch’s ravine. This stream is the gateway to the elven world—the only way a human can get to that world without a direct invitation from the Elves. I am an Undine…a water sylph. I protect the stream. Anyone crossing the stream has to pay the witch a toll. If you follow the stream to the end of the ravine, you can safely return to the human world—or are you intending to visit the Elves?”

I shake my head and say, “I don’t know… I don’t know who I am—let alone what I intended on doing…” The Undine wavers a bit and a cool mist envelopes my head. I hear the voice again, I cannot read your thoughts through the veil… Only the Elves can help, I am afraid. Quickly! I will help you cross the brook further downstream. You must be quiet, though. The witch is not bad, nor is she good. She has taken a neutral stance in the standoff… I don’t know how she would react to you, though…”

Confused, I follow her downstream to a spot where there are several natural stepping stones across the stream. I hear the voice again, ”You will need a name until you remember your own. I suggest ‘Brook’, in honor of that which will save you. I will envelope you in a mist that will obscure you—but only for only a few seconds… You must hurry across and not fall into the water. Be careful, the stones are slippery.”

I step onto the first stone and my toe dips into the water. I feel a wild rush of wind from behind. I hear a real voice behind me say, “Stop! You may not cross without paying the toll!” I hop from stone to stone—there are only five left. I slip and start to fall on the last one. With a tremendous effort, I jump and sort of twist at the same time. I know I am going to miss the water and land on the other side. But while I am in the air, three things happen: (1) I see the witch and am surprised; she is pretty…and half human—half elf. (2) The witch sends a blue bolt of lightning after me; it hits me just as I hit an energy field or shield of some sort. (3) I feel a tingle from the shield and a pain from the lightning…and land on the other side.

I blink my eyes to clear the tears from them. I see the stream clearly through a shimmering veil of some sort—and I also see the witch. She is seething. Obviously furious, she disappears in a whirlwind. The Undine is nowhere to be seen.

I sit there, breathless. What now, wonder boy? I am about to get up when I hear a command from behind me, “Stop! Don’t move, human, or I will shoot you. What do you want from the Elves?” It is a melodious, distinctly female voice—that does not comfort me. I start shaking. The voice says, “Slowly turn around and let me see you.” I do as bid and I hear a gasp. An absolutely stunning girl elf is looking at me, bow drawn and notched arrow pointed directly at my heart. She says, “But you are but a child…and a Halfling! Did the witch put you up to this? Answer me!”

I stutter some incoherent words until I can finally get an answer out, “No Ma’am—I escaped the witch with the help of a…a…a sylph in the stream.” She gives me a surprised look and says, “The Undine helped you? That is interesting… However, your very existence breaks one of our strictest laws… It is strictly forbidden for Elves and humans to mate. How is it that you are here? More importantly, why are you here? You must know that it cannot go well for you…” I shrug and say, “I don’t know why I am here—I can’t remember anything from before an hour ago. The sylph said that only an elf could help me figure out who I am.”

Again, the girl gives me a strange look. She lowers her bow and asks, “So, Halfling, do you have a name?” I hang my head and say, “I can’t remember that either—the sylph suggested ‘Brook’ in honor of it saving me from the witch.” She nods and says, “Follow me, Brooke. Do not stray from behind me or I will shoot you. I will take you to see our queen.”

I follow the beautiful girl closely. I have no doubt that she is serious that she will shoot me if I stray the slightest bit. I watch her walk through the woods gracefully, her long bright red hair flowing behind her like feathers. I find myself envious of her—especially since I am stumbling over every root and rock in the path.

After what seems like an hour, we are joined by other elves—some male, some female. They surround me and all talk in a sing-song language that I have absolutely no understanding of…but is somehow familiar. They give me strange looks, but no one attempts to speak directly to me. Finally, we arrive at a village, or town, of sorts—only it is in the trees. We climb a spiral staircase that winds its way around the centermost tree; which is also the largest in the gathering. When we finally make it to the top, we enter an absolutely stunning tree…castle(?)…

A graceful woman, clearly related to my ‘guide’ stands there waiting—obviously forewarned of our arrival. She looks at the girl that had brought me here and says in English, “Miriel, my daughter, who…or better…what have you brought into our midst?”

My captor(?), guide(?), whatever her intention was—obviously the daughter of this woman and named Miriel—switches to the unknown sing-song language and rapidly speaks for several minutes. There is a short exchange between the two in the unknown language, then the woman turns back to me and says, once again in English, “So, you escaped the Halfling witch with the help of the border stream Undine and claim to not remember anything. That seems rather convenient, now doesn’t it? Your existence belies reality. We Elves have not had any contact with humans in over a century of your time. Unless your Elfish parent is a dark Elf, something does not add up.” She stops and thinks, then says, “That could explain a lot—especially since the Dark Elves have conspired with that human, Drake Valkyre, and somehow kidnapped my sister, the true Queen of the Forest. Miriel says you go by ‘Brooke’?”

I nod—too scared to say anything else. She says, “Then come here, girl, I want to see what you are hiding.” I move towards her beckoning hand, again, too scared to correct her. She leans forward and places her hands on both sides of my face, then closes her eyes. She stays that way for quite some time, an intense look of concentration on her face. Finally, she releases me and sits back.

She gives me a strange look and says, “This is very strange. You speak the truth—at least as far as you seem to know it. It is clear that you are not of Dark descent, though, how you come to be of Silvan descent, I have no idea. I also must apologize; I assumed that Brooke was a female name. I am happy that you are honoring the wishes of the Undine—she was correct; it does seem to befit you.”

She sits and motions Meriel and me to do the same. The guards close the door and the Queen speaks to me, “My name is Lothiriel. That would roughly translate to ‘Flower’ in your language—I would be named ‘Fleur’ in your language. My sister, Queen Ainathiel, was kidnapped thirty of your years ago and I am in her place until she returns. You may call me Queen Fleur if that is easier for you.”

She looks at Miriel and nods. Miriel gets up and leaves the room. Queen Fleur turns her attention back to me, “As for what I am going to do with you, I have no idea. There have been no known Halflings for over a century of your time… The witch you escaped was the last one… I could turn you back to the humans, but I do not think you would fare well. You are too young…and they trust us as little as we trust them. You would be in a bad position. Which brings us to the question of how you have stayed hidden. You look to be about ten human years…a mere blink of an eye for us…you are still an infant in our terms. Yet, for humans that is a fairly substantial amount of time to go unnoticed… And, we should have felt it… Yes, I am curious…”

Miriel comes back in, a servant following her carrying a heavy tray laden with fruit and a pot of tea. Queen Fleur says, “Eat. I am sure you are hungry. There is no meat in our diet, so I am afraid you will have to get used to being a vegetarian.” I timidly take some of the fruit, a piece of melon of some sort, and bite into it. It is sweet, like honey, and tastes wonderful. The queen watches me and says, “It is also curious that you show no Elven abilities. Even as young as you are, there should be signs… It is as if you are…bound! That is it. You were bound…likely to appear human to the humans and to hide you from our senses. That takes quite some skill… We will have to study this. You will stay under my care until we get this sorted out—something is not quite right, here…and I will get to the bottom of it!”