Prolog
“It starts”, Inredhel said to Saruffen, her only contact to her own people. At the moment, she was in a foreign country, under foreign people, just to find out whether they needed help in the war – Slinsil. It was a country whose king was a very good friend of her father Irthadan, who lived in Bevelle, capital of the elvish country. In fact, Inredhel wasn’t a normal elf. She was one of the famous elvish summenors, who had chosen to fight against the evil. They could adjure creatures, called Aeons, protectors of Bevelle and the temples in the whole country, in which everyone who wanted to become a summenor had to master the Halls of Examination. Then the summenor came to the Hall of Faith, where he or she prayed to the Gods. If the person succeeded, he or she was a summenor then and could adjure one creature – the creature living in this temple. The summenors travelled through the whole country to reach the temples where they got the might to adjure another creature. Irthadan, Inredhel’s father, was against the wishes of his daughter, but she carried her point and became a summenor, famous in the whole country. But at this time, she wasn’t a summenor, but a spy of her country, sent to find out if Slinsil needed the elves’ help in the war against Kraznir. When she came here, she coined a story about a foreign country, destroyed by the Kraznirian people. King Carmindur accepted her with open arms and she could live like the other women – cooking, washing clothes and things like that.
Now, Inredhel stood up from her chair and listened hardly to the footsteps she heared many miles away. The senses of elves, especially of summenors, were edged, not like the senses of humans. “You look kind of funny, standing there strained and staring at the wall”, Saruffen said and started laughing. “Oh, Saruffen, can’t you be serious one time?”, she asked him, but a smile appeared on her face. Yes, it has to be funny, in the middle of one of the bigger rooms in Bikanel, capital of Slinsil. It was a very special city: Built on a mountain, the castle of Slinsil’s king was in the middle, surrounded only by a few houses. The real city was in the mountain. There were many stairs and tunnels, and many big rooms for the habitants. Many magicians had built this city, and succeeded in conjuring up a circulation of air and a light in the rooms that looked like sunlight. Inredhel continued listening and appreciated the time the creatures, from which the footsteps came needed, until they would arrive at Bikanel. “Well, I think, at most 15 hours and they arrive”, she said and looked to the small hobbit who was sitting at the door. “Go to the King and tell him that they’re coming!”, she ordered the hobbit. “And no word about me! Just say you felt them coming or something like that.”
