[Estelyn Telcontar]

Blissfully unaware of the danger they had so narrowly escaped, the company entered the Park, slowing only slightly as the trees grew closer. They looked in amazement upon the golden leaves, a gold that caused even Merisuwyniel’s golden locks to pale. It did, however, make a lovely backdrop for Pimpiowyn’s reddish golden curls, a fact that she noted with only the slightest bit of smugness.

“Here in the Park of Topfloorien lie the fairest and most expensive dwellings of my people,” Merisuwyniel said. “Here rules the mother-in-law of Lord Roneld with her consort; they are wise and will give us aid for our quest.”

“Holdit!” shouted Halfullion, who had regained the position next to her. All the horses stopped suddenly; Orogarn Two almost collided with Tofu, and Baklava took advantage of the situation to throw Etceteron. Pimpi held onto Vogonwë for dear life and was thankful for his riding skill. It was fortunate that Chrysophylax, with Kuruharan astride, was tailing along well behind the others, so that his startled hiccup singed only a few nearby trees rather than the backsides of his companions and their horses.

“What is amiss?” asked Merisuwyniel. “Why do we halt?”

“I did not call us to halt,” he replied. “I was merely greeting my old friend whom I see in the trees ahead of us, Holdit, the security guard of Topfloorien.”

Indeed, an Elf, clad in an official-looking cape with insignia and his name embroidered on it, approached them. “You cannot pass!” he declaimed.

Lord Gormlessar sprang from Tofu’s back and strode toward the guard. He embraced Holdit, who rather reluctantly embraced him back.

“Do you have an appointment?” the Elven security guard asked.

“Lord Roneld promised to send an O-mail [For non-Elven readers, this term refers to the Elven communication by Osanwe.] about our coming,” Halfullion answered.

Holdit paged through his appointment book. “Ah yes, here we have it. You’re late!”

“A heroine is never late,” said Merisuwyniel with her most charming smile. “She merely wishes to make a grand entrance! Please lettuce in!”

“You may enter the romaine of Topfloorien,” he replied, “but the dragon will have to be muzzled, lest he destroy the trees that house our dwellings.”

“I am of ancient and imperial lineage,” Chrysophylax protested. “One does not simply muzzle me like a dog. Just you come here and try it!”

“I will guarantee that he does not harm anything,” Kuruharan hastened to reply. He had realized that a people of this much wealth would not hesitate to press lawsuits on anyone causing damage to their property. He whispered something into the dragon’s ear; Chrysophylax blanched, swallowed hard and kept his jaws tightly shut.

“Then I will lead you to our head,” Holdit responded.

They followed him to the very centre of the Park, where the trees were tallest and thickest. There, attached to the most magnificent tree, was a staircase and next to it, a golden cage. “Stairs or elevator?” Holdit asked.

Vogonwë was already bounding nimbly up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Halfullion, Earnur and Orogarn Two, not to be outdone, followed him. The horses turned their backs to the trees and began nibbling grass nonchalantly, showing no interest in the lofty destination. Pimpiowyn paled at the sight of the staircase, leading up to dizzying heights. Merisuwyniel noticed, and being of a compassionate heart, took her hand and entered the golden cage, though she feared it more than any other fate.

The dragon did not fit into the lifting device; other races were never considerate of his needs as a member of a minority. “He can stay with the horses,” Holdit suggested. But Chrysophylax’ eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, though he did not open his mouth.

“He is a full-fledged member of our company,” Kuruharan insisted. “I will fly up with him to be sure that he does no harm.”

And so they progressed upwards, wondering who and what awaited them.

[ February 11, 2003: Message edited by: Estelyn Telcontar ]