"Elves!!!" the trolls hoarsely bawled in horror and shrank back, but well-aimed arrows gave them no faintest chance to escape. The stream dragged the dead beasts out of sight, cleaning the landscape.

Lynette and Andreas sheathed their swords. He helped her to ascend the cliff, holding her hand, chivalrously supporting her when stones crumbled underfoot, and they came up to the archers.

"Nice to see you safe, Lynette!" one of the Elves exclaimed in a joyful clear voice, "but where are your brothers and your father? You always visit the neighbour castle together, don't you…"

"Hello, Iven!" she sighed. "Running fast, I believe, they have already hidden in the fortress… But Andreas helped me timely."

The Elves shook their heads indignantly, a mute sympathy in their kind grey-blue eyes.

"You must be a Grey Knight? Only your order prefers ordinary clothes to sumptuous attires," Iven looked at Andreas, sincere friendliness in his words, "and you wield a saber just as they do!"

"Right," Andreas gave a modest nod.

"The whole horde will be here soon!" another Elf warned peering into the woods beyond the river, "let's hurry up, or something."

All of them left the cliff rocks and got on an old unpaved road winding between hills, single grey boulders lying about. High bushes throwing chequered light and shade, the sunshine was beaming through the emerald leafage softly.

"Hm, no flags above the castle," one Elf murmured when they saw a distant fortress and stopped on a hillock to view peaked roofs of towers, grey walls with embrasures and merlons.

"We have accomplished our reconnaissance in the hinterlands," Iven turned to Lynette and Andreas, "now we must warn our queen about the troll invasion. Would you go with us?"

"I must make sure that my relatives are all right," Lynette answered pensively, "regardless of their attitude, they are my family."

"But how will you get inside?" Iven wondered, "I see the drawbridge raised!"

"Remember the tunnel where we used to play in childhood?" she explained.

"I'm going with you, Lynette," Andreas rather informed her about his decision unaffectedly than offered to help, "staying alone can be harmful to your health…"

"Oh, a Grey Knight will be the best guard for you! See you soon!" Iven smiled and waved them goodbye. The Elves disappeared in the shrubbery easily and inaudibly, stirring not a twig, not a leaf rustled.

Lynette and Andreas resumed walking along the road. In a short while she pointed at a deep ravine grown with willows, they descended to the bottom.

"This place is reminiscent of happy days. I grew up with Elvish children," she squatted down at a clear purling rill, drew up a handful of the crystal twinkling water and made a gulp, her sad coldness melted.

"Are the Elves in danger now?" he lowered onto one knee beside her to drink too.

"Hardly," she assured him. "No one knows the location of their kingdom. Somewhere in woods, but impossible to find unless they lead you there themselves."

The stony entrance archway was hidden with overhanging willow branches, but Lynette definitely knew the way. They plunged into the tunnel shade, the daylight dimly filtering through infrequent latticed square apertures in the high vaulted ceiling. The walls reflected and amplified their quiet tread.

At the end of the tunnel Lynette put her slender hand into the heart-shaped eyelet, groped for the inner latch to move it aside, and the firm wooden door screeched open when Andreas hauled the tarnished ring of the handle.

A staircase, a basement with stacks of barrels, some courtyard near a tower foundation.

Finally they found themselves in a cobble-paved lane inside of the stronghold.

Nobody all around. Deserted streets, shuttered windows of three-storeyed houses, only a wind rotating bronze weather-vanes above reddish tiles of roofs.

They came up to a granite mansion, she fumbled about in her pockets for a bunch of three figured keys and unlocked the carved oaken front door.

"Anybody home?" Lynette called but got no reply. A hall with a marble floor, no fire in the mantelpiece, no candles in gilded chandeliers. Desolate corridors and rooms with white walls, red carpets and curtains, polished furniture.

"They must have departed in haste," Andreas conjectured viewing small wooden boxes scattered on a lacquered dressing-table, near a high mirror with a plain oaken frame and on the parquet in a bedroom, open lids, no jewellery on the pink velvet padding, "however, not forgetting about expensive things."

"My mother even took all my dresses!" she looked into a large wardrobe but found only a pink silk kerchief and a brown comb. "I'm not surprised that my parents left me. They would never miss a chance to remind me that I'm a burden for the family, as I refuse to marry some depraved money-bag."