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comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “No doubt the dwarves wanted to keep their shame a secret. I had hoped that you would never need to know. I’m sorry.”
    “I knew there was some dark reason our people no longer had close relations, but I had no idea…” Barlo’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. You said that was the first betrayal of the dwarves. What was the second?”
    “That story belongs to Lysandir and must wait for another time,” Valanandir said. “A messenger has arrived. We thought it best you hear what news he has brought before you depart.”
    An elf with red-gold hair and blue eyes stepped forward. Iarion inhaled sharply. The elf had a pair of white and gold feathered wings. Their tips reached the elf’s ankles. His skin was golden like that of the Linadar . He was Sintadain , a Sky Elf.
    Iarion had only heard of them in tales. The Sintadar had been created by Valanandir and Iadrawyn during the sundering of the elves. They had once been land-dwelling Light Elves who loved watching the heavens and speaking with birds. The lord and lady had used the Quenya to give them wings so they could help in the fight against Saviadro and his dark forces. Now they served as spies and messengers.
    “More groups of the Marred Races have infiltrated the midlands.” The winged elf spoke haltingly in the Common Tongue. “They appear to be scouting parties. Even now, some are prowling the Adar Daran.” Silence filled the glade at this news.
    “We will have to muster what allies we can to prepare for the coming battle,” Valanandir said. “We will send Sintadar messengers to Melaralva to let them know of this development. Although I would also like to send messengers to Rasdaria and the Fey Wood, I doubt it would be safe to do so with the Forsworn abroad in the north.”
    “Begging your pardon, my lord,” Barlo said. “But what about the dwarves and men of the midlands? Surely they must be warned.”
    “Do you believe they would aid us?” The lord frowned. “Our relations with the other races are strained at best. I fear we have lived too long in isolation.”
    “Well, as I understand it,” Barlo said, “this affects all of us. I doubt the foul creatures will pass the rest of us by on their way here. Now I can’t speak for the men, but if you send word to Dwarvenhome, they’ll take heed.” With Narilga ruling in Barlo’s absence, Iarion was inclined to agree.
    Valanandir nodded. “Very well. I will instruct our messengers to see that the Earth Elves pass these tidings on to Dwarvenhome. As for the men and women of Belierumar, they regard us as creatures of legend. I am afraid they would shoot one of our messengers out of ignorance. We can only hope they maintain their vigil over the Southern Passage.” Lysandir frowned, but remained silent.
    “There is something more,” the Sintadain continued. “I flew to Mar Arin seeking Numarin. The Curusin was missing. I could find no signs of struggle.”
    Iarion’s eyes widened. Numarin was the Learnéd One of Air. The color drained from Lysandir’s face.
    “Is it not possible he was simply away when you visited?” Valanandir asked.
    “That seems a logical explanation, but my heart tells me something has happened to him,” Iadrawyn said.
    “We will stop by Mar Arin on our way north,” Lysandir said. “Perhaps I will be able to find some clue to his disappearance.” Valanandir nodded his agreement.
    “The movement of the dark forces will only make your quest more dangerous.” Iadrawyn’s green gaze became distant and her voice hollow. “The path before you is filled with shadows. It twists in unexpected directions. Do not be afraid to accept the help of others along the way, but be wary. Betrayal hangs over you like a shroud. Iarion, you will be tempted to drink from the Forbidden Pool. Do so at your own peril.” Her eyes focused once more.
    “I give you the Levniquenya.” Valanandir handed Iarion the vessel. It was surprisingly light in his