Gulfen, the home of the elves. The land was hot, low and dry. Very little rain ever reached beyond the peaks of Ganon's Gate, a range of tall jagged mountains so close together that the rain clouds were almost always stopped on the western slopes, and the only rain ever seen within the land came from the sea. But the landscape was so flat that only the mountain cities ever saw moisture. Among these cities was Stengard, capital of the elf kingdom. At its peak was a palace, but not the kind commonly envisioned in tales of brave knights and grand courts. This palace was just the opposite. Its structures were constructed from the rock on which they sat. Its walls were jagged and dark, just like the land they overlooked. A long winding pathway zigzagged its way up through the city to the palace gate from a valley so narrow that it would impede even the mightiest army. It was for this reason that the majority of the elves' armies were kept spread out across the desert terrain of Gulfen, and the green, fertile land of Windsor, the elves' nearest neighbor.

On the pathway leading into the city, a young elf man was being led by two guards. He struggled against his captors, screaming insults and vulgar curses as he fought to break their hold on him. But it was no use. The guards' grips were too strong. Even if he were able to break free, they would just as soon disable him with their bladed staffs. Nevertheless, he struggled, determined to get away and escape his audience with the one he feared and hated.

"Let me go!" he demanded as he twisted again. "I don't want to see him!" He gave another yank accompanied by a sudden twist, try-ing to extract himself from their grip and break the twine that bound his wrists, but the guards' grip remained firm.

The guard on his left tightened his grip and shook him. "You better start behaving, boy," he warned. "Your father will hurt you worse we will, I promise you." He forced his young captive to turn toward him, and bearing his multitude of sharp teeth, snarled, "And I for one hope he does."

The boy only glared at him. "Just remember who you're talking to, servant," he spat. For this, the guard wound back and landed a hard blow to his cheek. The boy spun from the force of the hit and fell to the ground with a grunt.

"That was done on the king's orders," the guard growled. "The next time I poke you, I'm gonna break something. Got it?" The young man shot him an angry sideways glance. The guards each then grabbed one of his arms and hauled him to his feet, forcing him to go with them as they continued their journey to the palace atop the city.

When they reached the gate and pounded the heavy wood, a small window in the middle of it slid open, through which two slitted glowing eyes peeked. "Who goes there?" asked a strange, slithering voice.

"Prince Trellis is here to see his father, the elf king," one of the guards said.

The window closed, and after several locks and bolts were thrown, the gate opened and a curious figure appeared. He was short with the eyes and ears of an elf, but of a completely different race. "Ah," he exclaimed as he fully opened the door. "Welcome back, sir!"

The guards shoved their captive through the door and into a grand hall with massive pillars on each side. At the far end was a low stage on which a throne sat. On this throne was the young man's father, the elf king. He sat in it, leaned against the high back with his hand clasped under his chin. The only way anyone could tell he was an elf was by the ears. His face was covered by the stone which had consumed him so long ago. The guards shoved the boy to the ground before the king, and the boy hit his knees with a deep "Oof!" Then one fo the guards cut his bonds with a knife.

"So," the elf king began slowly. "I suppose it should not surprise me that my son has failed me once again."

"I haven't failed," Trellis replied. "I just got held up. You must understand, father, these things take time."

"Of which you've had plenty," the elf king said. "And I am growing impatient. What you need now is the aid of experience."

"No," Trellis said.

"Luger will join you on your return to ensure the mission is successful," said the elf king, indicating the tall bald man at his side.

"I can do this on my own," Trellis replied, emphasizing his desire to prove himself.

But the elf king disregarded his refusal. "Luger will help you," he said simply.

"You know that I work alone!" Trellis shouted.

"Why do you resist?" the elf king asked calmly. "Did you not ask me to lend you more support?"

"I asked for soldiers," Trellis cried angrily. "Not a chaperone!"

The elf king leaned forward, his faceless mask trained on his son. "Luger fights with the strength of ten soldiers," he said. "He will serve you well." With that, he leaned back and clasped his hands together.

Trellis glared, first at his father, then at Luger, who stood tall and erect, looking very powerful and sinister in his black robe. Then Trellis stood, turned on his heel, and stomped away.

As he watched his son go, the elf king asked Luger, "Do we have the children's location?"

"Not yet, my lord," Luger replied. Then with a toothy grin, he added, "But the hunt is already afoot. And if everything goes well, I expect we will know their location very soon."