4. A Chance Encounter

2 Harvestide 842, 3E

Nearly three weeks have we been stationed just outside the Gates of Luna, and just last night had we our most incredible moment of the journey yet!
From our camp atop a grassy knoll, we can see the nightly bioluminescent light show that is the Meadows of Luna dazzling just past the Gates, flashing and flickering lights in various shades of oranges, yellows, and even near-greens bouncing around each other as if they were torch flames held by dancers taking part in a complex choreography. Though we keep

a man on guard duty at every hour of the night, this glowing dance of life can easily lull him to sleep if he is not careful. Of course, attempting to keep one's eyes off the parade is an extremely tall task.
Daylight sees daily expeditions into the Meadows, each time attempting to press deeper and in new directions from previous treks. The Meadows, defined by their soft rolling hills of tall grasses and aromatic wildflowers swaying in the westerly winds from the sea, is a place of somniferous deception. The sweet nectar of flowers that fills the nostrils is pungent and induces a full-body serenity, while the whispers of the wind through the grasses offer a hypnotic caress for the mind like a mother's soothing bedside voice. If a man travels far enough into the Meadows as to lose sight of the Gates and their neighboring ranges, he will see the land in all directions become too familiar to itself, and, upon becoming overwhelmed of the senses, lose his sense of direction, and likely all belongings aside from the clothes on his back, when he falls into a deep warm slumber on a bed of grass.

The Meadows of Luna - Delvin Faroe by Collin Stephens via Bing CoPilot Image Creator

Our excursions into this land have proven unfruitful outside the realm of scholars. The volume of seemingly undocumented plant and insect life in this region would take a team of 20 researchers a good few decades to catalogue in its entirety. Despite the initial protestations of Marrow, I intend to bring a few samples of wildflowers back to Crescent City with us for research by a few close friends. He did however mention a Candra Fynwaters who would be eager to get her hands on some of these potential ingredients. This was, to date, our only success in regards to the meadows. That is, however, until last night.

---

I jerked violently awake from a shaking by Jolof, one of our party members and the man tasked with the watch during the darkest hours of the night. I can't imagine the look in my eyes as he shushed me with a hand over my mouth and a single index finger over his. With that same finger he pointed over my shoulder, causing me to flip over onto my opposite elbow, facing the Gates of Luna - or rather, where they would be if we could see them on this moonless night. As I looked towards the window of dancing lights framed by the pitch black of the Gates, I noticed one orange flame bounced outside of the borders of that frame, though I could barely make it out. I squinted for a few moments, trying to discern exactly what I saw when it hit me. This was no bioluminescent light. This was a flame. A torch, carried surprisingly low to the ground was moving towards us, still off in the distance, but following the exact trail we took into the Meadows on a daily basis.
Silently, Jolof and I nodded to each other, a sign that we both understood what the other saw. I moved as quickly as I could without noise. Our campfire had been out for hours! Could this person have any idea we were here in the pitch black? Sidling up to Silas, I shook him awake in the same way I hade been woken, pointing his attention to the flame, it's light now clearly growing in size every moment as they moved towards us. In hushed voices, the three of us contrived our plan. Silas and I would move toward the flame to intercept this person while Jolof would position himself ready to wake two of our comrades should we cry out to him.
Soft afoot, we strode down the knoll, being sure to avoid detection from the stranger with the torch. About fifty strides from the base of the knoll we paused, standing firmly in the black of night, waiting for the stranger's flame to catch us. Eventually the flame drew near enough for us to see an outline of the figure. They were short, definitely shy of four feet, likely closer to three, and surprisingly lean for their stature, quite Elven in their build in fact. It was difficult to make out the exact features of the being, but I deduced they likely were male based on their stiff gait.
As if a meeting had been scheduled where we stood, the little elf-like being approached us with a steady pace, coming to a stop a handshake away, lifting their chin and meeting our intrigued gaze with their own stoic one. Indeed, this appeared to be a man, though age was impossible to gauge. It looked as though a pureblood Olosse had been shrunken down to half their size. His garb appeared to be of linen, a greenish-yellow hue - difficult to judge in the firelight - for his shirt and cloak, and a dark brown pair of knickers. The little man cleared his throat and spoke.

Eamon Saelindal - Delvin Faroe by Collin Stephens via Bing CoPilot Image Creator

"Are you the party who voyages into the Meadows daily for over a fortnight?" he asks, his r's being swallowed hard as he spoke. With a quick glance to each other, Silas and I both nodded, remaining silent.
"What is it that you come to seek in our lands?"
Again, we glance at each other, Silas giving the faintest nod, indicating I follow his lead.
"We seek only goods of knowledge, to learn of the mysteries of this corner of the Land of Trees, and the source of failure for all previous adventurers to this region."
The little elf-man eyed us up and down, unconvinced of something.
"And who buys your newfound goods?"
Silas raised both hands, palms facing the man. "No one. We seek this knowledge not for power, nor wealth, nor fame. We are but a humble band of explorers seeking the mysteries of this land for our own knowledge."
The man's eyes shifted from Silas to me, then back again, his gazing moving between us two or three times before giving a stunted nod. "I have watched you from the moment you have arrived in our lands. Your

actions seem precise and planned, and you never stay past the setting sun. Your eyes also lack the emptiness of exploitation, or the darkness of malice. Even in the firelight, your passion to explore is evident." His voice trailed off is if he awaited a response, one he failed to receive, as silence was our best friend in discussion, or so Silas had advised me in one of our earliest conversations.
"Outsiders are feared by my people. They have only sought to bring pain to us or our land. Or both. They are often dealt with." The man cleared his throat before continuing. "More than myself have observed your every step in our lands, and though they will continue to monitor you, the official order is to continue non-contact unless your party should take negative actions. I, however, see potential good in making contact, thus I present myself to you tonight - without the knowledge of any one else in the Meadow."
Silas and I maintained composure in the face of this interaction, though my mind spun with the possibilities. The man continued as we kept silenced.
"If you wish to know what lies beyond the Gates, I will make myself available to you at this very spot, at this very time, every night, until I feel I have provided the answers I feel are sufficient. For your part, you are to travel no further into the Meadows than you already have, and to continue avoiding all wrongdoing in our lands. If you fail at this, you will no longer be my by me at night. Does this offer please?"
We both nod without even thinking to share a look with one another.
"Good. I will see you, and only you two, at the same place, same time, on the morrow." With that the little man began to turn before pausing. "Oh, and if I fail to show for a night, it is best you not remain here to see another night." Completing his turn, the stranger began his hike back towards the meadows, the flame of his torch bobbing slightly as it slowly shrunk into the distance, mingling into the bioluminescent dance once again.
Silas and I quickly returned to camp, giving Jolof a brief synopsis of our encounter before returning to our bed rolls, though rest evaded me the rest of the night. Questions spun in my head like a cyclone, unable to truly comprehend the gravity of the moment in my fatigued state. I suppose at some point today a nap will overcome me - on which will be welcome in anticipation of another midnight rendezvous.

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UPDATE 21 Harvestide 842, 3E

Never, at any point in my life, have I ever imagined that I would ever be part of an expedition as consequential as this. Though we break camp for the south tomorrow, the last three weeks have brought my understanding of this land to its knees. To meet a member of the fabled Piquetarí- or the Lómelindi as they call themselves - was a shock in and of itself. To be gifted the knowledge Silas and I have received over these nightly visitations is a worth more than the greatest platinum mind in all of Terramora. I have scribbled many tomes worth of notes by the light of our new friend's torch light, but I will try to summarize the most important points here.
To glean this information required some patience from Silas and I, as we spent the first two nights taking turns to provide our stories to our friend. Though he had been observing us since our arrival, we had yet to earn his trust enough to learn what we have since learnt. Thusly, the first night after our initial encounter, Silas offered his life story, whilst I offered mine on the second. Our friend was quite shocked to be meeting someone of the Olde World in his lands.
Speaking of our friend, he only finally introduced himself to us on our fourth meeting. Going by the name of Eamon Saelindal, he is a 43 year old scout and gatherer, helping his people to protect their land from intruders. Considered a young man among his people (some aging to nearer 300 years than 200), he is often tasked with monitoring foreigners in their lands, and ensuring that they have no resources with which to damage the Meadows of Luna.
The first half of our lessons revolved around the Meadows, a mystical region of beauty that truly comes to life by moonlight. As we suspected, these lowlying grasslands are indeed incredibly diverse in their flora

and fauna. The medicine people of the Lómelindi have such localized resources as to never need to leave their home for new ingredients to keep their people well. It is, however, the activity at night that makes the Meadows a magical place. Eamon described in great detail to us the many types of fireflies and lightning beetles that call the meadows home. Even many of medicinal flowers he explained earlier would emit a soft glow under the moons' light, causing the entire expanse, from the Gates of Luna to the sea, to light up in a rainbow of natural colors. Of course, I questioned him why the Meadows is named after Luna, the further of our two moons. This gave him the opportunity to explain that while Theia would light up the meadows under it's bright white glow, it was under tha rare occassions in which Luna rises full whilst Theia does not shine that the living things of the meadows seemed to glow ten times brighter, actually making their lands even more visible than with a full Theia. When Luna shines alone in the night sky, all Lómelindi people come out together and sing their traditional songs of joy and thanksgiving to their land, a practice from which they took their name.

The Gates of Luna - Delvin Faroe by Collin Stephens via Bing CoPilot Image Creator

Once Eamon had felt we had sufficiently come to know his homeland, he shared with us many a detail about his people, their lives, and their history. Though we spent the dead of night for nearly an entire fortnight learning from our friend, much of this knowledge is not to be shared beyond Silas and I. With oaths on our lives, we made the promise to uphold Eamon's need for secrecy in these matters, and as such, items I do not record in this journal will not be recorded anywhere beyond one source between the two of us, which I will not reveal ever, especially not in writing. But I digress.
As Eamon tells it, the common concept of Time Immemorial as man and elves know it is missing much ancient knowledge. The Lómelindi, as they say, are descended from ancient elfkin that arrived in Dendralis long before the Elderwood became what the Aéldelin peoples knew it to be, though the direct lineage has been lost to time. For as long as the Lómelindi have lived in the Meadows, they have been a burrowing people, living in communties of tunnel networks under the ground, creating a complex web of life beneath the land's surface. Similar to other underground species, the Lómelindi are a nocturnal people, as they exit their underground sanctuaries for the grasslands shortly before sunset whenever foreigners are not present, returning to their homes just as the morning sun rises above the occassional trees.
Life for the Lómelindi is simple, as they live isolated from geopolitics and maintain a deep connection with their lands, living harmoniously with the natural world. Lómelindi live in extended familial units, which typically reside in a series of connected burrows that they refer to as a hânól - or hearth. Each family has anywhere from one to a handful of the eldest members as the head(s) of hearth, who 'lead' their families in all social and political aspects. The elders will often live in homes nearest the primary communal burrows, while the youngest adults will live on the opposite end of their hânóls, furthest from communal burrows, though often much closer to other gateways to the surface. Local politics are nothing more than social jockeying between the hânóls, which can become quite fierce considering the relative calm and peace with which these people live.
We also learned that the rumors of prior travelers were true. Eamon confirmed for us that people in his field - gatherers - gather up the belongings of sleeping foreigners, bringing them back into the burrows where they are quickly repurposed well beyond recognition of what they once were. He also stated that our practice of keeping our camp outside the Gates saved us from this same fate, and was what intrigued him enough to approach us. He surmised - correctly I may add - that we entered the Meadows with no means to harm the land, as lugging any equipment or tools into the meadow and back out again repeatedly would make for an effort far beyond the reward. It's time like these where I am reminded of Silas' brilliance in attention to detail.
Unfortunately this is about the extent of the information I can record in a second source without concern for the safety of the Lómelindi. Thanks to their burrow system, they are aware of any sentient prescence within 100 miles of the Gates in any direction, and as such, adventurers trying to replicate our experience would fail to find traces of their existence. However, if anyone should end up reading this, I will recite his assertion. We departed from our final meeting with a guarantee from him that there would be extreme efforts to ensure no one followed in his footsteps by meeting with outsiders. Nor would anyone know of his transgression.
Tomorrow we pack and make south, seeking to avoid to cold of winter to come. Though our rations allow us to travel into the Northlands, returning from that untread cold is not without excessive risk. As such, we make southward, anticipating a good long rest once we arrive to Seward's Bay, from whence our next steps will be determined. I hope for a smooth return to the civilization we know, but the next entry will let you know if we succeed in this endeavor. For now, as the sky just begins to lighten in the sky, I must find a few brief moments of rest before we begin the return.
-- Delvin