A Chance Meeting with a Mortal Elf

Baldred the War-Wise's written account of his meeting with a Dark Elf.

On my travels, during a recent visit to an alehouse in the forsaken land of Asetnys, I happened upon a most rare curiosity. A Mortal Elf! A grey-skinned and black-haired dweller of the Grey Realm before my very eyes! Not one to pass up an opportunity to learn more about the stranger parts of the world, I approached him to see if he'd be open to conversation. Although not completely welcoming, I transcribe here our short exchange. At times, his accent rendered him difficult to understand so I write the words as I heard them. The pleasantries and greetings have been omitted for ease of reading and my own words have been condensed.
I hear that the Grey Realm is dry and arid. How do your kind fare in such conditions?
Aye, sir. My home is a harsh place, that's for sure. In our tongue, we call it Dhul Mabran. My father told me that it means 'land of the forsaken' in the ancient Elf tongue, as tradition holds. Whether I believe that or not is another matter. For the most part we do alright, water is drawn from the rivers and oases. Its when you set off on a long journey you've got to be careful. Be sure you don't forget your Da'mah. Erm, I forget the word in your language. Its a water bag made from animal skin. Usually it'll last you long enough to reach another town. If not, you won't be around for long enough to worry about it. Ha.
Very interesting. What is the state of politics in Dhul Mabran?
Make no mistake, its a complex situation. I'm no expert, mind, but I'll tell you true as far as I know it. Dhul Mabran is ruled by a King, called the King Incarnate, blessed be he. However, there are also the Great Houses, which all want the throne for themselves. The Houses fight amongst themselves, sabotaging each other at every turn. Although they all acknowledge the King's authority, they secretly plot to take throne and when they do, the cycle happens all over again, sir!
The fights between the Houses tend not to happen on the battlefield although its been known to happen. Almost all of Dhul Mabran belongs to one House or another. I was born in Knilgen, under House Velun, and you don't wanna be messin' with them, I tell you. Ruthless bastards and I'll have nothing to do with them. Oh, and theres also the church of Yirr Graveth, who take advantage of the strife for their own ends. Strange ones, they are. I'd avoid them an' all.
Why is Dhul Mabran closed to outsiders?
I couldn't rightly tell you, for I don't know. I bet its something to do with those Yirr Graveth types, they whisper in the King's ear and get him to do their bidding, I reckon. They blame all our ills on the Dwarves and the Giants, even though they haven't caused trouble in our lands for centuries. They probably want to keep foreigners out on account o' ancient history, when we fought 'em. I don't rightly agree with that, but I doubt its strictly enforced anyway. Just stay clear of House Werod's lands and you'll be fine, I wager. When I was a boy Dwarven traders used to pass by the village with no hint of trouble. In fact, I bought this off one of 'em! The Elf excitedly produced a small golden locket, obviously of Dwarven make, before placing it back into his collar.
What do you have to eat and drink in Dhul Mabran?
Its been a long while since I've seen the dusty old plains of home, and the one thing I miss more than any other is Jnal. I don't know whether you outlanders have ever heard of it, but its unlike anything else. I suppose its similar to what you would call beer, but that really isn't doing it justice. Jnal is made from the fermented root of the black trees, mixed with spices while it brews. By the ancestors, its the nectar of the gods!
Here he lets out a hearty chuckle, swigs his ale and has a puff on his pipe.
Oh, and you mentioned food? We mostly eat spiced meat, usually goat or cow but maybe Nethlu on special occasions. There's also stews, most o' which contain some type of grass or nettle along with the meat. The only thing thats really abundant in Dhul Mabran is the weeds, so we eat them too. The fruit of the black trees is bitter, but it does nicely when boiled.
I'm a military scholar, and I study strategy, tactics and weaponry on behalf of his majesty King Lethstan the Seafarer. What can you tell me of your peoples' ways of warfare?
You're a what? You Humans have some strange trades, I'll tell you that much. I'm no soldier, but I've done my share of fightin', both back home and out here. In Dhul Mabran, the main kind of war is between the Houses. Its rare, like I said, but not unheard of. When I was little more than a nipper, I was forced into the service of House Velun. They put a spear in my hand and gave me a shield, and that was it. I remember looking at the others in the ranks with me, and they were just as scared as I was. House Velun must've been desperate, it ain't normal to throw untrained peasants into battle like they did then. The nobles were the ones who actually wanted to fight, o' course, and us peasants were just dragged along with 'em. To refuse would be to forfeit your life! The nobles rode up and down on their fancy horses in their armour... a beautiful sight, I remember thinkin', despite the knot of pure fear in my gut. Their helmets had masks over their faces and a tall crest on the top.
In 'Mabran they got this special kind of armour, and I haven't seen its kind anywhere else. They make it from some kind of resin or sap, if I recall correctly, and they put it in a mould and then a furnace to harden it. Its as strong as steel, they say. Anyways, where was I? Right, the battle. The nobles had marched us for three days to the lands of House Kaneth. There were around three hundred of us, so it wasn't much more than a skirmish. I don't remember much of the battle itself, its mostly a blur. At first, we were told to brace spears and raise our shields, so we did. Arrows flew, and the Kaneth soldiers rode back and forth loosing arrows at us. The Elf next to me was struck and fell... I tried not to take heed of him, but I couldn't help it. He was the village butcher's son, and we'd been friends as children. He.. He was choking on his own blood.
Here, the Elf became markedly less talkative, as if lost in thought. Suddenly, he looked up to a passing barmaid.
Ah, I think thats my dinner the lady's bringing, so if you'll excuse me...
Clearly, I had been plainly dismissed. I left the Elf to his food, content to record what he had already told me. I am mildly irritated that I could not learn more about the warfare of his kind. Nonetheless, I found talking with my new grey-skinned friend an incredibly interesting experience. Perhaps the resin armour of the Dark Elf nobles that he describes warrants some further investigation.