When Alveric understood that he had lost Elfland it was already evening and he had been gone two days and a night from Erl. For the second time he lay down for the night on that shingly plain whence Elfland had ebbed away: and at sunset the eastern horizon showed clear against turquoise sky, all black and jagged with rocks, without any sign of Elfland. And the twilight glimmered, but it was Earth's twilight, and not that dense barrier for which Alveric looked, which lies between Elfland and Earth. And the stars came out and were the stars we know, and Alveric slept below their familiar constellations. He awoke in the birdless dawn very cold, hearing old voices crying faintly far off, as they slowly drifted away, like dreams going back to dreamland. He wondered if they would come to Elfland again, or if Elfland had ebbed too far. He searched all the horizon eastwards, and still saw nothing but the rocks of that desolate land. So he turned again toward the fields we know. He walked back through the cold with all his impatience gone; and gradually some warmth came to him from walking, and later a little from the autumnal sun. He walked all day, and the sun was growing huge and red when he came again to the leather-worker's cottage. He asked for food, and the old man made him welcome: his pot was already simmering for his own evening meal: and it was not long before Alveric was sitting at the old table before a dish full of squirrels' legs, hedge-hogs and rabbit's meat. The old man would not eat till Alveric had eaten, but waited on him with such solicitude that Alveric felt that the moment of his opportunity was come, and turned to the old man as he offered him a piece of the back of a rabbit, and approached the subject of Elfland. "The twilight is further away," said Alveric. "Yes, yes," said the old man without any meaning in his voice, whatever he had in his mind. "When did it go?" said Alveric. "The twilight, master?" said his host. "Yes," said Alveric. "Ah, the twilight," the old man said. "The barrier," said Alveric, and he lowered his voice, although he knew not why, "between here and Elfland." At the word Elfland all comprehension faded out of the old man's eyes. "Ah," he said. "Old man," said Alveric, "you know where Elfland has gone." "Gone?" said the old man. That innocent surprise, thought Alveric, must be real; but at least he knew where it had been; it used to be only two fields away from his door. "Elfland was in the next field once," said Alveric. And the old man's eyes roved back into the past, and he gazed as it were on old days awhile, then he shook his head. And Alveric fixed him with his eye. "You knew Elfland," he exclaimed. Still the old man did not answer. "You knew where the border was," said Alveric. "I am old," said the leather-worker, "and I have no one to ask."