The unexpectedness of the answer dazed Alveric; and when he saw that
reasonable questions about definite things brought him no logical answer
he despaired of getting practical information to guide his fantastic
journey. So he walked on the eastward side of the cottage all the
afternoon, watching the dreary plain, and it never changed or moved: no
pale-blue mountains appeared, no Elfland came flooding back: and evening
came and the rocks glowed dully with the low rays of the sun, and
darkened when it set, changing with all Earth's changes, but with no
enchantment of Elfland. Then Alveric decided on a great journey.
He returned to the cottage and told the leather-worker that he needed to
buy much provisions, as much as he could carry. And over supper they
planned what he should have. And the old man promised to go next day
amongst the neighbours; telling of all the things he would get from
each, and somewhat more if God should prosper his snaring. For Alveric
had determined to travel eastward till he found the lost land.
And Alveric slept early, and slept long, till the last of his fatigue
was gone which came from his pursuit of Elfland: the old man woke him as
he came back from his snaring. And the creatures that he had snared the
old man put in his pot and hung it over his fire, while Alveric ate his
breakfast. And all the morning the leather-worker went from house to
house amongst his neighbours, dwelling on little farms at the edge of
the fields we know; and he got salted meats from some, bread from one, a
cheese from another, and came back burdened to his house in time to
prepare dinner.
And all the provender that burdened the old man Alveric shouldered in a
sack, and some he put in his wallet; and he filled his water-bottle and
two more besides that his host had made from large skins, for he had
seen no streams at all in the desolate land; and thus equipped he walked
some way from the cottage, and looked again at the land from which
Elfland had ebbed. He came back satisfied that he could carry provisions
for a fortnight.
And in the evening while the old man prepared pieces of squirrels' meat
Alveric stood again on the windowless side of the cottage, gazing still
across the lonely land, hoping always to see emerge from the clouds
that were colouring at sunset, those serene pale-blue mountains; and
seeing never a peak. And the sun set, and that was the last of October.
Next morning Alveric made a good meal in the cottage; then took his
heavy burden of provisions, and paid his host and started. The door of
the cottage opened toward the West and the old man cordially saw him
away from his door with godspeed and farewells, but he would not move
round his house to watch him going eastward; nor would he speak of that
journey: it was as though to him there were only three points of the
compass.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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