Then, suddenly she remembered one who was not evil—one who would surely befriend the Shadow Witch. It was the Elf—the good Elf, who dwells in the Borderland that stretches beyond the Plain of Ash and away toward the Kingdom of Earth. Very old and wise is the Elf. He knows the ways of the Evil Fairies who dwell in the countries that lie away from the heart of the Fire; knows much of their dark magic and mischievous enchantments. He knows something, also, of the good Fire Fairies and their bright spells. Safe in his home amid the ash of the Borderland, he sees the Wind in the Chimney swoop down upon the Borderland and even out across the broad Hearthstone in his boldness, but he knows no fear of him. He sees the giant, Curling Smoke, rise stealthily from his lurking places, sees him grow vaster, and vaster, until, when he chooses he darkens all the sky, but of him, also, he is unafraid. The Ash Goblin creeps forth from his low dwelling, prying into the affairs of others and seeking what mischief he may do, but the Elf goes his way undisturbed, knowing himself secure against him. No one who comes to the Elf of the Borderland for help in any good deed comes in vain. Thinking of this, hope rose in the breast of Creeping Shadow. Sure that he would not fail her, she determined to appeal to him at once. Like an arrow she sped out of the Cave and swept down the cliff-side and across the Plain in noiseless haste. The Ash Goblin met her, and would have detained her to ask her business, but she escaped him without reply. In trembling fear of the Wind, who might swoop down upon her, she approached the Chimney Mouth, but she had the good fortune to pass by it in safety. She had entered the Borderland and was not far from the Elf’s door, when suddenly she encountered him. He was sitting quietly upon a mound of ash, a curious little figure, with eyes that twinkled with a kindly light under thick fuzzy brows. His fuzzy ears stood out from beneath a peaked cap; his pudgy hands were almost hidden by the sleeves of the soft ashen garment that clothed him from head to foot. He saw Creeping Shadow approaching and knowing at once from her face that she was in trouble, he guessed that she had come to ask his help. So he beckoned her to a seat beside him and listened to her story with the keenest attention, hearing her through to the last word without interrupting her. “And now,” Creeping Shadow besought him, when she had told him all, “What can be done to deliver my dear mistress? There is none so wise and kind as yourself. Advise me, I beg of you.” With eyes fastened eagerly upon his face she awaited his answer. “There is but one thing to do,” returned the Elf instantly. “You must obtain the assistance of some noble Prince—one who, by the power of his good magic, can overcome the Wizard, and set her free.” “Alas!” sighed Creeping Shadow, “Where might such a prince be found? You know as well as I that all in this land are evil and use evil enchantments.”