Arweinydd led Cadernia through a series of winding paths, weaving in and out of the tall thick trunked trees in the forest far from the summer solstice ceremony and away from the nearest Elven habitations. They arrived at a clearing on the far side of Isafdar. A blanket of lush green grass carpeted the floor before abruptly ending to give way to leagues and leagues of blue ocean. At the centre of the cliff-side clearing sat an unusually tall tree, its thick trunk easily doubling that of any other of the numerous trees dotted across the Elven province. At its base lay a large square cloth woven from fine Elven silk; the borders were embossed in silver ivy and its centre decorated with a large silver direwolf, sat and staring upwards to an un-seen night sky. On the far corner of the silk blanket, closest to the ocean view, sat a large wicker bowl. Inside the bowl lay a two large green leaves and on top balanced a tall thin pyramidal glass bottle capped with a small silver metallic pyramid, screwed tightly to seal the cyan liquid within. A set of carefully placed flatbread pieces were placed around the carefully crafted bottle like fern leaves spreading from the ground.

“Nectar and Ambrosia?” Cadernia queried, shocked at the sight of such a rare delicacy. “How did you get your hands on this?”

“A king has his ways.” Arweinydd replied with a mischievous grin.

“You’re not a king yet Arweinydd. Arrogance can be an unbecoming trait for a leader.” Cadernia snapped back, before bursting into laughter with Arweinydd.

Nectar was a fine Elven wine fermented from a rare cyan fruit found only within the forests of Isafdar giving rise to its characteristic cyan hue. The taste was sweet and velvety, a taste quickly acquired and longed for by any who are lucky enough to experience its flavour. Its medicinal properties were well known beyond the borders of the Elven province, able to reverse most ailments and ward off aging in the mortal folk beyond Tiranwwn’s mountain border. Ambrosia was said to be eaten by Seren herself. The flat bread was plain and boring to the sight, it’s only distinguishing feature being the simple ivy leaf imprinted on its surface – clearly stamped into place when the bread was still soft dough. The recipe was a closely kept secret known only by the most skilled culinary artisans in the Pobyddel clan. Its heavy dough was known to satisfy ones hunger for several days even from a few bites, a trait which had made Ambrosia a the staple diet for most high-born elves. 

Arweinydd and Cadernia sat on the blanket, staring out into the ocean as the sun gradually crept high into the sky warming the grass and trees surrounding. Arweinydd plucked the bottle from the wicker bowl, carefully unscrewing the silver lid to expose the delicate bottle rim beneath. He grabbed two fine glass flutes lying behind the bowl and poured a generous amount in each before passing one carefully to his admiring guest. Each took a sip of the Elven wine, savouring the flavour as it ran down their throat. 

“Few will experience such a wonderful taste within their lifetime” Arweinydd remarked. “Fewer still in the mortal world.”

Cadernia smiled as she enjoyed her drink, however Arweinydd failed to return the sentiment. Mortality had always troubled him. It seems an injustice that the Elves were granted immortality, and yet the other races beyond the Elven borders would experience but a fleeting moment of the eternal world which they had all inhabited. The ancient lore stated the Elves were blessed by Seren herself, given immortality in order to fulfil their roles as custodians of the realms and protectors of the forests and its inhabitants – a role quickly forgotten by the Elven kind as they withdrew from the outside realms and failed to maintain the vast forests and wildlife beyond the edges of Tiranwwn. Arweinydd shook the dark thoughts and doubt from his mind, choosing the focus on the occasion at hand.

“Benywdod is a once in a century event, and a worthy time for celebration.” Arweinydd said, breaking the short silence between the two young elves. “How do you feel to be a lady of Tiranwwn?”

“I feel no different from yesterday, or the day before. It’s been more of a distraction than a celebration.” Cadernia complained, slightly bitter at the unnecessary attention. “The time spent today could have been better used for study or practice.”

Arweinydd chuckled. “The stories are true of the Iowerth clan, always so serious and particular. One day you will be a great mage, intensely engaged with understanding deeper mysteries of this real and will miss the trivial moments like this.”

“Perhaps.” Cadernia said, brushing off the statement. “Where is this anyway?”

“The western shore. My father spoke of this place once, he said he discovered it as a child no younger than ourselves. It was where he met my mother before he took the throne.” Arweinydd replied. “I looked in the ancient royal library through old notes my father had written in his early years as King, and found directions to this tree.”

“It seems so out of place and lonely, even surrounded by its kin.” Cadernia replied.

“It’s unique. Take a closer look at its bark. Beneath its thick and ancient crust lies fine crystal like none I have ever seen.”

Cadernia stood up and brushed her hands down its rough and wrinkled bark. Arweinydd was right. Between the plates of timber bark an intricate network of crystal darted up and down the giant trees trunk, like hundreds of bolts of lightning striking the thick tree’s base from the storm-clouds of green leaves high above. Was the entire tree made of crystal? Though Cadernia as her fingers touched the cold crystalline material within.

“It’s fascinating.” Cadernia remarked.

“It’s as old as the Elven race itself. The books claim it’s one of many which lie on this realm and the realms beyond. A vast network which connects the different plains of existence allowing Seren to travel freely between. Old myths and legends, distorted by years of Elven whispers no doubt.” Arweinydd replied.

Arweinydd picked up a slice of Ambrosia, breaking it into two halves before standing up and handing one to Cadernia. Each took a small bite, once again savouring the flavour. The breads taste was a contrast of its plain appearance. The heavy bread was a vibrant mix of sweet and savoury tastes which bubbled and melted on the tongue. It was soft to chew and easy to swallow, making it easy to overindulge without the proper restraint. Arweinydd could already feel the Ambrosia assuage his hunger after only one bite. He took another and placed the rest of the bread into the bowl before covering it with a silk cloth folded neatly nearby. 

“The feast is sure to begin soon, and the guest of honour will be expected to there. Let’s make our way back to Prifddinas to dress and prepare.” Arweinydd said to Cadernia.

Cadernia nodded in compliance as Arweinydd turned and began to pack up the picnic. She ran her fingers down the trunk once more, enthralled by the mystery behind what was seemingly an ordinary tree but clearly withheld much more. She peered down to the base. Between its roots the ground was bare and dusty. The grass appeared to refuse to grow any closer to the tree, as if it would be encroaching on sacred land. No. She looked further around the tree. The grass grew up to the roots all around the tree except this spot. This small patch of dry dirt. Why? Cadernia lent down to the dirt and wiped at it with her fingers. The patch of seemingly dead ground radiated with brilliant energy. She wiped again and again, forwards and backward taking off a few centimetres of dirt exposing a hard surface below. Ancient runes glowed from beneath a thin layer of dirt, letters she had never seen before, alien and un-elven. 

“Ready?” Arweinydd asked, picking up the wicker bowl by two holes on either side.

“Yes, coming now.” Cadernia replied hastily and panicked, as if interrupted during a forbidden activity. 

She quickly brushed the dirt back over the exposed runes, their radiance dimmed and extinguished by another layer of soil. She then stood up and turned to Arweinydd smiling. 

“You seem unusually jovial for someone who is about to sit through yet another ‘distraction from study and practice’. What’s got you so excited?” Arweinydd inquired. 

“This was a pleasant surprise. Thank you very much, it’s exactly what I needed.” Cadernia replied, covering the true intent of her enthusiasm. “Let’s go. The sooner we complete this ‘celebration’ the sooner we can return to more interesting endeavours.”

Arweinydd complied and lead the way through the forest and back to the great crystal city of Prifddinas. Cadernia made sure to remember every detail of the route so she could return later to see what those runes really were, alone.