Dragonstone 12

**Chapter 12**

We rejoin our Stalwart Band at breakfast, having just described Arin's vision to Rael, King Aldor, and Aldor's consort, Elora. Rael says that she has had no such vision, but hastens to add that this is utterly meaningless, *“or so said Elgon the Mage.”*

There's a brief interlude on whether it's right to tamper with fate, and whether visions can be altered, to which I say: shut up. If you experience a vision of something horrific occurring, you darn well try to stop it. It's called *being a decent person.* Whether you'll succeed is another matter, but failing to try is criminal.

Fortunately, the elves decide that an event of this magnitude means they have to try to stop it. I guess if it was just a few people dying horribly, they'd shrug and go back to sharpening their ears or something.

The elves discuss the Green Stone. No one knows anything about it. Okay then. There's some more useless discussion of options that aren't, until we finally get to the only option we can click on: go see a wizard – excuse me, Mage – named Dalavar Wolfmage. Dalavar lives in a forest called Darda Vrka, the Wolfwood, some eight hundred leagues away, which we're told will be eighty to a hundred days of travel.

Eight hundred leagues is about 2,400 miles. The distance between New York, NY and Los Angeles, CA is 2,443 miles. These elves are planning to cross *an entire continent* just to ask a guy who might, maybe, perhaps know something.

I just . . . I don't even know what to say to that.

\~/

There's another page of maundering and discussion of fake options, including several ways to shorten the *hundred-day journey,* but McKiernan carefully shoots down every one of them. What was the point of this? Why bring up other, better options if they're coming to nothing and have no significance? And it's not like McKiernan is heading off the obvious answers; instead, it's things like “Can we shorten the journey by riding between planes of existence?” and “What about that magic ship that is totally not a ripoff of Tolkien's *Vingilot?”*

And then an alarm sounds! Has some mischievous elf child pulled the fire alarm? No, it turns out to be a messenger, who says *“The* Rûpt *along the Grimwall, they have felled in malice nine of the Eld Trees.”*

In case you're not familiar with McKiernan's writing, “Rûpt” is a blanket term for “bad guys,” most of which are takes on the traditional goblins and orcs and so on. They work for the Big Bad, Gyphon, burn in sunlight, and have about a hundred different names for no real reason. For simplicity, we will be calling them exactly what they are: goblins, orcs, ghouls and ogres.

In any case, a band of 20 goblins have chopped down nine Giant Magic Heaven Trees.

This is the “Grizzly Giant,” the world's 25th-largest giant sequoia tree. It is 209 feet tall, with a trunk diameter of over 25 feet. Please note the size of the humans in that picture.

Now imagine a bunch of three-foot-tall goblins, armed with axes, cutting down *nine* trees, each of them 50% larger than the Grizzly Giant.

Yeah. \~/

The elves are outraged, and when Elora learns that the goblins responsible have already been killed, she says *“Too easy. They should have suffered.”*

These elves are pretty damn bloodthirsty, aren't they? Yes, the trees are special and all, but the people who did it are dead, and Elf Queen wishes they'd been tortured first? Not very sympathetic.

The elves moan for a bit, and we're reminded of Arin's nightmare, which apparently happened simultaneous with the bit of outlaw logging – wait, twenty goblins cut down nine Giant Trees of Doom *in one night??*

\~/\~/

Um. Okay. Vanidar says that *“More than simple killing needs answer this rape.”*

Dude, *they were trees.* Yes, they're special trees, and yes, it's sad, but *they were trees.* Nine trees out of a forest of, what, thousands? Tens of thousands? The goblins who did it have already been killed.

King Aldor declares that *“We must uncover the ones behind this vile deed and bring a hard message home unto the Foul Folk,”*  and Elora adds *“Retribution, swift and hard.*”

Um.

*They were trees.*

Am I missing something here? Are these trees the repositories of elven souls or something? Is their death of huge significance? We've been told that they *“gather twilight”* and that the elves value the wood, and beyond that . . . nothing. No reason these elves should be reacting as if to a mass slaughter of innocents or something similarly horrific.

There's some wangst about how Vanidar planted these trees and so has the first claim to vengeance, but oh noes, he's already promised to guard Arin, and it's all very uninteresting. The Aldor tells someone to *“sound the muster. I would ride in force unto the Grimwall marches.”*

Yes, the King of the High Elves is quite literally going to war over some trees.

\~/\~/

These guys make Greenpeace and the ELF look like pacifists.

Anyway, Arin gets her supplies together, and the chapter ends by telling us what we already know.

Drinks: 6

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