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Landsbyen -Into the North- An Epic Poem 42

Rian sat puzzling in his suite in the Keep.   His thoughts in disarray,  jumping from one concern to another without any logical order.  He sat before a desk that once was used by the Elfin Kings.  Beautifully maintained with natural varnishes and wax, it created a warm welcoming glow as the light kissed its surface.  The drawer fronts and legs were carved  with the most intricate and ornate story etchings, telling the tale of Kings for eons past.  The wood was of various varieties being added on to by each King that had reigned since the original desk was created.  No one was really sure what section of the desk 
was constructed first or which king had commissioned it to be built.  After so many years and so many changes by so many powerful Elfin Kings, the Desk seemed to take on a life of its own and at times if you watched closely you could see small portions of the carvings change right before your eyes.
Rian hated it!  
It represented his failure over the years to take the Elfin Throne and become King of the Elves himself.  He had worked so hard for many years now, and made slow but steady progress toward his goal.  He would not let some young 
half human take this away from him.  He knew that Erlenkönig could easily have destroyed him during The Battle of the Keep, almost did, but the fool was too soft and chose to save his kingdom instead.  That was his mistake.  One that Rian took full advantage of, fomenting unrest in the Village and starting wars with the humans.  When he finally was strong enough to approach the Council again, his plan had already been created.  A plan that took years to prepare, but that did not bother him for it took years to recuperate from the pain and damage done to his magic by Erlenkönig. 
He regained his strength and followed each detail with the precision of a 
Forest Elf and with each spin of the wheel the cogs fell neatly into place.
His only regret was that the attempt on Aislings life in the Southern Clan
had failed.  It would have been so helpful if the Village went to war 
with the Southern Clan over a human female.  You could never count on an Erin Elf anyway.  They had their uses but they were the least reliable of all of the elves.  In fact, just as he was being re-sworn into the Council of Six, or at that time the Council of Seven, he ran into a very old Erin Elf who supposedly had the gift of seeing.  Most elves who claimed this as an ability were ridiculed and scoffed at.  Who could possibly see into the future.  It was ridiculous in his mind but he listened to the old elf anyway.
The prediction was: 

'An elf of old will arise as the son of the true king
and re-unite the elves under his own son who will never be king.' 

What did that mean anyway.  A son of a son of a king is going to unite
all of the elves but he will never be a king.  How can someone who is not
a king possibly unite a people.  What of this half human, half elf, half goat
thing.  He wants to be king so that voids the prediction.  Unless, he thought
for a moment, it means he will attempt to take the throne but will fail and 
the elves will all unite under me.  Now that sounds reasonable.
Now, his mind turned to other things, what is with Seileach, always precise,
always fair, always consistent, always predictable.  He had never went to 
DynDoeth's cottage for evening meal or any other elf's for that matter.  
He preferred the company of his small entourage of Forest Elves; but, he made it annoyingly clear for several days in a row how much he was going to enjoy accepting DynDoeth's invitation.  Rian wondered if DynDoeth himself knew about the invitation.  On the other hand maybe the reason Seileach never accepted an invitation to someone's home was simply that no one every invited him.  He was an exceptionally dull elf after all.  His conversations being as intellectually stimulating as talking to a head of lettuce.
He would not make the same mistake that he had made with Erlenkönig.
He terribly underestimated the King's abilities and cleverness.  For that reason
he sent out a call to Erin to recruit as many Dark-ling Elves as he could get to come to the Village and help him in his quest.  Many of them had already, and 
they were scattered throughout the Village to deter any of those elves who wished to come to the aid of DynDoeth.  He also needed those who were loyal to him to squash the desire for an uprising after he took power and declared himself King.  This made him smile.  He looked at the four pieces of crystal laying before him.  Someone in the Council Room had thwarted his attempt to destroy the Forest Elf.  He was too weakened to try to trace the magic that was used and was unsure as to where it had originated.  It could have been an exceptionally astute guard but he almost immediately dismissed this possibility, astute guard, what an oxymoron.  Dyndoeth possibly had the power, but how did he know the attack was coming.  For years he had worked on his magic making it almost imperceptible to detect before an attack was emanate, and in an instant it was over and too late to stop.  He did not know whether the goat had magic or not, but as powerful as his father
had been, he could not rule out the possibility that he was the one who came to the rescue of the Elder Councilman.  The magic seemed strange and he was the strangest goat he had ever seen, an unsettling smirk slowly stretched across his face.  He sent a small amount of magic through his broken crystal and found as he manipulated it through each of the four pieces it grew in strength and intensity, an interesting and unexpected discovery that he might find useful.  He let the energy of his magic intensify ten fold and directed it against the desk, but to no avail.  The desk was unyielding.  With a frustrated sigh he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.

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