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The Passage to the New World

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THE PASSAGE: PUBLISHED THE PASSING OF THE ELVES: MANUSCRIPT

The Northern seas are cold and cruel grey;

Across them sailed the fair tall Elven folk.

Southward, the seas are blue, serene and warm;

From that soft mist, with many a merry joke;

Sweet Spirits came. From West, at close of day,

Beneath sails brilliant as a peacock's fan,

Djinni arrived. From sunrise and through storm,

Across the Eastern ocean, last came-Man.

Not so awfully long ago, as the stars, who created

time, tell it, the Fair People withdrew from the Old

World (which they called the Middle Kingdom),

migrating across the Ocean Sea to dwell in the

hills and forests of the New Found Land.

The first to set foot on its shore (if he said so

himself, in the saga he often sang) was Ruddy Alf,

a copper-haired Sea-Troll of Nortland. It was he,

he bragged, who left Scandia to brave alone the

teeth of the Hell-hounds at sheer cliff's lip of the

flat Earth's edge; he the hero who pressed a single

print from his reindeer-hide boots on the beach

there, and he who came back to harp on it.

Next, or simultaneously, or (to hear his kin and

clan tell of it) years and years before, was

Brandan, a Leprechaun from Kerry, who zigzagged

all the way from the tip of the Dingle to the Brave

New World in a sealskin canoe, with naught but

poteen for provender.

But most of the Fair People deemed the exploits of

Alf and Brandan to be mere myth (even Legends, it

seems, look down on legends) and attributed the

Discovery of the New Found Land to the Italian

fairy Colon Savanelli, an intrepidly nautical Folleto

out of Genoa.

Savanelli had been commissioned by the Queen

of the Iberian Hadas (that is, the Spanish Fays) to

Seek the fabulous Spice Islands. Once found, she

Hoped that they would become a foster homeland

for her subjects, and indeed, for all the Fair People

of the Middle Kingdom whose Era, she feared, was

Coming to its end.

And it was.

Their brilliant Art, their shining Beauty, their Power

and their Glory were flickering and fading, like

firefly lights against the dawn; for the Time of Man

had begun.

Man, the unbelieving and unbelievable. Man, Who

hates and fears himself and thus despises every

living thing.

Man, the hewer of trees and spoiler of Streams;

whose fields and roads and walls are of a Straight,

unnatural geometry; who taught the very Beasts to

be dumb; fierce, clever, heavy-treading Man, who

with his weapons of forged iron had Lately

murdered, just for sport, what was believed to Be

the last, and irreplaceable, Dragon.

Word of Savanelli’s success and of the Spanish

Exodus ran like fox fire across the dying Middle

Kingdom.

Somewhere in the West were golden beaches,

Deep green woods, still pools, dark caves,

bottomLess rivers, topless mountains—a

Fairyland!

The French were the first to follow. (The tall,

Proud Hadas of Spain had already departed

However reluctantly-with their diminutive

domestic relatives, the Duendes.)

From France came the Sturdy seafaring Korreds of

Brittany; the nomadic, Shape-shifting Lutins of

Normandy, Domes Blanches and Domes Verles,

coquettish maidens From the river valleys of the

Aquitaine, Loups Garoux from the forests. All

these found refuge From the onslaught of Man

upon the chill and rocky Northern coast of the

New Found Land across the Sea. Forsaking the

sun-tanned Riviera, water Dracs, Playful-as-

porpoises, and the languid, amorous Fadas found

contentment upon the hot southern Shores of the

New World, amidst pink, long-legged Birds and

high, swaying palms.

The Northern seas are cold and cruel grey;

Across them sailed the stern tall Elven-folk.

Southward, the seas are blue, serene and warm;

From that soft mist, with many a merry joke,

The Dark Ones came. From West, at close of day,

Beneath sails brilliant as a peacock's fan,

Spirits arrived. From sunrise and through storm

Across the Eastern ocean, last came -Man.

Not so awfully long ago, as the stars, who created

time, tell it, the Fair People withdrew from the Old

World, (which they called The Middle Kingdom),

migrating across the Ocean Sea to dwell in the

hills and forests of the New Found Land.

The first to set foot on its shore (if he said so him-

self, in the saga he sang of it often) was Ruddy Alf,

a copper- haired Sea Troll of Nortland. He it was,

he bragged, who braved alone the teeth of the Hel-

hounds at sheer cliff's lip of the flat Earth's Edge,

he the hero who pressed a single reindeer- hide

boot-print on the beach there, and he who came

back to harp on it.

Next, or simultaneously, or (to hear his kin and

clan tell of it) years and years before, was

Brandan, a Fir Bolg from Kerry, who zig-zagged all

the way West in a seal-skin canoe, with naught but

poteen for provender, from the tip of the Dingle to

the Brave New World.

But most of the Fair People deemed the exploits of

Alf and Cluricaune to be mere myth (even

Legends, it seems, look down on legends) and

attributed the Discovery of the New Found Land to

Colon Savanelli, an intrepidly nautical Folleto out

of Genoa.

Savanelli had been commissioned by the Queen

of the Hadas (that is, the Iberian Fays) to seek the

fabulous Spice Islands. She hoped that, once

found, they would become a foster homeland for

her subjects; and, indeed, for all the Fair People of

the Middle Kingdom, whose Era, she feared, was

coming to its end.

And it was.

Their brilliant Art, their shining Beauty, their Power

and their Glory were flickering and fading, like

firefly lights against the dawn; for the Time of Man

had begun.

Man, the unbelieving and unbelievable. Man, who

hates and fears himself, and thus despises every

living thing.

Man, the hewer of trees and spoiler of streams;

whose fields and roads and walls are of a straight,

unnatural geometry; who taught the very beasts to

be dumb; fierce, clever, stinking heavy-treading

Man, who with his weapons of forged iron had

lately murdered, just for sport, what was believed

to be the last and irreplaceable Dragon.

Word of Savanelli's success, and of the Spanish

exodus, (together with the tall proud Hadas had

departed however reluctantly the diminutive

domestic spirits called Duende) ran like fox fire

across the dying Middle Kingdom.

Somewhere in the West were golden beaches,

deep green woods, still pools, dark caves,

bottomless rivers, topless mountains -- a

Fairyland!

The French were first to follow.

The sturdy sea- faring Korreds of Brittany; the

nomadic, shape-shifting Lutins of Normandy,

Dames Blanches and Dames Vertes from the river

valleys of the Aquitain, Loups Garoux from the

forests all these found refuge from the onslaught

of Man, upon the chill and rocky northern coast of

the New Found Land. Forsaking the sun-tanned

Langue d'Oc, the playful-as-porpoises Dracs and

the languid, amorous Fadas found content upon

the hot southern shores there, amidst pink long-

legged birds and high swaying palms

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