This was before the time of Andille, the bard of light. He travelled alone to the forest, a brave pioneer, if not foolhardy. He befriended the ents, learning their language. He showed them of his magic, enchanting the water of the lake to make it sweet. He built a home here of the ore filled native rock, and was content to live in the quiet solemnity of the valley.

His peace was broken by the cries of invaders, goblins from the north. The ents felt secure in their ability to defend themselves, but this time the creatures had brought fire with them. Lighted arrows sang through the air, landing in the lush woods, lighting many of the oaks and birch trees of the forest. The ents fought the blaze as best they could, but in the end it was Andille that saved them. He fought the blaze with blasts of snowstorms that he called down to aid his friends. The fires were snuffed and the goblins fought back with powerful magic that caused the very earth to shake beneath them. They, a superstitious lot, ran in fear, dreading that they had offended their pagan gods.

Andille lived like a king in the vale, having not a care in the world. The gratitude of the ents was paid back to him many fold. In thanks, they combined their efforts to build for him a castle such as the region had never known. He was brought food of the forest, and in return he granted life extending enchantments to the aging trees, prolonging their lives. He cured those that ailed of disease and insects, and was truly loved by those that became his people.

He grew old, though his life was filled with happiness and serenity. He feared what would become of the forest when he was gone. The ents sensed that something troubled him.

"Andille, I feel that your thoughts are far from us," said Ore', a large oak ent.

"My life, like a summer day, will soon draw to a close," he replied, his eyes filled with tears.

"You cure us of all our ails. Why then not use your magic to make yourself whole?"

"My power comes from the rocks and the trees, and is redirected in their aid. This power belongs to the earth, not to me. I cannot and would not drain the life of this land for my sake. You lived for centuries before my coming, and will yet live long after I am gone."

So said Andille, but in his heart he knew the truth. He felt that he was being watched at all times, a glow of enchanted light often searching him out in the night. At finding him, it would always leave the forest, always travelling northward towards the land of the goblins. Once he had taken ill, and the light came near him many times, and he felt sure that he heard shrill laughter eminating from it. The goblins had grown in their knowledge of magic, the result of human traitors that had sold the secrets to their art to the fould creatures before being robbed of their own lives as reward.

Andille had many times tried to teach the ents of his skills, but they could not learn to focus the power without it draining power from the surrounding forest, leaving the surrounding plants withered and dead. Several ents died trying to learn the secrets of the enchantments, and at last the effort was abandoned.

One day, a group of adventurers approached the forest, priests in seek of a refuge for themselves and their families from the desolate lands beyond the beauty of the forest. The ents resisted them, and they turned away, knowing that they were far outmatched, and not wanting a fight. Andille heard of their plight, being turned back to the wastelands from whence they had come, and wished to see them, having seen no human for over fifty years. He hurried to catch up with them as best he could in his aged form. He caught up with them by nightfall in their camp of circled wagons, huddled by their campfire. The icy night chill cut them to the bone, they unprepared for the approaching winter.

"Of whence come ye?" asked Andille, stepping through a gap formed between two wagons.

The leaders of the four families, priests, drew maces.

"What do you want of us?" they asked, weapons at the ready.

"I wish to know of your order of priests," he stated simply, holding his hands out in a gesture indicating that he had come unarmed. He had the kindly look of an old man, dressed in tattered woodland garb and a silver beard protruding from the hooded green cloak that he wore.

"We are outcasts of Grendoll. We fight the destructive use of machines that have began to replace men there. An evil priest there has learned the art of animating things mechanical. They are the new army of the city. They mine the ore, leaving the old miners homeless and without work. Times have left our simple lifestyle behind," said a tired priest in flowing blue robes. A gold cross hung from his neck, on a well worn chain. "It seems that only we few still await the coming of our Lord. Those of the priesthood have abandoned the faith in the acquiring of riches. They build cathedrals while the needy go to bed hungry. I would live in a world where a pure sould was yet treasured."

"Enough talk of this," the man said,"What do you want from us?"

Andille sighed long and deep, and sat upon a charred stump.

"I beg your forgiveness for the inhospitality offered by the treemen of the forest. They know not who you are. They fear that you are sent by the goblins. Enter with me and you will be welcomed," he stated simply, offering a hand of friendship to the leader of the group.

"I am Andille, Druid of Light."

"But, your order has long since perished!" said the humble priest,"All killed at the beginning of the last decade for trying to stop the use of the enchanted machines. When they began to mine the land furiously, your order stepped in, pleading for the trees and plant life that was being destroyed. My name is Blindar of the order of the Silent. I am, truly, at your service."

"Gather your horses and wagons, and you will find rest in my home this night. Come."

Andille led the weary group of weary men with their wives in simple dark attire, and little children to their wagons. He walked ahead, leading the way. They made their way to the edge of the forest, where strong, tall ent warriors blocked their path.

"Andille, what is the meaning of this," one young oak said, reaching high with its thick limbs.

"These, like me, are outcasts. They can yet give you all hope," said Andille,"Please let us pass, and you will live to rejoice over this day."

Hesitating a minute, the trees moved from the road, letting the slow moving group make their way into the forest. Andille requested aid for the group, and towering trees pushed the wagons along their way, the horses alltogether exhausted from their long journey that day across the burning sands of the desert.

Little boys and girls hid in the wagons, too frightened to speak over the massive trees that helped them on their way. Such things they had never seen in the years of living in the border town of Grendoll. After a time, the fear was replaced by curiosity, little heads peering from behind crates of provisions to see the huge gnarled trees making their way along on strong roots which served as feet.

After two hours of travel, the group arrived at the Shadowed Vale. As they entered the clearing around the lake, the children gasped at the sheer beauty of the valley with its crystal clear lake now black, reflecting the moonlight of the world's two reddish orange moons, towering mountains surrounding them on all sides. Near the lake they could see a wonderful fortress, a palace made for Andille, with its spires reaching up to meet the starry sky above.

They made their way up the path to its gates. Andille called to the ent guards above to lower the drawbridge. On heavy vines, the bridge labored its way down, and the people entered the Castle. A warm magical fire served to take the chill of their bones.