I realized something was amiss as I slept. I tried to turn, but couldn't. Some kind of weight was placed on my chest, and I opened my eyes to see a small male sitting over me.

Our village had just started two days ago, only huts and thatch so far, and I wouldn't have expected an intruder this early, especially with so few possessions.

The little man spoke. He told me that we were too close to his home, and that we would have to move. I told him it would be impossible to convince the village elder to do so, and the little man smiled and stood, then jumped on to the floor. "Very well," he said, and ran off, but not before taking a small knapsack lying by the doorway.

I shouted after him, and followed his figure past the fields and in to a small forest. I stopped at a place where there were no trees, but instead a circle of mushrooms.

I had heard stories of these circles before, tales of disease and itchiness, or of long uninterrupted sleep. I avoided it, and walked around the clearing, only to hear a voice behind me.

"Halt," said a voice, and I felt a sword point in my back. I turned slowly to see it was only the little man, holding a stick. Behind him, between the trees, were more of his kind.

Alfar. They were not quite the beings that had been described in stories. Their height varied among them, some half a man's height, some as tall as a man, some somewhere in between. Most were thin and lanky, and some were fat. There was a noticeable difference in height by seeing them all standing together, and I wondered if there was any "normal" height for their kind.

I asked what he wanted. He asked what I wanted, ignoring my question. I told him he had stolen some of my belongings, and he laughed. He said I deserved it, and that I shouldn't feel left out, for they were stealing from our village since it was first built near them. I asked how, and they showed me, each one vanishing in to the shadows, turning barely visible, invisible but for tiny moments in the light that seemed to reflect them.

I told them the men in the village would be angered by their thievery. I told them of our swords and axes, and how we would raid their forest just as we had raided the unprotected towns about the coast. Most of the human villages were still thatch and straw, they had little to lose by our brigandry, and could always start anew.

The man with the pointy stick pointed at me. He told me that Van Freyr, taller than the tallest of our men, would come down and smite us from Alfheim. I asked about Alfheim, and they described it as their homeland, green and vast, with twisty forests and tunnels that would drive an ordinary man mad.

I asked why they were here then, and why Freyr was not among them. They hesistated. Behind them, a tall girl stepped forward and introduced herself. She told me her title, "Tale Keeper," but did not give me her name.

She explained that they were living among man, as they were cast out from Alfheim some time ago. They were not exiled, but they were seen as too mischevious among its residents, and were sent here to tend the forests and earth instead.

I asked why they wanted us to move our village if we hadn't bothered them yet, and she told me that "we would, no matter." I couldn't argue with human nature, and told them that we would try not to bother the inhabitants of the forest, and to make a pact not to hunt or slay any of them.

She smiled, and explained that it was not just the ones in the forest, for they roamed as nature itself, and could be found along a wolf or a tree or a stream or a plant, protecting it. They were like spirits, only not. They tended to nature, but were still corporeal. She explained that by our existence, one of their kind would be slain by us, if not now then later.

I asked what I could do to create no conflict between us. She told me of a sacrifice I could make, in which I would hunt an ox and slay it, then drain its blood on top of a small hill. She said it would please her, but I told her we needed any game we could hunt, for our village. She told me I didn't understand the word "sacrifice" at all.

Next she described the Blót, a banquet that would be scheduled during the night, for both of us to drink and appease the will of the gods. I asked more, and she said that no animal would be eaten, for they would be sacrificed as well.

I told her the men would not resort to that, for they would enjoy eating as well as drinking. She looked down, paused, then asked about me.

She described the banquet, and how drink and dancing would take place, so much that one need not worry about food. I told her I wouldn't mind, and she seemed pleased.

The Blót took place that night, further away and deeper in the forest, and I was astounded at the amound of preparation that had come out of nowhere.

They drank endlessly, pissed in the trees, and came back to drink some more. Some stumbled and fell to become unconscious, others ran in to trees, but most boasted of their fortitude and danced amidst the clearing, alone, then in lines and circles. Others played flutes and panpipes, and crudely made lutes.

In my drunkenness I began to accept their view, that perhaps they had more right to be here than us humans. I joked that perhaps I should join therm, and they turned serious. They said yes, if I would live among them.

I asked what it entailed. They told me of their hunts, for the animals that were left for Odin and Loki on the hilltops. They told me of harvesting berries and grubs, scavenging and digging. They told me of balance, and how damaging the forest would yield little to be gathered later.

Last, they told me that to abandon humankind, I would need to take what was theirs. Not through bloodshed, but through stealth. They described how man left his belongings unprotected, waiting for nature to take them back. Mostly they would find food and snacks, to be used in Alfblots. It was not "wrong" in their eyes, though they admitted they stole less than the black elves hidden beneath the earth, and that they were willing to put off plunder if the villagers knew who they were.

Most humans overlooked them, however, and even hunted them down. They would hide in these times, becoming like the trees and plants, unseen by those who were not keen of sight or presence. Some said they had mastered the art of changing form, of turning invisible, of shrinking to gnomish heights. They described their kind in other lands, and how they were even shorter there, living in tree stumps and under mushrooms, no taller than faeries, pixies, or brownies.

I wasn't sure of their description for the black elves. Some described them as not elfen at all, more like trolls or dirty beasts, with skin of mud or soot. Others told of black elves that were more like them, though they still lived beneath the ground, and shared different customs. I gathered that these black elves varied in ugliness as the forest elves varied in height, and perhaps some were attractive by our standards.

I asked what other mischief they had performed, and Tale Keeper smiled and told me about men who had fallen for their kind, though it was their kind that would initiate first. They loved pranks, and jokes, and at times these jokes went too far. They would steal undergarments and leave them about, or rub others through magic, or give visions of beauty that none could resist. They would pester and tease humanfolk until they were in lust with their kind, seeking them after they had long been hidden. I asked if they minded that humans were seeking them out, but I noticed she was searching in my pants for something.

Later, as I had vowed not to live in the village, but remained in their forest, I heard the word "Alvenking" spoken among them. At first, I thought their leader would show up, to guide them forward. I later realized they were talking about me.

---

In dark, twisting tunnels the subterranean races dwell. They prefer the dark, for they can see better, and find the daylight uncomfortable. Its is said some grow stagnant and petrified in the sun, though this may be rumor.

The races of the dark live amongst each other, though not al;ways peacefully. There are wars and battles among them, but there is also farming and trade. They harvest sweet moss and fungi, and large luminescent mushrooms fill their tunnels.

There are geodes and lodestones, ore and ingots, and it is the dwarves who mine these most. It is said the dwarves, who call themselves "Dvergar," were the makers of nearly the old artifacts, the weapons of legend, and all that others consider wealth. For this reason they are sought after by the greedy races under the earth, and are often mistrustful.

They protect their forges well, and gaurd their shafts and quarries. Their refineries, smelters, and banks are well hidden and well protected. Though they keep their resources safe, they are generous with their product, producing the finest axes, swords, shields, and helms. The huliðshjálmr allows one to wander invisible, and a cloak has this same property.

Among the dwarves are the elves or Alfar. The dark elves, called the Dökkálfar, the Daoi-Sith, or the Trow, and the black elves, called the Svartálfar, the Du-Sith, or the Drow.

They vary in appearance, from fair but pale, to dark and sooty. They like to sneak in homes, and steal or cause Elf Dreams or "Albtraum" among the sleeping. Some are hunched and hairy, others are tall and proud. Though some retain beauty, others appear as ugly as dwarves and trolls, and are often mistaken for each other.

Of course a troll would never accept this. Trolls are large, fat, wrinkled oafs who hide in stone and trees, and hate being out of their element. They despise roads and humanfolk, and will appear as trees and stone in order to avoid attack. Some can change to human form, but it is their furry tail that gives them away as shapeshifters, and this form only lasts for some time.

The Wights or "huldrefolk" are similar, though they are better at assuming human form. They wear gray, and rarely talk outside of their own race. For this reason they are strange and secretive to others, sometimes mistaken as "undead." They prefer to stay with their own kind, isolated from other races, even under ground. Wight clothing is simple and elegant.

Wights and Trolls can both shapeshift, and both like to leave their Changeling "huldrebarn" offspring in human homes as a prank. Both feel revulsion to roads and human establishments, which is why they may visit a human area to steal or commit pranks, but never live there. They revile Christianity and the angelic, even symbols of these religions can draw them away.

Some believe that Wights may actually be Trolls, stuck in their "human" form. Others believe that any human disguise is a "Wight," something resembling a human if not for its furry tail.

There are many trolls above ground, with many different forms, though they are always more comfortable in the darkness. For this reason they choose to stay hidden and reclusive, taking the form of stones, of trees, of mountain boulders.

Trolls are either quite large or quite small. The largest prefer to stay hidden, as they are vulnerable, though they sometimes gather together in meetings.

Small trolls stay near each other, cooking bread, raising animals, and living in boulders, where they hoard gold and treasure. They like to sneak near human towns and farms, steal stockpiled food and gold, spoil beer into Troll Beer, and take helpless humans prisoner, as "Bergtagna."

Those more skilled at shapeshifting can become logs and rocks, or even balls of yarn, though they will revert to their true form if picked at or struck. If left in direct sun too long, they will permanently become stone, and die. There are haugtrold (mound-troll), bergtroll (mountain-troll), Wind trolls, sea trolls, forest trolls, and bridge trolls.

Troll magic, or "trolleri" includes travelling along the winds, turning invisible, and shapeshifting. Troll Witches practice Trolldom, which involves gathering at night among bright camp fires. Due to their fat nose and body, and some having tusks or only one eye, they are easy to spot and easy to despise. They hold pride among themselves, however, as they are descended from the Jotun of Jötunheim.

For those foolhardy enough to wander undeground, one should learn diplomacy and persuasion, become a shapeshifter, sneak and hide in the shadows, or become a slave. Those who are unwelcome will be shunned and told to leave, unless one can gain favor with the underground folk.

The light elves or "ljósálfar" may be welcome, though there is still bitterness and mistrust among them. An overworlder is as foolish to enter the underground as an undergrounder is as foolish to enter the surface world. Both are out of their element, at risk to all sorts of danger, hunted by those who do not understand what they are, and seem to dislike the quality of the light.