THE KING OF ELFLAND’S DAUGHTER
forgotten their lord by now; yet she had not forgotten.
He asked her what she was doing there, on the heath with her broom in the evening.
“Sweeping the world,” she said.
And Alveric wondered what rejected things she was sweeping away from the world, with grey dust mourn- fully turning over and over as it drifted across our fields, going slowly into the darkness that was gathering beyond our coasts.
“Why are you sweeping the world, mother witch?” he said.
“There’s things in the world that ought not to be here,” said she.
He looked wistfully then at the rolling grey clouds from her broom that were all drifting towards Elfland.
“Mother Witch,” he said, “can I go too? I have looked for twelve years for Elfland, and have not found a glimpse of the Elfin Mountains.”
And the old witch looked kindly at him, and then she glanced at his sword.
“He’s afraid of my magic,” she said; and thought or mystery dawned in her eyes as she spoke.
“Who?” said Alveric.
And Ziroonderel lowered her eyes.
“The King,” she said.
And then she told him how that enchanted monarch would draw away from whatever had worsted him once, and with him draw all that he had, never
