Chapter 7: The Grove of the Ancients

I was dumbstruck by Rexena's pronouncement.

"A fake?" I repeated. "How can you know this?"

"Because I know the Mantle," she replied simply. "I was there at its creation. I was there when Fandral Staghelm, the great druid leader from Darnassus gave the fabric to Laurent. I could feel the magic in its folds as I stood next to him. There is no magic in that cloth."

"You knew my father?" I asked, grasping on to the information hungrily.

"I knew him. I was friends with your Grandfather, which is how I came to be at the Coming of Age ceremony."

Feisty came out of her trance, "Shali! You are the granddaughter of Fandral Staghelm? Why did you not tell me this?"

"I didn't know," was my reply. "This was kept secret from me. Do you know where the real Mantle of Myriad might be?" I asked Rexena.

"I only saw it that once," she admitted. "Your father had it hidden away, weaving stories into its threads. But I know someone who might have some answers for you, Night Elf. On the path of Darkshore that leads into Ashenvale Forest, there is a place called, 'The Grove of the Ancients'. In this grove, lives an Ancient of Lore. He is as wise as he is kind. They call him The Oracle Tree."

I have heard tell of this Ancient," Feisty told me. "The dwarfs call him Onu."

"Yes. Onu." confirmed Rexena. "I must wish you well now and be on my way. I am on an errand to Gnomeragan. A younger one needs assistance in finding the dormitories there and retrieving a ring of great power." With nothing else to say, the little mage grabbed her staff and took off towards the pier, twin ponytails bobbing as she ran.

"What will you do now?" Feisty queried.

The answer was easy, "I must see Onu immediately." I told her. "Feisty, keep the ring and the other stuff from the box, I only want this cloak. I must show it to Onu."

Feisty retrieved the box from my bed, where it still lay open. "Thank you Night Elf. And so I too must be off. Today I am scoping out Black Fathom Bay also known as the Zoram Strand, searching for the entrance to the underground temple."

I bowed low to the dwarf, a part of me wishing I could join her and another part eager to be on my own way. "Perhaps, we will meet again, my friend." I said hopefully.

"I am sure we will," she replied, bowing in return with fist pressed to her heart--the traditional symbol of friendship. With that we both took off running, she towards the shore that would lead to Black Fathom Bay and me up the path that I hoped would take me to meet Onu, The Oracle Tree.

I ran steadfastly for what seemed like an hour, finally sighting a little wooden signpost that said, "Grove of the Ancients". I laughed to myself when I saw it, thinking that this pinewood arrow marked a path for tourists and adventurers and was somehow amused by this. Following this narrow walkway, I soon found myself gazing up at the ornate columns that enclosed the Grove and moments later at the immense, tree-like creature called Onu."

"Who is there?" he boomed. "Do you have a message from Darnassus, Night Elf? What are the goings on there?"

"Good day to you Lore Master." I said, bowing so low I could feel the rough floor at my scalp. "I am Shalimara, daughter of Laurent."

"I know who you are," Onu said, "What news do you bring from Fandral?"

I shook my head and sat on one of the little stone benches that surrounded the great one. "I do not come with news, Sir. I come with hope. I need you to look at something I bring and see if you can tell me its lore."

"Proceed. Proceed." he said, and to my surprise, heaved his huge form to the ground in front of me. I pulled the fake Mantle of Myriad from my pack and he took it immediately into his leafy fingers, running his eyes hungrily over the fabric and crooning over it like a mother with a new born baby.

"This fabric...this cloth...was woven from my very own branches," he told me, "Way before the Great Sundering. "It was the twin of another, that Fandral himself kept. This one was created to serve as decoy for the other, which contained much magic. How do you come to have this in your possession, Shalimara?"

I told him of my journey thus far and he listened intently, stopping now and then to ask a question that would clarify his thoughts. When my story was over he startled me by laughing loudly.

"I would like to have seen Rexena again," he admitted, "And to have met this dwarf you speak of. For now, I will fill in a few blanks in your story." The giant tree-man stood once more and paced around the enclosure. "The Mantle of Myriad," he began, "Was created by the druids and myself, to hold the secrets of the Night Elves before the time of war. It was made to protect the secrets and magic of the druids of the Cenarion Circle and the One Tree. A duplicate was made, this very cloak that I hold in my hands, because there were many who sought to steal its secrets. We used this second piece openly, hoping that it would fool the enemy, and apparently it worked." Again he chucked, and ran the fabric lovingly against his bark-like cheek. "When the world fell apart, just before the Great Sundering, Fandral gave the magical cloak to his son, Laurent. He was to weave more stories into its folds and to put much protective magic around it. That there were two cloaks made and that one contained such lore, was a great secret that Laurent was not to reveal to anyone, save his only child. But you, Shalimara, were merely a babe at the time and we thought, wrongly as it turned out, that the Night Elves would not fall for many years to come. When the enemy invaded, Laurent hid the Mantle to keep it from harm, thinking to retrieve it later. He was killed before he told anyone where it was and it has been lost for all this time since." He gave me a serious look. "But now Fandral must have need of the legends as we prepare to fight the Burning Crusade. It is he that has sent you, is it not?"

"Yes," I stated simply. "But he did not tell me the significance of the cloak or even that he is my grandfather. He merely summoned me to him and told me the bare bones of my quest."

"He did that to protect you, Hunter." Onu admonished me. "You knowing these secrets is dangerous for you, and seeing as you have no children, you and only you must retrieve the Mantle of Myriad for the race of elves."

"I do not know where I should begin," I confessed. "Kenundrom is dead and he had the fake cloak, not the real one. Any information that he held, is under the sea with his bones."

"There is a place, not far from here. An ancient ruin called Mathystra. It was once a city of night elves, but it fell when the Well of Eternity was destroyed. If you choose to go there, Shalimara, be very careful. The area is now overrun with stormscale naga and it lies just west of the Tower of Althalaxx which is a stronghold of the evil Athrikis and his Cult of the Dark Strand. There are many warlocks among his followers and evil satyrs."

"I will be careful," I promised.

"And so Little One, we must part. I will eagerly await news of your successes. For now, I will return this." He began to hand me the fake mantle but I stopped him. "No, Father Ancient, you keep it. It will be safe within your branches."

"Ahhhhh," he replied, blinking rapidly to forestall his tears. Without further comment, he turned from me and the last I saw him, he was again caressing the cloth against his gigantic cheek.