Before answering, he drew a deep breath. Éha had wandered a short distance away, and was out of earshot.
‘That hill,’ he said slowly, indicating the round hill with his eyes, ‘has long been a place of safety for Faerie folk dispossessed by the Elves. Certain of the Elves, myself for one, have long protected it, by force if necessary. There were a small number of Loremasters who worked in secret on our behalf, weaving spells about it that keep the unwelcome at bay by harmlessly clouding their minds, so that no one who was unwelcome could conceive a desire to go there. But perhaps things have changed, or the spells have become weakened or undone. A fear grows upon me for those who hide themselves in that place, thinking they are safe. It is also possible that they have given aid to whoever has fled with the Elf Lore. If that is so, then let us hope that they have not also unwittingly attracted the attention of the enemy.’