The place Tristan went to was the Elven Blacksmith.
It was located in a carved stone structure atop a massive hill. Amongst the sea of trees, a trail of gray smoke could be seen rising from the chimney. The structure was half-open, allowing Tristan to see from afar the half a dozen elves busy working in the place.
Tang! Tang!
The sounds of a hammer hitting the anvil echoed throughout the place, while the burning forge provided relief from the snowy weather.
"Master Laril!" Anmar shouted.
To Tristan's surprise, the person who came out to greet the two of them was a female elf. At first glance, she looked petite, with long yellow hair reaching down to her mid-back. But when they were closer, Tristan could see lithe muscles on her hands, something he had never seen from the other elves.
"Master Laril, this is Tristan, a very important guest of the queen."
"Yes, Anmar… I can hear you, what does the crazy queen want from us now?"
