Beneath the cold, pale moonlight of the northern realms of E'lgoroth, tension simmered like a boiling cauldron. The wind carried whispers of a shocking alliance—an alliance that had stirred the very heart of the north. Rumors of an agreement between the elves and the humans from the southern lands spread like wildfire, igniting the fury of the northern citizens. In their minds, humans were not to be trusted, their history too steeped in betrayal and treachery. The alliance with the Dwarves of Kragnir had been steady, unshakable. But this? This partnership with humans? It felt like a betrayal, a dangerous gamble.The people gathered en masse at the Elder's Cabinet, a sacred place where the most ancient and revered of the northern council convened. The cabinet itself, nestled in the heart of Lord Swareer's grand estate, was built of dark stone and ancient wood. The walls were etched with the histories of the elven kind, marked by both triumph and sorrow. The air within was heavy with the weight of those stories, the weight of countless decisions that had shaped the north for millennia.Tonight, however, the cabinet was filled with disquiet. Angry murmurs rumbled through the gathered crowd like an approaching storm. The great hall, with its tall windows and banners bearing the sigil of the northern clans, was filled with the leaders of E'lgoroth. Mothers, fathers, and youths, all with eyes flashing in the dim light, were shouting and arguing, their voices rising and blending into a cacophony of unrest.In the center of it all stood Lord Swareer, an imposing figure. His hair, long and silver, framed a face carved by time and wisdom. At over two hundred years old, he was the oldest living elf in the northern realms, and his presence commanded both respect and fear. He was tall, with broad shoulders, his posture always upright like the towering trees that surrounded his estate. His eyes, though weary with age, gleamed with sharp intellect, and his deep voice could silence even the most unruly of gatherings.Lord Swareer had not yet spoken, allowing the storm to rage around him for a few moments longer. He stood still at the head of the great table, carved from the wood of the ancient world-trees, his hands resting lightly on its surface. His gaze moved over the crowd, over the angry faces of his people, and over his fellow elders who sat around the table with him. Beside him, Lord Eilam, one of the most respected elders, could no longer contain his frustration."How could she make such a decision? How could she dare to align with humans without consulting us?" Lord Eilam's voice rang out, his anger palpable. He was a proud elf, known for his fiery temper. His features were sharp and angular, his hair jet black, with only a few strands of silver that hinted at his age. Though not as old as Lord Swareer, he was still an ancient and powerful figure in the northern council. His eyes burned with indignation as he spoke, and his voice carried through the hall like a blade cutting through the icy air."Does she think us unimportant?" he continued, his tone edged with bitterness. "Has the council of the north become irrelevant to her? After all we've endured—the slaughter of our people in the Great War—and now, she dares to place our fate in the hands of humans? No, this cannot stand!" His voice rose with each word, and the murmurs of the crowd grew louder, their discontent feeding off his fury.The crowd's response was swift. Cries of outrage filled the room, the voices of men and women merging into one. Mothers clutched their children, fathers clenched their fists, and the young, full of passion and anger, shouted their defiance into the air. The war had scarred them all. The wounds were still fresh, the memories still raw. How could they trust humans now, when their people had suffered so much at the hands of others?"Silence!" The voice of Lord Swareer cut through the chaos like a blade of ice. Instantly, the hall fell into a cold, heavy quiet. The weight of his authority was felt by all, and no one dared to disobey. "Shouting and anger will not change what has been done," he said, his tone measured, though it carried the deep rumble of displeasure. "We must think as wise beings, not as impulsive children."The atmosphere shifted as Lord Swareer's words sank in. The people, though still bristling with anger, began to calm. Their respect for their leader was too great to allow for further outbursts. Slowly, all eyes turned to him, waiting for his wisdom to guide them.From the corner of the room, Lady Galadriel stepped forward. She was one of the most influential nobles in all of E'lgoroth, a figure of grace and power. Her beauty was as legendary as her political acumen. Her long, golden hair fell in waves down her back, and her bright blue eyes held a keen intelligence. She wore a gown of deep green, embroidered with silver threads that sparkled like stars. There was a quiet strength to her, a calm that contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions swirling around them."My lord," she said, her voice smooth and calm, yet filled with authority. "The decision has been made, but that does not mean we are powerless. We were not part of the council when this alliance was forged. We were not given a voice in this matter, but that does not mean we cannot act. Tomorrow, we will go to the palace. We will speak with her directly. We must make her understand the consequences of this choice."Lord Swareer nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Indeed," he said. "But we must approach this with care. If we are to challenge her, we must be united and strong. The elves of the north are not divided, and we will make that clear."There was a murmur of agreement from the elders around the table. Lord Eilam, though still visibly angry, took a deep breath and sat back in his chair, his hands resting on the armrests as he tried to compose himself. The others, too, began to settle, their minds turning from fury to strategy.Lord Swareer's estate, where they now gathered, was a vast and ancient compound, located deep in the forests of the north. The main hall, where they held council, was only one part of it. Outside, the trees loomed tall and silent, their branches swaying gently in the cold night air. The ground was covered in a light dusting of snow, and the stars above twinkled in the dark sky like diamonds scattered across velvet.Inside, the hall was lit by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns, casting long shadows on the stone floor. The fire crackled in the hearth at the far end of the room, providing warmth against the chill. The smell of pine and burning wood filled the air, a comforting scent that reminded them all of their deep connection to the land."Tomorrow," Lord Swareer said again, his voice firm, "we will go to the palace. But tonight, we must prepare. We must think carefully about how we will present our case. Lady Galadriel, you are skilled in diplomacy. You will speak for us. Lord Eilam, your knowledge of the histories will be invaluable. We must remind her of the past, of the sacrifices our people have made. And we must be clear about the dangers of this alliance."The elders around the table nodded in agreement. They trusted Lord Swareer's judgment, and though the anger in the room had not dissipated completely, there was now a sense of purpose. The decision to confront the palace had been made, and they would move forward as one.As the meeting came to a close, the crowd slowly began to disperse, leaving the hall in groups. Outside, the cold night air greeted them, but the tension in their hearts had lessened, replaced by determination. Tomorrow would be a pivotal day. The fate of the north hung in the balance, and they would not let their voices be silenced.Lord Swareer watched them go, his eyes lingering on the horizon. The palace where she ruled stood far to the south, a gleaming structure of marble and gold. It seemed distant now, both in place and in purpose, but tomorrow, they would close that distance. Tomorrow, they would make their voices heard.For now, he allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation. The snow began to fall more heavily, covering the ground in a fresh blanket of white. It was as if the land itself was preparing for what was to come—a new day, a new challenge. And though the future was uncertain, Lord Swareer knew one thing for certain: the elves of the north would not be easily swayed, not by any alliance, and certainly not by the unpredictability of humans.