Othaller Ingos Milenále ruvot erderofesta, it was said: Ingos walked upon the face of the midworld before all men. A man by nature, he was sent hither in the age of the Doitherúna, to learn of them, and granted length of days like theirs, though he was not himself a Doitherân. He was the father and shepherd of the Hyúvandri, the men and women who came after him, to guide them, teach them, and lift them up. So he was named Ailéga, lifter-up, Astûthéga, good runester, Paitevonga, way-shower. But principally his name was Brotsepaivân, earthstepper. For he constantly travelled the world, and had no dwelling. He took shelter with those who received him, and where they did not receive him, he sojourned in the wild. The Entellári especially loved him, and he delighted to lodge with them; but at the end of the first circle of time they withdrew to the margins of the earth, and after that he chiefly encountered them when they themselves were walking the paths between the west and the east.
Kerorkîn Melainen had last seen Ingos in the far western lands, so he decided to look first for him in those parts. Many Hyûvandri lived there now, in regions once roamed by the Entellári, full of green woods and blue rivers and flowery pastures. He had spied Ingos wading up to his waist among the summer flowers in a riverside meadow, laughing and singing with the Hyûvandri as they pastured their beasts. Meadowsweet and bedstraw had been all about him, wreathing him in their sleepy scent. Now it was late in the autumn, but Kerorkîn guessed that Ingos might have stayed among the people who had welcomed him joyfully.
Being in haste Kerorkîn chose a path in the air that passed a hundred miles to the south of Hogunoth, the peak under which Kapgar Kûm lies. It was no great distance away for the perception of Doitherúna, but he did not think his going by would be noted by the Kúmi Netári. And all went well at first. But just when he could see the mountains of Kapgar far away on his right, he sensed a change in the air; it seemed to become thicker and heavier. It was no cloud that he was entering, but a strange grey mist, chill and dank. He, mighty among the Melainë, greatest of all creatures that fly, found his wingstrokes hampered and his keen mind bewildered. He now saw that the fell mist streamed upwards and outwards from Hogunoth. He knew what it was, though he had never seen it high in the regions of the air where the great birds fly; it was a thing of the marshes and valleys that entrapped wandering Hyûvandri and led them astray, so that sometimes they were not seen again. Its name was Vangu ta-Hyîphra, the mist of the Sheefra. It had never before been seen enwrapping the mountains of the Dagnath Nebren. Somehow Negobith must have bent it to his own use. Not, surely, to delay the errand of Kerorkîn, of which he could know nothing, but for some other design of wickedness.
The noble Melainen was never affrighted, but great was his indignation when he saw the very peaks of the Dagnath Nebren below him. The mist had somehow affected his matchless skill in way-finding, and he had strayed from his course far to the north. At once he corrected his flight and beat his way steadily westward. The air was strangely still, as if the mist could even hold the wind back. Then through the muffled silence he began to hear a ghastly noise, far off, but coming closer, like the mixed bellowing and screaming of a fierce beast. Glancing with his keen eyes backward, he saw a dark shape in the air, not like a bird, or even one of the wingworms of old. It had huge featherless wings, a short tail, and claws so great that they could be made out even from afar. The course of its flight had been southward, but at this moment it sighted Kerorkîn, sending forth a chilling roar, and began at once to pursue him. It did not seem to come out of the Sheefra-mist, nor to depend on it, for Kerorkîn now saw that he had reached the edge of the mist and was entering the clear air.
Kerorkîn, bravest of the Melainë, feared neither battle nor death. But he saw that this creature was greater and more powerful then he was, so that he would not prevail over it in combat; and he had a most urgent message that had to be carried to Ingos. The one hope for this lay in handing on the message to his fellow Melainë, who dwelt, like him, in fâligna or ‘higheries’ on the northern mountain tops: therefore he must flee there, not stay to fight. The closest highery stood in the mountains of Zorthin to the northwest of Kapgar Kûm. Kerorkîn changed his course again to the northwards and began to fly as fast as he had ever flown, with the monster after him, gaining on him, mile by mile. Hour after hour he sped with the roaring beast coming close behind. At long last he came within sight of the highery on the mountains of Zorthin. At any moment the Melainë on the look-out would see what was happening and come to his rescue. And then, the jaws of the monster closed on Kerorkîn’s tail, and he could flee no further. The monster’s talons tore at Kerorkîn’s flesh. He felt himself falling from the air. Things would have gone very ill, but at the last minute the Melainë in the highery caught sight of the battle. A flight of them swooped down together and dived on the monster, scratching at its eyes, until it was driven off, and began to fly away south towards Kapgar Kûm.
But a brother Melainen bore Kerorkîn into the highery nearly dead from his wounds. He spoke only one word to them, ‘Ingos’, and passed into a deep swoon. He was to lie sick and unspeaking for many days. The Melainë of Zorthin, of course, did not know why he had come into those parts, or what errand he might have been on; but they said to one another:
‘Let us find Ingos Earthstepper and tell him that our brother here has been terribly wounded by a flying monster, coming, no doubt, from the Deeps of Ombros; and that he could say but one word to us, the name of Ingos. Perhaps he will know what course to take.’
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