On one of the following days the Messenger said: ‘Now my task is almost done. Here, Lord Ingos, is your land. Here your throne, here your Tree. Here plants to delight you, beasts to accompany you. Here people to love you. Only one more task remains for me to perform. That is your wedding.’
And then the Lord Ingos looked tenderly on the Lady of Dúmiel, and she returned his gaze. He took her hand, and knelt, saying. ‘Lady Díamun, will you bind your House to the immortal Realm for ever? For, when I saw you first, bathing in the lake yonder, I knew that you should be Lady of Aphelos.’
Then he arose, and she, kneeling in her turn, said: ‘Lord Ingos, I will be your Lady in Aphelos; I bring you no dowry save these people of Dúmiel; and though there can never be a King in Dúmiel—neither you, nor any other—the people of the Realm will be yours.’
Then the Messenger listened while the Lord Ingos and the Lady Díamun gave each other their troth, and when this was done, the five others gave a great shout of acclamation that rang among the trees and glades of Aphelos.
At last Aphelos, the land that rose from the waves, was complete. Her people grew not a day older, and were set free from mutability. They stood erect and tall. The wise old Counsellor, Obrámus, was not made younger, but never became older; his bent back was straightened, his eyes awoke, and his wisdom was increased a hundredfold. The Messenger instructed him in many things.
They entreated the Messenger to stay with them as long as he would. In that uncountable time he taught them many things, both about the past and of the future, and warned them many times to remember that Aphelos was a land of re-birth; there was no telling who might come into it, and fate did not decree that it should endure for ever unchanged.
But he bade them harbour no gloomy thoughts, and told them to be merry and joyful and true for ever to their immortal nature. He told them to pass on his teaching to their sons and daughters.
One day he announced that the appointed time for his departure had come. ‘In the middle world whence you have come, my friends of Dúmiel, many seasons have passed since I came here.’
He went with Ingos to the Western Seashore where they first met, and spoke parting words of advice. ‘The Silver Tree with the Golden Fruit is your honour and your charge: guard it well! And watch, too, for the deceiver. Do not fear the accidents and changes of this earth, but look forward to the never-dying world.’
Then Ingos said: ‘Master, tell me your name.’
And the Messenger said: ‘My name is Astagant, the Good Giant. But tell no other mortal my name, for it is hidden.’
Then a great fish appeared from the waters, and the Messenger, crying ‘Farewell! we shall meet again’, mounted on its back, and plunged away over the thundering surf to the open sea. Ingos watched from the beach till the Messenger was a far speck in the West and the Sun began to sink that way too.
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