THE ANGLISH & HALFLINGS

A narrow sea divides Angland from Mirithar, though one suspects the water has forgotten which shore belongs to which world. The Anglish were once the southernmost people of old Mirithar, and traces of that ancestry remain in their dark hair, weathered place-names, and stubborn refusal to be hurried by anyone wearing a finer coat.

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Elsewhere in Herculanum, Angland is spoken of as poor and backward. This is unfair, though not entirely inaccurate. Its roads become mud with enthusiasm, its castles are more practical than splendid, and an Anglish village may consider a newly repaired bridge a greater wonder than any jeweled palace. Yet I have rarely found a people so fiercely proud of possessing little—or so unwilling to surrender any portion of it.

Angland has kings and queens, but it does not belong wholly to them. The legendary King Uther bound the Crown beneath the Práxis tōn Eleutheriṓn, the Act of Liberties, which preserves certain rights even for the humblest subject. Every ruler since has discovered that an Anglish peasant who believes the law is on his side becomes a surprisingly immovable object.

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Their armies favor the longbow over the fashionable firearms of their neighbors. I once watched a Master of Longbows place twelve arrows into a distant shield before a visiting officer had finished explaining why powder was superior. The Anglishman offered no argument afterward. None was necessary.

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The Halflings of the rolling countryside account for nearly one person in three, and they are not guests, dependents, or a separate nation hidden within Angland. They are Anglish. Their farms, villages, and comfortable underground homes—called Holes—are gathered into pastoral districts known as Shires. A human and a Halfling may share the same surname because both families have belonged to the same soil longer than either can remember.

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Shires govern themselves through elected councils and sheriffs. Their officials bear titles such as Hedge Warden, Feast Steward, Boundary Walker, and Keeper of Holes. These offices may sound quaint until one observes how seriously they are performed. A neglected drainage channel or disputed hedgerow can threaten a community as surely as any marauding beast.

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Halflings prefer full cupboards, familiar roads, several meals each day, and adventures safely concluded by someone else. This has led taller folk to mistake contentment for cowardice. It is an error generally corrected when danger reaches a Halfling’s home. Their courage is neither loud nor eager, but rooted like an old orchard: difficult to notice until the storm fails to move it.

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Angland’s strength lies in that shared stubbornness. Human crown, Halfling council, noble hall, village green, church, Hole, farm, and muddy road are bound together by law and memory. Other nations may be richer. Few understand more clearly that a country belongs not only to those who rule it, but to all who keep it.

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—Lantern of the Thirteenth Word