The eladrin are a race of elves that dwell in the Feywild, rarely venturing into the mortal world. They claim to be the original race from which the elves split, with the (usually) unspoken implication that the elves fell away from the state of near-perfection that the eladrin embody. Certainly, the eladrin are still the most fey of the elf races, still steeped in the magic of the Feywild and still the favored children of Corellon, god of magic. Arcane magic suffuses their bodies and souls, sometimes emanating from them in a soft nimbus of fey light.

Many races of the world can look back in history to a shining example of their ancestors' accomplishments: the dragonborn empire of Arkhosia or the human Aziiryan Empire, for example. When the eladrin reflect back on their days of glory, they think first and foremost of the time when the whole Feywild shined with the light of the eladrin cities. Those cities now lie in ruins, still hauntingly beautiful among the fey forests with moonlight shining on their shattered spires and ivory walls, but haunting in their testimony to the violence of the past.

Eladrin still build towers of graceful beauty in the grandest places of the Feywild—breathtaking gorges and verdant glens—and sometimes even among the ruins of their ancient cities. But no eladrin city of the present day, or of the past hundred centuries, can compare to the heights of the eladrin race in that mythic time before. Eladrin cities of the present day are usually little more than a single ivory spire rising above a scattering of smaller homes, all built in perfect harmony with their surroundings as if carved from the earth by wind and rain.

Eladrin society has more in common with the human structures of nobility and rulership than it does with the family-based society of the elves. Noble houses ruled by eladrin with titles such as Bralani of Autumn Winds or Ghaele of Winter govern tiny princedoms scattered across the Feywild. The eladrin swear loyalty to their noble protectors, who promise to help defend them against fomorians and other dangers of the fey darkness. Unlike human rulers, these noble eladrin wield tremendous power derived from a close connection to the magic of the Feywild, so their tiny city-states do remain as lights, however dim and flickering, standing against the encroaching darkness.

Eladrin share the grace and agility of their elf cousins but place more value on the developed intellect than on intuition and emotion. All eladrin are scholars to some degree, versed in the history of their race and the theories of magic and more inclined to calculate possible solutions than to run with a gut feeling.

The eladrin can seem cold and emotionless to outsiders, if sometimes capricious, and they are certainly less passionate than the elves. Their grief manifests as a wistful melancholy, their pleasure as a soft smile, and their anger as a simmering glare. Much like the elves, they have long memories for both gifts and grudges.

More so than the elves, eladrin sometimes become champions of a god in much the same way that one might become a fey knight in service to a noble eladrin. Divine magic is not alien to the eladrin, but arcane magic is their love and part of their nature. Eladrin wizards are far more common than warlocks, sorcerers, or bards, but any form of arcane magic is a source of endless fascination for the race.

Noble Eladrin

The lords and ladies that rule the eladrin are powerful fey who embody the character of the race. Their magic is tied to seasons and emotions. A ghaele might lash out with a blast of wintry cold, while a coure sows strife among her enemies. They are enigmatic and aloof and can be very capricious, especially when mortals venture into their domains. The tale of Ferrin Toth, a human wizard who ventured into the Feywild seeking arcane secrets, illustrates the nature of the noble eladrin.

Proud of his knowledge and confident in his arcane power, Ferrin Toth used a ritual to transport himself into the Feywild. After parting the veil between worlds, he found himself in a lovely valley with a crystalline spire rising beside a sparkling waterfall at the valley's head. He presented himself at the palace gate in the late afternoon, asking for an audience with the ruler of the place.

Two women escorted him into the presence of their lord Immeral, Firre of Passion. Warm braziers lit the audience hall against the approaching twilight and fire seemed to dance in the opalescent eyes of the eladrin lord. He welcomed the human wizard graciously, descending from his throne to escort the traveler on a tour through the palace. Ferrin lingered by the doorway to the eladrin's magnificent library, but Immeral told him he could explore the library in the morning. Ferrin tried to protest—there was still enough daylight for him to read—but the eladrin wouldn't hear him. He hurried Ferrin to a luxurious guest room, warned him not to leave the room until dawn's light burned on the horizon, and left him alone.

Ferrin couldn't sleep. His glimpse of the lord's great library tormented him, and desire to plumb its secrets consumed him. When the palace was silent and the full moon glittered in its spires, Ferrin crept from his room and tried to retrace his steps to the library. As he walked, the corridors seemed to twist in on themselves, and soon the gleaming crystal walls melted into thickets of briars. He wandered through what had become a labyrinth until dawn began to brighten the sky. Then the two women who had brought him to the lord's audience hall stepped out of the thickets. Their lovely faces and forms vanished in a flash, revealing monstrous creatures of wood and vine, swinging arms like mighty cudgels at him.

With a word of refuge, Ferrin returned to the sanctum of his own tower. But the vision of the Firre of Passion's library haunted him. Every night he tossed and turned on his bed, thinking of the library and the wonders he had glimpsed through its doorway. Every morning, when dawn's light burned on the horizon, he thought he stood again in that doorway, and hope surged in his chest—but as soon as the sun rose above the distant hills, his vision cleared and he was still in his tower. Many times he returned to the Feywild, but he was never able to find Immeral's palace again.

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