Lord Dunsany's 1924 fantasy novel, The King of Elfland's Daughter, commences with the people of Erl expressing to their "stately white-haired" lord their longing for a "new thing" in the form of rule by a magic lord (1). Though he thinks them foolish for harboring such notions, the old lord nevertheless commands his eldest son, Alveric, to "go forth" into "the lands that clearly pertain to faery" and "wed the King of Elfland's daughter" (2-3). Alveric espouses mere token objection to his father's directive and, after obtaining from the "lonely witch" on the hill a powerful magic sword crafted from seven-teen thunderbolts, the lord's son strides "away from the Castle and Vale of Erl" and heads toward the "enchanted lands" of Elfland in order to fulfill the duty his father-and by extension, his people-require of him (3-10). Thus the quest becomes established as the primary thematic force that propels the intriguing and astonishingly intricate narrative which follows. In fact, it can be argued that Lord Dunsany presents the idea of the quest in The King of Elfland's Daughter in a highly sophisticated, multi-faceted manner that allows for a range of rich understanding about this grand literary tradition to emerge with thoughtful consideration.
As a foundation of storytelling, the idea of the quest reaches as far back as the Epic of Gilgamesh, currently the oldest known work of imaginative writing, and informs texts on the order of Homer's Odyssey, Virgil's Aeneid, the Anglo-Saxon or Old English poem Beowulf, Milton's Paradise Lost, and Cervantes' Don Quixote. George E. Gringas, wri-ting in the Dictionary Of Literary Themes And Motifs, notes that "under a variety of changing forms-the journey, the voyage, the pilgrimage-travel has functioned as one of the most fundamental, widespread, and perduring themes in world literature" (1292). He goes on to point out that "travel itself, in its most basic manifestation of the wander-ing, is part of humankind's fund of archetypical experiences" (1293). Gringas also states, perhaps most significantly for the present discussion, that "it is the element of seeking that transforms the banal act of traversing space [i.e. mere aimless meandering] into an authentic act of traveling" (1293). From this perspective, Alveric's quest can be viewed as entirely in synch with one of the most primal instincts of man. In addition, the purpose of his traveling-to wed the king of Elfland's daughter in accordance with the wishes of his people-endows his journey to the enchanted lands with a singular authenticity, or meaning, it would not otherwise embody.
Upon locating The King of Elfland's Daughter in the foundational quest story, how-ver, Dunsany proceeds to skillfully and subtly challenge the traditional conventions of the form, which include extraordinary adventures, acts of daring, tests of courage and mental acumen, and, thanks to the prolific writers of the Middle Ages, chivalric romance of the most idealized and stylized rank. This challenge to established convention manifests clearly in the opening pages of the work with the old Lord of Erl's consideration of the desires of his people for magic to be made a central part of their existence misguided at best, foolish at worst. From the outset of the novel then, a distinct tension between the positive and negative aspects of Alveric's quest begins to operate, and eventually comes to form a pointed, though ultimately generous, critique of this most idealistic and roman-tic of human and literary ventures.
Guided by the "pale-blue peaks of the Elfin Mountains" Alveric, after leaving the rela-tive safety of the Vale of Erl, eventually reaches the "frontier of twilight" that separates the land of the "fields we know" from Elfland as the first of three quests he undertakes in the course of Dunsany's novel begins in earnest (12-13). He looks back once before step-ping boldly "into the rampart of twilight" and, upon reaching the other side of this ether-eal boundary, he gazes "all around" and sees "no familiar thing" (13). Almost immediate-ly Alveric feels "less lonely," and quickly realizes this feeling results from the fact that no barrier "between men and all other life" exists in the enchanted lands as it does in the "real world" of Erl; crows and other little creatures merely observe the lord's son with whimsy and curiosity, and there seems to be "an understanding even," that extends "from men to trees and from trees to men" (15). Yet, despite this relatively benign aura, hints of menace abound, in the form of warning looks in the eyes of the little animals, the trees that seem to want to convey something of import to the solitary traveler, and, perhaps most significantly, Alveric's somewhat chilling recognition that Elfland exhibits "less mystery" than "our side of the boundary of twilight" (15). In other words, he instinctively realizes that potential dangers lie directly in the midst of the sun-drenched openness of the enchanted lands rather than lurk "behind great boles of oak," or hide "on the far side of ridges," or haunt the "deep woods" as they do in the lands of men (15).
A number of inferences key to understanding Dunsany's treatment of the idea of the quest in The King of Elfland's Daughter are revealed with a close reading of the passages cited above. First, the experience of Alveric's travels in and of themselves are relevant because they are informed by the notion that those who choose to remain safe in hearth and home as opposed to venturing forth like the young lord will never witness such ex-otic sights and wonders as the pale-blue peaks of the Elfin Mountains, the frontier of twi-light, or a heightened sense of communion with all other life. Second, Alveric's status as a heroic figure within the text receives increased significance with his fearless stepping across the ethereal divide between the human and elfin worlds which, in turn, augments his already demonstrated willingness to sacrifice himself for the benefit of the members of his community in the Vale of Erl. Clearly then, his journey to the enchanted lands ser-ves as a forum in which he displays the idealistic and essentially well-intentioned quali-ties common to many literary heroes. Third, Alveric's instinctive awareness of the dang-ers present in Elfland functions as a sharp, negative counterpoint to the positive associa-tions initially attached to the idea of the quest and the heroes who undertake them. In re-ductive though no less important terms, Dunsany seems to be conveying in this section of his novel the cautionary message that ventures such as Alveric's involve the potentiality of both great reward and great risk.
Alveric's heroism acquires even more prominence as The King of Elfland's Daughter and his quest continues. Heeding "no warnings either from beasts or trees," he presses on in true heroic fashion "toward the enchanted wood" and its "capital palace" with shining silver spires (16). Within moments, however, the potential danger he sensed upon enter-ing Elfland manifests into reality: the live ivy on a pine tree he passes unfastens "its ten-drils and, rapidly letting itself down," comes "straight for Alveric" and clutches "at his throat" (18). Using the sword his father gave him, he manages to cut himself free, only to face yet another of the malevolent plants: "The green thing looked wild and angry as it gripped his left shoulder as though it would hold it forever" (18). A fiercer fight with this lethal vine ensues, by the end of which the young lord, "all bruised though he was, had so lopped his assailant that it fled back up its tree" (18). Upon having soundly defeated the ivy's attempt to harm him or at least check his progress, Alveric steps ever further into the magical wood and notices "one of the pine trees" ahead on his path "move closer to the other" (18). Quickly he replaces his father's sword with the magic sword the lonely witch of Erl created for him, and then he uses it to strike a blow to the trunk of the tree that shifted its position. The "whole tree shuddered; and with that shudder disappeared at once a certain ominous look that the pine had had, and it stood there an ordinary unen-chanted tree" (19).
Prowess in battle and the ability to use critical judgment in the ever-changing face of danger form essential components of the heroic character. Alveric, as evidenced by the citations in the foregoing paragraph, faultlessly exhibits both qualities. At the same time, however, he has become an agent of destruction in a world in which he does not, in the strictest sense, belong. No one, it must be remembered, invited Alveric to the enchanted lands. This unavoidable fact, combined with his penchant for wrecking devastation on anything that stands in his way, tarnishes not only his heroism, but also the highly ideal-istic and romantic aims that sent him on his journey in the first place. Thus, once again, Dunsany draws explicit attention to the dichotomy between the positive and negative aspects of the quest.
Nevertheless, capitalizing on the efficacy of his heroic strategy, Alveric charges deep-er into the woodland "hitting every tree in his way, whether enchanted or not, a blow with his magical sword" (19). He soon reaches "the emerald glory of the Elf King's lawns," leaving behind him an entire "wake of trees that were wholly unenchanted, that stood there now without hint of romance or mystery even" (20). In due course he encounters the coldly beautiful Princess Lirazel, and she him; both, to put it mildly, are awestruck by the novelty of the other. He charms her with "tales and fables" about Earth until the Elf King's four enchanted knights come to fulfill their centuries-old "oath of dreadful words that no man should ever speak with" the princess should one "come through the enchant-ed wood" (22). Making good use of the lonely witch's magic sword yet again, the lord's son quickly fells three of the knights, leaving them with their "thick and curious blood" oozing through rifts in their armor (23). As they retreat toward the partially disenchanted woodland, Alveric deals a "blow like that of a thunderbolt riving an oak tree" and slews the fourth and final knight of the princess's guard and, moments later, the besotted pair flees into the fields we know, escaping in the nick of time the awesome magical power of the Elf King (23).
Stealing away with the King of Elfland's daughter and, therefore, subjecting her to the "harshness of material things and all the turmoil of Time," creates a nearly irreparable rift in the fabric of this magical world, a breach made affectingly explicit through the anguish of Lirazel's devoted father: "he wept and all Elfland shivered. It shivered as placid water shivers here if something suddenly touches it from our fields" (39). This suffering of the King casts a disturbing pall on the success of Alveric's quest, as does the murder of the four knights responsible for his daughter's well-being and safety, the prodigal son's loss of a dozen years of his own life in the process, and the death of his father the old Lord of Erl. Yet "between the spirits of Alveric and Lirazel lay all the distance there is between Earth and Elfland; and love bridged the distance, which can bridge further than that" (36). In this context, love must be understood as the one force capable of resolving all differ-ences and healing all wounds no matter how divisive, no matter how deep.
Focusing the critical gaze on the idea of the quest provides the means of exploring the centrality of this foundational literary theme in a work of high fantasy such as The King of Elfland's Daughter. Clearly, the quest functions as the locus around which Dunsany builds his narrative, presents his characters, weaves the details of his plot and, perhaps most importantly, from which he creates an utterly believable fantastical world. Further-more, while Dunsany draws deeply from the rich and extensive traditions of literature in his dramatization of the quest, he also invests these conventions with an energetic sense of consciousness, as evidenced by the deliberate inclusion of both positive and negative elements, such as sharply contrasting the wonders of journeying with its inherent dangers, exposing the darker, destructive side of true heroism in those who venture forth from the fields we know, and placing as much emphasis on the consequences as on the successes of purposeful travel. An undeniably original and sophisticated piece of truly literate wri-ting forms the result.

Works Cited
Dunsany, Lord. The King of Elfland's Daughter. New York: Del Rey, 1999.
Seigneuret, Jean-Charles, et al. Dictionary Of Literary Themes And Motifs. New York: Greenwood Press, 1988.