The first half, with it's marital drama and leaping trolls, is achingly pretty, and I would read more fantasy if Dunsany's lofty and sing songy style were more common. It adds a gravitas that keeps this tale of elfs and princes magical.

Half way through, though, the story gets stuck spiraling in a series of narrative cul de sacs that take until the last page to escape.
Had it been longer I would have never finished it, and the lovely first half can't redeem the absolute chore of a second half.