Pug was a little startled. He did not think of himself as one to accomplish great things.
Shouts came through the window, and Pug hurried to look out. A troop of guards was running toward the front gate. Pug turned to Kulgan. “The elves must be coming! The guard is out.”
Kulgan said, “Very well. We are done with study for this day. There will be no holding you until you get a look at the elves. Run along.”
Pug raced out the door and down the stairs. He took them two at a time, jumping to the bottom of the tower landing over the last four and hitting the floor at a full run. He dashed through the kitchen and out the door. As he rounded the keep to the front courtyard, he found Tomas standing atop a hay wagon. Pug climbed up next to him, to be better able to see the arrival over the heads of the curious keep folk gathered around.
Tomas said, “I thought you weren’t coming, thought you’d be locked away with your books all day.”
Pug said, “I wouldn’t miss this. Elves!”
Tomas playfully dug his elbow into Pug’s side. “Haven’t you had your fill of excitement for this week?”
Pug threw him a black look. “If you’re so indifferent, why are you standing in the rain on this wagon?”
Tomas didn’t answer. Instead he pointed. “Look!”
Pug turned to see the guard company snap to attention as riders in green cloaks entered through the gate. They rode to the main doors of the keep, where the Duke waited. Pug and Tomas watched in awe, for they rode the most perfect white horses the boys had ever seen, using no saddle or bridle. The horses seemed untouched by wetness, and their coats glowed faintly; whether by some magic, or a trick of the grey afternoon light, Pug couldn’t tell. The leader rode on an especially grand animal, full seventeen hands in height, with a long flowing mane and a tail like a plume. The riders reared the mounts in salute, and an audible intake of breath could be heard from those in the crowd.
“Elf steeds,” said Tomas, in hushed tones. The horses were the legendary mounts of the elves. Martin Longbow had once told the boys they lived in hidden, deep glades near Elvandar. It was said they possessed intelligence and a magic nature, and no human could sit their backs. It was also said that only one with royal elvish blood could command them to carry riders.
Grooms rushed forward to take the horses, but a musical voice said, “There is no need.” It came from the first rider, the one mounted on the greatest steed. She jumped nimbly down, without aid, landing lightly on her feet, and threw back her hood, revealing a mane of thick reddish hair. Even in the gloom of the afternoon rain it appeared to be shot through with golden highlights. She was tall, nearly a match for Borric. She mounted the steps as the Duke came forward to meet her.
Borric held out his hands and took hers in greeting. “Welcome, my lady; you do me and my house a great honor.”
The Elf Queen said, “You are most gracious, Lord Borric.” Her voice was rich and surprisingly clear, able to carry over the crowd so that all in the courtyard could hear. Pug felt Tomas’s hand clutching his shoulder. He turned to see a rapt expression on Tomas’s face. “She’s beautiful,” said the taller boy.
Pug returned his attention to the welcome. He was forced to agree that the Queen of the elves was indeed beautiful, if not in entirely human terms. Her eyes were large and a pale blue, nearly luminous in the gloom. Her face was finely chiseled, with high cheekbones and a strong but not masculine jaw. Her smile was full, and her teeth shone white between almost-red lips. She wore a simple circlet of gold around her brow, which held back her hair, revealing the lobeless, upswept ears that were the hallmark of her race.
The others in her company dismounted, all dressed in rich clothing. Each tunic was bright with contrasting leggings below. One wore a tunic of deep russet, another pale yellow with a surcoat of bright green. Some wore purple sashes, and others crimson hose. Despite the bright colors, these were elegant and finely made garments, with nothing loud or gaudy about them. There were eleven riders with the Queen, all similar in appearance, tall, youthful, and lithe in movement.
The Queen turned from the Duke and said something in her musical language. The elf steeds reared in salute, then ran through the gate, past the surprised onlookers. The Duke ushered his guests inside, and soon the crowd drifted away. Tomas and Pug sat quietly in the rain.
Tomas said, “If I live to be a hundred, I don’t think that I’ll ever see her like.”
Pug was surprised, for his friend rarely showed such feelings. He had a brief impulse to chide Tomas over his boyish infatuation, but something about his companion’s expression made that seem inappropriate. “Come on,” he said, “we’re getting drenched.”
Tomas followed Pug from the wagon Pug said, “You had better change into some dry clothing, and see if you can borrow a dry tabard.”