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sil-ver-and-jet girt at his middle. And Patrel was given golden mail with a gilded belt:
gold on gold. Helms they wore, simple iron and leather for Tuck and Patrel, a
studded black one for Danner. And at the last they were given cloaks, Elven-made,
the same elusive grey-green color as was worn by Lord Gildor.
They gaped at each other in astonishment. "Why," said Danner, "we look like
three warrior princelings!"
"Just so," came a tinkling laugh. Laurelin had returned, now dressed in a simple
yet elegant gown of light blue that fell straight to the floor from a white bodice. Blue
slippered feet peeked under the hem. Her hair was garlanded with intertwining
ribbons, matching those crisscrossing the bodice. A small silver tiara crowned her
head.
"You do look like Princelings," she said, "but that is befitting mine escorts,
warriors three."
"But how& where?" stammered Tuck, holding out his arms and pirouetting,
indicating the raiments and armor upon Danner and Patrel and himself. "Tell me the
answer to this mystery before I burst!"
"Oh, la!" laughed Laurelin, "we can't have you bursting on my birthday eve. As
to the mystery, it is simple. Once apast, my Lord Galen showed me where first he
and then Igon quartered as children. Here I knew were closets of clothing worn by
the seed of Aurion. And I thought surely some would fit you three, and I was not
wrong. But happiest of all, here, too, was the armor of the warrior Princelings of the
Royal House of Aurion. The silver you wear, Sir Tuck, is from Aurion's own
childhood, handed down to him from his forefathers. Silveron it is, and precious,
said to be Drimmen-deeve work of old. And, too, Sir Tuck, I chose the silver armor
for you because you wear your dammia's silver locket." Laurelin smiled as Tuck
blushed before the other young buccen.
The Princess then turned to Danner. "The black, Sir Danner, comes from Prince
Igon's childhood, made just for him by the Dwarves of Mineholt North, who dwell
under the Rimmen Mountains in my Land, Riamon. It is told that the jet comes from
a mountain of fire in the great ocean to the west."
Laurelin spoke to Patrel. "Your golden armor, Captain Patrel, is Dwarf-made, too,
and came from the Red Caves in Valon. It was my beloved, Prince Galen, who wore
it as a youth, and I hold it to be special because of that."
Princess Laurelin turned again to Tuck. "There, you see, the riddle is now solved,
though simple it was, and hence you must not burst after all. You are, indeed,
wearing clothing and armor fit for Princelings, yet they never graced a more fitting
trio." The Princess smiled, her white teeth showing, and the young buccen beamed
in response.
Again they heard the tolling of a distant gong. "Ah, let us begone," said Laurelin,
"for the time is upon us. Captain Patrel, your hand please." And thus they went forth
from the abandoned quarters and through the corridors and down the steps to the
great Feast Hall: Captain Patrel, in golden armor, with the hand of the beautiful Lady
Laurelin, gowned in blue; black-armored Danner to Patrel's right; and silver-armored
Tuck to Laurelin's left. Each of the Elven-becloaked Warrows strode with a helm
under one arm, and a silver horn of Valon on green-and-white baldric hung at Patrel's
side. And when they came through the main doors and into the long Feast Hall, all
the guests rose and murmured in wonderment, some at the great beauty of the
Princess, others at the Waerling warriors by her side.
Across the wide floor they strode, unto the steps of the throne dais, and
thereupon sat Aurion Redeye; scarlet-and-gold raiments were upon him, and he
looked every inch the High King. To his right stood youthful Prince Igon, in red, and
Lord Gildor, in grey. To Aurion's left stood Hrosmarshal Vidron, dressed in the
green-and-white colors of Valon. The Warrows bowed low, and Laurelin made a
graceful curtsy. Aurion acknowledged their courtesy by inclining his head, and then
he rose and walked down to the Princess and took her hands in his and smiled.
Then Aurion turned to the guests. His voice was firm and all heard his words:
"This is the eve of the twelve days of Yule, a time of celebration, for it marks the
ending of an old year and the beginning of the new. Tomorrow, First Yule brings
with it the shortest day and longest night as the old year lays dying, and some may
take that as a bleak omen in these dark times. Yet I say unto ye all, First Yule is also
a time of new beginnings. Hearken unto me, though Twelfth Yule is reckoned as the
first day of a new year, I ween that First Yule marks its true beginning; for it is
thereafter that the days grow longer as the land begins the slow march toward the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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