Read Online The Elven by Bernhard Hennen, James A. Sullivan - Free Book Online Page A

from the Kelpenwall. Their families had furnished weapons and precious objects of every kind from which the hunters could choose. And any elf whose offering was accepted by the hunters was filled with pride.
    At that very moment, no doubt, in the other chambers, his companions were being presented with the equipment they would need. Even the human, he knew, would have someone attending to him. Nuramon wondered if any elf had ever before envied a human.
    The sound of steps before the door shook him out of his melancholy thoughts. He turned, hoping suddenly to see a cousin, an uncle, or one of his aunts, someone from his clan. But before the door opened, Nuramon heard a female voice speak his name. Then the door swung wide, and a woman wearing the gray robe of a enchantress stepped into the room.
    “Emerelle,” he exclaimed in surprise. His queen looked utterly changed. Less like a queen, more like a wandering sorceress of great power. Her pale-brown eyes sparkled in the glow of the barinstones, and she was smiling. “ You have come to visit me?” he asked.
    She closed the door. “And it would appear I’m the only one.” She stepped toward him with such elegance and power that Nuramon could have believed he was gazing at an elf from the old days, from the tales of the heroes. The queen, of course, had lived through those times. She was not the child of elves, but born directly from the Alben race, and had seen them before they abandoned the world. Somewhere in this palace, Emerelle kept hidden the Albenstone, her legacy from the Alben, a treasure she would one day use to go after them. But why had she come here dressed like an enchantress?
    As if reading his thoughts, she answered. “It is tradition that the queen pay a visit to each member of the elfhunt. And as I heard voices at every room except yours, I thought I would start here.” She stopped in front of him and looked at him expectantly.
    He breathed in the fragrance of fresh spring flowers, the scent of the queen, and it calmed him. “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I am not familiar with all the traditions.” He lowered his eyes.
    “Haven’t you ever dreamed of being part of the elfhunt?” she asked. “Every child dreams of it and knows the customs. They know every step of the way in this night.”
    Nuramon sighed and looked into her eyes. “A child who finds no acceptance dreams of smaller things.”
    He thought of the time after his mother and father had entered the moonlight. He was still little more than a child, but nobody came to take him in. His relatives spurned him, so he returned to the tree house of his parents. He had been lonely there. The only Albenkin willing to tolerate his presence were those who cared nothing for the curse that seemed to hang over him. And they had been few.
    “I know how hard it is,” said the queen, drawing Nuramon out of his recollections with her words. “But my decision will serve as a sign to the others. They are still surprised, but soon they will look at you through different eyes.”
    “I wish I could believe that,” he said, avoiding Emerelle’s gaze.
    “Look at me, Nuramon,” she commanded. “You may not forget that I am your queen, too. I cannot make the others love you, but I will treat you as I treat them. You feel lonely, and you are asking yourself if you still belong among the elves at all, but the others will see your true nature soon enough.” She lowered her eyes. “You have grown above the suffering of your youth. It seems Noroelle has awakened powers in you that none suspected. Now the moment has come. I am giving you the recognition you deserve, equal to what is in you.”
    “And I will use the opportunity, Emerelle.”
    The queen turned and looked at the door behind her. “No one is coming, but as the hunters of the elfhunt have always been provided for, I would like to take it on myself to outfit you. I will have what I can offer brought to your chamber