The Elven (The Saga of the Elven, #1)

by Bernhard Hennen

before. But which words were truly his, and which belonged to the old poets? Was this tune his, or was it something he’d heard somewhere else? It made Noroelle smile, because this seeming flaw in Farodin, she knew, reflected more on her. Wasn’t this beautiful place exactly the way the old singers had painted it? The sun, the linden trees, the shade, the spring, the magic? And didn’t those same singers of old compose their songs in harmony with this beautiful place? Could she then think worse of Farodin for doing exactly what was called for here, now? No, she could not. Farodin was perfect in every way, and any woman in the faery realm would be happy to have him woo her. But still she wondered who Farodin really was. He evaded her, as the Spring of Lyn evaded the eyes of the elves with its radiant light. She wished that he would lower his own mask, even just briefly, to let her see the wellspring underneath. She had often tried to get him to do just that, but he had not understood her overtures in that direction, and until now, she had not managed to see into his deepest self. Sometimes she feared that something