Not Magic Enough and Setting Boundaries - By Valerie Douglas Page 0,39

and arms sharply defined even beneath clothing, the fluid Elven-silk draping over them. There was also that ineffable Elven calm and confidence that so many of Jareth’s own race saw as arrogance - a serenity that men saw as aloofness, an impassivity his people declared cold.

It was clear what they were to each other in the way they stood, Colath a little beside and behind, ready to defend Elon’s back even where there was no need. This was something else men envied, that closeness that didn’t need words.

As much as he tried it was an effort not to stare at them and not just because they were Elves - you could see Elves riding openly anywhere throughout the Kingdoms more and more of late these days - but simply because among a race that defined masculine beauty Colath embodied it.

In truth, no Elf was homely. As a race they were a beautiful people, perhaps as much for the calm confidence that radiated from all of them…but Colath was above and beyond even that.

Hair the color of ripe wheat streamed over broad shoulders to be caught back Elven style in narrow beaded braids at each side of his strong but finely featured face. Those features were sculpted, each line clean, his silvery eyes long-lashed and beautifully shaped; they mirrored the color of his clothing. Broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped, he had the body of the master swordsman he was said to be, firmly muscled in the chest, arms and back, lean in the abdomen and hips. He held himself with cool confidence, his arms crossed as he stared expressionlessly out the windows.

Even in the face of Colath’s beauty, though, Elon of Aerilann caught, drew and held the eye, just by the strength of his personality.

As dark as Colath was light, his features stern, as impassive as all Elves, Elon of Aerilann dominated the room by the sheer force and strength of his character, by his air of calm sure confidence. In a room also occupied by Daran High King, a formidable personality himself, that said something.

Here then was the Elf who’d gone toe to toe with Daran, wresting concessions from that stubborn, scheming and shrewd King that were still being debated in halls and taverns throughout the Kingdom and would be for years to come.

Including the concession Jareth was about to embark on with him.

If they accepted him.

The Accords - the Agreement that had been forged between men, Elves and Dwarves -wouldn’t have been possible without the diplomacy and eloquence of Elon of Aerilann. For all it had been Daran High King’s idea - his vision and dream - Elon of Aerilann had shared that vision...that dream. Even so he wouldn’t sacrifice one inch, one iota, of protection for the elder races - not if it meant his people and the Dwarves would suffer.

As tall as Colath, inches above Jareth himself - and Jareth was tall for a man - and the hawk-like Daran High King, Elon of Aerilann was an impressive figure physically as well.

He was simply striking, if only for the sternness of his features.

More than most Elves, there was about Elon of Aerilann a supremely calm confidence that many men envied and called arrogance but wasn’t. His dark hair was swept back from his high forehead and held in place by Elven style braids and a narrow band of gold. His features were as expressionless as Colath’s or any Elf’s, but strong, more defined, those dark eyebrows arching high above eyes so deep a brown in color as to appear nearly black.

In contrast, Daran High King - similar in build and coloring - seemed less imposing. In other company, with his high-arched, aquiline nose, sharp eyes, thin mouth and sharp personality, he was a very impressive man in his own right.

As with Colath, Elon was strongly built as befitted the master swordsman he was. Master even above Colath, for it was said Elon had trained Colath. No other swordsman, Elf or man, could match him, save perhaps the legendary Elf and wizard Talesin. Certainly no man could best even the least Elf with either a sword or a bow, much less these two. Even the least of their race had learned the skill out of necessity and then honed it to a razor edge in order to defend themselves against first the creatures of the borderlands and then the more numerous, and vicious, race of men.

Jareth’s own people.

Fewer in numbers, the Elves and the Dwarves had found themselves increasingly at