The Elven King by Lexi Johnson Page A

he’d had five full conversations -- three of them regarding his wedding, in which Aranion’s concerns had been wholly ignored -- in the past ten years.
    “Good,” Meldigur said. Aranion didn't feel so good about it, but he let it pass.
    “Now," Meldigur went on. "I’m assuming you didn’t make away with a full set of utensils to go with that pot you stole?”
    Aranion shook his head. He had his personal knife, a cup, and a single spoon, the last two of which he’d planned to give Sade when they shared their meal. “Just these,” he said, taking the cup and spoon from his pack.
    “Well, I’m sure we can manage something,” said Meldigur. 
    It was clear from his tone and expression that he intended to show off. Meldigur’s greatest talent was kenning: transforming one item into a perfect copy of another, at least for a short time. 
    And show off he did. First, he took the spoon and cup and placed them on the ground. Then he quickly found two sticks and two stones of similar size to the cups and spoons.
    He took the cup first, holding it between his palms and making his hands glow – a wholly unnecessary effect for a simple kenning task like this. Then he took the stones, one after the other and transformed them.
    Watching a kenning was always a little strange. The object itself seemed to shimmer and turn into liquid as it re-formed; then it would once again become solid, and take on the exact appearance of the original, though the size might vary depending on the size and mass of the transformed object.
    Sade gasped at the first transformation, which Meldigur completed with a complex fluttering of his fingers, as though the motion had extinguished the light.
    “Stop fooling around,” Aranion said, not at all enjoying Sade’s rapt interest.
    Meldigur ignored him, of course. He handed over Sade’s cup with a nod. “My Lady,” he said. “I would address you by your name, but I fear Aran might choke me where we sit -- and then where would we be?”
    Sade took the cup. She held it up to the light and turned it around in her hands.
    “That’s incredible!” she said. “It was a rock before, and now…” Her breath had quickened. She glanced at Aranion, and then back at the cup. “This really is magic, isn’t it?”
    Aranion couldn’t help feeling some resentment. After all, he had crossed the border between worlds, vanquished her attacker, and brought her here -- and together they’d formed a soul-bond… something far rarer and more precious than a mere kenning, no matter how masterfully performed.
    “Oh, Aran looks like he’s swallowed a prickly-pear!” Meldigur said with a laugh. “Don’t worry, Aran. I’m sure you’re still first in her heart.”
    As he spoke, he kenned the other objects with far less artistry. He handed Sade the second spoon, and took the third set for himself.
    “All done,” he said, handing Aranion the cup and spoon he’d originally brought. “Now, why don’t you tell us all about this soul-bond? And the rest of the tale?”
    Aranion opened the elven pot, and poured the soup into three parts, into each of their cups. Half the pot still remained when he had finished. The pot was spelled so that the food inside would stay fresh and warm for days, and gentle wisps of steam floated up from the cups as they began to eat.
    Sade hesitantly put the first spoonful into her mouth. Then she smiled with obvious delight. “This is great!”
    “Yes,” Meldigur said, “Aran’s always been a passable cook. But now, bond-brother, you have some things you need to share…”
    Aran nodded.
    This was dangerous ground. He could not lie. But nether could he risk revealing that he’d crossed into the mortal world, however briefly -- especially since he had taken a life there.
    So he thought back, and began at the start: at the hand-fasting ceremony where he’d first met Lairelithoniel.
    “I admit,” he told them, “I spied on her briefly before the ceremony. She was talking with