The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [51]
"Yes." Arilyn cleared her throat. "These are Midsummer gifts, given at festival time. They are personal, as you say. They are also sacred, but not in any manner that can be explained with talk of gods and temples."
"How fascinating! What can you tell me about this festival?"
"Nothing." Arilyn softened the refusal with a faint smile. "I am sorry, but there is no way to explain it. Some elven rites are not allowed to be revealed to humans, and even if they were, they would not be fully experienced or understood."
Bronwyn took no offense. She glanced over at Danilo, who was happily leafing through some old tomes at the far side of the shop. "Humans use the Weave," she said, naming the mystic force that shaped all magic, "but elves are part of it. They are also one with the land, and the sea, and the patterns of the sun and stars. This much I know, even though I could never experience it as you would. I have heard that the times of solstice and equinox are sacred to the elves. I know that such times were celebrated with fertility rituals by many ancient human cultures. I did not mean to offend you by implying that elven festivals were the same and nothing more."
"You understand more than I thought," Arilyn responded. To her surprise, it was not only easy to speak of this, but comforting. "No offense was taken. Yes, these are times of revelry among the elves. Many marriages are made, friendships celebrated in intimate ways, but this is part of a larger, mystic connection-connection to all elves, and to the Weave of magic and the very circle of life."
"And only elves are accepted," the woman repeated. She smiled faintly. "To a limited degree, I understand. Perhaps Dan has told you of my life. I spent most of it searching for my family, my past. This meant everything to me. I found my father and lost him all in the space of a few hours, but I came away from that experience feeling like a whole person for the first time in my life. I can't imagine what it would mean to a half-elf to be invited to take part in such a festival."
Arilyn met the woman's warm, sympathetic gaze. She took from the pocket of her breeches a small stone knife, sharp as steel and carved with a feather pattern. This she handed to Bronwyn. "Add this to the Temple 's store. It is as precious as anything there."
The woman hesitated, demonstrating for the first time that her understanding was more human than elven. "You are sure you want to part with this?"
"Midsummer gifts are also part of the whole. The wheel turns, and they are often given anew with the coming of another summer."
Bronwyn nodded her thanks. Arilyn handed her the stone knife, a gift from Foxfire, the elf who had offered her the first true acceptance she had ever received from her mother's people-and who had changed her life. Without Foxfire, she would not have come to terms with her own divided nature or learned that though her soul was elven, her heart belonged to a human man.
A heavy thud drew her attention. She glanced over at Danilo. He stooped quickly to pick up the tome he had dropped, but not before Arilyn saw his gaze dart from the knife in her hand to the green treasures in Bronwyn's case. Not before stunned comprehension flooded his face.
Bronwyn glanced from Danilo back to Arilyn, and her brown eyes widened with chagrin. "He didn't know."
"No."
In truth, Arilyn had never seen need to speak of that Midsummer night. The initial joy of her reunion with Dan had swept aside all other considerations. Shortly after, she had been called back to the forests to aid the embattled elves. There had been little in her life since then to bring to mind the sacred revels of Midsummer.
Now she tried to see the matter as Danilo might. Few humans could understand the true nature of elven festivals. They would see her participation as a shallow indulgence. Danilo, though, knew more of the elves than did most men, and he valued highly what he knew.
That could be more of a problem than a blessing. Just last night, he had been ready to give her up rather than separate