Where the narrow tunnel into the burial mound had been before, there was now a long, low tunnel, lit by flickering lanterns. The smell of cooked meats and spices was in the air, and beneath it the heavy metallic smell of old blood. Treading carefully down the passage, Selenil was not at all surprised to see a chamber open before him, and in that chamber to see a feasting host of knights dressed in old fashioned clothing and armor.
Serving women moved among the tables, refilling goblets of wine and carrying trays laden with pastries, savories, and meat -- roast geese and swans, boar and venison. The servers seemed human at a glance...but their ears came to points and their eyes were feral. Some smiled with sharp teeth. Others sported small, curling horns, nearly hidden in their tresses.
At the head of the table, Queen Maeve lifted a golden chalice of mead.
"Here is My Champion at last!" the Faerie Queen said. "Come and sit, Shining Friend, Liberator of Our Throne." She looked away to address the servers. "Bring Our Lord Selenil food and wine." Smiling, she looked back at the scarred elf, a lock of her raven tresses falling before her lavender eyes. "It is Our hope that the Spear of Gwertheyrn ap Nudd served you well, and that you will this night prove yourself mighty with the lance. We pray thee also, tell Us, didst thou dip Our token in the blood of the beast, as We bade thee?"
