Page 21 of Elf Shot

Layla grabbed her small velvet clutch bag, checked it had her lipstick and key, and adjusted her fur stole. "Ready. Let's go and be the best-looking people in this place."

* * *

Instead of heading for the ballroom like Layla expected, they joined a crowd of elves moving outside to the fjord. Layla looked about curiously; her arm wrapped over Tor's so she wouldn't lose him.

The first thing that Layla noticed, with considerable joy, was how diverse the elves actually were. Subconsciously, she knew they weren't aloof shining beings like Tolkien made them out to be, but it made her heart so happy to see the differences. Brown and black elves, short elves, curvy elves, tall elves. Elves with tattoos and piercings, elves who looked like they had stepped out of a Vogue shoot, elves who looked like modern Viking gods.

"You have a funny look on your face right now," Tor commented. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just…really happy. I got called Fat Galadriel once when I dressed up as an elf for Halloween because everyone thinks they are all tall and willowy and perfect," she tried to explain. She waved her hands at her curvy body. "Which I am not."

Tor's brow lowered in anger. "Do you remember who called you such a name? Arne and I would happily go and teach them some manners."

"Aw. That's nice of you, but I already kicked him in the balls for being an asshole."

Tor chuckled. "Good. I hope that suit is warmer than it looks."

They stepped outside into the cool evening air, and Layla adjusted her fur stole around her shoulders. It was chill but not unbearable. The sun was setting on the fjord, turning the sky pinks and purples.

"This place is so beautiful," she said as they all gathered around the waterfront.

"It is," Tor replied. "You will be the first human to see this in a long time."

Chanting began around her, an earthy, haunting sound. If it was in elvish, it was in a dialect she didn't know, and Layla wondered if it was Sami. Drumming began and the crowd parted to let through a small procession.

Alruna wore a crown of white reindeer antler spikes and a cream dress stitched in designs resembling traditional Sami symbols but were different types of figures.

Primordial elf art? Layla thought but didn't want to interrupt by asking. Alruna also wore a cloak of reindeer fur and carried a wreath of pine, birch, and fir leaves, woven together around the reindeer antler. In its center was a red and white candle.

Arne walked behind Alruna, looking more like a prince than ever in a black suit with a similar reindeer cloak. He had a sword strapped to his side and kept his head high, joining Alruna on the shoreline.

His golden eyes searched and found Layla in the crowd. As soon as they locked with hers, an electric shock of desire and magic sizzled right through her. If she thought her crush had been bad before, the look he was giving her had dialed it up to eleven.

The beating of the drums changed, and a new party arrived. At their head was a dwarf with black hair and a braided black beard.

"That's Brökk, a dwarf king and the elf behind him is Queen Eydís. Between them, they rule most of Svartalfheim," Tor whispered in her ear.

Eydís had long silver and black hair woven in intricate dread locks and had silver runes tattooed across her brown forehead. She wore a black dress with silver patterns that Tor explained was the story of her clan. Over the dress, she wore a ceremonial breastplate with a black jewel at its center.

Brök carried a black candle and Eydís a silver one. They stood with Alruna and Arne on the water's edge and were joined by a Sami shaman. Brök and Eydís added their candles to Alruna's wreath along with a piece of raw silver ore and a shard of obsidian.

The Sami shaman started to sing, and a lump appeared in Layla's throat as the Svartalfheim rulers, Alruna, and Arne lit the candles together. The shaman scooped up a few of the stones from the shore and placed them onto the wreath.

"They are doing a unity ceremony, aren't they?" Layla whispered, and Tor nodded.

"The elves and the Sami have always shared this land, and they are more neutral to perform this instead of getting one of the elvish shamans to do it."

The shaman held the wreath up for all to see and then placed it in the water, the tide moving it out into the fjord as a fiery beacon into the fallen darkness. The singing concluded. Everyone clapped, and those with drinks toasted before they started to head back inside.

"That was so lovely," Layla said, squeezing Tor's arm tightly and looking around her.

"Arne will get rid of his gear and find us soon. Let's get you back in the warmth and find you a nice drink," he replied.

Layla leaned into him. "Thank you for making sure I'm not alone in all of this so I didn't get overwhelmed."

Tor patted her arm with his big hand. "It's my duty and a privilege to look after you when Arne cannot, Layla Ironwood."

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