So I was at the used book store the other day and found this random book called Urshurak (by the brothers Hildebrant, who are pretty famous fantasy illustrators I found out later, and somebody named Jerry Nichols) and it had all kinds of cool illustrations in it so I picked it up. And then I started reading it two days ago and I found this glorious gem which makes every cent of my purchase worth it. I call him the Beardicorn.
“To you, Ailwon, ‘Bearer of Light’, Prince of Alfandel, heir to the Crownhelm, to you is entrusted the power of the sword Elvgard, the sword of your name-sake, the first, the mightiest - and if the power of the light is upon us, the final weapon ever to be used by the White Elves!”
The mud walls encircled the compound, at the centre of which stood a giant, ashen-barked Bobabo tree. Slender spires of smoke from a half dozen cooking fires extended upward here and there were collected groups of earthen pots and bowls. Scattered everywhere amidst the cooking fires and pottery were Gwarpys of a variety of sizes and ages. As the allied band dismounted their weary horses, the Gwarpys scurried, scampered or hobbled together to gather around them.
The Gwarpy Compound from Urshurak, by Tim & Greg Hildebrandt.
The gleaming blade of Elvgard flashed up. Deciedon’s horse wheeled sideways so his master could strike, but the blade of the White Elves would not come down. Lightening flashed all around them, and the resonance of thunder followed. The sword became a thing alive, and flew from the traitors grasp, spinning through the air, singing within the gleam of its flight, ringing across the surface of the ramp. Deciedon was seized with an instant of terror.
The fire within the hearth cracked and sputtered a few feet away. Large mugs of ale had been set out, the brew was of a nature unknown to Hugh but he drank deep and his spirits began to lift immediately, though his mind remained clear. […] Elgan had secured his pipe, and puffed contently, evidently delighting in the creation of bright purple smoke rings which drifted about them.
“May the power of creation, that which made you and all living things.. give to you now the strength to perform that which liberate this land, to allow freely the attainment of love…”
The Crown was placed upon the head of the youth, and the King of the White Elves arose, holding his enchanted sword, the power of tens of centuries vibrating within the upper room, singing through every cell of his body.