The Queen of the Elves by Steven Malone Page B

the name of the hall where they lived or maybe what was in his pocket or some such thing. They were a marvel to all and a great diversion for the passing of time.
    Without our knowing it, the afternoon waned and evening approached. Such was our wonder that none noticed Queen Godda arrive.
    I was first to feel the breath of cold wind and to see the Lady Godda. However, as one all the host by an unheard signal turned to see her. The great doors, barred though they were, guarded though they were, stood open. Godda, Queen of the Elves, sat astride a small paint pony with feet touching the floor. Neither standing nor walking. The pony’s front legs were in the hall the back legs stood in the grass. Neither inside nor outside. Behind Godda lay a thick misty fog dark in the twilight. Neither rain nor dry – neither day nor night.
    Lady Godda wore flowing, and most immodest, gauze that first seemed a silvery white but on closer scrutiny seemed to be a shimmering flow of rainbow that covered her head to ankle in a luminous veil. Godda was neither clothed nor naked, in my eyes, for as the thin, shining veil covered her it exposed her. My Lord, words fail me. I cannot describe her beauty.
    The pony stepped from beneath the elfish woman and she entered a silent hall and bowed to the king.
    “Greetings in Christ to you, Lady Godda,” William said amused and maybe a touch red-faced.
    “Ave, conqueror of England,” Godda said. “You demanded the presence of a queen of the Elves.”
    “I required the presence of the wife of Edric of Shropeshire to see if she was Queen of the Elves.”
    “See her then,” said the lady from beneath clothes of rainbow.
    “What proofs, wife. What proofs do you have for the king?” said Wild Edric.
    “Do you require proofs, duc de Normandy?” Godda said.
    “Forgive my caution, Lady, my priests,” your father gestured to his prelates at table. “My priests teach me to doubt such things.”
    “The court of the Queen of the Elves is a proof.” She gestured to her company. “My entrance here is a proof.”
    The King sat silent. Wild Edric stood and brought forward two of the Shropeshire men to give witness. The first told a tale of money. The Lady Godda came to him asking for implements made of iron for elves defer from working iron. The man left iron tools on his stoop evenings, mornings saw a silver penny in their place. The second man chanced upon Lady Godda and her sisters in his forest at a twilight. They danced and frolicked in the mist as he watched. Their singing, he claimed, set a spell on him so that he slept. When he awoke seemingly unharmed he returned to his home to find he had been gone a year and a day.
    “I’ve seen no elven pennies,” said the King. Many of the host grumbled agreement.
    “Have you, any of you, looked in your purses of late?” said Lady Godda.
    The King and everyone fished their secret places and out came silver – a silver penny from the days of Penda of Mercia. I confess I was not alone in being delighted. Everyone seemed delighted save the King.
    “I’ve not seen Lady Godda as clearly as did the good man who saw the dance.”
    The two dwarf-like men began to play. Lady Godda began to sway. Came the thunderous crash of the King’s hand slapping the board before him.
    “I do not expect to sleep a year and a day, my Lady!” he cried.
    Perhaps I saw the smallest of smiles on her lips, the smallest of nods, as she continued to sway. Perhaps I saw nothing.
    The music played faster. She began to dance. To frolic. The drape of silvery cloth twirled and glittered and shone in the lamp light. As it twirled to the alien music, Lady Godda stepped out of it by some elfin magic and danced before the dumbfounded king as naked as a minnow. Long golden hair flowing loose down her back. Skin the color of moonlight… (Illegible, possibly erased – ed.) …(s)aw nothing of her that proved her more than a mortal woman. The wondrous dance enthralled all present with no