All Kellen knew about armor was that it was heavy, expensive, took several moonturns to make, and was designed to keep you from getting killed by somebody who had a sword, mace, spear, or bow. And that even if the Elves did have a spare suit of it lying around, it wasn't going to fit him.
It turned out that the only thing he was right about was the last. There wasn't a spare set of armor in his size lying around the armory, but it looked like he was going to have a full suit of Elven armor by tomorrow morning anyway. And—as he soon discovered—Elven armor was almost as light as a suit of clothes.
They began by taking wax molds of his arms and legs, bending thick sheets of warmed and oiled beeswax over his bare arms and legs and pressing it into place, then carrying the pieces away into the mysterious inner regions of the forge. Kellen was allowed to get dressed again, but not to wander very far; the Master Armorer told him he would be needed for fittings again almost at once.
As it turned out, Kellen had too much to occupy him in the interim to be able to wander anywhere at all, even if he'd wanted to. Elven armor was designed to be worn over a narrow quilted undertunic and leggings, and Tengitir was sent for to supply that. The measuring began all over again, for apparently the measurements she had taken for suits of clothing were not the right ones for the undertunic.
And there were a few items Kellen would be needing that did not have to be made.
An Elf named Tandarion entered, carrying a tray on which lay four swords. Kellen was obscurely relieved to see that none of them was jeweled. Jeweled swords were all very well for wondertales and Festival plays, but this was real life.
'Fortunately we had been forging for the Flower Wars next spring, so there are several here to choose from. Even the King's command could not forge a sword overnight,' the Master Armorer said. 'Choose whichever pleases you best, Kellen. All are fine weapons, suitable to your needs.'
'But how do I—I mean, I've never handled a sword before. I would welcome your advice,' Kellen said awkwardly.
The Master Armorer smiled indulgently. 'Try them all. I believe you will know the proper one when you heft it.'
Doubtfully, Kellen did as he was told. He lifted each of the swords in turn, flourishing them in the way he'd seen swordsmen do in plays back in Armethalieh. He had no idea of what to do with one, really, but he supposed it came with the armor, more or less. All of them were light, moving through the air like an extension of his arm. He was sure each of them was sharp. How could he possibly choose?
But he kept coming back to one in particular. It just felt better in his hand than the others. It wasn't that it was prettier—all of them were beautiful, in the simple perfect way of Elven things. It wasn't much different in size or shape than the others, and Kellen had no way of judging what was a good size and shape for a sword blade anyway.
It just felt right.
'The body sees what the mind cannot.' The Book of Stars says that. Okay. 'I'll take this one.'
'An excellent choice, Kellen. I'll send it to the cordwainers to have a scabbard made immediately.'
'Immediately.' Now there's a word I never thought I'd hear around here.
Just then Shalkan walked in.
'Shalkan?' Kellen said, surprised. He wondered if everyone in the forge was, well, fit company for a unicorn, so to speak. But Shalkan seemed comfortable enough.
The unicorn tilted his head, regarding Kellen. 'Did you think you were going alone? Or that you were going to be the only one wearing armor?' Shalkan said. 'The great Elven Knights used to ride unicorns into battle. You may not be an Elven Knight, but I suppose I'll have to get used to that.'
Kellen watched with interest while Shalkan discussed his needs with the Elves. Kellen realized with relief that this time, when he rode out with Shalkan, he'd be doing it with a proper saddle; the Master Armorer took Shalkan's measurements, and in a few moments, several sets of saddles and barding had been brought for Shalkan to choose from. That, in itself, would have been a pretty amusing idea, if Shalkan hadn't been so deadly serious about it—the mount choosing the saddle and harness, instead of the rider!
Kellen had seen horses in armor at parades in Armethalieh on high Festival occasions. Shalkan's armor was quite a different matter. For one thing, the unicorn was built nothing like a horse. For another, the unicorn was a thinking, reasoning, independent creature, not a beast meant to be controlled by a rider. Kellen gradually came to realize that it made good sense for Shalkan to choose his own protection; he was the only one who could say what was, and what was not, comfortable for him.
Shalkan chose armor that covered his chest and shoulders, leaving his legs and haunches free. The lower part of his long sinuous neck was encased in a long collar of interlocking rings that moved and flexed as fluidly as Shalkan himself, lined in sheep's wool to prevent chafing. The armorer urged him to add a shanfron to his armor, a close-fitting piece that went over his head and cheeks and latched beneath his throat and muzzle, and in fact Shalkan tried several. But in the end Shalkan rejected them all, saying they were too confining.
