"Bard's Tale 02 - Fortress of Frost and Fire - Mercedes Lackey & Ru Emerson UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bard's Tale)

above the rest.
Gawaine sighed and freed a hand from his present
task to push long, loose carrot-colored curls back
under the edge of the cloth band, then went back to
currying the horses. His master would wonder where
he was, why it was taking him so long to finish such a
simple task. But I like being in a stable, Gawaine
thought. Even after four years, I feel like I've come
home, tending to the horses, breathing the smell of
horses and hay. A loud burst of laughter from the inn
made him jump; his gray stepped back nervously and
he automatically rubbed the heavy neck muscles, reas-
suringly. "It's all right, Thunder; sorry I startled you,"
he said softly. 'They startled me, though. Somehow
you don't expect that kind of raucous noise from an
inn full of White Elves."
Probably that had been some of the humans.
Though Gawaine had had to reevaluate his notions of
White Elves when Naitachal brought him into elven
country. "I thought they would be Ч well, look at
them, tall and beautiful, so long-lived! You'd think
they would all have beautiful souls, too; that anyone
with so much time would be more spiritual. It's just
like everything else, Thunder," he mumbled gloomily.
'Things used to be so simple." Thunder Ч named
partly for his storm-cloud color, mostly for the heavy
way he set his feet down Ч leaned against him and
lipped his hair. Gawaine chuckled softly, gave him a
shove so he could get past him into the open, and pat-
ted his rump on the way by.
Across the aisle, there were at least a dozen elven
horses. He smiled and sighed happily. Thunder was
his own horse, and he dearly loved the cobby dapple
gray, but those beauties . . . they made him warm and
shivery all over. "Look at those long legs, at that golden
tail, and you," he murmured as he wandered down the
aisle. "Oh, you love." The horse in question turned its
head to give him a long look from under thick lashes,
then turned back to its feed. Gawaine sighed again
and turned back to take care of his Masters black,
Star. What an insipid name for such a nice-looking fel-
low, he thought. From another point of view, he'd
been named by his Master after one of the heroic
steeds from an epic verse Ч which was really silly
when you got to know the phlegmatic, unexciteable
Star.
Star munched while Gawaine rubbed, ignoring
both the boy and Thunder, whose jealousy made an
hour like this difficult. Thunder caught hold of
Gawaine's tunic and tugged, and when Gawaine