Sir Malcolm face was serene with a small smile on his lips. His voice carried deep love each time when he mentioned the lady's name.
"But elves are not able to find real happiness with people. It was a tale before but now I know it's the truth. When my wife, making me madly happy, had given me a son, she felt such a strong longing for her own that she turned away from all pleasures, from me, and even from her son. Sad and lonely, she sat at Danvegen's window, staring at the side where her tribe lived. I loved Lady Ryanon too much to be able to see her unhappy and promised to accompany my wife myself along the path leading to her land. Lady Ryanon said goodbye to the baby lying in the cradle, not realizing that he was seeing his mother for the last time and would never be destined to know either her love or caresses. We went over Lake Danvegen again. And although it was as beautiful a summer day as when I first took the lady to Danvegen Castle, it seemed dark and gloomy to me."
Sir Malcolm's gaze had far-away look as the past events replayed in front of his eyes at this very moment. "So much pain ripped my heart. When we reached the other side of the lake, I took my wife out of the boat, holding her height in my arms for the last time, and escorted her to the grey band of rocks, which is called the Elf Bridge, and behind which no mortal is allowed to set foot. In this place, Lady Ryanon said goodbye to me and rushed to her own, not once did she look back, and I never saw my fair wife again. My heart was heavy, I wanted to separate myself from people, to live alone with my pain and memories, but I was the leader of the clan and carried responsibility for all the McLaughlin and especially for my son, the future leader of the McLaughlins from the McLaughlin family line."
Malcolm with his head down fell silent for a moment.
Callan didn't say a word either, moved and confused by this bizarre love story about the trust he was shown. The boy played with one of Conan's knives and waited impatiently for him to continue.
"My wife was the most beautiful and extraordinary lady in the world," Sir Malcolm resumed. "All her outfits were of grass green cloth, as is customary for the elf tribe, and made with a craftmanship alien to this land, her brilliant hair always fell loosely on her shoulders. When riding, she went on a milky-white horse, which she had taken with her from her land, and in every pinch of the horse's mane hung a tiny silver wand. This tinkering of the sturgeon piece by piece could be held up as a brook shell, and it made the heart of every person who heard it rejoice. Lady Ryanon was loved by all, even the most rude mercenary did not dare to look upon her otherwise than with the deepest respect and submissiveness, for, indeed, my wife was a queen among women, and no one felt hatred or disrespect for her, except Sir Engus, who could in no way forgive her rejection. He tried in various ways and means to harm Lady Ryanon. She felt a deep dislike for him and avoided his presence. That is why I also do not believe that my wife could have left her tribe again and gone to Kingsdale with Sir Engus, who was so unseen and despised."