4: A Journey to See Elves - Part Thirteen
“Come now, there is no need to call me 'sir' all the time. Respect is fine and there is a place for that sort of thing but we are never going to get on with each other if you are going to insist on calling me 'sir'. Ravesfel is fine or nothing at all. I’m not one to insist on ceremony. Bren can tell you that.”
Felanar looked hesitant, so Ravesfel continued, “I suppose you have been taught to always ‘sir’ a High Man. Is that it?”
Felanar nodded nervously.
“Nonsense! Men have this need to set themselves above one another. Causes all sorts of problems, let me tell you. Listen to me, boy, I’ll tell you the truth. There is no difference between a High Man and a Low Man. Do you believe me?”
Felanar didn’t know what to think, for the conversation had switched from riding horses to something that made no sense. Finally, hesitatingly, he replied, “I’m sure I don’t know, but if you say so I guess I should believe you. I’ve always been taught otherwise.”
“Then you’ve been taught wrong!” Realizing his tone was making the boy even more nervous, Ravesfel paused and smiled. “But then, everyone is being taught wrong these days, so it’s hardly your fault. Still, I think you will see the truth of my words someday. Yes, I think you will.”
“Sir...uh, I mean, what about the horses?” Felanar wanted to steer the conversation back to something that interested him. Ravesfel looked at him blankly for a moment and then remembered his earlier question.
“The best steeds in all the world can be found among the Llaráin Findára, the wood elves. These animals are magnificent, Felanar! What beauty and intelligence they possess. And strength! A horse from the Findára exceeds all other animals for sheer strength of will and body. There is a bond that grows between elf and horse and there comes a point where the horse will not suffer any other rider but its own.”