Marten eyed the elf-maid drunkenly. She was tall and slender, the prettiest elf-maid he’d ever seen – but that weren’t many, admittedly. And her hair – long, blonde, silky, it shone like – like sunlight, he thought, in a sudden poetic burst.
Seizing his chance, Marten weaved over to the elf-maid, laying his hand on her arm. “ ’Ello, gorgeous,” he slurred winningly.
He found his hand held in a vice-like grip. “Remove your hand, ere I remove it for you!” snapped a hard voice. Startled, Marten looked up – into a beautiful, cold, undeniably male face.
“Your pardon, sir!” he stuttered in surprise.